not half as well-known as he's going to be in the near future. He mentioned that you advised him to file charges against Amber Lee for embezzlement, and it happens that she was murdered, and you are in charge of investigating her murder. Faith Ann told my son that she did not call 911 because a policeman killed her mother and Amber Lee, and that the police are trying to kill her.” There. It was all out on the table.
Manseur dropped the indignant look and adopted a perplexed one.
“That about all?” Suggs's grin was erased, his skin tone a bleached cotton white, which made his reddening ears stand out.
“Bennett told us you are very close friends,” Adams said.
“I'd hardly call us friends, and I don't recall advising him to file charges against Amber Lee. Perhaps he was mistaken.”
“I'm not telling you how to run your detective bureau, but I assume you'll want to bring Manseur here up to speed on the Porter/Lee case, since they are intertwined. I'd think someone like him should be in charge of both cases. Since he hasn't been mentioned by a person of interest in this.”
Manseur fought back a smile.
“I had already decided that very thing,” Suggs blustered. “I was just about to discuss that with him.”
Winter and Adams left Suggs standing on the sidewalk and walked briskly toward their waiting car.
“You know, this is exactly how I felt back in high school while I was walking away from the boys' bathroom knowing that the cherry bomb I just flushed was about to go off,” Adams said.
70
When Arturo called to tell her what Tin Man said about the Feds showing up, Marta had just left Canal Place through a rear exit, walking past two hawkeyed patrolmen. She strode casually down Peters Street to the lot where her Lincoln was parked. She opened the driver's side door, climbed in where Arturo sat slumped, smoking a cigarette. She took the cassette tape from her pocket, tossed it into his lap, and said, “Let the window down. You're stinking up my car.”
“So this is what it was all about?” he said, holding up the tape and looking at it as though it was a large diamond. “But she is still in there somewhere.”
“I only saw her for a second. By the time I got down two flights of steps she was gone. There were cops all over the place. Let them find her. She isn't going to sprout wings and fly away.”
“You lost her,” Arturo said smugly. “They have their dog searching for her. And now there's two federal agents who are very much involved. You should have gotten a tape deck as well as a CD. Like I have in my Porsche.”
“We can buy a player.”
“Oh, good thinking,” Arturo said smiling broadly. He tapped the cassette against his knee. “It is too bad that… you… lost.. her.”
Marta's pocketknife appeared. The white blade came to rest in the space just over Arturo's Adam's apple. She held the double-edged ceramic blade with such perfect tension that it made an indentation in Arturo's throat but without enough pressure to open the skin. Arturo slowly turned his pleading eyes to her, and he saw the chill she wanted him to see.
“I didn't hear you,” she hissed. “What did I do?”
“I'm sorry.” When he spoke, his Adam's apple bobbed and the tip of the knife had just the necessary additional pressure to penetrate the skin. A thin red droplet rolled down his throat and disappeared inside his open shirt collar.
“Don't you dare mock me!” She saw anger replacing the fear that had just been in his eyes. “Have you already forgotten that I am here in the first place to clean up your mess? I am putting my life on the line for a simpering pussy who sits in the car smoking cigarettes while I am”-she drew closer to him and hardened her black eyes-“ losing her, was it?”
“Um-hum,” he hummed, clench-jawed. He didn't dare speak for fear the blade's tip would slide deeper into his throat.
“I got the tape for you. Now I am done. Straighten out the rest by yourself. The girl can identify you, so you find her and kill her. I'm sure you won't lose her, like I did. I am going to take a nice long vacation. Alone. Maybe I will come back to attend your funeral after Bennett has killed you. You are such an expert that you can handle this simple matter all by yourself.”
“Um-hummm.”
Marta took the knife from his throat and wiped the blade off on his cheek-purposefully smearing it on like rouge. She snapped it closed, then dropped it back into her jacket pocket. Arturo's right hand sprang to his throat, the other tugged a tissue from the package on the console. He pressed the tissue to the wound, took it away, and stared in disbelief at the blood.
“I was only joking, Marta!” he blurted. “What is your problem? You ruined my shirt. It's silk.”
“I was joking too,” she said as she started the car. “Wipe your face before somebody thinks you are a whore.”
“Why do you insult me like that? You know that I am a man. I have no fear.”
“I know,” she said, laughing. “But you are a macho dog, such an easy target.” She waved her hand. “Turo, I have bigger stones than ten men.”
“Then you aren't going away?”
“It depends,” she said as she turned in her seat and backed out of the space.
“On what?”
“On many things. I'll make you a list after…”
“After what?”
“After I have destroyed this tape.”
Marta put the car into gear and rolled toward the exit. She checked her rearview to make sure there was nobody following. She made a mental note to ask Tinnerino for details on the two agents.
71
Nicky called to say that when he got to the landing, the ferry was already on the return trip to Canal Street, that he never saw her, so he was waiting for them. Winter called Manseur but got his voice mail and left a message.
He said simply, “Call me.”
Winter told Adams, “Suggs has been a cop for a lot of years, probably a crooked one for that long. He's smart enough to have made it through the anticorruption sweep back in the nineties.”
“We ought to keep the pressure on him.”
“He is going to figure out pretty fast that the best way to cover his ass is to hand this mess over to Manseur and get as far away from it as possible. He can say he misinterpreted the crime scene evidence and that he saw the error of his ways and brought Manseur back on. I'm figuring he'd rather look incompetent than conspiratorial.”
“At his level, incompetence is a job requirement.”
“Every time you dropped another piece of this on him, he about pissed his pants.”
“He could see the writing on the wall. That's for sure.” Adams laughed out loud. “Man, you know he thought he had this thing locked until we showed up. If he was helping Bennett, I doubt he's going to be much help from this day forward. You reckon Officer Gale and Beaux-Beaux will come back out today?” Adams added, bringing more laughter.
Winter's cell phone rang. It was Manseur's name and number. He put the phone on speaker so Adams could listen in.
“Detective Manseur,” Winter answered.
