fast glance darting between Raley and Ochoa. Well, she thought she was certain, anyway.
She made a forceful show of getting down to business. “Ochoa. We’re absolutely sure Kimberly Starr and her son weren’t here when this went down?” The detective needed to know if a kidnapping was rolled into this.
“Daytime doorman said she left yesterday morning with the kid.” He flipped back through his spiral pad. “Here it is. Doorman got a call to help her out with a rolling suitcase. That was about ten A.M. Her son was with her.”
“Did she say where they were going?”
“He hailed her a cab to Grand Central. From there, he didn’t know.”
“Raley, I know we have her cell phone number. Dig it out and see if she picks up. And go easy when you break the news, she’s had a hell of a week.”
“On it,” said Raley, who then head-nodded to the pair of detectives on the balcony. “Just to be clear, are we working this, or is Burglary?”
“Heaven forbid, but we may actually have to cooperate. Sure it’s a twenty-one, but we can’t rule it out as part of our homicide investigation. Not yet, anyway.” Especially with the discovery of the Jane Doe from the surveillance tape and the ring at her death scene likely belonging to Pochenko, even a rookie’s cop sense would tie it all together. What remained was to uncover how. “I expect you to play nice with them. Just don’t give away our secret handshake, OK?”
The pair from Burglary, Detectives Gunther and Francis, were cooperative but didn’t have much information to share. There were clear signs of forced entry; they used power tools, obviously battery-operated, to compromise the front door of the apartment. “Beyond, that,” said Detective Gunther, “it’s all pretty much neatsy tidy. Maybe the lab rats will pick up something.”
“Something’s not lining up for me,” Nikki said. “Moving this haul would take time and manpower. Blackout or not, somebody had to see or hear something.”
“Agreed,” said Gunther. “I had a thought we should split off now and knock on a few doors, find out if anyone heard anything go bump in the night.”
Heat nodded. “Good thought.”
“Is there anything else missing?” asked Rook. Nikki liked his question. Not only was it smart, but she felt relieved he had dropped the seventh-grade innuendos.
“Still checking,” said Francis. “Obviously we’ll know more when the resident, Mrs. Starr, gives it a once-over, but so far, it appears to be just the art.”
Then Ochoa did what they all kept doing, looking at the blank walls. “Man, how much did they say this collection was worth?”
Nikki answered, “Fifty to sixty mil, give or take.”
“Looks definitely more like take,” said Rook.
While Forensics examined the apartment and the Burglary detectives peeled off to canvass residents, Nikki went downstairs to talk with the only eyewitness, the night-shift doorman.
Henry was waiting quietly with a patrol officer on one of the sofas in the lobby. She sat beside him and asked him if he was all right, and he said yes, like he would have said it no matter how bad he felt. The poor old guy had answered these same questions for the first responders, and then again for the Burglary cops, but he was patient and cooperative with Detective Heat, glad to tell someone his story.
The blackout came during his shift, at about nine-fifteen. Henry was supposed to get off at midnight, but his relief called in about eleven and said he couldn’t make it on account of the power outage. Nikki asked the man’s name, made a note, and Henry continued. It was mostly quiet at the door because with the elevator out and all the heat, people who were in were staying in, and many of those who were out were stuck someplace. The stairwell and halls were equipped with low-level emergency lighting, but the building didn’t have a backup generator.
At about three-thirty in the morning, a big van pulled up out front and he thought it was ConEd, because it was big like one of theirs. Four men in coveralls got out all together and jumped him. He didn’t see any guns, but they had big five-cell flashlights and one of the men gave him a punch in the solar plexus with his when Henry challenged them. They got him off the street and into the lobby then used plastic zip cords to bind his hands behind his back and hold his feet together. Nikki could still see some flecks of pale gray adhesive on his deep brown skin where they had duct taped his mouth. Then they took his cell phone and carried him into the tiny mail room and closed the door. He couldn’t give very good descriptions because it was dark and they all wore baseball hats. Nikki asked if he heard any names or could pick out anything unusual in their voices, like if they were high, or low, or perhaps had accents. He said no, because he never heard their voices, not one of them ever spoke. Not even a word. Professionals, she thought.
Henry said he heard them all walk out later and take off in the truck. That’s when he struggled to get free and kick at the door. He was bound too tight, so he had to stay like that until the assistant super came in and found him.
“And do you know about what time they left?”
“I couldn’t tell the time, but it felt like it was about fifteen, twenty minutes before the lights came back on.”
She wrote, “Left before end of blackout. 4 A.M., approx.”
“Think a moment. Is it possible you’re confused about these times you’ve given me, Henry?”
“No, Detective. I know it was three-thirty when they got there because when I saw that truck pull up out front, I checked my watch.”
“Sure, sure. That’s good, very helpful to us. But the part that puzzles me is their time of departure. The blackout ended at four-fifteen. If you say they left about fifteen minutes before that, that means they were only here a half hour.” He processed what she was saying and then nodded agreement. “Is it possible you fell asleep or were unconscious during that time? Maybe they left later than four A.M.?”
“Oh, believe you me, I was awake the whole time. Trying to think of a way to get out.” The old doorman paused and his eyes began to rim with tears.
“Sir, are you all right?” Her eyes darted to the patrolman standing behind him. “Are you sure you don’t want medical help?”
“No, no, please, I’m not hurt, it’s not that.” He turned his face from hers and said in a low voice, “I have been a doorman at this building for over thirty years. I have never seen a week like this one. Mr. Starr and his poor family. Your detective talked with William, you know, the day-shift doorman, about that day. He’s still afraid he’ll be fired for letting those fellows slip in that morning. And now here I am. I know it’s not the fanciest work, but this job means something to me. We’ve got some characters living here, but most folks are very good to me. And even if they aren’t, I’m always proud of my service.” He said nothing for a moment and then looked up to Nikki and his lip was quivering. “I’m the gatekeeper. More than anything else I do, it’s my responsibility to make sure bad people don’t get in here.”
Nikki rested a hand on his shoulder and spoke gently. “Henry, this is not your fault.”
“How is it not my fault? It was my watch.”
“You were overpowered, you’re not responsible, can you see that? You were the victim. You did everything you could.” She knew he was only half-buying it, knew he was replaying the night, wondering what else he could have done. “Henry?” And when she had his attention again, Nikki said, “We all try. And try as we might to control things, sometimes bad things get in and it’s not our fault.” He nodded and managed a smile. At least the words Nikki’s therapist had once used with her made someone feel better.
She arranged for a patrol car to drive him home.
Back in the precinct, Detective Heat drew a vertical red line on the whiteboard to create a separate but parallel case track for the burglary. Then she sketched in the timeline of events beginning with the departure of Kimberly Starr and her son, the time of the blackout, the phone call from the relief doorman, the arrival of the van and its crew, and their departure just before the end of the blackout.
She then drew another red vertical to delineate a new space for the Jane Doe murder. “You’re starting to run out of whiteboard,” said Rook.
“I hear you. The crimes are getting ahead of the solves.” Then she added, “For now, anyway.” Nikki taped up
