Harper nodded. She was obviously trained by Mosha himself. He took out his cell and checked the bird news. There were reports of Snow Geese upstate, flying high and honking through the night. It was enough to take him away for a moment.
The door opened and in walked a small woman dressed up with several bangles on each arm. She jangled to the counter.
‘Erin, my beautiful bride. We get married soon — you promise?’ said Jake.
‘Oh, yeah, Mosh, very soon. Just after I’ve tried every other man in New York.’
‘I will wait. My wife understands. She was only ever a stand-in.’
Erin was wearing a party dress. Black and silver. Hair done up high on her head. Not the weasel in jeans that Harper had got to know standing outside the precinct. She was looking pretty and elegant.
Erin turned and looked. ‘See my friend took the seat.’
‘I knew he would.’
‘The test always works.’
‘I didn’t know he was yours.’
‘He’s not mine yet. He’s a cop.’
‘I know he’s a cop. Who else wears cologne like that these days?’
Erin Nash walked across and sat opposite Harper. ‘Mosh tells me you’re wearing cologne.’
‘I shaved.’
‘For me?’
‘To avoid being picked up for vagrancy.’
‘Nice and smooth.’
‘This guy, Mosh, he’s a talker.’
‘Yeah, he talks. He’ll shoot you too if you don’t buy something.’
‘I got a waiting plate.’
‘Then you’re in trouble.’
‘You eating?’
‘Mosh will bring me something I like.’
Harper looked at her arms. Thin. Four small tattoos on the under-side of each arm. Possibly Celtic, possibly Chinese. He couldn’t quite see, but that was the gist — origins. Usually someone else’s.
‘You look different.’
‘Are you flattered that I put on a dress?’
‘It doesn’t take much.’
‘Don’t be, I’ve got a launch party. Friend wrote a terrible book and we’ve all got to turn up and smile about it.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask. You know why? He’s a liberal with too much free time.’
‘A friend.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Let’s cut to the chase, Erin. I don’t want to ruin your evening.’
‘You won’t. I might take you with me. You don’t look so bad.’
A moment later, two waitresses appeared from the side. One carried a small bowl of soup and placed it before Erin. The next moved beside Harper and placed an enormous platter in front of him. It contained everything. Herring, chopped liver, gherkins, a salt-beef sandwich.
‘Jesus.’
‘Not in here, Tom. It’s David and Abraham all the way.’
Harper smiled. He needed someone to bounce ideas off. Someone outside of the NYPD. Erin was not Denise Levene, but she was smart and cynical and she could get his story the angle he needed.
‘Tell me about your family,’ said Erin. ‘I guess you came from a stable little well-meaning unit out in Brooklyn.’
‘You been reading up on me?’
‘Couldn’t get much.’
‘Not much to get. Parents separated. Mother’s English, she took off back to the UK some years back. Father’s a drunk, he took off to Chicago. My sister still lives in the city. She’s a lawyer. Two kids. Great kids. Me and my sister have never been close, though. Hardly speak now. I’ve lost touch.’
‘She’s older, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Always bossing you around?’
‘Yeah, she’s the one in command.’
‘Smart too?’
‘She was always smarter than me. Went to college. Got a degree. Law firm. Worked hard. She’s bringing up the two kids well. I wish I could get to see them more.’
‘Such a tender story. Why you both in law?’
‘Do I need to tell you?’
‘Why? You think I should be able to work it out?’
‘No. I know you will have already found out. Erin Nash wouldn’t come unprepared now, would she?’
‘Okay, I did a little research. I was interested.’
‘I’m flattered. What about you, Erin, what’s your background?’
‘God, we’re like some soap opera. My story is simple. I was born like this. I was spoiled by my old man and hated by Mom. I learned to enjoy annoying her. It became an art. I now use the same tactics to get under other people’s skin.’
‘What tactics are those?’
‘All people like flattery, right? You work your way in, be real nice, make them feel that you’re in need of them until they let down their guard. Then when they’ve revealed an itsy-bitsy bit of weakness, you snap their hand off.’
‘I guess, in telling me this, you’re not trying to impress me.’
‘I like you. I’m not playing games with you. You know the score. You do the same with interrogations, I bet. Soft soap followed by sudden attack. So, I’m just being honest.’
‘For a change.’
Tom pushed a gherkin around his plate. He thought of Denise, then looked up at Erin. He didn’t know what he was feeling at the moment. Hurt, mainly. The boxing match plus a couple of hits from Lukanov had left him with a few wounds. But beneath that, he was pleased to be working again, working with Denise.
‘Okay,’ said Nash. ‘Now let’s get down to business. Tell me about the case.’
‘Look, Erin, this isn’t official, but we’ve got unconnected Jewish deaths. Capske, you know about. I’ve got Esther Haeber from a few months back — and she’s Jewish. And South Manhattan found the body of a Jewish woman yesterday, apparently killed for no reason. Her name is Marisa Cohen. What’s more, about ten days ago, a Jewish high-school student was abducted.’
‘You’ve got links, haven’t you?’
‘I think so.’
‘What have you got?’
‘These three Jewish murders are all linked by an “88” written at the scene and by the use of iron bullets.’
‘What’s the significance?’
‘Being blunt, he’s using Nazi symbols and Nazi bullets and he’s attacking the Jewish community.’
‘You’ve just written tomorrow’s headline story. What do you want from me?’
‘We need help. We’re searching for a man called Martin Heming. If we could get some public help on this, we might be able to stop him.’
‘You need pressure put on him.’
‘I need information. He’s speeding up. The time between kills is falling rapidly.’
Erin Nash listened for another twenty minutes as Tom spoke and worked his way through his waiting plate.
