'It's locked,' I said.
'No it isn't. We already tried it,' Scotto said. they stood aside while-I tried the door. It was open. I was shocked.
Scotto examined the lock.
'Wasn't tampered with. Maybe you forgot to lock up when you went out.' ::I never forget. I've got cameras inside.'
Better see if they're still there.'
'And if they aren't, we are.' Ramos snickered.
'Always around when you need us, right?'
Scotto turned to me and rolled his eyes, his way of saying: I can't help it if my partner's a schmuck.
I pushed my door open, caught sight of my Sinar and started to relax. At least they hadn't taken that. But then when I looked around and saw the damage, I started feeling sick.
Someone had attacked my wall. The glass over the framed print of my PietA was smashed and the rint had p been torn to pieces. But worse was the damage to my big montage murals of Kim. they were still on the walls where I'd tacked them, but the vandal had slashed them and worked them over with spray paint. The word CUNT' had been scrawled across them several times in an angry graffiti writer's script.
'What's the matter? Ripped off? The big camera's here.'
I pointed at my murals. Ramos shrugged.
'Who do you think did this, Barnett?'
'How the hell should I know?' I was angry now, enraged by the vandalism, pissed off too at the cops for their lousy dumbbell attitude.
'Take it easy, Geoffrey,' Scotto said.
'Dave just asked a question, that's all.'
I turned away, and then, worried about what else might have been done, began methodically to check around my loft.
'You're doing right,' Scotto said, 'Make sure nothing's missing. And if there is something, tell us now. That way we can make you out a report, and you can collect good on your insurance.'
The first thing I looked for was the negative of my 9 PietA. It was where it was supposed to be, and the rest of my negative files appeared untouched. I started to feel better then, and the further I looked the better I felt. My Deardorff and my two Leicas were safe, as were all my lenses and meters. As far as I could see, nothing was missing, and I could find no further evidence of vandalism. It seemed implausible, but, so far as I could tell, the only damage was to the PietA and the murals.
Ramos and Scotto meantime had helped themselves to seats. they sat quietly, watching me. By the time Ramos cleared his throat I'd almost forgotten they were there.
'Not too bad, huh?' I turned on him.
'Think it feels good to find your place broken in?'
'Damage is what Dave meant,' Scotto said.
'There is damage! Plenty of damage!' I pointed at the murals.
'Just doesn't seem likely-' Scotto said, as if speaking to himself.
'What's that, Sal?' Ramos asked.
Scotto nodded toward my murals.
'Go to so much trouble just for that.'
'What do you mean?'
'His lock wasn't drilled out. Which means it was picked. Or someone had a key.'
'Nobody's got a key,' I said.
'So, like I said, someone went to a lot of trouble…
Ramos nodded as if he understood. Then they both stared at me. There was an inference in their stare I didn't like: that there'd been no break-in, that I was the one who'd defaced the murals.
I decided right then I didn't like them. I sat down and faced them.
'What do you want with me?'
'We're here about the Devereux homicide,' Ramos said. I stared at him blankly.
'Pretending you don't know what I'm talking about?' I shook my head.
Scotto squinted at me.
'You don't know Cheryl Devereux?'
'You mean Shadow? Sure, I know her.'
Ramos glanced at Scotto with disgust.
'So you're saying you didn't know she was killed? That it, Barnett?'
Suddenly it hit me.
'Oh,no!'
Don't you read the papers, Geoffrey?' Scotto asked.
'What happened to her?'
'She was found the day before yesterday in the trunk of a car at Newark Airport. Car was in the long-term lot. It had been there at least a week.'
I felt a tightening in my throat.
'What about Kim?'
'That'd be Kimberly Yates, the roommate, right?'
I nodded.
'Don't know nothing about her,' Ramos said. He glanced at my defaced murals.
'Except, of course, assuming that's her-someone thinks she's a cunt.'
I stared at him.
'You're really a piece of shit. Anyone ever tell you that?' He rose from his seat. I tightened up, certain he was going to attack me.
Actually I was hoping he would. I felt like a fight. But then Scotto stood and made gentling motions with his palms.
'Take it easy, guys! Calm yourselves!' He turned to me.
'Dave was just talking. He didn't mean nothing by it. Don't act so touchy now.
'Kim's all right, then?'
'We have no idea. We're here about Cheryl. Hard to believe you didn't know she was dead.'
'Been all over the papers last few days. 'Model Torture Slaying.' TV too.'
'I've been busy. I haven't been reading the papers.'
'That's all right,' Scotto said.
'No law says you gotta read them. Now before we start, couple things I gotta say. You don't want to talk to us, you wanna consult a lawyer, say so, that's all you gotta do. But seeing as how you claim you didn't know Cheryl was dead, I can't imagine you not wanting to cooperate.'
'Of course I want to cooperate,' I said.
'I don't know anything. I hardly knew her. Where'd you get my name?'
'You've been sniffing around where she lived, asking questions.'
'The animal super told you that?'
'Never mind who told us. It's true, isn't it?'
'No! It isn't true.'
'You're saying you didn't go around there asking questions?'
'I'm saying I asked questions about Kimberly:Yates. I didn't ask about Shadow.' they exchanged a look, then Scotto shook his head. Then, for some reason, I started to apologize. I told them the break-in had upset me and the news about Shadow had been unnerving. While I spoke they both gazed at me, as if to determine whether I was telling the truth. 'You say Shadow was found in Newark?' they looked at each other, then Ramos shrugged.
'Go ahead. Tell him, Sal. Been in all the papers anyway.'
Scotto leaned forward.
'Like I said-airport cops found her in the trunk of a rented car. New York plates. The renter used a phony credit card. She was in bad shape. Beaten up. Lots of broken bones, fingers, toes… like that. Still not clear exactly
