by Tom Barber
Palmer broke the silence, bringing Shepherd’s attention back to the two women.
‘We’re very sorry if our being here upsets you,’ she told Karen. ‘But believe me, we’re both here to help.’
‘It just brings everything back,’ Karen sniffed. ‘I thought you’d found my girl’s murderers.’
‘We need to make sure,’ Shepherd said. ‘For your sake, ours and Leann’s.’
‘That’s the second time I’ve heard that bullshit tonight,’ she fired back angrily, frustration getting the better of her. ‘Are you saying now those two men may not have killed her? That it was someone else?’
‘That’s why I’m here.’
Agitated, Karen stubbed out the cigarette she’d lit only a few minutes ago in an ashtray then reached for the pack and pulled another, sparking it then taking a long draw, the embers glowing and crackling as she sucked the nicotine deep into her lungs.
‘The file says you’re both from Pennsylvania,’ Palmer said.
Karen nodded. ‘Johnstown.’
‘When did you come here?’ Shepherd asked.
‘End of last year.’
‘Why?’
‘Leann’s father started to knock her around. Piece of shit always drank a lot but then he lost his job and started spending his unemployment on Southern Comfort.’
She took another draw on the cigarette.
‘He used to smack me about sometimes, but when he started on Leann I knew we had to get out, so I packed our bags and we left one morning while he was still out cold from the previous night. Haven’t seen or heard from him since.’
‘So why New York?’ Shepherd asked. ‘Why not Pittsburgh or Philly? They’re closer.’
She motioned to the apartment around them, keeping the cigarette trapped between her fore and middle finger. ‘Friend of my mother’s had this place and said we could crash here. Her man died a long time ago and she said we could move in with her seeing as we had nowhere else to go; I think she wanted the company. When she died, I found she’d left the place to me. Thank God.’
‘Did you know what Leann did for a living?’ Palmer suddenly asked.
Karen took another deep drag on the Marlboro, not making eye contact with either of them.
‘Life’s tough, you know?’ she said. ‘It was bad in Johnstown but here it was worse. This is an expensive city but at least we had a roof over our heads. And my girl wasn’t just some cheap street trash; she had class. She was high-end.’
She closed her eyes.
‘I got sick and couldn’t work. I don’t know how she got into it. But she said I didn’t need to try and get a job, that she’d take care of it, wanting me to have an easier life. She wouldn’t tell me where she got her money but deep down I had a feeling. Then she got busted and I knew for sure; had to watch my little girl do ninety days inside, amongst murderers and gang members. I brought her here so I felt like I was responsible, you know?’
She sniffed again, taking another drag on her cigarette.
‘When she got out of the joint in May, she talked about moving on, going to college then get a job. She checked herself into rehab to start the process off. She knew she couldn’t do shit if she was addicted.’
She paused, her voice starting to shake.
‘She did it too. She beat it. Then she was killed the day she left the facility.’
‘When was the last time you spoke to her?’ Shepherd asked.
‘That day. She called me when she got out of rehab.’
‘How long before it happened?’
‘A couple hours. She sounded great; upbeat. She said she was leaving town for a while and didn’t know when she’d be back but would keep sending me money. I hadn’t heard her sound that good in years.’
‘Do you know where she was going?’
‘No, but then she didn’t either. She said she wanted to make a fresh start. Said she’d get a job some place, a proper gig, somewhere where no-one knew her history.’
‘Did Leann ever mention a pimp?’ Shepherd asked.
‘Sometimes. Why?’
‘I’d like to talk to him.’
‘Too late for that. He’s dead. Someone wasted him up in the Bronx a year ago.’
‘What about since then?’ Shepherd asked, looking at the file. ‘Did she have someone new running her?’
‘Not that I know of,’ she said.
Shepherd looked back up at the woman.
‘I lost a child too,’ he told her. ‘He died last year.’
Suspicious, Karen looked at him. ‘How?’
