The Silent Bride awm-7

by Leslie Glass

  "Hush the dope."

  Mike changed his mind about the gloves. He pulled them on, then climbed the ladder. Upstairs, he pulled the string on the single bare lightbulb. It gave off just enough weak illumination for him to make out a surprisingly large and murky space. First thing he noticed was that it had been swept recently, so there were no footprints for him to disturb.

  A pile of dust and mouse droppings filled a corner under the eaves. An ancient-looking broom lay beside it. The house wasn't insulated, so the dampness and smell of mold in exposed wooden beams was intense. Mike cast his eye quickly over the haphazardly placed contents. Closest to the stairs were ten oversize shopping bags filled with bulky tissue- and newspaper-wrapped objects. Beyond that, folded plastic deck chairs, a beach umbrella, two old suitcases, a hot-water heater, a clambake pot, a Weber barbecue, a trap machine and canvas bag filled with clay discs, and an old camp trunk with a broken lock.

  Mike moved quickly, checking the shopping bags and suitcases first. While he worked, he could hear the murmur of voices downstairs. April's and the girl's. The sheriff must still be outside with the weirdo. Unwrapping the contents of the shopping bags as fast as he could, he found new candlesticks, crystal objects, glasses, linens, silver, small appliances in the bags. In the suitcases, quilts and pillows and summer clothes. The attic became a flea market, the evidence Wendy was a thief. But this was not what he was looking for.

  When he heard the sound of rain falling on the roof above him, he checked his watch. One o'clock already. Over an hour had passed and he didn't hear voices downstairs anymore. Maybe April was outside with the sheriff searching the shed, the space under the deck. Finally he opened the trunk lid and exhaled. The gun cache was in the camp trunk: two revolvers, three shotguns recently cleaned and broken down, smelling of oil, variously emptied boxes of .22-, .38-, and ,45-caliber ammunition, both regular and hollow-point. As well as ammunition for the shotguns and several homemade silencers. If Wendy had been shooting recently, the silencers would be the reason there hadn't been any complaints from the neighbors. He got to his feet, threaded through the mess he'd made, and climbed down the ladder.

  While Lori sat sniveling in the cruiser with her duffel bag on her lap, April and Mike brought the trunk downstairs and cataloged its contents. Then they took two umbrellas from the stand by the front door and paced out the grounds in a steady downpour. They found a pile of discharged shell casings, bullet-pocked trees, and clay shards. They gathered some shell casings to see if there was a match with the one they had from the Tovah shooting.

  Then paperwork, paperwork. Dealing with the law-enforcement issues surrounding the seizure and shipping of possible evidence of a crime committed in New York from a private residence in Massachusetts took a long time as the DAs and officials in BAFT were consulted. They missed their three P.M. flight.

  Most disturbing to Sheriff Whitmore were the silencers, one of the most illegal things in the gun world—unless you had a permit. You could buy a machine gun or an assault weapon, but not even members of organized crime had silencers on their handguns. He'd never seen one for sale, and couldn't believe they might have been constructed in the cottage.

  Most disturbing to April and Mike were three things: First, they did not find Wendy's takedown .22-caliber survival rifle or the .38 revolver that went with the ammunition boxes. Second, the next flight to New York was canceled. They finally got out at nine P.M. on a Cape Air flight to Boston in what looked like the smallest plane ever made. They caught the last shuttle back to New York and got into the city at midnight. Third, Lori Wilson was with them all the way so they had no time alone.

  Forty-nine

  D

  own at One PP in the Hate Unit when Lori Wilson finally understood she wasn't going home anytime soon, she broke down and admitted that she'd known about the guns.

  "But I never shot one. They scare me shitless; I'm not kidding," Lori insisted.

  Lori was bleary-eyed weary, but so was April, and she wasn't letting the girl loose until she gave up everything she had. April and Mike had split up. April was doing the questioning with the tape recorder on, for the record this time. Mike and Inspector Bellaqua were having a preliminary conversation with the Manhattan DA about the recovery of the guns and options vis-a-vis Wendy Lotte. Everything was heating up.

  "When were the guns transported to New York?" April asked for the thirtieth time.

