Stealing Time

'Baum's not a bad guy. Who knows, he may even turn out to have some talent,' she murmured, not wanting to let the insult go.

Iriarte had a really skinny mustache that came nowhere near his mouth. He squeezed his thin lips into a moue, then made them into a line. Working his mouth was how he thought. 'I wouldn't bet on it,' he muttered. 'Why'd you pick him?'

'Baum's new. He could use some breaking in,' April replied, neutral. And he didn't have any loyalties yet. She needed someone like that on her team.

'Look, April, don't take this opportunity to make a flaming mess of things.' Iriarte blew air out of his mouth. April could tell he was unhappy.

'No sir, I won't,' she promised him.

'I want our best people on this.' He punched the air with his pen. 'We got to stay in it all the way, you hear what I'm saying?'

'I hear you, sir. Do you have Hagedorn on the background stuff?'

'Yes, but four guys from Major Cases are on it, too. Let's see who scores first,' he said fiercely. He stopped, shook his head at the intruders, then turned to his second whip. 'And I want you out there until something breaks. All night, all day, as long as it takes.'

'Yes sir, and Baum can drive me,' she said after a moment. It was suicide. She didn't know why she'd said it. But without Mike she had no one. Creaker and Skye were Iriarte's boys; she didn't trust them. Baum was no detective, that was clear, but he was no worse than anybody else.

'Jesus, April, are you telling me you want

him?'

Iriarte exploded. Face turned red, the whole bit. He looked as if he were about to keel over on the spot. April hated getting him into such a state when he was already so upset.

Did she want Baum? Of course she didn't want him. The guy had no legs. He was a tadpole, but maybe he'd turn out all right.

'Getting the new ones up to speed is part of my job, as I understand it.' She kept her face impassive. Even in bad times, when the pressure was on. Like this.

Iriarte smacked his desk with the palm of his hand. 'Look here, I'm getting calls, a lot of calls about this.'

'Yes, sir.'

'So what do you have that I don't know already?'

'Baum and I talked to the doorman. He said Mrs. Popescu had a dicey pregnancy and wasn't seen very much before the birth of the baby.'

Iriarte rolled his tongue around in his mouth. 'Is that significant?'

'It sure is. At the hospital the doctor told us Heather Popescu had not given birth to a baby.'

'What?

But there is a baby, right?'

'Oh, yeah, there's a baby. Doorman said Mr.

Popescu left at eight-thirty

A.M

., as usual; the man's like clockwork. Mrs. Popescu took the baby out soon after that, a little after nine —'

'Did he see the baby?'

'No. He said he heard the baby crying. He knew it was the baby because newborns sound like kittens.'

Iriarte rolled his eyes. 'So—either the baby was alive this morning, or the baby was dead and the woman went out with a kitten. And, by the way, it wasn't her baby.'

'Yes,' April said.

'What about when she returned? Was there a baby or a kitten with her then?'

'No one remembers seeing her return.'

'Did you talk to the relief doorman?'

'Yes. He didn't see her.'

'What about the service entrance?'

'Security in the building is pretty tight. What I'm wondering about is the stroller. The doorman says it was more like a carriage, not one of those little fold-up jobs. She went out with it. It wasn't in the apartment when we got there. Where is it?'

Iriarte sat back and made a steeple with his fingers. 'This whole thing sounds fishy to me. Let me see a picture of the baby.' He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers as if he knew she had one.

Indeed, April had gotten a photo from Popescu before she left his apartment. She dug around in her purse and pulled it out. She glanced at it before handing it over to Iriarte. Baby Paul had a full head of dark hair and blue eyes. He was wrapped up in a blue blanket, caught by the camera with a serious expression.

Iriarte shook his head. 'Cute. This baby doesn't look Chinese. The so-called mother, who is also the last person seen with it, is Chinese.' He gave April a piercing look. 'You're the primary on this case and I want you to clear it tonight.'

April kept her face calm, but inside, panic rose like a flood tide. How could she do that?

'You hear me? I talked with Popescu. He neglected to mention the fact that the baby isn't theirs. You talk to him. Get a birth certificate. Find the birth parents. Maybe they have him.'

'Yes, sir.'

Scowling, Iriarte looked at the photo again. 'They've got all the specialists in on this. And the baby may be out with a sitter, with a friend of the family, or with its real parents.' He fixed his eyes on her as if she weren't paying enough attention. 'You hear me?'

'Yes, sir. I'll get on it.'

He dropped the photo on the desk, turned his palms up, and changed tack suddenly. 'So who beat up the woman? Could she have gotten beaten fighting to keep the baby?'

'Anything is possible.' April looked down at her hands.

'What do you think of the husband?' Iriarte gave a small whistle. 'What's his problem? Is he the beater?'

'Anything is possible,' she said again.

He handed her back the photo. If Paul Popescu had been a two-year-old or a five-year-old he'd have told her to blow up the photo and send it out on the streets.

Have you seen me?

But that was impossible with an infant.

Iriarte stared at the ceiling, musing.

'The doorman said she walked toward the park.'

The special units were already headed there with their sniffers.

'Keep on the husband, and don't let anyone in to see the mother. You know.' He shook his head. The last thing they wanted was for her to wake up and have her lawyer husband there to help her with her story. He swiveled away from her. That was it. He'd finished.

'Who's the ADA on this?' April asked.

'I don't know. Mayers, Meyers, something like that. Someone we don't know. Check out the legal aspects of this one.' He consulted his watch and sighed deeply. 'Find the baby alive and get a straight story. Otherwise you're out of here.' Iriarte's color improved after he threatened to fire her.

Outside in the squad room Baum was holding up a wall, sulking over his notes and glowering at the fat detective who was sitting on the corner of his desk and dropping ashes on the phone. April came out of Iriarte's office and waved him over. 'Let's go.'

CHAPTER 7

A

nton Popescu left Roosevelt Hospital after his evening visit, burning with humiliation. A nurse built like a Hummer had kicked him out of his wife's room. When he tried to talk her out of it, she cut him off mid-