and see. In Merrill Liberty's case, we can dig her up if we have to.'
'Where did the shrink get this?'
'Every emergency room, every operating room, every EMS unit has them. Trocars are used to create an airway, or draw fluid, or blood or air to release pressure. Every resident has to practice with them. They come in several sizes: for adults, children, and infants. They're sharp, can penetrate quickly and deeply. Looks like a knitting needle, doesn't it?'
April slipped the unsheathed trocar back in her sleeve, then drew it out, demonstrating to Iriarte how it would neatly slide out to become a lethal weapon, then be easily concealed when the perpetrator left the scene.
'You're going to have to let Liberty go for now, sir.'
Groaning, Iriarte checked his watch. It was 8:59 P.M. Liberty had been there for four hours. At 9 P.M. Sunday night the lieutenant was going to have to call the mayor's office, the police commissioner's office, and the DA. Everyone had to hear about the problem with the deputy medical examiner—and the release of Liberty—from him first. It wasn't going to be a good night for him. He scowled at April. She knew her mother's curse would be accomplished, and she would pay for tonight. She glanced at Mike.
No one mentioned Rosa's name.
Iriarte said, 'Well, get out of here and go bring her in. I'll have the DA here to talk to her, see how deeply she's involved. He's not going to like this,' the lieutenant added in a warning voice, as if the homicides and improper autopsies themselves were all April's fault.
'Thank you, sir,' she said.
She and Mike exchanged knowing looks. Once again Iriarte wanted the two of them gone as fast as possible. He wanted to be remembered in the photos, not as the one who arrested Liberty, but as the one who let him go.
48
Rosa Washington lived in Greenwich Village. April was silent as Mike drove Captain McCarthy's unmarked green Ford Taurus south on Broadway. It was a clear starless night, the coldest yet. She stared out the window at the dizzying display of lights. Neon signs selling theater, underwear, watches, sex, sneakers, punched out of the dark, jolting the senses like a drug shot through the veins. Cruising through Times Square, where the golden ball had dropped on the new year only twelve days ago, April felt a slight surge of energy. Outside the car, the air cut to the bone, but there was still action on the streets this Sunday night despite the frigid temperature. January in New York. April adjusted her scarf. Static, more static, then a garbled call jumped out of the scanner. Mike reached over and turned it off. Ducci had left a message: The ultraviolet lights had not turned up any traces of blood on Merrill Liberty's mink coat. But it was definitely Rosa Washington's hair that had been taken off Petersen's body. When it had gotten there was now the question.
'What are we taking her in for?' April asked after a minute. 'Intentionally messing up an autopsy or unintentionally messing up an autopsy?'
She had been working for seven days straight, the last three days for fourteen hours at a stretch. Today with the funeral and the fiasco in Kiang's office had been the worst. Mentally, she shook herself, trying to wake up. She was tired, felt flabby and soft as she tried to work herself up to the nervy state necessary for telling the deputy ME she was in big trouble.
'You know her best. What's your call?'
'Here we go again with the your call, my call bit,' April complained.
'You did pretty well last time.'
'Fine. No plan. We play it by ear.' She sank into her own thoughts and didn't glance in Mike's direction until he said, 'There it is.'
April studied the building at Rosa Washington's address. Nine stories. Red brick. Small windows except on the Hudson Street side, where the middle apartment every other floor had French doors and a narrow balcony for plants. The building was prewar, but not the kind of prewar Petersen's lavishly appointed Fifth Avenue building was—all limestone and brass and marble with huge windows. This kind of prewar was just old, kind of run-down, had an external fire escape. Mike parked in front of a fire hydrant and killed the engine.
'Let's take this real easy.' April inhaled and exhaled a few times, trying to take it real easy herself. She glanced up at the sixth floor. The left apartment still had Christmas lights ringing the window, but the inside lights were off. The right apartment was dark. The middle windows glowed. April guessed that Rosa was up.
The front door of the building was open. Inside, the second door was locked. Mike found Washington's name on the menu of tenants: 6B. His options were to ring the super's bell and, if the super was there, have a conversation with him about letting. them in. Mike could ring Rosa's bell, ask her to ring them up, thereby alerting her to their presence. Or he could wait for some other tenant to open the door for them. Apparently none of those options appealed to him. He didn't look at April as he casually popped the lock open with a tool from his pocket.
April brushed past him, got into the elevator, hit the button marked six. 'Nice and easy,' she cautioned again as they moved slowly upward after a few introductory bumps. She realized she was afraid of Rosa.
The elevator door slid open. Mike moved out into the narrow hall first. April followed. Five apartments on the floor; 6B was in the middle of the hall, just opposite them. April took the center position. She glanced at Mike's face, taut now. When he lowered his chin, she rang the bell. She knew he didn't like her position. He preferred to be the target in front of the door, liked her to be the one covering him from the side. She smiled. Macho man. Rosa wasn't going to hurt them.
A crack of light showed under the door, but the occupant was in no hurry to open up. April rang the bell again. Maybe she had company.
Finally a low voice came from within. 'You have the wrong apartment.'
'It's Sergeant Woo,' April said, then added, 'and Sergeant Sanchez.'
'It's late. What do you want?'
'We want you to open the door.' This from Mike.
Rosa didn't reply. She took some time rattling the chains and turning the locks. When she finally opened the door, she was gazing past April at the elevator door. The window in it showed that the elevator was not there. It had returned to the first floor. Rosa stood in front of the entrance to her apartment. 'What's up?'
'We need you to come uptown with us.' April took in the fine white sweater, the gray trousers, and gold chain belt the doctor wore. The gold earrings and gold watch. The doctor's hair was washed and set, not wispy now. Her lips red. She looked good.
'This is my day off,' she said.
Rosa's face showed no sign of tension as she backed away and let them enter her surprisingly gracious apartment. The foyer had a parquet floor and a black-painted fence that ran the width of the sunken living room except at the entrance in the middle where two small steps went down. Recessed lights gave the yellow living room a warm glow. Trees and plants lined the windows facing Hudson Street. Two maroon sofas and two club chairs had a comfortable look. A large square coffee table placed between them was laden with books. The focal point of the room were the French windows that opened on the narrow balcony Mike and April had seen from below. Now that they were up here, April could see that the French windows were cracked open.
Dispassionately, Washington watched them examine the place. 'You want to sit down?' she asked, inviting them down the steps into the sunken living room.
Mike checked his watch. 'We're in kind of a hurry,' he replied.
April could see he wanted to get moving. When they'd entered the building, she'd unbuttoned her coat, just in case. Now it was very hot in the apartment even with the French doors not fully closed. If they didn't get going immediately, she'd have to take the coat off. It didn't look as if Rosa was ready to come with them. The woman moved to the sofa closest to the windows and sat down. April considered her options in the coat department, but Rosa started speaking before she had time to make a decision.
'I saw that Liberty was arrested. Good job.'
