Looking for clues, Parker scanned the photographs in the bookcases. There was a picture of Corelli with her arm over the shoulder of a short, dark, attractive woman, probably last night’s visitor. And another picture of Corelli surrounded by a group of men and women all in full battle gear, and several pictures of her with the lovely dark-haired woman, both laughing, hoisting beers and tossing a ball. Corelli seems to favor dark-haired women. Maybe Cummings is the exception. She stretched to see the picture on a higher shelf and grinned at the very young, very serious, tough-looking Corelli in leather, standing with three equally tough-looking girls next to motorcycles.
She pulled herself away from Corelli’s life and returned to the kitchen where Corelli had piled the things for the office and was rinsing the coffeepot. Parker held out the jacket and the holster and gun.
Corelli dried her hands. “I’m afraid I’m going to need your help with the holster. My hand is too swollen.” She raised it as proof.
Parker flushed. She placed the jacket and the Glock on the table and stepped behind Corelli. She wrapped her arms and the holster around Corelli’s waist and leaned forward to buckle it. Her face sank into Corelli’s hair, which felt soft and smelled springy. She started to sweat and felt the familiar clutch in her gut. She closed the catch, picked up the gun, and slid it into the holster. She held the jacket while Corelli slipped it on. Relaxed now, Parker picked up the coffeemaker, coffee, and filters. At least she’s wearing clothing that fits this morning. Nice quality and she looks a thousand time better than she did yesterday in her gangsta outfit.
“Um, Parker, I know this is an imposition, but I couldn’t braid my hair this morning and I can’t wear it loose. Would you mind twisting my hair and clipping it in place?” She held out a hair clip.
Parker put the coffee things down on the table. Chief never said anything about personal slave.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She squinted toward the window. “Doesn’t the light bother you?”
“No, I love it. If it’s too bright I close the blinds. I don’t think I could live without light. I’d feel like a mole or something.”
A dark cloud seemed to pass between Parker and the sunlight. Or a rat, like me, running into my hole at night.
Chapter Twenty
They were early enough to avoid the gauntlet, but as they passed through the precinct, the uproar of everyday activity slowly wound down until the only sound was the ringing phones. Parker felt foolish carrying the coffeepot, and the anger rumbled in her belly, until she realized no one was looking at her. It was Corelli’s name they whispered, and Corelli they showed their backs to. Parker glanced at Corelli who didn’t seem to notice. Her face had more color than earlier, but she seemed relaxed and unaware of the stares and the backs as she led the way up the stairs to where Watkins waited. How can she stand it?
Watkins had taken the desk next to Corelli’s, leaving Parker with the one facing her. While they settled, he got the coffee going, chattering all the while to Corelli and glancing at Parker to include her. He had already spread out some bagels and cream cheese on his desk.
He was easy with her. Clearly, they had worked together before.
“Watkins, I’ve already told Parker, but you need to know that two guys came after me when I went out to jog this morning.”
“In broad daylight?” he asked, surprised.
Corelli looked sheepish. “Well, it was four thirty and still dark. For me it was morning, but I guess for them it was still night.” She described the attack. “I think I might have broken both their noses.” She removed the ice pack and examined her right hand. It was swollen, raw, and red with tinges of black and blue. “And, um, one guy pulled his gun on me, but some people came along and they got away before I could get them or the plate number.”
Watkins and Parker exchanged glances. “Probably stolen anyway,” Watkins concluded. “Did they say anything?”
“No.”
Parker was incredulous. “Do you think they were going to kill you?”
“Seems likely.” She sipped her coffee. “They’ll try again for sure.”
Damn. How could Corelli be so blasé? And how am I supposed to keep her safe?
“One of us should be with you all the time, even sleep at your place,” Parker blurted without thinking. Big mouth. Next I’ll be offering to sleep between Corelli and the mystery woman.
Corelli smirked. “You wanting to horn in on my sex life, Parker?”
Parker felt the blood rush to her face. “What? I —”
Corelli threw her hands up. “Kidding. Just kidding.”
