“Maybe they were worried that she wouldn’t die and would get help, or rat them out before she died,” Jason suggested. “They wanted to make sure she was dead, and dumping her in the drink would ensure that.”
“True,” Ray agreed, “but doesn’t it also arouse more suspicion?”
“If the M.E. hadn’t flagged it for us, there would have been no suspicion. She would have been buried as a Jane Doe and the file would have been closed as an OD within a week. If I’m the guy doing the killing here, that’s what I’d expect. Even if we got an ID on her, she’s a runaway drug addict, so who’s going to push an investigation?”
“Yeah, I know.” Ray tilted his coffee cup up to the roof of the car to drain the last drop. “That’s where we should have left it. Of course, if we’re assuming that the three others were also killed in the same manner by the same guys, they got away with it three times without anybody raising a flag. You can imagine that they would feel pretty comfortable doing it again.”
“But,” Jason replied, “none of the other victims were tossed in the river. So why Christine?”
“I dunno. Maybe they were particularly worried that she wouldn’t die from the overdose. Who knows. Maybe there was something special about her.”
“Mike seems pretty certain that Christine was getting clean and was making plans to go back home,” Jason said. “She might have been held against her will, which would make some sense. If she was drafted into service for some pimp, but wanted to get out and go home, the guy might have wanted to silence her rather than let her split.”
“Sure, but why be so paranoid that you kill her? I’m sure girls cycle through that kind of operation all the time. I saw some when I was working robbery. They’re involved in illegal conduct themselves, they’re committing petty crimes to feed their habit, and they’re not exactly in a hurry to publicize it to anyone, especially their family. Runaway teenager comes to the big city, gets in trouble, falls in with the wrong guy, ends up turning tricks to survive, then comes to her senses and leaves. It’s got to happen all the time, so why kill this one?”
“I haven’t got an answer for that,” Jason conceded.
“How long do you think it will take for us to get some data off those Starbucks gift cards?”
Jason paused to ponder the question. The truth was that he had no idea. He had turned the information over to the forensic IT guys and asked them to get a trace on the locations where the cards had been used, but since the investigation was not a priority to the captain, they needed to avoid any extraordinary expenses or requests. It could be two days or two weeks, for all Jason knew. But he didn’t want to sound clueless. He was supposed to be the more experienced member of this team. “I told the forensic IT team to let me know as soon as they had anything,” he said noncommittally.
They had traced the address where Steph sent the gift cards to a church, which also served as a shelter for homeless women. The pastor confirmed that Christine had stayed there a few times, but she was not a regular. Many of the women received mail at the shelter’s address, so the pastor could not say for sure whether she had received Steph’s gift cards. Even assuming that she did, tracking her movements was not simple. She could have sold them or traded them for drugs, so knowing where the cards were used did not necessarily give them a fix on Christine. But it was all they had.
“If we can get the info, even if it leads us to somebody else who had contact with her, it would help us,” Ray said without much confidence. “And speaking of contact with her, I found something reading through the file on her last drug arrest. Before she got her desk summons, she was signed out from the lock-up, presumably for an interrogation. But there are no notes from the meeting, and no summary of it.”
“Seems like everything related to this case gets lost,” Jason observed.
“Yeah, well, I’d really like to see those notes.”
“Was there a name on the sign-out?” Jason asked.
“Just a last name, Curran. I ran a search and came up with seven cops named Curran.”
“OK, we can try to track that down the next chance we get. In the meantime – what have we got here?” Jason pointed across the street and down the block, where four figures were approaching on foot.
The conversation ended abruptly as Ray and Jason watched the four men. Two were large Black men, similar to the gang bangers who were arrested during the Webster Avenue chase. One was a tall, skinny Black kid who looked like he couldn’t be more than eighteen. The fourth man was the one who made the detectives sit forward in their seats. He was white, wearing sunglasses, a heavy parka, and a New York Knicks knit hat pulled down low over his ears. It was mid-March, and the temperature that day was in the low 50s; not nearly cold enough to warrant the arctic outfit. It was, however, a terrific way to avoid being recognized. Ray took out a camera and snapped some pictures. The detectives slid down in their seats to avoid being seen by the gang, if that was who they were.