  "I don't know. I told you. I didn't like them. I stayed away from the whole thing." Lori glanced at the tape recorder. Since the morning, she'd cleaned up. She was wearing jeans and a jacket now. April could see that she was a pretty girl with that WASP look so many Americans aspired to. Straight blond hair, blue eyes, pug nose, high cheekbones. She didn't know which end was up, though. The girl had no street smarts.

  "How could you stay away from the guns if they were around all the time?" April tried not to tap her foot.

  "I told you. They weren't around all the time. I never saw one in New York. Only on the Vineyard that one time." Lori yawned, then belatedly remembered to put her hand over her mouth.

  "When was that?"

  "Back in April."

  "What were you doing on the Vineyard in April?"

  "I told you that, too. We did a wedding there. At the Charlotte Inn."

  "Who was

  we,

  Lori?"

  "Wendy, of course. Louis, Tito, that creepy guy, Ubu. They decorated the whole first floor with lilies and roses and hydrangeas. White, red, and purple were the colors. They did the garden, too, and it was freezing even with the heaters on."

  "So how many vehicles were involved?"

  "I don't know. They had to bring everything in from the city. The Vineyard has nothing."

  "How many vehicles traveled up?"

  Lori threw her hands up. "I don't know. Ask Louis. I only saw his van. That's it. Maybe they shipped the rest."

  "Okay, who else was with you?"

  Lori rubbed her nose. "Only Kim."

  "Kim?" April said.

  "Kim Simone. He makes the dresses."

  The new piece punched April in the gut. This late at night it was dead in the squad room, pretty dead in the whole building, in fact. She and Lori were sitting all the way in the back at a detective's desk by a window that overlooked some of the Wall Street area, and, beyond it, the Statue of Liberty.

  "The wedding dress?" she said, taking it real slow.

  "Uh-huh. It was a Tang Ling dress, but Kim copied it for her. Sometimes he did special orders for us as a favor. He wasn't supposed to knock off the dresses. I told you this already."

  April didn't tell Lori that no, she hadn't mentioned this at all. Sometimes they had no idea what was important. Tang Ling. She shook her head. So Wendy stole some of the wedding gifts just to keep her hand in, Louis had the flower concession, and Kim knocked off the dresses for those clients who didn't go directly to Tang. A racket all the way around.

  "Okay, but why did Kim go to Martha's Vineyard with you?" she asked.

  "Umm." Lori stuck her finger in her mouth and sighed. "Am I supposed to tell you all this? I don't want to get anybody in trouble."

  "We're way past that, Lori. What about the dress?"

  "Ahh, well, Kim was supposed to make the dress and send it, like, on the Tuesday. The wedding was Friday. He sent it to Boston FedEx, but when the dress got there, it was too small. Kristen couldn't zip it up. By Thursday, of course, it was too late to send it back."

  "The bride lives in Boston?"

  "No, Kristen lives in New York, but she was in Boston at the time. And two of the bridesmaids' dresses needed work, too; so Kim just called in sick and came with us on Thursday."

  "Did Kim make the bridesmaids' dresses, too?"

  "No, but he said he'd do the alterations for Wendy."

  "Sounds like Kim does a lot of things for Wendy," April remarked.

  "Pretty much anything she asks."

  "Why?"

  Lori shrugged. "He likes h
er."

  "Okay so how did you travel up there?"

  "We drove with Wendy. We had to, because Kim needed his sewing machine and all his, like, sewing stuff. It took up the whole trunk."

  No one mentioned this before. Kim and his sewing stuff.

  "Why did everybody stay at Wendy's?" April asked.

  "The bride's father wouldn't pay for a hotel for everybody, and Louis complained it was too expensive for him. So she gave in. Believe me, Wendy wasn't happy about it."

  "When did you start shooting the guns?" April moved on.

  "I told you I didn't," Lori insisted.

  April gave her a cold look. "Come on, Lori, you want to stay here all night?"

  "I'm telling you. It was terrifying. That first night Wendy got so mad at Kim she shot a pistol into a pile of pillows right next to where he was sitting. I was never so scared in my life."

  "And what did Kim do?"

