‘What do you know about what my father wants? Nothing-’
‘Bullshit, I’ve known him for years, we-’
‘Look,’ said Bobby, ‘we’re stuck working together on this case, that’s fine with me. I can walk right back into that office and everything will be on the level. But stay the fuck away from my family.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ said Joe. ‘Get the fuck out of my face.’ He walked back into the office.
Rufo was standing at his desk holding an untouched Starbucks Grande Banana Coconut Frappuccino with whipped cream. Joe looked from the drink to his boss, but said nothing.
‘Everything all right?’ said Rufo.
‘Yeah,’ said Joe, fixing his jacket, sitting down at his desk.
‘So the plan is…’ said Rufo.
‘Well, we traced the last number called from Dean Valtry’s house to a Marjorie Ruehling, lives in the Bronx. Danny and I’ll go check it out this morning, then we got Valtry’s autopsy in the afternoon.’
‘Five hundred and fifty calories in this baby,’ said Rufo sadly.
Danny walked over and took the drink out of his hand. ‘Want me to put this out of your misery? Or your eye line, even?’
Rufo nodded sadly.
‘A moment on the lips…’ said Danny. He sucked up a mouthful. ‘Like drinking a vacation.’
Joe shook his head. ‘Come on. Boss, we’ll see you later.’
‘Wave bye-bye to Daddy,’ said Danny to the cup. Rufo had already turned away.
Marjorie Ruehling lived off Southern Boulevard in the Bronx in the only apartment block on the street that wasn’t newly renovated, for sale or about to be torn down. Joe rang the bell for 6E. An elderly voice crackled through the intercom.
‘Yes?’
‘Marjorie Ruehling?’ said Joe.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Who is this?’
‘My name is Detective Joe Lucchesi with my partner, Detective Danny Markey from the NYPD. We’d just like to come in and talk to you about something.’
‘What?’
Joe shook his head at Danny. ‘Are you acquainted with a Mr Dean Valtry?’
‘I’m going to come down now,’ she said. ‘And you can show me your nice badges.’
‘OK, ma’am.’
Five minutes later, a skinny woman in her sixties with a huge caramel-coloured bouffant and a peach velour tracksuit opened the door and studied the two badges. She opened the door wider and led Joe and Danny into a small, square, grey lobby lined with mailboxes, most of them overflowing.
‘That man you mentioned – Valtry,’ she said. ‘He called here last night.’
‘So you know him?’
‘Not really. He was a friend of my daughter, Sonja, from way back. You’ll need to talk to her. She’ll know more. He was calling to speak with her.’
‘Did you pass on the message to her?’
‘There was no point,’ said Mrs Ruehling. ‘I knew she was out with her husband. And Valtry didn’t want to leave a number.’
‘Could we get a cell phone and address for Sonja?’
‘Better than that. You can come in for coffee. She’s on her way over.’
Marjorie Ruehling’s apartment was a bland colour chart of creams, beiges and browns flowing between carpets and sofas and cushions.
‘How did Mr Valtry seem to you on the phone last night?’ said Joe.
Mrs Ruehling shrugged. ‘Like I said, I don’t know the man, but… I guess he seemed… he was talking quickly. That was the main thing I noticed. The phone call was over quickly after he told me to get her to call.’
‘Was he speaking clearly?’ said Joe.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He seemed impatient, that’s all.’
‘OK,’ said Joe.
They all stopped when they heard keys in the front door.
‘Oma?’ Sonja called from the hallway.
‘German for grandmother,’ said Marjorie. ‘We’re in the living room,’ she shouted to her daughter.
Sonja Ruehling walked in. ‘Hello… what’s going on?’
Her mother smiled. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘These are detectives. No big deal. Just about last night.’ Sonja frowned.
‘Someone called your mother’s home looking for you last night,’ said Joe. ‘Dean Valtry?’
‘Dean Valtry?’ She turned to her mother. ‘What did he want?’
‘He didn’t say,’ said Mrs Ruehling. ‘Just you were to call him.’
‘Did he leave a number?’ said Sonja.
‘No,’ said Mrs Ruehling. ‘It’s all very funny. Why don’t you ask him?’ she said to Joe.
‘How do you know him?’ said Joe to Sonja.
‘We… look, why don’t we go into the kitchen?’ said Sonja. ‘Oma, you don’t mind, do you? There’s no point in you getting into all this.’
‘As long as you fill me in later, I’m fine right here.’ She took an apple from the table beside her and started peeling it with a knife.
Joe, Danny and Sonja moved into the kitchen.
‘OK,’ said Sonja. ‘This is all strange. I know Dean Valtry because I dated his friend. But years ago, when I was twenty-one, twenty-two.’
‘I’m sorry to have to inform you that Mr Valtry was the victim of a homicide last night,’ said Joe.
‘Oh my God.’
‘Yes. And he tried calling your mother’s house several times yesterday. He was looking for you. She didn’t want to give out your number. We just want to know why he would be calling you.’
‘I have no idea.’ She lowered her voice again. ‘We weren’t even particularly close. I mean, to be honest, we didn’t really get on, God rest him.’
‘Tell us some more about how you met,’ said Joe.
‘I worked at Feelers, this bar in the East Village. One of the guys I worked with, his name was Alan Moder and we got together and Dean Valtry was his friend. That’s how I knew him.’
‘When was the last time you saw Dean?’
‘Years ago. What has he been doing?’
‘He was boss of one of the top dental laboratories in New York.’
Sonja leaned back in her seat and smiled.
‘You look surprised,’ said Joe.
‘I am. He was ambitious, so from that point of view, I get it. But from what I gathered, he wasn’t that good.’
‘Where did you get that idea?’
‘Alan. They were in college together. It was funny, Alan dropped out and he was the one with the talent.’
‘But Valtry opened the lab.’
‘Yes, but Alan did a lot of what got Dean’s company noticed. Alan worked for Dean.’
‘Does Alan have his own lab?’
‘I have no idea where Alan Moder is or what he does.’
‘It ended badly,’ said Danny.
‘Very. Let’s put it this way – last time I saw Alan Moder, he was screaming obscenities at me in front of my work colleagues in a beautiful French bistro on 29th Street, seven years after I dumped him in the most shitty way possible, so he would never come near me again.’ Her laugh was bitter.
‘Yikes,’ said Danny.
