'Black,' said Flack as Taxx went one way and his daughter the other.
They were in a small, clean living room. The furniture wasn't new but it was bright, flowery, clean, a woman's room. Two sofas, almost matching, sat across from each other with a low gray table between them and copies of the latest
Taxx sat on one sofa. Flack sat across from him.
'Cliff Collier's dead,' Flack said.
'I got a call,' Taxx said, shaking his head. 'Any leads on the killer?'
'I shot the killer,' said Flack straight-faced. 'But he's out there someplace. He got away.'
'I didn't know Collier well,' said Taxx. 'Just duty those two nights. You were a friend of his?'
'Went through the Academy together,' said Flack, trying not to move, knowing it would result in a silent stab in his chest.
The girl came back with identical yellow mugs and cork coasters in each hand. She placed the drinks down in front of the two men.
'Thanks honey,' said Taxx, smiling at his daughter.
'I'm going back to my room,' she said, 'unless…'
'Go ahead,' said Taxx.
The girl looked back once and exited slowly, probably, Don thought, hoping to pick up a bit of the conversation between her father and the unexpected visitor.
'Wife's down the street playing bridge,' said Taxx.
They went silent, drank their coffee.
'You in trouble?' asked Flack.
Taxx shrugged.
'DA's office is investigating,' he said. 'I'll probably get a reprimand and since I'll be retiring in about a year, I won't go back in the field again. Can't say it bothers me all that much. Someone has to take the blame for losing a star witness.'
Flack drank. The coffee was hot but not steamy hot.
'My guess is the papers and television people will say Cliff's murder suggests that he was involved in the killing of Alberta Spanio, that he was killed to shut him up,' said Don.
'I don't believe that,' said Taxx, working on his own coffee. 'I didn't know him well, but I was there. He didn't have anything to do with killing her.'
'Then whoever did it thought Cliff saw something or knew something,' said Flack. 'Or figured something out. My best guess is Cliff was following a lead on his own and got spotted.'
'Makes sense to me,' Taxx said.
'Whoever did it may be after you next.'
Taxx nodded and said, 'I've been thinking about that. I can't come up with any reason.'
Flack asked Taxx to go over what had happened at the hotel.
'Told you already,' said Taxx. 'We knocked on her door.'
'We?'
'I think it was Collier who knocked. I called her name. No answer. Collier put his hand on the door and looked at me. Signaled for me to do the same. I did. The door was cold.'
'Whose idea was it to break down the door?'
'We didn't discuss it,' said Taxx. 'We just did it. When we got in, Collier ran to the bathroom and I went to the bed to check on Alberta.'
'Why did he go to the bathroom?'
'Wind was blowing in from there,' said Taxx. 'We just agreed, nodded, something. You know how it is when something happens fast in the field.'
'Yeah,' said Flack. 'Why did he go to the bathroom and you to the body?'
Taxx was holding the coffee cup in his hand.
'I don't know. It just happened. I saw him run for the bathroom. That left the bed.'
'How long was he in there?'
'Five, ten seconds,' said Taxx. 'Flack, what's going on with you? You look…'
'Guy who killed Cliff sat on my chest before I shot him. Broken ribs.'
'You have far to drive to get here?'
'It wasn't bad.'
'Want to spend the night here?' asked Taxx. 'We've got an extra room.'
'No, thanks,' he said. 'I'll be all right. When Alberta Spanio went to bed, what was the drill the last night?'
'Same as the first three nights,' said Taxx. 'We checked the windows to be sure they were locked.'
'Who checked?'
'We both did,' said Taxx.
'Who checked the bathroom window?'
'Collier. Then we left, and Alberta locked the door behind us. We heard the bolt slide and lock.'
'And no sounds during the night?' asked Flack.
'From her room? No.'
'From anywhere?'
'No.'
'Maybe you should have someone watching your house till we pick up the guy who killed Cliff?'
'I'm well armed,' said Taxx. 'I know how to use my weapon.'
'You might want to wear it and have it at your bedside.'
Taxx pulled up his Jets sweat shirt to reveal a small holster and gun on his belt. Then he pulled the sweat shirt down.
'I got the same idea when I heard what happened to Collier, but for the life of me, I don't know what Collier and I might have heard or seen that would make Marco send out a hit on us. He's got to know the morning news will be all over this and he'll be crucified if something happens to me. More coffee?'
'No, thanks,' said Flack, rising carefully.
'Sure you don't want to spend the night?'
'No, thanks,' he said.
'Suit yourself,' said Taxx, leading him back to the front door.
'Try to think of something you might have forgotten, missed,' said Flack.
'I've been trying, going over everything, but… I'll keep trying,' said Taxx. 'Be careful out there tonight.'
Flack went out the door and into the frigid night. The door closed behind him cutting off the last of the warmth. He was missing something. He knew it, felt it.
He would drive home now, carefully, knowing that the pain was winning, at least for now, at least until he got home and took another hydrocodine tablet. In the morning, he'd check in with Stella to see if she had come up with anything. Whatever else he did in the morning would depend on whether Stevie Guista had been caught.
He got into his car and reached into his jacket pocket. The move sent a shock of pain across his chest. He pulled out the bottle of pills, started to open it, and changed his mind.
It took him almost two hours to get home.
The woman on the uptown intersection video monitor was Molly Ives. She was stubby, black, studying law at night, and wide awake. Her shift, the night shift, had begun fifteen minutes earlier.
She spotted the bread truck at a red light at 96th and Third. She wasn't sure it was the one she had a note to look for on the clipboard next to her. She became sure when the light turned green and she could make out the words MARCO'S BAKERY on the side of the truck as it passed.
Molly Ives called it in to the NYPD dispatcher who contacted a patrol car in the area. Five minutes later, the patrol car cut off the bakery truck, and the two policemen inside got out.
