Wendy hated having no cover. Now she had to do a second event by herself. It wasn't fair. Reluctantly, she turned her thoughts to the wedding of Prudence Hay, who happened to be another undeserving, spoiled brat with a mother who doted on her. Wendy had no choice but to get a move on. With an aching head, she dragged herself out of bed, put Tovah behind her and Prudence to the fore.
Nine
T
he Long Island Expressway was already jammed by the time Mike and April hit the road at seven.
'You mind telling me where we're going?' April asked.
'One PP.'
'Oh, yeah. I thought we were going to the Bronx.'
'We're meeting Inspector Bellaqua first. Know her?'
'Not personally,' April said.
'Good woman.'
Satisfied for the moment, April pulled out her cell phone and called into Midtown North to get her messages. Then she roused her boss, Lieutenant Iriarte, on his cell while he was on the road driving in from his home in Westchester. He yelled at her for about ten minutes.
'Trouble?' Mike asked as soon as she finished the call.
'The usual bullshit.' She dialed Woody Baum, her protege and sometime driver, and talked to him for a while. When she finished that call she was quiet.
you okay?' Mike asked after a minute or two.
Her response was a Chinese silence he didn't try to decipher. He took the Midtown Tunnel, then the
FDR down to the bridge exit. The traffic wasn't too bad. At eight-oh-nine, he flashed his gold at the patrol officer guarding the triangle around headquarters. The uniform waved them through the many barriers into the fortress of One Police Plaza, otherwise known as the puzzle palace. A number of department vehicles, black Crown Victorias, blue-and-white cruisers, and vans were parked inside the triangle. There was no place for Mike's ancient Camaro. At the ramp leading down to the garage in the building, he flashed his shield again, then drove in and found a parking place far from the elevators. From the garage they went straight up on a slow elevator that filled on the way. Mike said hello to a few people with whom he'd worked over the years, but he and April stood well apart and didn't speak to each other.
Everybody knew the elevators had ears, and theirs was a situation ripe for gossip. On the eleventh floor they got off and turned right. The Hate Crimes Unit was on the southwest corridor, last door on the left.
read the outdated sign on the frosted glass-topped door. Mike went in first.
The area was set up just like dozens of other special units in the building. The main room was an open space crammed with desks and computers, filing cabinets, a few narrow lockers. On the far end a bank of windows faced downtown, where the sun was streaking in from Long Island. Narrow pathways between islands of four pushed- together desks barely allowed navigation through the room. Mike followed the path to the inspector's office. Bellaqua had a corner office with windows on two sides, a bookcase, an attractive desk, a small circular conference table, all the accou ferments of a modern business executive. She was on the phone. As soon as she saw Mike, she finished up and waved him in.
'Hey, Mike. Right on time,' she said. 'Some night last night, huh?'
'Yes, it was. Inspector, this is Sergeant April Woo from Midtown North.' Mike turned to April, who was right behind him.
'My old precinct. I've heard about you, April. Is Iriarte still in command over there?' Inspector Bel-laqua was one of the higher-ranking women in the Department. She was about April's height, with a fuller, womanly figure and a round, youthful face. Dark hair, sharp eyes. Fresh lipstick, well applied and not too red. She regarded April with interest.
'Yes, ma'am.' April responded with a no-frills answer. She always took things real slow with new people.
'Let's see, Arturo took over from me, what, four years ago?' Bellaqua mused.
'More.' Mike jerked up his chin with a little smile. 'The place was never the same after you left.'
'Thanks.' Bellaqua went on reminiscing. 'That's right, almost four and a half now. We had some good times, busy place. How are you dom' over there, April?' The inspector gave April a long, speculative look, trying to read her.
'Good,' April replied, flat as a pancake.
'It's a good command. You want some coffee, doughnuts?' Unperturbed, Bellaqua moved right on.
Hospitality at NYPD meant offering the official food of the department any time of day. Twenty-four/seven, doughnuts were highly acceptable.
'I sent out for a box. What kind do you like?' she asked.
'Thanks, we like them all,' Mike said.
'Coffee?'
'Sure, that would be great,' Mike said.
'Take a seat, please.' The inspector rose. She was wearing a black pantsuit. She'd been up all night with the Schoenfeld family, but didn't look sleep-deprived. As she left the room, April assessed her back.
'Good woman. You should have seen her working with those people last night. A real inspiration.' Mike took a seat on a new-looking chair in front of the
desk.
'Good, we need some inspiration,' April murmured.
When the inspector returned, her expression had changed. She was through with nice. Now came management. The Detective Bureau consisted of more than six thousand people working in precincts and special units all over the city, also in the puzzle palace of headquarters. In big cases like this detectives were pulled in from different units to work together, often displacing the precinct detectives on whose turf the crime occurred. The rivalry between precinct detectives and special-units detectives was well known. Everybody jockeyed to keep important information in his own court, to be the one to break the case and get the credit for himself and his own unit.
'Tovah Schoenfeld's body was released early this morning. Mike, you know this. I've never seen a victim move through the system so fast.' Bellaqua put her index finger against her cheek and tapped. 'I'm telling you, it was a very emotional scene at the ME's office. You know how it can get.'
'What happened?' April asked.
'The family refused to leave without the body. The family staged a sit-in. They didn't want to leave the body alone. They also tried to get the gown released to bury her in.' Bellaqua shook her head.
'How did they do on that?' April asked.
'An offer of a possible forty-eight hours was made. I don't know how real that was/' Mike jumped in.
'Well, Jimmy might have been able to do the ballistics work in forty-eight, but the DA's office would have taken a stand that the dress was direct evidence in the case. When it was put to them that way, the family decided not to delay the funeral. They're putting her in the ground this morning. They've requested security at the funeral,' Bellaqua said. 'And they're getting a lot of it. The cemetery is in Queens.'
'What's the rush?' April asked.
'They're very religious. They wanted her in the ground as soon as possible.' The inspector lifted a shoulder.
'So what's the muscle?'
'Money. Riverdale. Real estate. Take your pick. You don't think ultra-Orthodox when you think of the area, do you?'
April glanced at Mike. He smiled. No one had to tell Mike about Riverdale. He'd grown up there, just a block or two from the Five-oh. But he let his superior talk.
'It's always been an enclave, classy. But pretty much of a mixed neighborhood. You got your pockets of Hasidic Jews in Brooklyn, in Morningside Heights. Upstate, of course, out in Port Washington, in Queens. Riverdale's