As they watched the four figures, Jason radioed for backup and asked for two black and whites to meet them without sirens. The four suspects turned into the gas station and approached the convenience store. When they disappeared inside, Jason and Ray exited the car and crossed the street, releasing the safeties on their service pistols. They took up positions on opposite corners of the small concrete building, sheltering behind the walls and peering around the corner and down the front of the building toward the front door. The plan was to wait for all four of the suspects to exit the building, then come up behind them, pinning them between the detectives and the uniformed officers who would be blocking the sidewalk on both sides with their squad cars. Once they were secure, they would check with Francois to see whether Ricky had just picked up a payment, in which case they would have probable cause to search all the suspects.
Both Jason and Ray scanned the street, waiting for the backup officers and wondering what was taking so long. While they were both looking at the street, the glass door swung outward and the first of the two large guys walked out. Ray ducked back behind the corner, but apparently not fast enough, because the big man turned in his direction and started walking toward the corner. As he did, the second big man came out, then the skinny kid, and finally the white guy, still wearing the sunglasses and parka.
The white guy called out, “Hey, Bo, where ya goin’?”
The first man, whom Jason now figured to be Bo, turned to reply. As he did, he made eye contact with Jason, who was watching from the far corner. Bo called out, “Cop!” and reached for his waistband.
Jason stepped out from his shelter and crouched with his gun held at arm’s length. “Freeze, Police!” The other big man, who had been following Bo, spun around and looked at Jason, then dove to his left behind a group of trash receptacles arranged against the wall. The skinny kid reached out and grabbed the back of the white guy’s coat, pulling him back toward the door. Jason did not want anyone going back into the store. He took two steps forward, then fired one shot at the ground in front of the skinny kid, hoping that would get him to stop moving. “I said freeze!”
At the same time, Ray sprang out from the opposite corner, realizing that their plan was blown. The suspects had completed their business inside the store quickly and the backup officers had not yet arrived. “He said freeze!” Ray called out.
Bo spun around and pointed a snub-nosed pistol at Ray. When Ray sighted back at him, he saw Jason over Bo’s shoulder, in a direct line of fire. Ray hesitated just as Bo fired twice toward Ray’s position. Bo was not a good shot, but one of the slugs ricocheted off the cinder block wall and hit Ray, who grabbed his head and fell to the ground.
Jason fired three shots into Bo’s back and watched the man fall forward onto his face. Then Jason fired three more shots into the garbage cans where Bo’s companion was taking shelter. He heard a groan and the clatter of the man’s gun falling onto the cement, but didn’t stop to investigate as he ran forward toward Ray. Meanwhile, the skinny kid and the man they figured
was Ricky took off running toward the street. They rounded the corner just a few seconds before the first squad car pulled into the gas station. The officers swarmed out of their cars and drew their weapons, covering Jason as he crouched over Ray’s prone form. Jason yelled, “Call for an ambulance!”
Two of the officers ran forward to the unmoving body of Bo, while two more hurried to Bo’s companion, who was holding his bleeding gut next to the garbage can.
Jason was on one knee next to Ray, who was bleeding from the side of his head. “Stay still, Ray. The ambulance will be here in a minute.”
Ray did not respond. Jason put two fingers on Ray’s neck and felt a pulse. He wasn’t dead. Jason pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it against the wound, then took off his jacket and rolled it up, putting it under Ray’s head so it would not be resting on the concrete. The blood dripping down from the already soaked handkerchief stained the gray pinstripes, while Jason could do nothing but watch. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later. Jason stepped aside while the paramedics worked to stem the bleeding and got Ray onto a stretcher and into the vehicle. The EMTs were squeezing air into Ray’s mouth and nose through an artificial respirator unit as they loaded him in and closed the doors. Jason sat on the curb in front of the store, staring at the empty gas pumps.