Parker imagined slamming Corelli with a bagel and smearing her with cream cheese to wipe that supercilious grin off her face.
“I’ll use the treadmill until this passes. I’ll be fine if you pick me up in the morning and watch me until I’m in at night.” Corelli refilled her coffee and sat. “Ready?”
Detective Dietz came into the room, out of breath from the steps.
“Ah, Dietz, just in time.” Corelli waved him to her side chair. “You’ll be working with us so you might as well sit in while Parker brings Watkins to date on our conversations with Chip, the bartender, Rino Martucci, the chauffer, and Mihailo Jovanovic, the porter. Also, Parker share your impressions.”
My impressions? Parker opened her notebook and took a minute to organize her thoughts. She felt their eyes on her. She took a breath and started. She presented her thoughts as if she was in front of judge and jury—logical, clear and concise. After discussing the bartender, she moved on to the night porter. As she talked, she noted Dietz nodding his head, Watkins listening attentively and Corelli smiling. She concluded, “Although Winter was trying to get Jovanovic fired, he seems more into self-pity than murder, and unless he killed her before he staggered over to the Oasis, he was probably too drunk to manage it. Besides, bad as he smells, I doubt she would have let him near her without a fight.” She checked her notes. “On the other hand, we’re still focused on him because we believe he’s lying about locking the building door. If it was open, anybody could have walked in and murdered Winter.”
She went over the chauffer’s story. “He really seemed surprised to hear she was dead, but we still need to talk to him about the missing hour and a half and the blood on his shirt.”
“Good work, Parker. Dietz I’d like you to help Watkins organize a team to do a thorough search of the thirty-fifth floor for the murder weapon. The search of the office garbage and the receptacles for the building as well as the baskets on the surrounding streets didn’t turn up anything, so it probably wasn’t tossed.”
She waited while they made notes. “A couple of other things. Watkins, make arrangements for Gianopolus to identify his wife today. Drive him yourself and watch his reaction. And Dietz, send detectives to talk to Gertrude’s doormen and Hornsby’s neighbors.”
Dietz looked up from his notes. “Gertrude is the sister-in-law, but who’s Hornsby again?”
Parker responded. “Jennifer Hornsby is one of the senior officers in Winter’s company.”
Dietz nodded. “Sounds like a cast of thousands. Have you eliminated anybody yet?”
Parker glanced at Corelli and got a nod in answer to her unspoken question. “It’s still very early but we have eliminated a few people. Three of the senior officers are out of the country. Terry O’Reilly is in Nepal and Lewis Brooks is in Japan and Karl Silver is in Hawaii, so they’re clear. Her assistant, Sandra Edwards, seems unlikely but we should be able to confirm that today. And, as I said earlier, the porter probably couldn’t get close enough to hit her without a struggle.” Parker glanced at Corelli before continuing. “Right now, Brett Cummings is the only one who admits she was in the building around the time Winter was killed. She doesn’t seem to have a motive, but unless we confirm the building door was open she might be our only suspect.” Parker thought Corelli’s face had colored at her comment but Corelli nodded as if she agreed. Parker was relieved.
<
br /> Corelli stood. “Parker and I are going to search Winter’s office again. Then we’ll drive out to Sheepshead Bay to find out what the chauffeur was doing between nine thirty and eleven, a detail he conveniently left out of his story.”
“Anything else?” Dietz said.
“Yes. Send a detective to take this guy’s statement.” She handed Dietz a slip with George Lopez’s name and address. “George saved me from being killed this morning.” She gave Dietz the short version of the morning attack.
Dietz picked up his folders. “If we’re done here, Captain Winfry wants to see the three of you in his office.”
He offered a quick two-finger salute and walked away.
Each time she had to face the averted eyes and sudden silence of her fellow officers, she renewed her resolve to show them pride rather than shame, and strength rather than vulnerability. She straightened her shoulders, put a smile on her face and strolled down to Winfry’s office.
“Enter.” He was seated at his desk. “Ah, Corelli. How are things going?”
