Four Walls

these guys, the ones that aren't stone-cold assholes, they try to be polite, y'know? They figure it'll help with parole and all that-but Washburne was genuine. He was-what's the word-repentant, that's it.'

Mac smiled. 'That's where the word penitentiary comes from. A place intended to make a criminal repent.'

'Yeah, that's prob'ly why they changed it to correctional facility, 'cause these guys mostly don't go in for repenting.' Sullivan snorted. 'Course, they ain't all that correct, neither.'

When they were finished with Sullivan, a final CO came in: Randy Andros.

Flack was looking at a different clipboard this time. 'You've only been here a month?'

Andros nodded. 'Worked in Sing Sing for the last few years. My wife got a job in Jersey, so we moved to Elizabeth, and the commute to Ossining from there sucks.' He shook his head. 'I'm sorry I bothered.'

Ursitti said, 'They'll get over it.'

'Over what?' Mac asked with a frown.

'The COs,' Ursitti said. 'They assume any new guy is a rat.'

Mac hardly needed that bit of slang to be translated: a new CO was assumed to be a mole from Internal Affairs. Having recently been subject to the whims of the NYPD's own Internal Affairs Unit, Mac could understand the disdain.

'So I get treated like crap. Kind of a comedown after actually getting invited to weekly poker games and dinners and stuff.'

As much as Mac sympathized, he really wasn't interested in this man's personal life. Neither was Flack, as he immediately started asking questions about Mulroney, about Barker, and about Washburne.

Andros had nothing new to add about the former two, but he had a radically different perspective on the latter: 'He was just another asshole. Probably pissed somebody off and got himself conked on the head.'

'You didn't like him?' Mac asked.

'We're not supposed to like the convicts, Detective, we're supposed to guard them. I don't get why this guy was supposed to be treated differently just because he used to be a cop. He's just like all the rest.' Andros barked a bitter laugh. 'He even tried the usual crap with his meds.'

'What do you mean?' Flack asked.

'Most of these guys are on medication. Some of them try all sorts of tricks to not take their pills. This morning, I was supervising the distribution of meds in Charlie Block, and Washburne tried to palm his Klonopin.'

'That's used to treat anxiety,' Mac said. 'Not surprising for a morally centered man who committed vehicular homicide.'

'Morally centered, right,' Andros said with a shrug. 'If he's so damn morally centered, why'd he start drinking again? And don't give me that 'alcoholism is a disease' crapola. You get a disease, you don't have a choice, but you choose to walk into the bar and order a beer, know what I mean?'

Mac was starting to suspect that there was more to Andros's socialization troubles than just the COs' belief that he might be a rat, but said nothing.

Once they finished with Andros, Danny and Sheldon joined them in the interrogation room. Danny said, 'Hope that 'copter ain't got a weight limit, 'cause we packed up half the yard to bring back with us.'

'Plus two bodies,' Sheldon said. 'I'll do up the receipt for that.'

Mac nodded. RHCF would need receipts for the bodies of both Washburne and Barker. Normally, it would have to be from the medical examiner, but Sheldon's time as an ME meant he was authorized to provide it in the absence of someone currently attached to the ME's office.

Flack leaned back in his chair. 'I've got about eight million more people to talk to.'

'I'll stay and give you a hand.' Mac turned to his subordinates. 'You two, get back to the lab, start processing everything. And tell Peyton, or whichever ME's on duty, that Washburne's the priority of the two.'

Sheldon nodded. 'Sure thing, Mac.'

They headed for the door. Mac followed them both into the corridor. 'Sheldon, any thoughts on what happened to Washburne?'

'Looks like somebody hit him on the head with a weight. Beyond that…' Sheldon shrugged. 'With any luck, we'll find something on the weight, but there were forty-five people in there, and it's a public place. It's going to be hard to find any trace evidence that'd be meaningful, especially with a murder weapon that's been touched by so many people.'

'Well, Flack and I will be talking to all forty-three suspects. See what you can find.'

'We're on it, Mac.'

With that, the pair of them headed down the corridor, accompanied by two COs.

Mac knew that convictions usually came from a combination of eyewitness testimony and forensic evidence. One was good, but both were better. With that in mind, he trusted Sheldon and Danny to find the latter, while he stayed behind to help Flack with the former.

10

STELLA HAD ALREADY TAKEN an instant dislike to Jack Morgenstern, and she found that she could easily extend that sentiment to his lawyer.

Courtney Bracey was a very attractive woman: pale skin, short dark hair, perfect teeth, a cleft chin, and penetrating brown eyes. She wore an Armani suit that practically advertised how expensive it was.

Morgenstern, though, didn't bother dressing up. He was wearing a red T-shirt with what looked to Stella like a Southwestern Indian design in black on the chest, black jeans, and black Rockports. His long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail.

'My client,' Bracey said as soon as the two detectives entered the interrogation room, 'is willing to cooperate with you up to a point. If at any stage it looks as if he is being accused of a crime, I will end this interview until such time as you place my client under arrest.'

'By the way,' Morgenstern said, 'nice touch coming in twenty minutes after our appointment was for. Courtney wanted me to get up and walk out after five, but I'm in a good mood today.'

'The delay was unavoidable,' Angell said as she sat down. 'We-'

Morgenstern held up a hand. 'Spare me. I know all the techniques-you let the perp stew in his own juices for a while before coming to talk to him, figuring the boredom might drive him to talk. Bravo, you learned Interrogation Technique Number One. Let's move on, okay?'

Stella shot Angell a this is gonna be fun look.

'Are you aware of the fact that Maria Campagna is dead?'

Looking confused, Morgenstern said, 'No, but that's mostly by virtue of not having the first clue who Maria Campagna is.'

'She was one of the young women who worked at Belluso's Bakery.'

Now his face fell, his eyes growing wide. His surprise certainly seemed genuine. The majority of killers were dumb as posts and bad actors, but Stella had met plenty of good fakers on the job, too.

'Jesus, Maria? She's dead?'

'Yes.'

'Oh my God. I-I didn't know her last name, but-'

Angell took out some of Lindsay's crime scene photos. Unsurprisingly, she'd chosen the grisliest of them. 'Someone strangled her. Someone wearing a black sweatshirt. Someone who went into Belluso's just before closing time.'

Morgenstern refused to look at the pictures. 'I really don't need to see that, and I don't appreciate Interrogation Technique Number Two, either.' Now he seemed to be over the surprise. 'Oh, and for the record, yes, I was wearing a black sweatshirt last night. So was half of New York.'

'So you knew the victim?' Angell asked.

'Yes. Maria was a friend of mine.'

'So good a friend,' Stella said, 'that you don't know her last name?'