  "You better believe he stopped complaining and got to work. Who wouldn't?" Lori said this as if April were some kind of dummy.

  "What had Kim been complaining about, Lori?"

  "Oh, a thousand things. Marriage is terrible. His wife is mean to him. His sister is dead. Whatever. He's a real pain in the ass."

  "Who else was there when Wendy fired the gun?" The recorder was taping, but April took quick notes. She always thought best with a pen in her hand.

  "Ubu. Oh, my God, Tito! Louis. Everybody freaked. I thought Louis would have a stroke. The living room was just filled with these cans of water and all his flowers. And they were, like, leaping around insane, yelling at her to put the gun down."

  "What kind of gun was it?"

  "I don't know, a pistol gun."

  "Did the gun have a silencer on it?"

  "Hell no, it made a huge bang." Lori paused for a few moments, remembering that big bang. "And then the next day after the wedding everybody was out shooting in the woods. It started to rain and they put on these gray ponchos and kept shoodng. It was just

  weird."

  "Everybody except you."

  "Yeah. Everybody but me. Wendy told me I better not say anything about it because shooting was illegal, or something."

  April gave the time and turned off the tape recorder. She was bone tired and had had enough of Lori for the moment. She went out to confer with Poppy and Mike, and they all agreed that Lori was no flight risk.

  "Okay, you can go home now. Here's my number. Call me if you think of anything else."

  "I don't have any money," Lori said, tearing up.

  "Someone will take you home. Oh, and Lori. Don't go anywhere tonight, okay?"

  "Okay."

  A uniform took Lori home in a squad car. Then, eighteen hours after they'd set out in the morning, April went home with Mike to his apartment in Forest Hills.

  Fifty

  O

  nce again morning came too soon. Light and the racket of a ringing phone pierced April's sleep long before she'd had enough of it. Her first thought was that one of their suspects was on the move, and she jerked awake.

  "Showtime," Mike grumbled and rolled over to pick up. "Sanchez." He listened for a moment; then his voice got sweet. "Hiya, babe, how ya doin'? No, of course not. No one's avoiding you."

  Mike handed over the handset. "It's for you."

  A babe for her? "Yes?" she said, hoping it wasn't her mother he was calling

  babe.

  "April, didn't you get my messages?" Ching's frantic voice.

  "Oh, Ching! What time is it?"

  "Almost six. I didn't wake you, did I?"

  "Almost six?" Was she nuts? April groaned. Four hours' sleep, less a half an hour for Latin meltdown.

  "Look, I'm sorry to call so early, but I have to talk to you."

  "Okay, you're talking to me. Speak." April closed her eyes.

  "April, you told me you had him. You told me everything was fine. Oh, God, what happened?"

  "You know I can't talk about it. We're working on it. That's all 1 can say."

  "Oh, April, this is terrible. Can't you stop these killings?"

  As if April were personally in control of the situation. So early in the morning the presumption of her power made April's head ache.

  "There's a huge task force working on it," she said in as neutral a tone as she could manage, considering the hour, the amount of sleep she'd had, and the gravity of the situation.

  She opened her eyes, lifted her head a little, and glanced over at her lover He was out cold again with his face buried in the pillow.

  "I thought this was your case," Ching said, accusing.

  "It's never only one person; you know that. Hundreds of people are working on this." Okay, she was up.

  "Well, look, I'm really worried. Tang called me a dozen times. I told her you were the head of it. Why didn't you call me back?"

  "I've been working round the clock. I'm not the head of it; you know that." April didn't want to scold, but this was too much.

  "April, Tang is a very important person! She's being hurt by this. Why didn't you talk to her? You're making me look bad."

  "I'm going to talk to her today, I promise."

  "Well, turn on the TV. She's on right now, offering a reward for the killer."

  "Really?" That was news. April nudged Mike with her knee. Time to get up. He didn't stir.

  "Chico!" No response.

  "Everybody is terrified. No one knows who's going to be next. April, the city is going wild over this!"

  "I know."

  "Are you watching the news?"

  April yawned. "Not yet."

  "Hurry up! Oh, it's over. You missed it."

  "I'm sure they'll show it again." April nudged Mike a second time. It was just as well that Ching called. They had to get going.

