ship.”
Sally held his gaze but didn’t respond. It took Xan a moment but he got it, turning to Sally and saying, “He’s right, little dragon.” Then to Cape he said, “You have a plan?”
Cape’s eyes never left Sally’s as he answered.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think I do.”
Chapter Sixty-one
It was almost 7:30 in the morning by the time Cape walked into the Hall of Justice on Bryant Street. After passing through the metal detectors, he rode the elevator to the fourth floor, where Homicide Detail was located. Many of the desks were unoccupied, and the small office at the back was empty.
Vincent Mango sat behind his desk, black hair slicked back, dressed immaculately in a dark gray suit, yellow tie, and loafers. He looked more like next month’s
Cape gave him a wave, crossed the room, and took a seat in front of the desk. He checked his watch, then nodded at Vincent.
“Where is everybody?”
Vincent looked around the room as if he hadn’t noticed. “It’s that time of day. Most of the bad shit happened already, in the middle of the night, so we got people on the street. And the bad stuff that’s gonna happen today, well, it hasn’t happened yet. Still too early in the morning.”
“Where’s Beau?” Cape jutted his chin toward the desk behind Vincent.
“Went home about two hours ago,” replied Vincent. “You know how he hates this time of day.”
Cape nodded. “I’m here to make a statement.”
“I heard,” said Vincent, turning toward his computer. “Beau told me. Said you were supposed to come in last night.”
“I fell asleep.”
Vincent turned and gave Cape a look, just for an instant, that said
Cape asked, “You want to hear it or not?”
Vincent pulled a pair of reading glasses from his jacket pocket and turned back to his computer, fingers on the keyboard.
“You’re not going to write it down?” asked Cape, motioning toward a yellow pad on the desk. “Beau always writes it down first.”
“You ever seen my handwriting?” asked Vincent. “Even I can’t read it. Besides, what do you care?”
Cape shrugged. “Curiosity.”
“Killed the fuckin’ cat,” said Vincent. “You sent us a picture of a dead guy-or a guy who looks dead-only we can’t find him. How’s that for a start?”
“OK.” Cape talked for several minutes, getting the occasional look from Vincent but otherwise without interruption. When he had finished, Vincent swiveled in his chair and took off his reading glasses.
“That’s it?” he asked. “You found a body and didn’t call?”
“My phone wasn’t working.”
“You ever hear of a pay phone?” demanded Vincent. “Or 911?”
“You know how hard it is to find a pay phone in this city?”
Vincent thought about that for a minute. “Yeah, it’s impossible. They pulled ’em all out once everybody started carryin’ cell phones.”
“Exactly,” said Cape. “How about getting a cab?”
“A taxi?” said Vincent. “Even worse-you know, the other night the wife and I were-” He caught himself and scowled at Cape. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”
“Sorry, Vinnie,” said Cape. “It’s fun to see you get worked up about these things.”
“I got Beau busting my balls all day, thanks,” said Vincent. “Him, I gotta work with. You, I could arrest if I wanted.”
Cape held up his hands. “Point taken, Detective Mango.”
“So get to it.”
“What?”
“The point, dickhead,
“I don’t know,” said Cape, shrugging. “I told you already-I found it by Harold Yan’s office-you talk to him again?”
Vinnie shook his head. “He’s not around, least not yesterday. We call or stop by and his secretary says he’s out shaking hands, tryin’ to get elected. He’ll be back soon.”
“You check the office?”
“No way. Yan is connected. Guy’s running for mayor, for chrissakes.” Vincent dropped his voice a few notches. “Excuse me, judge, but we have this picture that might be a dead body-but we’re not sure-and it might have been in front of Harold Yan’s office-but we’re not sure-and we were wondering if you could give us a warrant to search his offices, even though he’d call the press, accuse the current mayor of harassment and get us all fired.” Vincent shook his head. “How’s that sound?”
“You need probable cause, huh?”
“You must watch those police shows on TV,” said Vincent. “What I need is a dead body.”
“Sorry, all I’ve got is a picture.”
Vincent started to respond when the phone on his desk rang, loudly. It rang like a real telephone, before you had to plug phones into an outlet and they started chirping like birds. The bell on Vincent’s phone was loud enough to wake a dead man.
Cape watched as Vincent cradled the phone in his ear and dragged a yellow pad across his desk. After a string of
As he hung up the phone, Cape asked, “What was that?”
Vincent looked at Cape for a moment before answering.
He said, “
Chapter Sixty-two
At the precise moment Cape started talking to Vincent Mango, an explosion destroyed Harold Yan’s office on Grant Street.
The second floor windows facing the street were blown out, sending a light snow of glass onto parked cars. The ceilings on the first floor cracked, plaster hitting the hardwood floors in clumps, but the real damage was contained to the second floor. Xan had used just the right amount of plastique. Neighboring buildings were untouched. A fire started in the reception area outside Yan’s office, which seemed to be the source of the explosion.
The fire department arrived within ten minutes from the station less than four blocks away, knocking down the door and rushing up the stairs. At first they feared a gas leak that could spread to other buildings until they realized Yan’s offices used electric power and heat. That was when they considered arson. But when they found the body of a dead Asian male with gunshot wounds to the chest in Yan’s office, they didn’t know what to think.
Ten minutes later Vincent’s phone rang.
As he grabbed his coat, Vincent told Cape they weren’t finished, would talk later, and Cape just nodded. He walked to his car and waited a few minutes before pulling away from the curb. By the time he approached Grant Street, the block had been cordoned off, the cop cars and truck from the medical examiner stacking up next to the