‘He was shot. Like Leann.’
‘How old was he?’
‘Her age. Nineteen.’
‘Did you catch who did it?’
‘I already knew who he was. And it was an accident; I had to let it go.’
‘You forgave him?’ she asked.
‘Not yet.’ He paused. ‘But I’m working on it every day.’
He kept looking at her.
‘But what happened to Leann wasn’t an accident. For her sake, I want to make sure we got the right guys. But I can’t do my job if you don’t tell me everything you know.’
‘I’ve told you what I know.’
‘Who are Carlos and Alex? Her pimps maybe?’
Caught completely off-guard, Karen Casey’s eyes widened. ‘How the hell do you know that?’
Shepherd gestured at the table between them. Karen’s eyes flicked down. There was a paper napkin there with the names scribbled roughly on it in ballpoint pen.
Carlos and Alex were at the top.
‘Shit, man,’ she said, as Shepherd reached forward and picked it up. ‘You’re good.’
He focused on the names, then glanced back at Karen Casey. ‘What happened? Did they threaten you?’
She didn’t reply for a long moment, taking a drag instead.
‘The night after Leann died, I got a phone call saying that if I told the cops who she worked for, they’d both come here. They knew where I lived.’
Shepherd stayed quiet for a moment; he looked at the napkin.
Carlos.
Alex.
‘Did Leann ever tell you their surnames?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘Leann wasn’t a big talker.’
Besides the two men’s names, Shepherd saw eleven others were scribbled underneath, all female, and he recognised a couple of them immediately.
‘These are Leann’s associates,’ he asked. ‘Other girls she worked with. All high-class escorts.’
Karen nodded. ‘I figured it wouldn’t hurt to warn them. They might be in danger too so I copied down their names off Leann’s phone. Felt as if I was doing something useful. Something to help. She’d have wanted that.’
Shepherd glanced at Palmer, who nodded, looking at the list.
‘That’s the group,’ she said. ‘I spoke to most of them but they wouldn’t tell me anything.’
‘They probably got the same phone call I did. Leann going to rehab will have cost Carlos and Alex a ton of money. She was one of their best earners, I think.’
Shepherd looked at the list. ‘I’d like to talk to some of these women myself.’
‘They might not be easy to find. Once your guy Archer stopped by saying he thought the killers might still be out there, I called around to warn them they might be in danger.’
Looking at the list, Shepherd showed it to Palmer, who reached into her pocket and withdrew her cell.
‘I spoke with several of these women fairly recently,’ she said. ‘They each gave me a contact number.’
‘It’s worth a shot,’ Shepherd said.
Karen shrugged. ‘They’re scared. Even if they pick up, they might not want to talk to you.’
‘We’re here to help them,’ Shepherd said. ‘You can trust us.’
Karen took another drag, seemingly unconvinced, Carlos’ and Alex’s threat no doubt ringing in her ears. Beside her, Palmer scrolled through her phone then called a number, putting the phone on speaker as
Shepherd and Karen sat there in silence.
‘Cece Mills,’ Palmer said. ‘Twenty three years old, from Rochester, NY.’
The call rang through, Cece not answering, the monotonous repetitive rings echoing around the apartment. Glancing at Karen, Palmer selected another number and called it, tapping a name on the list, Zoe Cross.
That call rang through too, no-one picking up.
‘Looks like you could be right,’ Shepherd said to Karen.
She nodded, taking another drag.
‘I’ve got one more number,’ Palmer said. ‘April Evans.’
While she searched for it, Shepherd flicked through the file of Leann’s known associates and pulled out a driving licence photo of a girl who according to the DMV had just turned twenty. She had long thick red hair and green eyes, and like Leann was extremely attractive.
‘Cece and Zoe told me April and Leann were good friends,’ Palmer said.
Karen nodded. ‘They were.’
‘I spoke with her a few weeks ago,’ Palmer said. ‘She didn’t tell me anything but she seemed like a nice girl. Smart.’
