Video.”
“The man said this is a crime scene, Scoop,” Stone said, propelling the little man toward the door.
“Hey, what crime?” Scoop said, digging in his heels.
“Possible homicide,” Stone replied, still pushing.
“There’s no homicide,” Scoop said.
“Yeah? How do
“Because she ain’t dead,” Scoop said.
Stone stopped pushing. “What are you talking about? She fell twelve stories.”
“Hang on a minute, guys,” Scoop said. He rewound the tape in his camera and flipped down a tiny viewing screen. “Watch this,” he said.
Stone and Dino elbowed the other two cops out of the way and focused on the screen. An image came up; the camera was running toward the Con Ed site downstairs. It pushed past an ambulance man and zoomed in on the form of Sasha Nijinsky. She was wearing a nightgown under a green silk robe.
“Easy, now, lady,” someone was saying on the soundtrack. “Don’t try to move; let us do the moving.”
A white-clad back filled the screen, and the camera moved to one side, then zoomed in tight on her face. She blinked twice, and her lips moved.
“Okay, here we go,” the voice said, and the ambulance men lifted her onto a stretcher. The camera followed as they loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. One man got in with her and pulled the door shut. The ambulance drove away, its lights flashing and its whooper sounding.
“I had to make a choice then,” Scoop said. “I called in the incident, and then I went for the apartment.”
“It’s impossible,” Dino said.
“You saw her move, saw her blink,” Scoop said.
“Holy shit,” Dino said.
“Okay,” Stone said to the two cops. “You work the scene with the technical guys, and then knock on every door in the building. I want to know if anybody saw anybody come into the building after nine o’clock tonight.” He grabbed Dino’s elbow. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 3
Stone hung up the car phone. “The company dispatcher says the wagon is going to Lenox Hill Hospital, but the driver hasn’t radioed in to confirm the delivery yet.”
“Seventy-seventh and Park,” Dino said, hanging a right.
Dino always drove as if he’d just stolen the car. Being Italian didn’t hurt either.
The two had been partners for nearly four years when Stone had got his knee shot up. It hadn’t even been their business, that call, but everybody responded to “officer needs assistance.” The officer had needed assistance half a minute before Stone and Dino arrived on the scene; the officer was dead, and the man who had shot him was trying to start his patrol car. He’d fired one wild shot before Dino killed him, and it had found its way unerringly to Stone’s knee. It had been nothing but a run-of-the-mill domestic disturbance, until the moment the officer had died and the bullet had changed Stone’s life.
Dino had won an automatic commendation for killing a perp who had killed a cop. Stone had won four hours in surgery and an extremely boring amount of physical therapy. He rubbed the knee. It didn’t feel so terrible now; maybe he hadn’t screwed it up as badly as he had thought.
They screeched to a halt at the emergency entrance to Lenox Hill, and Stone limped into the building after Dino.
“You’ve got a woman named Nijinsky here,” Dino said to the woman behind the desk, flashing his badge. “We need to see her now.”
“I didn’t get her name, but she’s in room number one, first door on your right. Dr. Holmes is with her.”
Dino led the way.
“I’d never have guessed her name was Nijinsky,” the woman said after them.
They found the room and a resident taping a bandage to a woman’s forehead. The woman was black.
“Dr. Holmes?” Stone said.
The young man turned.
“Yes?”
Stone limped into the room. “You’ve got another patient, a woman, here.”
“Nope, this is it,” Holmes said. “An uncommonly slow night.”
“You’re sure?” Stone asked, puzzled.
The doctor nodded at the black woman. “The only customer we’ve had for two hours,” he replied. He watched Stone shift his weight and wince. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I just banged my knee; no problem.”
“Let’s have a look.”
“Yeah,” said Dino, “let’s have a look.”
Stone pulled up his trouser leg.
Dino whistled. “Oh, that looks great, Stone.”
“Tell me about it,” the doctor said.
Stone gave him an abbreviated history.
The doctor went to a refrigerator, came back with a flat ice pack, and fastened it to Stone’s knee with an Ace bandage. Then he retrieved a small box of pills from a shelf. “Keep the ice on until you can’t stand it anymore, and take one of these pills now and every four hours after that. See your doctor in the morning.”
“What are the pills?” Stone asked.
“A nonsteroid, antiinflammatory agent. If you haven’t completely undone your surgery, the knee will feel better in the morning.”
Stone thanked him, and they left.
“What now?” Dino asked as they turned onto Lexington Avenue.
Stone was about to answer when they saw the flashing lights. At Seventy-fifth and Lexington there was a god- awful mess, lit by half a dozen flashing lights. “Pull over, Dino,” he said.
Dino pulled over. Stone got out and approached a uniformed officer. He pointed at a mass of twisted metal. “Was that smoking ruin once an ambulance?” he asked the cop.
“Yeah, and what used to be a fire truck hit it broadside.” He pointed at the truck, which was only moderately bent.
“What about the occupants?”
“On their way to Bellevue,” the cop said. “Seven from the fire truck, two or three from the ambulance.”
“Anybody left alive?”
“I just got here; you’ll have to check Bellevue.”
Stone thanked him and got back into the car.
“Is that the same ambulance?” Dino asked.
“It’s the same service.” Stone stuck a flashing light on the dashboard. “Stand on it, Fittipaldi.”
Fangio stood on it.
The emergency room at Bellevue was usually a zoo, but this was incredible. People were lying on carts everywhere, overflowing into the hallways, screaming, crying, while harried medical personnel moved among them, expediting the more serious cases.
“What the hell happened?” Dino asked a sweating nurse.
“Subway fire in the Twenty-third Street Station,” she replied, “not to mention half a dozen firemen and a couple of ambulance drivers. We caught it all.”
“There’s nobody at the desk,” Stone said. “How can we find out if somebody’s been admitted?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said, wheeling a cart containing a screaming woman down the hallway. “Paperwork’s out the window.”
