Erin suspected Rocky knew that perfectly well. But either he was too sleepy to think straight, or he didn’t think he had anything to fear, because the door opened a few inches. An unshaven face peered out at them with bloodshot eyes.
“Who the hell are you?” the guy demanded.
Webb held up his shield. “Lieutenant Webb, NYPD. You Rocky?”
“Goddamn cops,” Rocky muttered. “I didn’t do nothin.”“
“We just need to ask you a few questions,” Webb said. “It’s about your girlfriend, Amber Hayward.”
“I told you, I didn’t—” he began, then stopped. “What about her?”
“When’s the last time you saw her?” Webb asked.
Rocky’s eyes cleared a little. Erin could see him waking up, becoming wary. “Why you wanna know?”
“She’s a person of interest in a serious situation,” Webb said. “I’m hoping you can help us clear things up. Can we come in?”
Rocky thought it over for a second. Erin could practically read his thoughts. He was going through a checklist of what they’d see in his apartment, debating with himself whether he’d get in trouble for any of it. Then he shrugged.
“Sure.” He caught sight of Rolf. “But not the dog.”
“Why not?” Erin challenged.
“I got allergies.” He sniffled loudly and rubbed his nose.
“He stays with me,” she said.
“Then you stay in the hallway.”
Erin sighed. “Kiddo, he’s trained in bomb detection and suspect apprehension. As long as you’re not building pipe bombs or kidnapping people, we’ve got no problem.”
“Okay, whatever,” Rocky said, rubbing his nose again. Erin was pretty sure she saw white, powdery residue on his nostrils.
Rocky was half-dressed, in boxer shorts and a wife-beater. His hair was uncombed and he could definitely use a shower. His apartment was a bachelor pad. The most expensive things in it were the gaming console and TV in the living room. Erin scanned the place with an experienced policewoman’s eye. She didn’t see any weapons or obvious stashes of drugs, but she did see the mirror on the coffee table, and she’d bet the residue on it wasn’t powdered sugar. Rocky was definitely a drug user.
If Webb saw it, he didn’t give any sign. “Tell us about Amber,” he said.
“What about her?” Rocky asked. “We hang out sometimes. Sure, she was over here. It was Valentine’s Day, you know how it is, man.”
“I know how it is,” Vic said. “You spend the day with the people you love, holding hands, getting high, eating chocolates.”
“Hey, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Rocky said.
“Did you give her anything?” Webb asked.
Rocky grinned, his eyes going to Erin. “Oh yeah, I gave her plenty.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. For some reason, a female cop made guys like him want to brag about their conquests. But she’d heard it all before.
“We’re talking about gifts,” she said, ignoring his tone.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I gave her a box of chocolate.”
Webb showed a hint of surprise. Erin felt the same way. They hadn’t expected him to admit it so easily.
“I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the station with us,” the Lieutenant said.
It was Rocky’s turn to look surprised. “What for? Chocolate’s not against the law!”
“No,” Webb agreed. “But murder is.”
“Murder?” Rocky repeated, eyes going wide. “You’re batshit! I didn’t kill nobody!”
“I’ve got a dead body in a dentist’s office that says otherwise,” Webb said. He pulled out his handcuffs. “I think you know them already, you’ve sure heard them enough times, but I’m going to advise you of your rights.”
Erin and Vic tensed, just in case Rocky tried to run or fight. But he’d been through the system enough times to know better.
“Can I put on some clothes?” he asked. “And shoes?”
Webb nodded. “Neshenko, keep an eye on him.”
“You might want to pack a toothbrush, while you’re at it,” Vic suggested. “You might be staying overnight.”
* * *
By the time they got Rocky into the interrogation room, he’d had a chance to recover a little of his composure. He was smiling in a cocky way, even swaggering a little. He’d been in plenty of police stations before, and he’d usually walked out of them again. He wasn’t scared, and he wanted them to know it.
Erin and Webb went into the room with him, while Vic waited outside. Erin had learned that young punks tended to be more talkative in the presence of an attractive woman, and Webb, always pragmatic, was willing to use that for all it was worth.
“So, Rocky,” Erin said. “You know how to treat a girl. I can tell.”
He smirked. “You know it, lady.”
“The chocolates weren’t the first thing you gave Amber,” Erin went on. “What does she like? Is she a jewelry girl? Flowers?”
“Hey, you know, it’s all sorts of shit,” Rocky said. “The main thing is, you gotta show you’re thinking about ‘em, and you gotta spend money on ‘em. See, the more you spend, the more you care, right? It’s, like, mathematical.”
Erin nodded, keeping a straight face. “You spend a lot on Amber, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah. Hey, I take her out to a restaurant, it’s not McDonald’s, right? No, we’re talking Angelo’s on Mulberry, shrimp cocktails, salad, main course, hundred-dollar champagne. The good stuff, y’know? I’m spending, like, three hundred there. Cash!”
Webb gave Erin a slight nod to keep going. As long as Rocky was talking, the interrogation was a success. Erin’s dad had given her some advice about interrogating suspects back when she’d first started on the Job.
“Everybody’s got a story they tell themselves. Sure, it’s a bunch of lies, but it’s what they say in their own heads. Even the lies tell you things. What you gotta do is, you gotta get them to tell you their story.”
“She’s a lucky girl,” Erin said, smiling at Rocky. “You give her any special treats like you have at your apartment?”
A crafty look came into Rocky’s eyes. “Hey, I don’t know nothin’
