you, there will be.’
Shaun stared at the floor.
‘If you’re drinking to forget… things,’ said Joe. ‘That’s when me and your mom get worried. We know what you’ve been through more than anyone. Your friends don’t. You’re just one part of a big group. No-one there is thinking about each individual person and whether or not it’s a good idea for them to get wasted every night. They don’t care.’
‘Yes, they do,’ said Shaun.
‘No they don’t. Has anyone had one conversation with you about what happened in Ireland?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ said Shaun. ‘They know stuff, but not from talking to me.’
‘And they still think it’s a good idea for you to get wasted every night.’
‘It’s not down to them,’ said Shaun. ‘I’m my own person. I make my own decisions.’
‘Well, you’re making some very bad ones. And we’re not gonna stand by and take it. So here’s the deal: you get Saturday nights to go out. Friday, you can catch a movie with Tara or whoever, but no drinking. Every other night of the week, you’re home here. By 10.30.’
‘No way,’ said Shaun. ‘No way, Dad. No way.’
‘Way,’ said Joe. ‘Way. I’m getting to you before your mom does. She’s coming in here in a minute, but I don’t want her to have to worry about anything, so I’m talking to you now, OK? You’ll see more why we need your cooperation on this, why neither of us need to have to worry our son is going to end up in rehab.’
‘That’s so dumb,’ said Shaun.
Anna walked into the room. ‘Hi.’ She walked over to the sofa and sat beside Shaun. He frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she said. ‘We just have something we’d like to tell you.’
He waited.
‘We’re going to have a baby,’ she said.
‘Who?’ said Shaun. He looked at them. ‘You?’ His eyes shot wide, rapidly searching both their faces. ‘What?’ He calmed slowly. ‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘You’re not kidding.’
‘Just the reaction we were hoping for,’ said Joe.
‘Thanks,’ said Anna.
‘I’m sorry, Mom,’ he said, leaning across to half-hug her. ‘Congratulations.’ He gave Joe a small smile.
‘Your mother and I… we’re very happy,’ said Joe.
‘It’s very early to tell you,’ said Anna, ‘but your father thought, just, well, I don’t need a lot of stress. I hope you can help me out with that.’
Shaun stared at Joe, but looked back at Anna kindly. ‘Sure, Mom. I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m happy for you guys. I mean, it’s weird, but-’
Joe flashed a glance at him.
‘Come on, it’s weird,’ said Shaun. ‘But I guess it could be cool being a big brother.’ He shrugged.
Joe’s mobile rang. ‘I have to take this,’ he said, walking over to the window. ‘Yeah?’
‘Joe, it’s Tom Blazkow. Two things: lab results came back on that second piece of clothing from Trahorne laboratory – we got a match with Ethan Lowry’s blood. And… we got another body.’
Dean Valtry lived and died in a soulless TriBeCa loft on Duane Street. Alive, he suited the glossy, arctic white space, its angular furniture and carefully placed art. Dead, his blasted forehead and stiffened corpse turned it into a self-conscious installation. He lay fully dressed in a navy pin stripe suit, blue shirt with white collar and cuffs, gold tie and gold cufflinks, slumped against a long low-backed sofa. His mouth hung open.
Danny and Joe looked down.
‘Death don’t do percentages,’ said Danny.
‘Shot in the head while he was sitting on his sofa,’ said Joe.
Dr Hyland looked up and nodded.
‘Probably too engrossed watching himself on TV to notice the killer come in,’ said Danny.
‘Hey,’ said Bobby, walking over.
‘First precinct isn’t as safe as it used to be,’ said Joe.
‘No shit,’ said Bobby.
‘What happened here?’ said Joe.
‘Looking like a twenty-two again, but obviously his face hasn’t had the crap bashed out of it.’
Joe shook his head. ‘Anyone talk to the neighbors?’ ‘A lot of the apartments are vacant,’ said Bobby. ‘Wealthy owners who come to the city couple of times a year, actors, investors, whatever. The two people who were home heard nothing. The apartments are sound-proofed and are so goddamn big, they might as well be in different buildings.’
‘Let’s take a walk around,’ said Joe.
‘At least it’s not hard to see everything,’ said Danny. ‘Pass around some cheese and wine and we could all be at a gallery opening.’
‘Yes,’ said Hyland, ‘and Valtry here is the work of some edgy new up-and-comer with an eye for the macabre.’
Joe nodded. ‘Back in a while.’
He walked with Danny through the open plan apartment, moving around the crime scene techs.
‘So,’ said Joe. ‘The day we find a definite link between Trahorne Refining and Valtry’s lab, Valtry winds up dead.’
‘Yup,’ said Danny. ‘You think he was part of the whole-’
‘I think he knew who was. And I think they paid him a visit tonight.’
‘It had to have been someone who worked in the lab,’ said Danny.
‘Maybe we need to look further – at suppliers, whoever had to come in and out of the building, whoever could have had access to those paper drums or packages going in and out.’
‘But we spoke to everyone from the cleaning staff up,’ said Danny.
‘Well, we missed someone.’
The tour of the apartment didn’t take long – a vast, clean space, all of it as tidy as the lab, as perfectly kept as Valtry’s office.
‘He was not lying about his attention to detail,’ said Joe. ‘Look – alphabetized CDs, books – who does that?’
‘You do, you retard.’
‘Not this much, I don’t.’
Danny looked at him like he had lost his mind. ‘Joe. You’re the neatest freak I know.’ He looked around the room. ‘Makes our job easier,’ said Danny. ‘No searching around for anything. I’d say every piece of paper in every file in those cabinets is in the right place.’
Joe used a glove to slide open one of the drawers. The tabs were colour-coded, their titles neatly printed. Danny shrugged. ‘There are not enough hours in the day for this kind of shit.’
‘Yeah, well, if you organize shit in the first place, you have more hours in the day, because you don’t spend them trying to find things.’
‘Jesus, get a life,’ said Danny.
Joe walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up the phone. He scrolled through the numbers, writing down everything from the call log. He did the same with Valtry’s cell phone.
‘Last number dialled was at 6.30 p. m.,’ said Joe.
‘Probably when he got home from work,’ said Danny.
They walked into the bedroom, which had a white brick half-wall separating it from the living space. The bed was huge, custom-made, four-poster draped in white muslin.
‘He lived here alone?’ said Danny.
‘Yup,’ said Joe.
The area was untouched, a peaceful space, far removed from the scene at the other end of the apartment.
‘OK,’ said Joe. ‘There’s something missing in this apartment.’
‘Heart,’ said Danny.
