her. He was dying to know what was going on. He wished he and Emma could sit down and join the law- enforcement party. But he knew from long experience that Emma did what she wanted and wouldn’t be budged. She had to deal with things her own way. If she didn’t want to be reminded of what it felt like to be a victim, fair enough.
Jason decided he’d put in a call to April and ask her if she’d drop by to update him on the case later. His breath frosted the air as he jogged to catch up with his wife.
sixty
Daveys chewed on an ice cube, staring at April’s plate. “Something wrong with that?” He pointed at the uneaten last quarter of her tuna club.
“No.” She watched his face twitch over the fries still piled up on her plate. He’d made a point of saying he never ate fried food. He’d said a lot of things. They knew the whole of his pedigree.
“You going to finish it?” Daveys asked.
“No.”
“Can I have it?”
“Sure.”
“You guys don’t talk much, do you?” he said, pulling the plate toward him.
Smiling, Sanchez nodded at the waiter for some more coffee.
“Shouldn’t drink all that caffeine, you know,” Daveys told him.
Sanchez dumped two sugars in his fresh coffee. He didn’t reply.
“Water’s best, trust me on that one.” Daveys took a bite of April’s sandwich. “Not bad, want a bite?” He offered it to Mike.
April glanced up and saw Jason with Emma through the glass door of the restaurant. So the beautiful wife
“So you’re not going to trust me on this? What’s with you kids? I’m offering you a present. You go over to Boudreau’s place and you pick him up, take all the credit. Case closed. What’s your problem?”
“Maybe you’re our problem,” Mike offered.
Daveys looked wounded. “I’m your solution. How could I be your problem?”
“Hey, Spiro,” Mike called out to the owner, a fat man sitting at the counter under a No Smoking sign smoking a cigarette. “Ever heard of the saying ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts’?”
“Want a baklava?” Spiro asked. “It’s just out of the oven. I made it myself.”
“I’m sure it’s great, but then I’d end up looking like you.”
“Ha, ha.” The fat man laughed.
“So what’s your point?” Daveys whined.
“Why offer us the gift? Why not make the bust yourself, split it with your team?” Mike said, winking at April.
This wasn’t federal jurisdiction. That’s why he couldn’t do it himself. Daveys had another interest in this case they didn’t know about yet. He was working with Treadwell, who was the girlfriend of a U.S. Senator.
“Oh, come on, guys,” Daveys wheedled. “I gave you all you need. This guy was a misfit from the word
“So where’s the rest of the team?” April asked abruptly.
“The team?”
“I’ve never seen a federal agent work a case alone. There must be more of you in the woodwork. Why don’t you guys pull Boudreau in and get the credit?”
“Have I got a challenge here from a girl cop?” Daveys rolled his eyes. “You know why I can’t do that. I’m handing it to you. What’s your resistance here—are you kids nuts?”
Mike slammed his cup down. Coffee slopped over the edge. “Hey, Daveys, call us kids one more time—”
Daveys made a similar gesture with his glass. An ice cube jumped out and skidded across the table. “Look, I’m just being affectionate. My dad was a cop. My brother’s a cop—”
“I thought your brother was a Green Beret,” April interrupted.
“My other brother.” Daveys caught the cube before it slid off the table, popped it into his mouth, and chewed.
Mike raised his hand for the bill. “Thanks for the family history.”
“Look, if you pass up this opportunity, I can guarantee it’ll be your ass. You can kiss your future good- bye.”
Mike sighed. “Look, Daveys. We’ve got our own procedures here. We work with the D.A.’s office. We’ve got to get these things nailed down just right before we run in and arrest somebody, you know what I’m saying here? We don’t like to fuck up, makes the Department look bad. But thanks for the tip about the scotch bottle in Boudreau’s kitchen—funny how you know about it when you haven’t even talked to the weasel yet. What does he do, leave his door unlocked?” Mike threw back his head and laughed.
“Yeah, it’s a riot, all right.”
Mike sobered. “But, hey, we’ll check it out. Maybe we’ll find out Johnnie Walker’s his brand. Maybe we won’t.”
“I don’t see gratitude here. What did you kids get on your own, huh?”
Mike glanced at April. On their own they’d gotten Boudreau’s personnel file. He’d been a blood donor, so they knew his blood type, O negative. It matched the blood type of the semen in the condom. Bobbie had been arrested a number of times for drunk-and-disorderly, for assault—bar fights. No one had ever pressed charges. His prints were on file. They hadn’t had time to find out if Boudreau’s prints matched any of the prints that had been lifted from the file, but somehow they doubted he’d been the one to put it back in the drawer in Personnel. They knew about Boudreau’s history in the Army and his dishonorable discharge. They knew where he lived and was currently working. Now they knew where he was hiding out.
“Thanks,” Mike said. “You’ve been a big help. We’ll go for it tomorrow.”
“Good man.” An apparent stickler for details, Daveys nevertheless forgot to pick up his tab when he left.
sixty-one
At a few minutes before seven P.M. on Monday night April adjusted her blue silk Chanel scarf nervously in the cage elevator that hauled her slowly up to the fifth floor of Jason’s building. It occurred to her that Jason’s wife had many real designer scarves and could spot a fake a mile away. She scraped through the lint at the bottom of her jacket pocket for a shred of tissue to blot her lipstick.
April had been upset that afternoon at the coffee shop when she saw Emma’s face freeze at the sight of her and her lips move,
If she was there to answer the door, the movie-star wife would look her over and April knew she looked a wreck. Her hair was absolutely flat on her head. Her clothes were wrinkled, smelled of mental hospital and the Victorian potpourri from Gunn’s apartment. Her stomach was making terrible noises. She didn’t feel up to Jason’s wife tonight. She was in a state of panic, terrified about messing up the case.
Right now she knew that the Chinese god of messing up (whoever he was) was hanging over her as her Yin and Yang wrestled hopelessly out of harmony. She could feel him hanging around out there, just beyond her vision, waiting for the perfect moment to disgrace her and destroy her life. Maybe he’d come in the form of Special Agent Daveys. Maybe the NYPD was being set up somehow and she’d be the one to take the fall for this. She had a bad feeling about the situation with Boudreau. It didn’t all fit together the way it should, and she had no idea how it would be resolved tomorrow.