“You’re aware of the media swarm that attacked us leaving Winter’s office yesterday?”
“But you got the support you needed to exit, yes?”
“Yes sir.” Corelli said. She briefed him about the attack after her early morning run.
“Do you need more protection?”
“No, sir. Detective Parker is up to the job. We’ve decided that I’ll use the treadmill until this is over.”
“You good with that, Parker?”
“Yes sir.”
He turned his attention to Watkins. “You’re on restricted duty. Do you think this assignment might be too dangerous?”
“No, sir. I’m sure it will be fine.”
He cleared his throat. “We’ve got ourselves a political hot potato here. I’ve received calls suggesting that I remove you from this case.”
“Captain, I don’t know if it’s related, but the porter at Winter’s office said a cop whose name he doesn’t know and who he couldn’t describe, visited often late at night, displayed his shield and threatened to kill him if he forgot to lock the outer door at night. The porter seems to have a drinking problem so he may not be reliable. Maybe the guy was having an affair with Winter and if he is police he might feel I’ll expose him like I did Righteous Partners. That might explain the pressure to get me off the case.”
“Get me a name. I’ll handle the pressure, but you three stay alert. Especially you, Corelli.” He stood. “Keep me posted.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Hernandez yawned and smiled, happy to see them after a long night alone securing the thirty-fifth floor. Sandra Edwards, Winter’s assistant, sat in the same chair as yesterday. She started to smile but then her lips quivered and her eyes filled, as if seeing them reminded her why she was there. She ducked her head and studied her hands.
“How did it go last night?” Corelli asked Hernandez.
“Quiet, except for a woman who showed up about ten o’clock. Her English was pretty bad, but I think she wanted to clean. She got upset when I made her leave.”
Edwards’s head snapped up. “Oh, my gosh. They clean weeknights. I forgot to cancel.”
“They who?”
“A cleaning service, New York something or other.”
“Always the same cleaner?”
“Oh, yes. Ms. Winter was very particular about who cleaned her office. In fact, there was a problem recently and she threatened to cancel the contract.”
“I want to see the owner and the cleaner today. Where are their offices?”
“Brooklyn, I think. The number is in my rolodex.”
“Parker accompany Ms. Edwards to her desk and set up an appointment for us to meet them at their offices this afternoon.”
As Edwards and Parker disappeared down the corridor, Corelli turned to speak to Hernandez but lost the words when a luminous Brett Cummings stepped off the elevator in jeans and a lavender silk shirt.
“What an unexpected pleasure,” Cummings said, her eyes dancing.
“This floor is closed.” Damn, she hadn’t meant to lash out.
“Having a bad day already, Detective?” Cummings sounded amused. “Sorry. We have obligations to clients. Business must be transacted, with or without Connie Winter. I’ll work downstairs, but I need some files from my office.”
“Should I take her?” Hernandez asked.
“Stay with the elevator. I’ll escort Ms. Cummings.”
Corelli marched ahead, stopped at the door to allow Cummings to pass, and then lounged against the wall, watching. Cummings’s hair veiled her face as she leaned over pulling folders from her desk and the credenza, but every once in a while she looked up, pushed her hair behind her ears and smiled at Corelli. She was lovely.
“That’s it for now.” She stacked the folders neatly, but instead of picking them up, she walked to the sofa and sat on the middle cushion. “Please join me, Detective. There’s something I need to say. I promise I won’t bite.”
Corelli hesitated before sitting next to Cummings. “This had better be important.”
Cummings shifted slightly so she was facing Corelli. “I want to apologize. My behavior yesterday was inappropriate given the circumstances.”
“You’re right. It’s distracting.” What is that fragrance?
“There is something else.” She cleared her throat. “It’s no secret that I’m a lesbian. But I want you to know that I’m thirty-seven and only once before have I felt such an instantaneous, intense attraction to someone. I’d like to spend time with you. Get to know you.” She put her hand on Corelli’s thigh. “I was flirting yesterday, but I’m serious. I believe a relationship is for life.”
