Browning HP.”
“No, and three people are not two. You’re right, Detective. You’re absolutely a hundred percent right about that. It’s not definitive.”
“What’s your other case?”
“Long Island. Two years previous. Sam Begelman, sixty-two, retired manager with Bergdorf’s, is shot with a nine-mil, possibly a Browning HP. Bodies of wife and teenage daughter found nearby. Once again, beheaded post- mortem. Heads turn up in Central Park-Belvedere Castle, if you know what that is-placed on a parapet overlooking the Great Lawn. New York’s my hometown, and I’ll tell you it absolutely ruined the park for me.”
“There’s been some suggestion the Bastovs may have been connected to organized crime. Or at least victims of it.”
“Really. There’s nothing like that with the other cases. I can do a rundown on the Bastovs in our database. Would that be useful to you?”
“Very,” Cardinal said. “Tell me more about the victims.”
“Like I say, Begelman was a former Bergdorf’s manager. Wife was an interior decorator. Daughter was a student at the Lycee. They also had a son away at college who survived. Not a suspect. The Westchester family, the guy was a finance type. Venture capital. Wife a CPA. Fifteen-year-old son was a high school sophomore.”
“Signs of robbery?” McLeod said. “Any other motive?”
“No obvious one. No robbery.”
“With all this head-chopping, was there any consideration given to terrorism?”
“Not really. For one thing, these killings had none of the trademarks-no scimitar, no video, no Great Satan screed, et cetera. Terrorists advertise. Terrorists want you to know it’s them. Anti-Semitism maybe. The Begelmans were not observant, but they were big supporters of Israel. So no, Homeland Security did not get excited about it. And I have to tell you, our HQ does not buy the similarities-not to the extent I do. They’re content to leave that case strictly with New York Homicide. Those guys are good, but they don’t have our resources when things get out of state, not to mention out of country. It’s also only fair to tell you that the NYPD is not on board-so I’m on my own here, pretty much. I hope I won’t inconvenience you too much.”
“Hell no,” McLeod said. “We can use the entertainment.”
“Detective Cardinal?”
“As long as you don’t go barging into crime scenes unannounced. I want one investigation here, not two.”
“Absolutely,” Mendelsohn said. “Word of honour. I’m at your service, minute my clothes are dry.”
–
Lise Delorme was in her cubicle catching up on her reports when her cellphone chirped, indicating a text message. It was from Shane. Lise-sorry 2 do this by txt msg but Im in court all week-Lise, I rly like u a lot. Ur a wonderful person and I rly enjoy yr company but…
“Oh fuck,” Delorme said, scrolling down the tiny screen… 4 a long time now I’ve felt r relatnp not developing. Pls understand Im not judging u-the sx is gr8, ur gr8 I just dnt think we shd see each othr anymore-I hope we can b friends and that ul call me when u feel ok. Case up-got2go shane.
Delorme pressed speed-dial. It rang twice and switched over to voice mail. She leaned deep into her cubicle so no one would overhear. “The reason our relationship isn’t developing,” she said into the phone, “is because you are not developing. That’s spelt Y-O-U A-R-E. Really, Shane, what kind of three-year-old breaks up with someone by text message? And for your information, the sex is not great, you are not great, and I feel perfectly okay. So just FUCK OFF.”
“Maybe I’ll come back later.”
Delorme spun round.
Jerry Commanda was standing behind her in his OPP parka. It had been ten years since he’d switched over to the provincial force, but the front desk still let him sail right through as if he remained on staff.
“What the hell do you want?” Delorme said. “You know I’m not good company by the end of the day.”
“Way I hear it, you’re pretty hard to take the rest of the day too.”
Delorme looked at her watch. “Shouldn’t you be out catching speeders?”
“Wanted to give you a heads up. You okay? You look a little pale.”
“Problem with a lawyer. Take a seat-you look like a totem pole standing there.”
Jerry pulled Cardinal’s chair over and sat down. He unzipped his parka. “You know a guy named Henry Whiteside?”
Delorme shook her head. “From the reserve?”
“Not exactly. He was banned a few years back. You must have seen him on the street. He used to always be begging outside the Country Style top of Algonquin.”
“That guy? Oh, man, he was in terrible shape. I haven’t seen him for years. I assumed he died.”
“You wouldn’t recognize him if you saw him now. Henry turned himself around a few years ago. Did the twelve-step thing, got his head together, and even managed to get a job at Rona-he’s quite a carpenter when he’s sober. Looked healthy for the first time in ten years.”
“You’re right-I wouldn’t have recognized him.”
“Anyway, Henry has a cousin still lives on the rez, and according to her, he’s gone missing. He had a small room here in town, and was leading-for him, anyways-a regular life. He’s at Rona for a couple of months and then one day he just doesn’t show up for work. They didn’t think to report him missing-they figured either he’d heard the call of the wild or the call of the bottle. He hadn’t been there long enough to make real friends who would check up on him. So it wasn’t till his cousin stopped in the other day that anyone realized he’d moved out of his place. Rent was paid up, but one day he was there, next day he was gone.”
“When was this?”
“Day she checked in on him was December 1, but he could have left quite a while before. She said he’d been considering a job somewhere out in the bush-just a handyman thing, but she thought it had some connection to the fur business. I figured, with the Bastov case, you guys’d be in a good position to keep an eye out, maybe ask around a little?”
Delorme finished making a note on a legal pad. Then she swivelled back to face Jerry. “You know I can’t file a missing person on this, right? It’s just too likely he’s off on a drunk. Nobody’s going to send out a search party.”
“I know. I just wanted to bring it to your attention.”
“Okay. I’ll tell the others in morning meeting to keep an eye out for him.”
“Thanks, Lise.” Jerry stood and zipped up his parka. “It’s just I have a fair acquaintance with recovering alcoholics. You get a sense for who’s going to make it and who won’t.”
“And you thought Henry would.”
“Hundred percent. Course, if he turns up frozen solid with an empty can of Sterno in his fist, I’ll have to reassess my recovery meter.”
When Jerry was gone, Delorme wrote Henry Whiteside in big letters on the biggest Post-it Note she could find and pinned it to the corkboard above her desk. Then she picked up her cellphone and opened the speed-dial menu and deleted Shane.
–
Cardinal drove home that night in a state of frustration. They had so many leads-the tires, the make of the car, the shoe prints, the bullets, the parking garage video-and yet it seemed they were still treading around the edge of the case instead of moving closer to the heart of it. Then there were the New York cases that Mendelsohn had brought-with their tantalizing similarities and yet no solid connections. He opened the parking garage with his clicker and drove down the ramp.
It was even darker than usual, and in the corner where Cardinal’s slot was located there was barely any light at all. Every day it seemed there was another problem with this so-called luxury building, and Cardinal thought once again-as he thought pretty much every day-that it had been a mistake to sell the house.
He switched off the car and got out and locked it and headed toward the elevator. He had his key out and was opening the door to the elevator room when there was a noise behind him. He spun around and his Beretta was already in his hand with the safety off.
“Jesus,” he said. “Are you out of your mind? I nearly shot you.”