Chapter 21 – The Customer is Always Right
BRUNO FALSETTI WAS DOZING while listening to the Rangers’ game on the radio. The lobby was empty and it was late enough that he didn’t anticipate any more customers. There were three men inside and as soon as they all finished their business and left, he could shut down and go home. He had a girlfriend who was a nurse and worked until 10:00 p.m., so he was looking forward to a late dinner and chasing her around the bedroom. He was jolted from his semi-somnolence by a bang on the security door, which separated the hotel lobby from the interior.
He looked up and saw a man standing at the threshold, a suit jacket hanging over one arm and his dress shirt hanging partially out of his Yves St. Laurent trousers. The man had a pronounced middle-aged paunch and a mop of disheveled black hair. “Open the damned door!” he bellowed.
Bruno recognized the man as one of the three remaining customers and reached lazily for the buzzer that would open the door, but then stopped when he saw another figure running down the hallway. The girl was wearing a thin silk robe that was not entirely tied around her waist. Her auburn hair flowed behind her as she bounded down the hallway on bare feet. “Don’t let him leave!” she shouted at Bruno.
“Open the door!” the man hollered again.
“What’s the problem, Suzie?” Bruno asked the girl, who was grasping at the edges of her robe, trying to cover herself.
“He stiffed me and ran out,” the girl said, sending a withering look towards the man standing at the door.
“Is that true? Did you not pay the lady?” Bruno asked with a thick Brooklyn accent.
“This bitch did not follow my directions, and I am not at all satisfied with the service,” the man said with a haughty demeanor.
Bruno rolled his eyes and reached for his phone. “Just wait a minute.” Bruno spoke into the phone, “Hey, get down to the front. We got a problem.”
“I demand that you allow me to leave, or I will call the cops,” the man said, brandishing his cell phone.
“Go ahead, dude,” Bruno said. “Call the cops and tell them that you were not happy with the lady’s services.” That shut the man up for a moment, and then another man walked down the hallway and joined the discussion.
“What seems to be the problem?” Eddie asked as calmly as he could manage.
The man at the door turned to Eddie. “This young lady did not perform up to my expectations and I refuse to pay her,” the man said.
Eddie sighed and turned to the redhead. “What did he want?”
Suzie put her hands on her hips and glared at Eddie. “He wanted anal and I told him it was extra.”
Eddie turned to the man. “Anal is extra.”
“That’s ridiculous,” the man responded. “I get the girl for my half hour and I do what I please. That’s what I was promised.”
Eddie dropped his head slightly, not really wanting to deal with this discussion. “I’m sorry that you were not entirely pleased, Mr. Gordon. I tell you what, I have another girl who will be happy to oblige for the same price. Would that be sufficient?”
“It’s too late,” Mr. Gordon said. “I’m done. I want to go home.”
“I’m afraid that I must insist on payment,” Eddie said. “What if we call it a half-price evening for you, and I’ll make sure that on your next visit we give you a girl who will be more amenable? How about that?”
Gordon scowled, then reached into his pocket and dragged out a large roll of bills. He peeled off four one-hundred-dollar bills and handed them to Eddie with a grimace. “I am not happy about this,” he said.
“I can understand that, Mr. Gordon. It is certainly your choice whether to come back, but I hope you do.”
Gordon gave a hurrumph and turned back to the door without another word. Eddie gave a nod to Bruno, who pushed the button and buzzed open the door. Gordon pulled it open and walked out, then quickly exited through the lobby door and into the Brooklyn night.
Eddie looked at Suzie. “You couldn’t just give him what he wanted?”
“Go fuck yourself, Eddie!” she spat back. “You’re the one who told me we should charge the guys extra, so that’s what I said and he got all upset and got dressed and walked out. What did you want me to do?”
“Fine,” Eddie said dismissively. “Go to bed.” The woman spun on her heel and walked back down the hallway. Bruno could not help but watch as she sauntered away, her exquisite ass swaying beneath the thin fabric of her robe.