  Ching sounded a little better. "April, my fitting is today. Ten o'clock. Should I still do it? Tang said I should come."

  "Yeah, okay. I'll meet you there. And I'll talk to her then. Tell Tang I'll be there at ten, okay?"

  "Thanks, April. I knew you could help."

  April said her good-byes and hung up with a shiver of excitement. She'd never met Tang Ling before. She nudged Mike again.

  "Mi amor. Vamos."

  He rolled over the other way to avoid her.

  Fifty-one

  L

  ate Saturday afternoon, the PC had officially named a Bride Homicide Task Force to link up the investigations of the two wedding homicides— virtually the same cast of characters. But the commissioner did not move the Tovah case from the Five-oh in the Bronx at that time.

  By Monday morning, however, Sergeant Hollis had lost points for not having followed through on the Martha's Vineyard angle. And in the same war for detective supremacy Sergeant Woo and Lieutenant Sanchez had gained points for traveling up there and locating Wendy Lotte's gun cache.

  Monday morning headquarters for the Tovah case was moved into the city, and the investigation had its focus. Wendy's trunk was in transit to the police lab in Jamaica, the movements of all the key players were being watched, and a search warrant for the residence of Clio Alma and Kim Simone was in process. Definitely they were material witnesses, if nothing else. Kim had to be questioned about his whereabouts Saturday. Clio as well. They were narrowing it down. Ubu was off the hook because he'd been in Bellevue when Prudence was killed.

  April had already requested the first set of DD-5s of Kim and his wife Clio Alma from the file up in the Bronx as well as the second set after Calvin Hill and his partner, Detective Moulder, went back to talk to them again. All the DD-5s were in the Hate Unit being studied by Mike and Inspector Bellaqua over coffee and doughnuts in Bellaqua's office. April had seen them all before.

  The gist of it: Kim Simone, with his wife translating, told the two detectives that last-minute alterations on the wedding gown of Tovah Schoenfeld ordered by her mother meant he had to work overtime on the dress. It wasn't finished until late Saturday afternoon. Tang Ling had been out of town for the weekend. Since the
shop was closed Sunday, Kim had taken the gown home with him on Saturday night, then personally delivered it to the synagogue on Sunday afternoon.

  When asked if this kind of personal service was unusual, he said no, he had flown to France, to Hawaii, to Miami, and other places on the whim of wealthy clients. He said that he did not receive compensation for this and had to work extra hours to make up for his absences when he returned.

  Clio Alma stated that she had driven him and the gown to Riverdale in her Saturn and waited for him while he fitted the dress. Kim Simone further stated that he had had to wait an hour before he could dress Tovah, but when he was finished, he immediately left the synagogue via the downstairs staff door and rejoined his wife in their car that was parked around the corner.

  April chewed on her bottom hp as the other two read and reread both sets of statements. She was in a hurry. She had to get to Tang's shop by ten. Always do everything yourself, she was chastising herself. Kim and his wife were the only players in the Wendy game whom she and Mike had not interviewed personally. And the only one Iriarte hadn't checked out for her. Not good. She'd feel better if she'd cleared them herself.

  The task force was putdng together its case against Wendy, who was either the killer or the organizer. It wasn't clear yet which. But no one was making a move on her until every question was answered. Wendy would keep until the Kim piece was resolved. April clicked her tongue, causing Mike and the inspector to pause in their discussion.

  April arched an eyebrow. "I have to talk to Tang Ling," she said. "And somebody has to go out to Queens and dnd Clio Alma, search their car and house. If Kim is at work, I'll bring him back with me and we all can have a go at him."

  "I'm on it. I'll take the house and car," Mike said.

  "Do you mind if I get someone from Midtown North to do a deep background on Kim and his wife?" April asked Bellaqua.

  "We have enough computer whizzes right here, but if it makes you happy." Bellaqua lifted a shoulder.

  "Yeah, it would make me happy." It wasn't good politics. But if there was anything to find, Hagedorn would find it.

  "It's okay by me." Mike smiled.

  "Mike, you're with me. We have DAs to do before you go anywhere," Bellaqua said.

  "Fine." He rolled his eyes.