A tall, wild-eyed figure stood in the doorway covered in dirt and shit. Mo stared at him, his hands shaking.
‘What the fuck kept you?’ Sebastian shouted, staring at Mo in disgust.
‘Sorry, Nick,’ said Mo and lowered his eyes to the floor.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
East 126th Street
November 29, 8.15 p.m.
Sebastian looked at the girl in the red dress standing in the doorway to the bedroom, staring out with hope in her eyes. ‘I see you took another girl, Mo. What did I tell you? What the hell did I tell you?’
‘Don’t take no more girls,’ said Mo.
‘That’s right, and what the hell did you do?’
‘I couldn’t help it.’
‘I should kick your ass for this, Mo. You’re a fucking liability.’
‘I kept her all nice,’ said Maurice. ‘Better than Lottie. I gave this one water too. Kept her alive.’
‘Good, Mo, real good.’
Sebastian walked in, walked over to Lucy and hit her hard across the jaw. She fell backwards and Sebastian shut the bedroom door. ‘Speak to me, Maurice. What the fuck is going on?’ Sebastian looked around the dilapidated apartment. ‘What are you doing in here? What’s with the music?’
‘Nothing, Nick. Ain’t nothing.’
Sebastian shoved past Maurice and took a drink of water from the tap. ‘What’s been going on?’
‘The police have been following me, Nick. I had to stay away for two days.’
Sebastian stopped dead. ‘Cops have been here?’
‘They were waiting up and down the street, but then today they left and I got in again. Lucy’s medicine had worn off and she was okay. She looks better now, Nick.’
‘How did the police find you?’
‘I don’t know.’
Sebastian sat at the kitchen table. He thought for a moment. ‘Listen, Mo, this is what you need to do. We got to get the girl out of here right now. I want you to go back to Benny and borrow his van again. We’ve got to take her upstate. You remember the farm. We can use the farm, can’t we? Bring the van back here soon as you can. You understand?’
‘You not going to hurt her, are you, Nicky?’
‘Course I’m not, Mo.’
Mo nodded gratefully and headed for the door. ‘Soon as I can, Nick, I promise.’ Then he was gone.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
7-Eleven
November 29, 8.45 p.m.
Harper arrived back at Benny Marconi’s store with Denise Levene, having stopped only to take a quick shower at the station. They made quite the investigating couple — a demoted ex-Homicide cop with a suspension hanging over his record and a psychotherapist with a family background in crime and a yearning to be a profiler.
‘I’m going in,’ said Harper. ‘I want to see if I can get anything from Mr Marconi. We can hang around East 126th Street all night, but this guy knows something.’
‘He didn’t give you much before, did he?’ said Denise.
‘I brought a couple of crime scene pictures to see if I can’t jog his memory.’ Harper got out of the car, walked across the street and pulled open the door. Benny Marconi appeared immediately from an aisle, holding a price gun. ‘What a great surprise. I kinda knew you wouldn’t leave this fucking guy alone.’
‘Has he been back?’ said Harper.
‘I don’t keep a close enough eye on his movements.’
‘He hasn’t shown up for work, has he?’
‘No. Not with you clowns on his tail.’
‘Just let me know — does he ever alter his routine? That’s all I want. You’d notice, right, if he did something different?’
‘I ain’t got nothing to say.’
‘I know that, but just nod or something. Does he ever change the routine?’
Benny stood dead still. ‘You going to get that warrant you promised or just waste your time? I’m not in this conversation. You’re ruining my fucking reputation sitting on the door like that.’
‘Hey, I’m just hoping you care about people getting killed. They’re getting fucking cut to pieces.’ Harper threw three photographs across the counter. ‘Look at what he’s done!’
‘I keep myself to myself.’
‘Damn you! Look at these women. Look at the pain they went through. You not interested even if this guy is murdering local girls? What if he goes for one of your family, someone you know?’
‘Hey, this killer takes rich girls, no skin off me. And Redtop, well, he’s no murderer, trust me, he’s gentle as a puppy.’
‘Tell me about his movements. Where is he now? I know that you know.’
‘Get out of here. I’m not no piece-of-shit informant.’
‘He rapes them, you know that?’ Harper watched Benny’s expression change. ‘He tortures them real slowly — you want that on your conscience?’
‘Not Redtop. You’re chasing the wrong guy. You need an arrest, he’ll do. Just cos he’s slow. It ain’t justice.’
‘Mr Marconi, the killer pushed a knife into a young girl sixty-four times. Small, slow, shallow cuts so she wouldn’t die. Sixty-four times, Mr Marconi. Is that not worth your attention?’ Harper looked, but Benny Marconi wasn’t going to talk. Harper turned to leave. As he stood in the open doorway, he noticed the van was missing from the kerb. A thought ticked like a second hand in his mind.
‘Your van got towed?’
‘No, it got fixed.’
‘Where is it?’
Benny Marconi turned away from Harper. ‘I don’t know.’
Harper moved across the store quick and grabbed Benny before he had a chance to pull the Beretta from his waistband. He threw him hard against the wall and jammed his forearm into his neck. ‘I’m gonna kill you, that’s all I’m gonna say,’ whispered Harper.
‘Redtop takes it, sometimes,’ gasped Benny. ‘He goes to the Bronx. Yeah, he drives it to get stuff from the food market.’
‘How long is he gone?’
‘I’m not saying anything. You understand? This is not happening.’
‘I understand.’
‘I let him take the van. Kind of a favour. He works for peanuts. Least I can do.’
Harper froze like someone had hit him. ‘You gave him the van? He’s got it now?’
‘Yeah. Took it twenty minutes ago.’
‘Thank you, Mr Marconi, you’ve been a great help. Shit.’ Harper ran out of the door and straight across the street at speed. He reached Denise Levene’s small car and yanked open the door. ‘Drive. Get going. We need to get to East 126th Street.’
She looked across at him.
