“I just sit in a room and make up stories all day. This was one of the mornings the muse decided not to visit. Can’t I ever come out to a crime scene with you?” Joan asked. “Mike would let me, wouldn’t he?”
“He adores you. Of course he would,” I said. “Did you accomplish anything today, Luc?”
“For me, it was very exciting. I was just telling Ken that I think I’ve found a property, a townhouse very much like the original Lutece, also on the East Side, in the Fifties. As soon as I talk with my advisors, I’m going to make a bid on the building.”
“You must be so happy,” I said, pleased to disengage from my own worries and participate in Luc’s enthusiasm.
“How divine,” Joan said, lifting her glass again. “I’ll give the opening party.”
“
Jim’s diplomatic skills saved the moment, and he arranged for Stefan to take our order. He had just interviewed the British prime minister earlier in the day and had marvelous insights into the economic conference about to start at the United Nations.
By the time Joan and I shared a profiterole that made up for all the calories I had missed during the week, I was ready to fold. Jim’s car was parked in front of the restaurant, and they offered to drop us off on the way home.
I took Luc’s arm for the short walk to the car, searching the dark street to make sure Anton Griggs hadn’t circled back to wait for me again.
“So who’s the killer?” Joan asked as she buckled her seat belt.
“You’re worse than Battaglia. Give me a week or so, will you?” I said, as Luc gently hugged me closer.
“How’s your Flaubert?” Joan asked.
“
“Luc,” she said, completely focused on the homicide case again. “You know
“It was the first story Flaubert published, Alex. And it was based on an historical event, wasn’t it, Luc?”
“He became so obsessed with owning a particular rare book about the mystery of St. Michael that he killed to get his hands on it. A monk, Alex. Just think what some of your characters might do. I’ll get you a copy so you can read it.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do, Joanie.”
“You see? I’ve got all this useless information,” she said, throwing her arms up in false despair. “If only I could try a case. Where did I go wrong?”
Jim stopped in front of the door and Luc helped me out of the car.
The champagne had relaxed me, and I let Luc take me by the hand and lead me into the bedroom. I was relieved that no light was flashing on my answering machine, and ready to shut down the professional part of my life that so often intruded on my spirit.
We made love-Luc’s tenderness and sincerity piercing the steel-like armor that I subconsciously developed to protect myself against the world in which I worked. I slept soundly until early morning, when he awakened me by making love to me again.
It was so pleasantly normal to lounge in my robe with my lover on a Saturday morning, to do the
When eleven o’clock came and the doorman called to tell us that Luc’s car service was waiting for him, he pulled me onto his lap and held me tight.
“It’s only going to be a week or so, darling. I’ll be back very soon,” he said.
I walked him to the door and said a cheerful good-bye, then closed it behind me, taking the paper into the bedroom so I could curl up and finish the puzzle.
He’d barely had time to get into the car when my phone rang. The caller ID showed it was Mercer.
“Good morning,” I said. “I really admire your timing.”
“I have more respect than you think for the good things in life, Alex.”
“Where are you?”
“Closer than you’d like me to be.”
“I promise I’ll call Battaglia and tell him about Anton Griggs. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m in the lobby. The doorman just pointed out your friend to me. Thought the least I could do was give you the morning.”
“I’m okay, Mercer. Really.”
“It’s not about you, Alex. Sergeant Pridgen’s the squad commander in the sixth precinct now. Called me about a victim of his who’s hospitalized in St. Vinny’s. I’m going down to talk to her, and I’m sure you’ll want to come along.”
“What’s it about?” I asked, throwing the paper to the side.
“Her apartment was broken into a few nights back. The guy knocked her out with chloroform, just like Tina Barr.”
THIRTY-THREE
Pridgen was waiting for us outside the patient’s room on the fourth floor of St. Vincent’s Hospital, pacing the quiet hallway. We had worked with him in the SVU when we’d had our first cold hit, just after Mercer was shot by a desperate killer.
“Good to see you both,” he said. “Wish I could sit down, but the chief of d’s ripped me a new one at yesterday’s COMPSTAT.”
“Been there,” Mercer said.
The brilliant Computerized Statistics program originated with the NYPD in 1994 as an aggressive approach to crime reduction and resource management. Weekly meetings of the department’s seventy-six precinct commanders, on Friday mornings at headquarters’ most high-tech facility, were designed to improve the flow of information between supervisors.
“The captain made me go yesterday ’cause he thought my case was so unique,” Pridgen said. “I stood at the podium, laid out the facts, and that crew leaped on me like I was a rookie just out of the academy. ‘Why didn’t you do this? Why didn’t you think of that? Why didn’t you call Special Victims?’ How was I supposed to know about your case? It wasn’t in the papers or anything. And mine wasn’t a sex assault.”
“But one of the execs figured they might be related?” I asked. “Is that why they made you hook up with Mercer?”
“I got a push-in with a bastard who chloroforms the vic. Those guys think I didn’t question her as good as you would have about a sex crime. They think I might have missed something. Said you had a similar case a few days earlier.”
“Let’s hear what you’ve got,” Mercer said.
Pridgen’s plaid polyester jacket was so worn, it almost shined. His cheap tie wasn’t knotted, just crossed- detective style-below the open collar of his shirt.
“Jane Eliot-one tough broad,” he said. “Eighty-one years old.”
“Your witness?” Mercer asked.
“Yeah. I mean, I know we’ve had sex crimes with women older than that, but my guys asked her about it. She passed out and all, but her clothes were never disturbed. All we got is a push-in with a guy who ransacked the apartment.”
“Take anything?”