‘Give her a try,’ Shepherd said.
Palmer nodded and pushed Call, the sound of ringing filled the living space for a third time, echoing around the room.
However, just like Cece and Zoe, after ten rings it went through to answer machine.
April didn’t pick up.
TWELVE
In the heart of Brooklyn, Hendricks pulled the black Ford to a halt on a street corner in Cypress Hills, the tinted windows concealing the identity of the occupants. Beside him, Archer looked out at the darkening streets, ignoring the hot pain radiating from the cuts on his chest and arm as his attention shifted to his immediate surroundings.
He’d thought he was clear of danger once he’d been buzzed out of Rikers, but the night was still young and he was Sam Archer. This place was consistently rated the most dangerous neighbourhood in New York; on average, someone was shot every day around here and right then, he couldn’t have been more aware of the lack of an NYPD badge and sidearm on his hip.
Various doors were boarded up, walls covered in graffiti and fences topped off with barbed wire, the whole area run-down, quiet and menacing, only a few people in sight. One of them was a solitary African American girl standing on the street, only wearing a pink dress and heels despite the cold.
Studying her for a moment, Archer glanced at Hendricks. She seemed to be attracting the Sergeant’s attention too.
‘What’s the plan?’ Archer asked.
‘There’s a kid down here I use to sweat for information,’ Hendricks said, his eyes not leaving the woman. ‘I arrested him for assault a few years back and busted him later for running girls. He’s two strikes in the hole and knows I’ll be there to push a third if he doesn’t co-operate.’
He nodded at the girl down the street.
‘She’s one of his. And if he’s here, he’ll more than likely be able to tell us who shot Leann, you and Detective Vargas.’
‘We’re a long way from that part of town. Will he know?’
‘He’ll know something. Word spreads fast around here; especially if someone shoots a cop.’
Archer nodded as Hendricks put his foot down and moved forward two blocks, pulling to a smooth halt beside the girl.
The sidewalk and road were lit by the occasional street-light but the place was pretty dark, which helped to conceal the rectangular boxes under the fender on the Ford that immediately gave it away as a police car. The black girl on the sidewalk was none the wiser, more interested in the occupants than the vehicle, and right on cue she flicked away a cigarette, stepping forward as Hendricks slid his window down. Despite all her exposed skin, she wasn’t shivering; Archer guessed there was a strong chance something out of a bottle or needle was keeping her warm.
‘Hey there baby,’ she said in a practiced tone to Hendricks, smiling as she reached the car and chewed on some gum seductively. ‘Looking for some fun?’
She bent down to emphasise her cleavage, smiling even more broadly as she noticed Archer in the other seat.
‘Or is this going to be a party? I charge double rate.’
‘We’re looking for your boss,’ Hendricks said.
‘Who?’
‘You know who I mean.’
She stopped chewing the gum. Her face hardened, her expression instantly turning hostile.
‘Why?’
Reaching to his hip, Hendricks showed her his badge. ‘That’s why.’
She stepped back warily, realising she’d just been stung. ‘Hey man. I didn’t do anything.’
‘Go get him and I might agree with you.’
As she stood there, looking wary, a young Latino man suddenly materialised from a doorway the other side of the street and headed over towards the car. His baggy jeans were slung low around his backside, a white and green NY Jets jersey over a thick black hooded sweatshirt keeping his body warm and also concealing whatever weapon he most likely had tucked into his belt.
With the sidewalk adding height the guy swaggered over, pushed past the hooker and leaned in close to the window, his right hand lingering near his waistband.
‘There a problem?’ he said, looking into the car.
The moment he saw Hendricks’ face, his eyes widened and his arrogant manner immediately evaporated.
‘Oh shit!’
