“Ready,” I replied.
Dr. Kranston entered, sporting a big smile. “Hi, Stephanie.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek.” He blushed before he turned toward Gus. “Great to see you again, Gus.”
Kranston gestured to the examination table. “Assume the position,” he said with a silly chuckle.
I slid onto the table while Kranston entered data into the computer. “Do you say that to all of your patients or just the lady cops?”
“You’re so silly, Stephanie,” he snickered. He approached me with a bottle of ultrasound-sound gel and the transducer thingamabob. “Such a joyful occasion; I love delivering babies for two people who are so in love,” Kranston said. “Are we hoping for a boy or a girl?”
“I’ll take whatever the good Lord is handing out.” The truth was that all I wanted was a happy and healthy baby. The rest didn’t matter.
Kranston squeezed the lube on my belly. He began to move the ultra-sound doohickey around, and then of all the comments that could have possibly come out of his mouth: “It’s okay for the two of you to enjoy each other during the pregnancy.”
My mouth dropped. “Excuse me?”
“It’s okay for the two of you to continue having sex,” Kranston said. “There are lots of preconceived notions about harming the baby, but none of it is true.” He was focused on the monitor as he spoke. He was in his own world and completely oblivious to the fact that he was torturing me with embarrassment. “Although,” he continued, “anal sex is not a good idea.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, did he just say “anal sex?” I was mortified. I looked at Kranston; he was clueless. He had no idea I was dying a thousand deaths.
“For how long?” Gus asked eagerly.
My God, does it get any worse? I can’t believe this conversation. It was a good thing Gus was so hot because I was seriously considering shutting my doors for the duration.
I glared at Gus. Could this conversation possibly be any more inappropriate? “What makes you so sure I’ll even want to?”
“But, but . . .” Gus actually began to stammer.
Kranston finally looked up from the sonogram monitor. “Yup,” he said, “Everything looks good.”
Chapter Two
Anya Kozakova sat at her kitchen table staring at the envelope that had been delivered by messenger almost an hour earlier. She glanced up at the wall clock: 3:50 p.m.; she had ten minutes to make up her mind.
In or out? She drummed her fingers on the tabletop while she pondered her decision. She was stuck. She glanced at the clock again: 3:55 p.m. “In or out?” she grumbled, “In or out?” She had performed services like this before—illegal services. The money was good, but the anxiety was terrible, and she worried about getting caught and deported. She had worked steadily since coming to the United States but always as a consultant and never as an employee. She worked off the books to avoid paying taxes.
She heard her neighbors moaning through the paper-thin walls of her Brooklyn apartment. They were always home, either drunk or going at it—this time both. “Shut up!” she yelled in a voice loud enough to be heard through the wall. She hated having to shout, but her neighbors were inconsiderate. Their selfish and incessant cavorting made it easy for her to absolve herself of any guilt.
“I’ve got to get out of this rat hole.” In the next instant, she grabbed the envelope, tore it open, and turned it upside down. A cell phone tumbled out. It was a throw-away phone, a phone with no contract, which had been preloaded with minutes. It was a phone that could not be traced—or so she had been told. She switched it on and waited for it to boot.
A solitary phone number was already saved as a Favorite. She looked up at the clock; it was 4:00 p.m., and the second hand had just swept past numeral twelve. She pressed her finger on the highlighted number—the call connected.
“Do you have something to tell me?”
She hesitated a moment and then realized her throat was too dry to speak. She took a quick sip of water. “I’ll do it.”
Chapter Three
No one likes paperwork, especially me. Lieutenant Pamela Shearson was my new boss. She had been treating me differently ever since Gus and I officially declared our relationship and my pregnancy. She assigned me fewer cases, which meant that I had to spend more workdays in the squad room and fewer days out in the field. I was not good at the administrative part of the job. I found it tedious and boring. I preferred to work outdoors and get my hands dirty. For me, dirty hands equaled happy girl.
Shearson was a tough one. She had high aspirations and was not the type to let anyone get in her way, least of all me. I believed Shearson saw me as a threat, because I was younger and better liked. I might have been the happiest pregnant woman of all times, and I wouldn’t have done anything differently, but by becoming pregnant, I had played right into her hands. So there I was in the squad room, doing paperwork, away from the action, just where Shearson wanted me.
