Fourth Victim (16 page)

“That’s okay, Reverend. We’re here unofficially, really,” Hines said.

“How’s that?”

“Well, the detective that you accused of covering up the murder of Bogarde DeFrees at the Nellie—”

“Monaco, Detective Monaco,” Burgess said, a prideful smile on his face.

“Yes, him,” Blades answered.

“What about him?” The smile vanished.

“He drove an oil truck on Long Island since his retirement two years ago. He was robbed and murdered while making a night delivery,” Healy said. “Monaco was one of five men killed over the last few months while—”

“Yes, I do believe I read something about that, but I was unaware that Detective Monaco was among the victims. It’s a pity for his family. Still, I am not sure why you are both here. Especially you, Mr. Healy, as you’re retired.”

“We hoped Detective Monaco’s death might reignite the investigation, stir up people’s memory,” Hines said. “As you know, although there wasn’t enough evidence to take disciplinery action against Monaco, that the case is still open. Since Mr. Healy was the lead detective back then, I’ve asked him to consult.”

“That’s very admirable, Detective Hines, but I haven’t heard a whisper on the street. I am afraid that there are continuing threats to our community’s young men in the guise of a uniform and badge. The death of one racist bully who had already done his damage and gone is like one drop of rain in a vast ocean.”

“Then there’s nothing you can tell us?” Hines said.

“I will keep my ears open, detective.”

“Thank you for your time, Reverend. We’ll let you get back to your good works.”

Burgess shook Raiza Hines’ hand and wished her well. But when he shook Bob Healy’s, he held on tight. “Thank you, Mr. Healy,” he said. “I recall that you did try to do the right thing by us when this happened.”

“No thanks necessary. For me, the right thing is the right thing.”

Hines and Healy found their way out on their own and made their way back to the subway. This time the silence between them lasted much longer than on the ride here. Maybe that was because the ride was underground and there was only black and grimy walls visible outside the train. Gone were the bucolic snow scenes to soften the subway’s metal chatter. It was also that Healy was exhausted and still had a long ride back to Kings Park ahead of him.

“That got us nowhere, with Burgess I mean,” Blades said, the train pulling out of the Broadway-Lafeyette station. “That man gives nothing away.”

“I know. Still, it was worth a shot, huh?”

“But now he knows people are watching.”

“Blades, that man knows people are always watching. That’s how he can be so cool.” The train slowed.

“This is me,” she said, standing up. “You sure you don’t wanna stay over again and just go home in the morning?”

“I wish I could, but tomorrow will be really busy. I gotta get in early.”

“You sure I can’t tempt you?”

“No. I’m not sure of that at all.”

She smiled, leaned over, kissed him softly on the mouth, their lips pulling apart slowly. Then, suddenly, before he could think, breathe or speak, she was out of the train. When the subway jolted forward, he looked up to see half the people in the car with him were staring. Not all of them were smiling.

M
ayday Fuel had finally caught up with all the stops they didn’t service during the snow storm. They had picked up several new customers from other companies that were still too backlogged. Healy even appreciated having Gigi around for help because the volume of calls was beyond anything he’d yet to deal with. Unfortunately, the Monaco thing was at a standstill. Healy’s fresh set of eyes hadn’t seen any red flags in the homicide files that his partner hadn’t picked up on and days had gone by without any revelations or new information. Sometimes, as Serpe had said to Healy that morning, there’s less there than meets the eye, sometimes a lot less. Any good detective knew the truth of that. They both had a long list of investigations that started off promising and led nowhere.

Serpe had yet to hear from the Nassau cops and he was beginning to hope, if not quite believe, that Brian W. Stanfill had neglected to make a note of their appointment. Even if the lawyer hadn’t written it down, the cops would hear the phone messages and backtrack to him through phone records. Maybe the cops just didn’t think he was worth talking to. It had been confirmed that Stanfill’s death was a homicide. Although the news reports didn’t list all the damage, it was pretty clear that he had suffered a lot before succumbing. That came as no surprise to Joe.

Healy hadn’t heard from Blades nor had he called her. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. That wasn’t the only thing he couldn’t get out of his head. He was ashamed to admit it, but the looks he got from the people on the subway car had stayed with him too. He tried convincing himself that their disdain was because he was twenty years Blades’ senior. He knew better. The world never changes as fast as you want it to. Healy wondered if the world really did change where race was involved.

