yourselves and give me your business cards.”
Karp shook his head. “You’re right,” he said, “though it should have been done much sooner. But we’re just trying to run down some loose ends. Make sure we get the right man for what happened to your wife and mother- in-law.”
The smile disappeared from Yancy’s face. “What do you mean ‘right man’? Don’t you have him? Didn’t this Acevedo asshole confess?”
“Yes he did,” Karp replied. “But I have a few concerns about his confession and some of the evidence.”
“You’re starting to sound like a defense attorney,” Yancy said with a scowl. “What? Is his dad connected to the mob or something? He have an abused childhood and that’s what turned him into a vicious animal who murders innocent women in their homes? And now you want to let him off over a few ‘concerns’?” He turned and walked back to the lectern, where he started shoving his lecture papers into a briefcase.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Karp replied evenly. “Mr. Yancy, I am truly sorry for what happened. I know you loved your wife. But does it matter to you that we get the right guy for her murder? Or will just any poor sap do?”
Yancy stopped. “Of course not.”
“Well, if the wrong man is convicted,” Karp said, “not only will an innocent man pay the price, it also means that the real killer is out there on the streets, thumbing his nose at the cops, at you, at me, at our entire system of justice. And let me be very clear about this: Guys like this don’t stop killing. They like it. And I very much want whoever committed those crimes to pay for them. Now if I could just show you-”
Yancy cut him off as he whirled around to face him. “I don’t need to see any more photographs,” he cried out. “I came home that day and found my mother-in-law lying in a pool of blood and my wife lying on our bed, where she’d been-” He stopped talking and put a hand over his mouth as though he might be sick. When he recovered, his voice was barely above a hoarse whisper. “I see those images every night before I go to sleep. I don’t need any more photographs.”
Karp winced at the man’s pain. “I understand. But I wasn’t talking about photographs. I wanted to show you a ring and see if you can identify it.”
Yancy scowled. “I’ve already seen one ring and it wasn’t my wife’s.”
The other three men shot each other alarmed glances. “You were already shown a ring?” Karp asked.
“Yes, that detective-Graziani-he showed me a ring he thought was my wife’s engagement ring, but it wasn’t,” Yancy replied.
There were more glances, only now they were angry. Karp pulled a sealed plastic bag from a manila envelope he was carrying, opened it, and removed the ring. “Would you look at this ring please?”
Yancy accepted the ring and shook his head when he looked at it. “That’s the same ring Graziani showed me, and like I said, it’s not my wife’s ring. He said Acevedo confessed to taking it from Olivia, but it’s not hers.”
“You’re sure?” Karp asked.
“I’m positive,” Yancy said. “When I asked him what it meant, he said it wouldn’t matter. He said maybe Acevedo took the ring from another victim. He said the guy’s a serial killer and probably takes his victims’ rings by cutting their fingers off. Like some sick calling card.”
Karp pointed to the ring in the bag. “I just want to be sure about this ring,” he said. “There’s an inscription on the inside of the ring. You can make out the word ‘Always,’ but the rest of it appears to have been removed.”
Yancy shrugged. “Hers never said ‘Always’ and the inscription area on this ring isn’t long enough for what would have been there if it was my wife’s ring.”
“Which said what?” Karp asked.
A slight wistful smile came to the man’s lips for a moment before disappearing again. “‘Love goes toward love.’”
“From Romeo and Juliet,” Karp said.
“Very good, you know your Shakespeare,” Yancy replied, and then looked puzzled. “But I don’t get it. Don’t you guys talk to Graziani? How come you didn’t already know this isn’t her ring?”
“Could be a miscommunication,” Karp replied.
Yancy looked skeptical. “Or maybe he just didn’t tell you for some reason.”
“We won’t know until we talk to him,” Karp said. “Did he ask you about the ring before or after Acevedo was indicted?”
“I believe Detective Graziani showed me the ring a day or two before Acevedo was indicted,” Yancy answered, “because after the indictment I read about it in the newspapers and was irritated that no one bothered to tell me.”
Yancy walked the men back to their car. As Karp got in the backseat, the professor leaned over to speak to him. “One thing I don’t get: If he didn’t do it, why’d Acevedo confess? Does he get a kick out of pouring salt on wounds?”
Karp looked troubled and shook his head. “Good question. But right now I’m focused on finding who killed your wife and mother-in-law and making him pay.”
“So now what?” Yancy asked.
“We’ve got to go back and talk this over,” Karp replied. “But whatever happens, I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
Tears came to Yancy’s eyes. “This arrest really got my hopes up… that maybe someday I’d get some closure and be able to move on. If this other detective is playing some sort of game, I can’t even think of the words to express the cruelty.”
Fulton leaned from the driver’s seat across Guma so he could look up at Yancy. “I can’t speak for Detective Graziani. But I promise you, we will not give up until we’ve got the right guy and you get that peace.”
As soon as they pulled away from the curb, Karp leaned forward to speak to Fulton. “Clay, do you know Graziani?”
Fulton shook his head. “Can’t say I do,” he said. “But counting all five boroughs there are some thirty-seven thousand sworn officers with the NYPD, so it’s no surprise. You need me to reach out and find out what I can about him?”
“Yeah, I want his personnel file,” Karp growled. “If you run into any trouble getting it, let me know, and I’ll call in a favor with the chief. That son of a bitch withheld exculpatory evidence, and his ass is mine.”
17
“He’s heading this way right now.”
Marlene turned around in the direction indicated by Raymond and saw a young acne-scarred man with peroxide-blond hair approaching on the sidewalk. He noticed Marlene’s look and his street sense warned him to veer away from the woman with the monster dog. He suddenly changed course toward the interior of the park.
Stepping toward him, Marlene shouted. “Hey, I’d like to talk to you! I’m not a cop!” She might as well have said she was going to shoot him. He ran.
Marlene sighed and glanced down at Gilgamesh, who gave her a look that seemed to say, “How much of a head start shall we give him?” She nodded toward the running man. “Prendere,” she said.
Gilgamesh grinned and without a sound took off after the man, who peered back long enough to see the dog in pursuit. He shrieked and didn’t make it another twenty feet before Gilgamesh knocked him down. Crying out in fear, the man rolled over onto his back and put his hands up protectively while the dog simply held his ground, a deep growl rumbling in his massive chest.
Afraid to move anything else, the man only flicked his eyes over to see the woman walk up in no great hurry. “Don’t let him bite me,” he begged. The sweat pouring off his face was due more to fear than the hot and muggy New York afternoon.
“Then don’t do anything he might interpret as unfriendly,” Marlene replied. “I only told him to catch you, not have you for lunch. But as you have noticed, he’s really fast, and if you do something stupid, he may react before I can stop him.”
It was a lie, of course; Gilgamesh would not savage the man unless Marlene commanded him to assalire, the