Corelli felt as if Cummings was branding her thigh. A relationship? For life? She needed to cut this off right now. She lifted Cummings’s hand off her thigh, intending to deposit it between them on the sofa, but Cummings held on. Now what? A wrestling match?
“You don’t have the foggiest idea of who I am. It’s the job you find attractive.”
“I did say I wanted to get to know you, but I Googled you, so I have some idea of who you are. I know you come from Brooklyn. I know you’re forty years old. I know you went to John Jay College of Criminal Justice at night to earn a degree. I know you recently exposed a ring of dirty cops and that your colleagues have ostracized you because of it. I know you served two rotations in Iraq, one in Afghanistan and then went back to train Afghani police. I know you received a Silver Star. I see that you’re beautiful, gentle, tough and smart. And that’s just for starters.”
She took a deep breath and looked into Corelli’s eyes. “I’ve also asked around the lesbian community and I know that you and your partner, Marnie, were together for five years, that you met in the NYPD, that you were there with her in Afghanistan, when she was killed in an ambush last year. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Corelli extracted her hand and got to her feet. “Who told you about Marnie?”
The anger in her voice startled Cummings. “One of your friends, but I don’t remember who.”
“Well, I know who. I only told one friend.” She cleared her throat. “I won’t lie. I find you attractive and I’m flattered by your attention. But I’m not interested. I suggest you forget everything Catherine Stonecifer told you. Forget me and get on with your life. Now if you don’t mind, I have a job to do.” She moved to the door.
Cummings opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind. She stood, grabbed the folders off the desk and headed for the door. She stopped in front of Corelli so they were eye to eye. “Blame me, not Catherine. She was trying to explain why I shouldn’t pursue you. I’m sorry I upset you. I’m sure you’re still mourning Marnie. I know it takes time. But, this is not a game for me. Now that I’ve found you, I can wait.”
Corelli maintained her usual calm, controlled facade as they silently walked to the elevator, but her mind and her heart were running rampant. Feelings of joy and anticipation collided
with panic and anxiety. Maybe, she shouldn’t be on this case.
In the reception area, she waited until Cummings pressed the down button, nodded to Hernandez and turned into the hall heading toward Winter’s office.
“Thank you, Detective Corelli,” Cummings said, as Corelli walked away.
Corelli pretended she hadn’t heard and casually fled before Cummings could say something embarrassing. Out of sight, she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall trying to regain her equilibrium. She breathed deeply.
“Excuse me,” Parker said. “We were wondering what happened. Are you okay?”
Sympathy is not allowed. “I’m terrific, Ms. Good Manners. No need to worry your pretty head.” Parker turned away, but not before Corelli saw the flash of anger.
Corelli smiled. She’d irritated Parker and changed the subject. She straightened and followed.
Edwards watched them approach. “There you are. We thought you’d forgotten us. Oh, and there’s Gus.”
They turned. Gus, unshaven, bleary-eyed, and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt staggered toward Winter’s office, Hernandez close behind. Gus peered through his alcoholic haze and seemed surprised to see them. He was even more surprised when Hernandez blocked his way into the office.
He turned to Corelli. “How dare you…I need to go through my wife’s papers…I’ll call the mayor, no the governor…I have a business to run. I, I have a…You have no right—”
“Beg your pardon, sir. I do have the right. Your wife’s office is a crime scene and no one enters until I’m finished with it. And I’m not finished.”
He continued to rant, as if he hadn’t heard. “You can’t come in here and take over. This is my business now and I’m going in there whether you like it or not.” He tried to step around Hernandez, but stumbled. Hernandez steadied him.
“The investigation has priority, Mr. Gianopolus. You can’t go into that office right now. Ms. Cummings is downstairs. Maybe she can help you with the status of the business.” She felt Parker’s gaze on her at the mention of Cummings. “But if you’d rather, we can call a taxi for you. Or if you persist, I can have Officer Hernandez arrest you and drive you to the station. It’s up to you.”
A Matter of Blood Page 12