The phone rang and Healy waved at Gigi that he’d get it. He was glad for the distraction.

“Mayday Fuel, how can I help you?”

“That was a kiss goodbye, Healy, not the kiss of death.” It was Blades.

Healy smiled so broadly that Gigi noticed and she wriggled her eyebrows at him. He spun his chair around.

“Hey, about that.” he said, not having a clue how to finish the sentence.

“Forget it. Wasn’t the first dumb thing I ever done.”

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s not why I called, anyway.” Healy’s heart sank. “Why did—”

“I’m outta IAB. Cleaned my desk out today. Got the bump to detective second. Gonna be working outta One PP as a liaison with the feds.”

“One Police Plaza, huh? Congratulations,” he said without meaning it.

“You just said congratulations like I’m sorry your dog died.”

“Congratulations,” he said it with a little more feeling. “I guess the dog’s only sick.”

“I’m sorry, Blades. It’s just suspicious timing. Were you up for a—”

“Fuck you, Healy! Fuck you!”

Click.

“What’s the matter?” Gigi asked. “You look like your dog just died.”

His laugh had nothing to do with humor. But what he had said to Blades was true: the timing of her promotion did seem strange. Healy could see she was good and she had integrity. The thing was, Skip wouldn’t have thrown her to the wolves if she’d already proven herself and was ready for a bump. He didn’t blame her for taking the promotion and transfer. He felt like shit for opening his big mouth without thinking how his doubts about the offer might come across as doubts about her.

“When you think Joe’ll get back?” Gigi asked.

“Unless my ears are failing me,” Healy said, “that’s the tugboat now.”

And sure enough, as Healy finished his sentence, the old green Mack pulled into the yard. It was still light out and the other trucks would be in soon. Even though there hadn’t been a driver killed since Albie Jimenez, Joe was wary about keeping trucks on the street after dark, especially now that word was out that he was looking into the murders. He didn’t want someone making an example of his drivers. The old Mack’s brakes squealed as Serpe aligned the truck and backed it into its spot of honor right next to the trailer. Bob Healy may not have learned to love life in the yard, but he did find a strange comfort in the sounds of the place; the rumble of the Mack’s engine at idle, the clicking of the meter during truck transfers, the quiet after the morning surge of phone calls.

“Hey,” Joe said, limping into the office. He tossed his map and ticket box on the desk, handed his cash to Healy, and smiled at Gigi. He found he wanted to stroke her cheek, but stopped himself. “I’m gonna wash up. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Come over here,” Healy said to Gigi. “Let me bore you with how to cash out a driver until he’s ready.”

“You’re fifty-seven cents short,” Gigi announced proudly when Serpe stepped out of the bathroom.

He threw three quarters on the table and told her to keep the change. They got a small laugh out of that. The last laugh of the day. There was a knock at the trailer door. Since Serpe was standing he got it. When he looked through the small, scratched pane of plexiglass in the door, his heart jumped into his throat. He recognized the hatchet faced detective from the TV, though he struggled to remember the name that went with it. Joe waved through the plexiglass for the detective to step back and pushed the door open.

“Can I help you? You lost or something?” Serpe asked.

The detective flipped out his shield. “Detective E.W. Keyes, Nassau County PD. Can I come in?”

“Nassau. I guess you
are
lost.”

“I didn’t realize you did standup, Mr. Serpe. Can I come in?”

Serpe hadn’t figured on this. He thought that if the Nassau PD wanted to speak to him, they’d just call and invite him in. But Joe should have paid more careful attention to his own initial assessment of Keyes when he’d seen him on TV. Keyes was good and knew he’d catch Serpe by surprise by showing up this way. Serpe wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing. “This is my partner Bob—”

“—Healy. Yeah, I know. Nice to meet you Detective Healy,” Keyes said, shaking Healy’s hand and making it clear he was thorough and not to be fucked with.

“Detective Healy’s retired,” Bob said. “I’m just Bob these days, half owner of Mayday Fuel.”

“This is Gigi, our phone girl.” Serpe omitted her last name. The name Monaco would have set off all kinds of alarm bells for the detective.