Before the guy could step back Hendricks’ arm shot out, grabbed the pimp by his collar, and pulled the man’s head into the car as he pushed the button for his window with his other hand. It slid up three quarters of the way, trapping the man’s neck; he started struggling, his mask of arrogant hostility replaced by panic as he fought to pull his head free from the window, like a cat who’d got his neck stuck through a hole in a fence. It was useless; he wasn’t going anywhere.
‘Long time, no see,’ Hendricks said, letting go of the pimp’s NFL jersey, the window keeping him in place. ‘I’ve missed our little talks.’
The guy didn’t respond, too busy fighting to free himself, the window jammed tight under his throat. In the passenger seat, Archer watched impassively, observing Hendricks’ well-known style of police work.
‘Hand it over,’ Hendricks said.
‘Hand what over?’ the guy gargled.
Hendricks went to tighten the window a hair.
‘OK, OK!’
The pimp reached into the back of his waistband and withdrew a pistol. He lifted it carefully, sliding it through the small gap at the top of the window beside his head. Hendricks took it grip first and passed it to Archer, who raised his brows when he saw it. The gun was an Ingram MAC-10, a machine pistol; it was an erratic weapon, one click draining the clip, and was a junk gun, a drug dealer’s delight. Archer pulled the top-slide back and removed the magazine on the low-rate weapon, a gleaming copper round slotted on top of thirty one others.
‘What do you think?’ he said to Hendricks, playing along. ‘A year per bullet?’
‘Sounds about right,’ he replied, turning back to the man in his window. He jerked his head towards the hooker watching from the street. ‘I said no more girls. You know what happens now if you get one more charge?’
‘I thought you left,’ the man managed to get out.
‘I decided to stop by and see how you were doing. Now listen to me because I’m not repeating myself. You lie to me or I think you’re lying to me, I’ll drive back to Queens and we’ll book you for carrying a deadly weapon. And you won’t be riding in the back. Clear?’
The pimp didn’t reply, still struggling to breathe.
Hendricks reached for the keys in the ignition.
‘Yeah, yeah, I got it!’ the guy rasped.
‘Two cops and an escort got shot last month in Queens. You hear about it?
‘Yeah man,’ the man got out. ‘I heard. We all did.’
‘We’re looking for the shooter and the driver.’
‘I don’t know them.’
‘Don’t lie to
me.’
‘I swear!’
Hendricks reached forward and started the engine.
‘I swear!’ the man said.
‘What were their names?’ Archer asked, leaning across. ‘The two guys?’
The pimp didn’t reply. Hendricks put the transmission into Drive.
‘Now might be a good time to talk,’ Archer suggested, as Hendricks released the handbrake.
‘Goya and Santiago!’ he spat out.
‘Why’d they kill the girl?’ Hendricks asked.
‘She was one of their bitches. I heard she was stepping out, leaving the game. They put a green light on her.’
‘You’re saying her own pimps took her out?’ Archer said.
‘Yeah!’
‘Goya and Santiago. Not Valdez and Carvalho?’
‘They sound similar?’
As he tried to make sense of this new information, Archer saw they’d attracted the attention of a group of guys standing further down the street. As he watched, a few of them peeled off and started heading towards the police car. Hendricks saw them approaching but didn’t seem concerned.
‘I find out you’re lying to me, I’m coming straight back,’ Hendricks said to the man in his window. ‘And it’ll be your balls in the gap next time.’
‘It’s the truth, bro, I swear!’
Hendricks looked at the pimp for a moment longer. Then he pressed the window button and the man fell to the sidewalk, coughing.
Turning the wheel, Hendricks put his foot down and pulled a quick U-turn, heading off down the street just as the approaching gang members reached the pimp still lying on the ground.
‘So Goya and Santiago were the killers,’ Archer said, looking across at Hendricks. ‘Not Valdez and Carvalho.’
Hendricks didn’t reply and Archer swore, kicking the first aid kit in the foot-well.
‘Son of a bitch, I knew it; Homicide got the wrong guys.’
‘Leann Casey’s own pimps killed her,’ Hendricks finished quietly.