you just happen to be along for the ride. What are you worried about?'
'Let's let these guys get back to work,' Mike said, still scratching his neck.
I didn't move from my seat. I wanted to reargue my case to Pete.
Mike pointed to the door and I hesitated. He was the only one who caught it. 'What is it with you? You need a bulletproof vest to get to the car?'
I wrote down my name and number on a slip of paper I ripped off the phone pad and gave it to Pete. 'I'd like to talk to your CO later, too.'
'Sure.'
Mike went out of the gatehouse first. I looked around as I stood on the top step, sweeping the trees and bushes on the far side of the paved parking lot, but saw no movement. Then I walked beside him to his car.
We drove out the road that led back to the small traffic circle that would take us to I-95.
'Hard to believe this is the Bronx,' I said.
Mike was driving slowly for a reason. Like me, he was scouring the trees for signs of intruders, although all of this forested land leading up to Rodman's Neck was public.
Within ten minutes, we were back on the highway, deep in weekend traffic headed to Manhattan and New Jersey. Housing projects and tenements stood cheek by jowl along the six-lane asphalt interstate.
'What will you do now?' I asked.
'After I drop you off, I'll go up to the office to make some calls. Check in with Dickie Draper. Pull up the old records on Amber Bristol's superintendent.'
'Who? The guy who let us into the apartment the other night? The one who said she was always attracting trouble?' I thought of his smile as he talked to us earlier in the week, cracking his thick knuckles as he commented on Amber's lifestyle. 'I knew you were going to run him, but you didn't tell me he had a sheet.'
'Came up blank the next day. Vargas Candera. The lieutenant had the brains to run it in reverse. Candera Vargas. Bingo! Two collars for using his girlfriend like a punching bag. Bronx County. He deserves another knock on the door.'
'Can't I-?'
'Peterson's on it. I'll let you know when you can be useful. I'll probably swing by the hospital and have a chat with Herb Ackerman.'
'Don't you want me to be there?'
'You've earned a pass.'
'Not with my shooting skills.'
'Your agility under fire. I'd hate to think you might have gotten shot on my watch. I'd never get another cigar from Battaglia,' Mike said. 'Ride out your conviction from yesterday. Enjoy the weekend. Let's see how I do with Herb. Maybe I can fill in some of the blanks.'
'Like what?'
'I think you were distracted when you spoke to him because you had to go to court.' I had told Mike about the conversation. 'You left out a few things, that's all I'm saying.'
'You think he's going to open up to you?'
'It would help to know whether Amber Bristol was a free agent or worked for an escort service, wouldn't it?'
'I forgot to ask. I guess I did feel rushed.'
'Did he pay her with cash, or by check, or with a credit card?'
'Don't know.'
'She couldn't have been the first woman he'd hired, you think? I doubt you grilled him about any of the others. Might be good to talk to them.'
Mike was right. I should have pressed Ackerman harder. If he'd actually succeeded in killing himself, Mike wouldn't have had this second chance.
'Then there's the big question.'
'What's that?'
'Cloth or paper or plastic.'
I smiled and leaned my head against the car window.
'Really, Coop. Imagine if Amber had been Pampered to death with plastic diapers. Open-and-shut case against Herb Ackerman. All the news that's fit to print,' Mike said. 'You'll be fine, kid. I'll get you home. You ought to take a nap.'
'I guess I need it.'
'Grab one of the girls and go to a movie tonight. Get your mind off this.'
'I've got a friend in from out of town. We're having dinner together.'
'You're not holding out on me, are you? It isn't Nina or Joan?'
My closest friends adored Mike. They liked his intelligence and his humor, his intolerance for bullshit and bureaucracy, the tenacity and spirit with which he kept at one of the most difficult jobs imaginable.
'Keep them away from you if they were in town? Not a prayer,' I said. I hadn't told Mercer or Mike about Luc. 'And you, are you covering for anyone tonight?'
'You know me, I'm always looking for OT.' The overtime money was good, and Mike was usually happy to double up on his shifts.
Half an hour later, at two in the afternoon, Mike pulled in front of my building and I thanked him again for getting me out of harm's way.
'Will you call me if anything interesting turns up over the weekend?'
'We don't want 'interesting,' Coop. No bones, no blowflies, no bullets, no bodies.'
He pulled out of the driveway and the doorman handed me an envelope. 'The messenger who delivered this asked me to tell you it was urgent.
SEVENTEEN
The note inside the padded envelope was written in bold calligraphy that I had come to recognize these past two months
Confirm package ordered to arrive Plaza Athenee, at the Bar Seine, at seven-thirty tonight. Needs food, wine immediately…and occasional affection. Driver will be downstairs to make pickup. Pack contents carefully to avoid melting in transit.
The card was attached to a large brass key with a red ribbon. I fanned myself with Luc Rouget's missive as I rode up in the elevator. We had met in June at the Martha's Vineyard wedding of one of my best friends, Joan Stanton. She had despaired of a string of broken relationships following the death of my fiance, Adam Nyman, shortly after my graduation from law school. Luc and Joan's husband had known each other for years, and her plan to surprise me with an introduction made a romantic weekend even more emotionally charged.
Since the night we met, I had seen Luc three other times in New York. He was the son of a renowned French restaurateur, and although he lived in Mougins, a tiny village perched high in the Alps, he was making frequent trips to the city with the prospect of reestablishing his father's classic dining spot.
Inside my apartment, I turned up the air-conditioning and immediately began to fill the bathtub with warm water, adding scented potions to make loads of bubbles. I needed to create an artificial wall to distance both the horrors of the last week and this morning's scare from a personal life that too often took a backseat to my work.
There were three messages on the answering machine-all from Luc-and I played them as I undressed.
The first one was a fuzzy cell call from the international arrivals terminal at JFK, shortly before noon. The second, during his cab ride into the city, expressed his concern that he had spoken to Laura, who told him I wouldn't be in the office at all that day.
'Luc here, Alexandra. I'm beginning to worry now that one of your cases might change our plans,' he said on his third try. 'It's Friday afternoon, and I have to leave for DC in the morning. I'm in meetings all afternoon. Please call. I'm hoping I've found a way to unlock some of your secrets,