“The customer is always right?” Bruno asked sarcastically.
“Fuck off,” Eddie said, walking away.
Bruno checked off one of his three remaining customers, leaving him with two who still needed to leave before he could call it a night. He hoped that there would be no more fireworks.
Ж Ж Ж
Eddie walked back down the hallway toward room 111, which served as his personal office and home-away-from-home. He let himself in and surveyed his domain. On the downside, the place was a dump, with drab carpeting and furniture, dim lighting, a window that looked out at the back alley, and a pervasive smell of sweat. On the bright side, there were two long-legged blonde women sitting on opposite sides of the bed, finishing up the process of putting on their clothes. They both looked up as Eddie came in. Janice, the older of the two sisters, smiled at him and asked if everything up front was under control. Eddie confirmed that it was, and turned his attention to Sylvia, the younger sister, who was slipping on her heels while generally ignoring Eddie.
“You two should be in a movie,” Eddie said enthusiastically. The women just laughed and shrugged. Eddie smiled and turned around, walking back to the hallway and then across to room 108. He used a key card to let himself in, allowing the door to slam behind him loudly before strutting into the main area of the room. “Those two girls from Florida are hot!” he said with a huge smile.
Lieutenant T. Warren Magnan looked up, removed the earbuds from his ears, and sighed. He ran his fingers through the graying hair around his ear and glowered at the smaller man, who had been an officer on his task force for more than four years. “You’re cutting into our profit.”
“Fuck that!” Eddie said with a grin. “If I can’t at least enjoy myself sometimes, what the fuck is the point?”
“The point is to remain professional, achieve our financial objectives, and get out.”
“Yeah, well my hour with those two blondes is not going to delay our exit,” Eddie replied defiantly.
“You need to keep your focus. What would happen if you said something to one of those girls in the throes of ecstasy that might allow them to compromise you?”
“I’m smarter than that.”
“Are you?�
�
Eddie fumed and clenched his fists. “Fuck you, Warren! I’ve busted my ass in this operation so I will do what I damned well please.”
“Just be careful,” the older man said calmly.
“I know. I know. I’m not in any hurry to do any more house-cleaning.”
“See to it that you keep that in mind.”
“Oh, so you know, Mr. Gordon paid half price tonight. He didn’t want to pay extra for anal with Suzie and he tried to walk out without paying, but I handled it. Don’t be pissed at Suzie for being short on her cash tonight.” Eddie turned abruptly and started to walk out, but then stopped and turned back. “You know, I came along with you on this shit-bag operation because we agreed that we deserved the money and that nobody would get hurt. It’s not like I give a shit about these drug addict bitches, but just remember who does the dirty work so you can count the money.”
“Noted,” Magnan replied flatly, reaching for his earbuds.
Eddie turned once again and left the room, allowing the door to slam behind him.
Chapter 22 – Routine Investigation
Friday, March 15
JASON STOOD AT THE CONFERENCE ROOM WINDOW, gazing out at the gray clouds that hung low over Manhattan, obscuring the higher floors of the tallest buildings. A cold mist coated the ground with a shimmering wetness, but the temperature remained warm enough that the pedestrians were not sliding down the sidewalk. Jason was wearing his best charcoal suit with robin’s egg blue pinstripes, a crisp white button-down shirt, and a multi-toned blue tie bearing a geometric block pattern. His body was tense and the veins on his neck were throbbing silently.
“You should sit down,” Mike said calmly from his seat at the conference table. Captain Sullivan had briefed Mike about the shooting by phone. Ray had spent four hours in surgery before the doctors gave up. Sully was handling the notification of his family. Ray was not married and had only his mother, who lived on Long Island, and a sister in North Carolina. Jason had been spared the need to speak with the family; Sully had been concerned about what he might say to take the blame for Ray’s death. Jason had already said it to Sully, and the captain had told him to keep that to himself until after the Internal Affairs inquiry.
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