“All set?” he asked.
They had hardly spoken on the way over. She was tired, and apprehensive about what she was going to say and do. They had an understanding. This was her case, and she had to handle it. But she had no real sense of these people. All she knew for sure was that the husband was a doctor, a shrink he finally told her. And the wife was an actress. But what did that really mean? She had no idea what it meant, no idea at all what their lives were like. She had never met any people like that.
For months after being transferred up here, just walking into one of these buildings on the upper West Side was a shock to her. And she was still trying to get used to it. She didn’t know about buildings with doormen to guard the entrance, back elevator men to take away the trash, drugstores, dry cleaners, and grocery stores that all delivered. She didn’t know people who wore fur coats and had dog walkers to walk their tiny dogs, who went to the Caribbean islands in winter and passed through Queens only to get to the airports or the Hamptons.
She’d never been to the Caribbean or the Hamptons. She was born in a building where the toilet out in the hall was shared by three families. And the tub was in the kitchen. All she ever wanted was to grow up, get her degree, and help people like her mother and father survive. She had never asked to come uptown, to have to look in the mirror and wish her eyes and bottom were round. Never in ten thousand years would she have wanted to have to learn to walk and talk and think like educated Caucasians. And now she had to. These people were coming to her as if she knew how to solve their problems.
The shrink, with all his years of education and training, had come to her, as helpless and terrified as any illiterate Asian just off the boat.
She glanced at Sanchez and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go,” she said.
“Jesus, what a place,” he remarked.
April looked up at the extraordinary canopy made of some kind of carved metal. She had found that even in buildings like this, she was still afraid of what was behind the door. They had taught her that, but the fear must be from another life. She had always been scared to open the door. April couldn’t get the thought out of her head that maybe there was a reason the wife never called her back. Maybe she was already dead.
She glanced at Sanchez again. He was waiting for her to go in first. She straightened her shoulders. She didn’t want him to know she was scared.
46
“Hi, I’m Detective Woo, and this is Sergeant Sanchez from the police.” Usually when she said it, the sound of the two names together made her want to laugh. Tonight it didn’t.
April pulled out her badge, and Sanchez did, too.
The night doorman stubbed out his cigarette and looked at them dumbly. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve have a request from Dr. Frank to check his apartment,” she said. The name on the pocket of the man’s uniform was Francis. It was probably his first name.
“He’s away.” The man’s eyes looked dimly out at them from puffy lids. “Do you want me to ring his wife?”
“Is she here?” April asked.
“Could be,” the doorman said.
“What do you mean, she
“Well. She ain’t in the book, and I ain’t seen her since I come on. She could be out. She could be in.”
“What time do you come on?”
“Eleven.”
That was only forty-five minutes ago. So, Emma Chapman could be there or she could have left any time since yesterday. April nodded. “Please call her.”
“I’ll have to ring the apartment …” The doorman gestured at the old-fashioned intercom, one of those ancient telephone switchboards with the plugs and buzzers. There were no names by the holes, but there was a thick ledger on the table with a list of apartments and people who were out. April leaned over to look at it. Dr. Frank was listed as away. Emma Chapman wasn’t on that day’s list or the one for the previous two days.
“Well, go ahead. Ring up,” she said.
Sanchez moved out of the way. Francis stuck a plug into a hole and pushed the knob down. There was a faint hum as the connection was made.
No answer from upstairs.
“Where does it ring?” April asked.
“In the kitchen.”
“Is it loud enough to hear in the bedroom?”
“Depends.”
“Try again.”
He pushed the knob down a second time.
“What’s the procedure with the ledger?” Sanchez asked as the man rang over and over.
“Front or back?”
“You have two books?” April watched the board. Nothing. She hadn’t expected anything. God, she hoped the woman was at a friend’s house.
“Two doors, two elevators. Two books. Guess she must be out.” Francis gave up ringing and lit another cigarette. “What’re you looking for?”
“We’re looking for her,” April said. “Emma Chapman. Do you have a key to the apartment?”
“Well, yeah.” He frowned. “But I’m not supposed to give it to anybody.”
Everything always took forever. April took a deep breath. Everybody took persuading. Without a warrant, this guy might not let them in.
“You don’t have to give it to us. You can open the door and stay with us,” she suggested, keeping her voice casual.
“We’ll only be a minute,” Sanchez added.
“I can’t leave the door,” the man hedged.
“Oh, come on, not even to take a leak?”
Sanchez was good at making people do what he wanted. April’s face didn’t change when he took charge of the situation. She was a detective. He was a sergeant. She never forgot that.
Francis eyed them suspiciously. “The Doc is a real particular man. How do I know you’re really cops?”
Sanchez pointed out the glass door to the blue-and-white police car parked by the fire hydrant. It had their precinct number on it.
“By our squad car, Francis. You going to take us upstairs or what?”
Mike had left the lights flashing on top of the car. He did that sometimes, even though it ran down the battery. It did the job now.
Francis considered it only for a second. Then he moved away from the switchboard and locked the front door. “Okay, two minutes. But you better not touch anything.”
Sanchez held his hands up to show he had no intention of touching anything. As they headed to the elevator, April looked around. Twelve floors up at the top was a stained-glass skylight in the middle of the ceiling. The elevator was a big metal cage. The stairway went around the building in a square so you could walk all the way up if you had to. This place was … She didn’t know exactly what it was. She let out her breath in a little whistle.
They stopped on the fifth floor. April stepped back as the metal door accordioned closed. She wondered how many kids had gotten their fingers caught in it over the years.
They started around the square landing. There was a little indentation, not quite a vestibule, for every apartment.
“This is the Doc’s office. I don’t have a key to that.” Francis stopped at a vestibule with two doors. One had a table beside it piled with letters and packages.
“This is the apartment.”
Sanchez held his hand out for the keys. Francis handed them over, shaking his head. “The Doc won’t like