Keyes nodded. “Pleasure.”

“Gigi, do me a favor, go run to the deli and get us a six pack of Blue Point and some coffees,” Joe said, handing her a twenty and his car keys. “Take my car.”

Gigi understood and was out of the office before anyone could protest. When she was gone, Keyes asked if they couldn’t talk privately. Serpe said that they could talk in front of Healy, that he had nothing to hide from his partner. That was true. Healy wasn’t the one Joe was about to lie to. But Joe wasn’t stupid or someone to fuck with either. A good cop learns how to lie and the best lies are those closest to the truth. That’s what he planned to do, stick as close to the truth as possible.

“Do you know what I’m here about?” Keyes asked. “I can guess.”

“Guess.”

“That lawyer who was murdered, Stanfill. I had an appointment with him.”

“Did you keep that I appointment?” Keyes asked.

“I did, a little late. He didn’t. I knocked at the door, but he didn’t come. I called him a few times.”

“I know. I heard the messages. Why didn’t you come forward when you heard he had been murdered?”

“Because I didn’t really know the victim and I didn’t know shit about the murder.”

“But once you knew about the murder, you’d know we’d want to talk to anyone who had an appointment with Stanfill on the day he was murdered.”

“I knew,” Serpe admitted. “But all I was hoping was that Stanfill hadn’t written my appointment down and that you guys would just leave me alone.”

“Why?”

“Come on, Keyes. If you know who Healy is, you know about me. I’ve had all the dealings with the police I ever wanna have. That shit is behind me and I hope it stays there.”

“Fair enough. But if you didn’t know Stanfill, why go to him?”

“I think some customer recommended him to me once. Said he did good divorce and custody work. After that shit came down in the city, my wife divorced me and took my son to Florida. Lately I’ve been thinking I might want him to come live with me. We haven’t had the best relationship and I want to try and change that before it’s too late.”

“Very noble of you. Do you remember what customer recommended him?”

“No. It might not even have been a customer. Might’ve been another driver or my old boss. Who knows?”

“But you must have access to a ton of lawyers. For chrissakes, Serpe, your partner’s brother is a Suffolk ADA. And between your business lawyer and the lawyers who defended you in the city …”

“I was just making inquiries and I didn’t want to tell anyone. Maybe if Stanfill said I had a chance, I might’ve gone for someone more high-powered.”

“Have you gone to another lawyer?”

“Not yet. I was a little shaken by what happened to Stanfill and then the snow hit. We’re still catching up.”

“Have you ever been in Stanfill’s office?”

Bang!
Now Serpe knew why Keyes had come. The other stuff was just the prelims, now he was getting to the main event.

“Once, a few weeks ago. I walked in, looked around to see if this guy was a total dirtbag or not. I mean, he did have a practice in a strip mall, right? Used his bathroom, but he had too many people waiting, so I left and called him back for an appointment.”

“People told me you were sharp, Serpe.”

“Not sharp enough to save my fucking career or marriage.”

“Happens. Just one or two more questions.”

“Go ahead.”

“On the night you had the appointment, did you enter the premises of Stanfill’s office?”

“How could I, the office was locked?”

“That’s funny, because we got a witness that says a man meeting your description walked around the back of the mall and entered through the backdoor of the victim’s office.”

“I went around back, but that door was locked too,” Serpe said.

“Funny how you didn’t mention that.”

“Not so funny. I didn’t see the point.”

“The body was moved.”

“What?”

“The body was moved post-mortem,” Keyes said. “It was done carefully, but it was done. I’m just curious why someone would find the body, move it, and not report it?”

“Hope you find out,” Serpe said.

“I was hoping to find out tonight,” the detective said as one of the other trucks pulled into the yard.

“It’s only five, you’ve still got plenty of time. I don’t. I’ve gotta cash my drivers out. So, if you’ll excuse me …”

Keyes removed two cards and gave one each to Serpe and Healy. “I’m pretty sharp too. I know you didn’t kill Stanfill, but there’s something going on here you’re not telling me about. For your sake, Serpe, I hope it doesn’t bear on the case. I like getting fucked as much as the next guy, but only with consent. I get pretty fucking ornery when it happens the other way around. Remember that. Goodnight, gentlemen.”