DiRaimo wanted to say yes. With a license plate, it should be easy to find the owner of the car, but there was a long distance between finding the owner and finding whoever was in it the moment Jasmine died. And even if they found that out, the young men could just as easily say that they saw Yolanda at the scene. There were clear footprints on the body and they didn’t match Yolanda, but that wasn’t the greatest evidence. Since the dead girl had been a pro, even the blood and semen on her was going to be useless. He believed everything Yolanda had said, but the most he was hoping for was to scare the young men. A stern talking-to from an assistant district attorney. Who knew? Maybe they could be tricked into saying something stupid. Of course, with wealth came lawyers, so this was unlikely, but anything was possible.
“We’re going to try,” he told Yolanda. She rolled her eyes, and he didn’t blame her. She went her way home and DiRaimo headed back to his partner.
“The McElhones of Westchester,” Hamilton said. “Tim McElhone, Jr. He’s the registered driver. Dispatch just got back with the info.”
“Are we going to talk to the McElhones?” DiRaimo aked.
“What the hell for? Look at the address.” Hamilton passed his partner a scrap of paper. “One of the swankiest addresses in the state. I’ve been up there. You need to get through security gates. That’s going to take a warrant right there. Can’t even ring the doorbell without getting a judge out of bed.”
“So let’s get one out of bed. It’s a murder case.” DiRaimo didn’t like dragging feet.
“Oh, and I forgot the best bit of news. Here, take a look at this.” Hamilton passed another slip of paper.
DiRaimo read it and felt a headache creeping up his spine.
“Yep, you read that right. Our good Samaritan here did seven for
The headache took a firm grip on DiRaimo. He looked at the pieces of paper in his hand and then at the body of Jasmine Doe. Hamilton cut into his thoughts.
“Look, I’m thinking this Yolanda lady and her ex are back together and they were probably pimping this poor girl out. Maybe little Timmy McElhone got a bit carried away, but there isn’t going to be any way to prove that unless we can find witnesses…witnesses that haven’t done time for serious crimes. Hell, I’d take a homeless guy. And this isn’t exactly Grand Central here.”
“So you’re saying just forget about it?” DiRaimo asked.
“I’m saying we probably have a much better chance of getting a conviction against the people who called it in than getting to even talk with McElhone. Look, it’s a shame what happened to this girl, but there are better ways of spending our time. We could be tracking people who kill real citizens.”
“Well, we got a job to do here anyways.”
“Sure, sure, but we’re not going to get anywhere with this. Guaranteed.”
“Well, let’s make sure that if the case doesn’t go forward, it’s not because of anything we failed to do.”
“Whatever you say, chief.”
The two men drove back to their precinct to start the reporting on the case. Before dawn, both had made phone calls. DiRaimo called for the warrant to speak to the McElhones and search the car, the garage, and anywhere else Tim McElhone might have disposed of the clothes and shoes he had worn that night. Hamilton had gone out of the precinct for some fresh air and during his walk had used a pay phone to make calls too private for the precinct.
A few hours later, the detectives rolled up in their unmarked car behind Ray as he was walking down the street. He had been on his way to see Yolanda, but then thought it would be better to just walk past her building. Couldn’t think of a good reason to be on that block, but then he tried to remind himself that he didn’t need a reason to be anywhere in the entire world. He was a free man.
“Raymundo,” Detective Hamilton called out, “what brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“Woods?” Ray asked. Playing dumb was a strategy that often worked with detectives.
“Here to see your wife?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We’re talking about a murder charge, you idiot. You should know all about that kind of stuff. Had plenty of time to think about it.”
“That’s right, and I did my time. All of it.”
“That’s right, you did. But I’m thinking you might have a fresh murder charge. Yolanda told us everything,” Hamilton said.
Ray looked at both detectives up and down, then pursed his lips. “You guys ain’t said nothing to her.”
“Well, if you’re so sure of that, why don’t you come down and tell us everything you know?”
“About what?”
“About this little girl your wife says was called Jasmine.”
“Don’t know anything about it.”
“So you’re cutting your wife off? Not very heroic of you. How are you ever going to win her back?”
Ray didn’t have an answer for that.
“Uh-huh. I thought so,” Hamilton said. “We’ll be talking to you again. Don’t disappear.”