I saw Gus running around the office. It gave me a chance to study him in a new light. I watched the way he walked and went about his activities. I thought about our baby as an adult and wondered if he or she would move around as Gus does. Gus walked in long strides, catlike, almost like a panther. He was powerful and purposeful. If those traits found their way to our child, well then, we had better have a boy. A girl who walked like that would look absolutely goofy.
“Chalice.” Oh my God, Shearson’s voice cut through me like a knife. She had a shrill voice that bypassed the ears and hit the nervous system directly.
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
Shearson was at my desk before I could stand up. She wore a Dries Van Noten dress which I recognized from an issue of Vogue. You could say anything you wanted about her, but you couldn’t criticize her fashion sense. She made clothing look good. Shearson was married to an investment banker. She worked NYPD for the power and not for the bucks. “So what’s the deal, Chalice, no baby bump yet?”
I put my hand on my stomach. “A little one.”
“I hope that I’ll look like you if I get pregnant. You’ve got some good genes.”
I couldn’t wait to share what she said with Gus. He would no doubt have a comment akin to: I thought coldblooded creatures were egg layers. “Your dress is gorgeous.”
“I have to wear couture to get noticed. You look good in anything.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant.”
“Look, Chalice, you know that I’ve had you in slow mode. I figure why have you running around taking chances when you don’t need to. I mean why put the little one in harm’s way, correct?”
“Thanks, I appreciate your concern.” Yeah right. If only that was her primary motive.
“Are you up to a little field work?”
Am I? “Most definitely, Lieutenant. The squad room bores me to tears.”
“I thought so. Round up Lido and come into my office.”
“What do you have?”
“I just received a special request from the FBI. Your friend Ambler likes you a lot. Do you have incriminating photos of him stashed away or something?” she said with a smile. “I never saw a Fed that liked a city cop the way Ambler likes you.”
“He and my dad go way back. Ambler’s extended family.”
“I thought I had heard that. Grab Lido and hurry back. You’re needed downtown, chop-chop.”
Shearson turned around so fast that she didn’t see the huge smile on my face. I jumped out of my chair to track down Gus. I caught up with him as he was coming out of the men’s room. “We’ve been sprung!”
“The Lieutenant has a case for us?”
I nodded like an excited schoolgirl.
“Oh thank God. I couldn’t take another night of your complaining about how bored you are in the squad room.”
“You know I’m not a desk jockey. Ambler requested our help on an FBI investigation.”
“I love Ambler,” Gus said. “Maybe I should treat him to a massage or something.”
I wound a ringlet of hair a
round my finger and gave him a look that said, wanna play? “Well, if you really need a happy ending . . .”
“I thought Shearson was waiting for us?”
“Oh yeah, that’s right.” I grabbed his hand and we dashed off.
Chapter Four
“Yee-haw!”
Gus glanced over at me from the driver’s seat. “Excited, are we?”
“You bet! I’m going to give Ambler a big fat juicy kiss the minute I lay eyes on him. It must have killed Shearson to give us this assignment. She kept going on and on about not wanting to put me in harm’s way because I was pregnant, but I know better. She’s the most insincere woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
“I think it’s safe to say that you don’t like her. I mean you’re not going to invite her over for a pajama party or something like that, are you?”
“No, no pajama parties. Although I’d give a week’s pay to see what a woman like that wears to bed. I’ll bet she’s into whips and chains.” Gus rolled his eyes and then turned his attention back to the downtown traffic. We were on our way to Battery Park for a rendezvous with Herbert Ambler. “Hard for anyone to say ‘no’ to Ambler these days. My friend is finally getting some well-deserved recognition.”
“You think he’ll get that promotion?”
“God, I hope so. He’s so dedicated. I can’t think of anyone more deserving.”
“Special Agent in Charge, New York Field Office, Criminal Division is a big promotion. We should throw him a party.”
“I thought you were going to take him to a massage parlor.”
“I said that I was going to take him for a massage. I didn’t say I was taking him for a rub and tug. I resent the implication,” Gus said, pretending to be offended.
“Please. I know how the male mind works—you pick out a pretty eighteen-year old K-girl and then it’s: massage my neck, rub my shoulders . . . stroke my johnson—you’ve got lotion on your hands, why let it go to waste?”
“K-girl? Did you just say K-girl?”
“Yeah, K-girl, as in a Korean hooker. Don’t pretend that you don’t know what it means.”
“You’re cynical.” Gus leaned over and patted me on the leg. “Don’t worry, baby; you’re the only one stroking my johnson.”
I pretended to wipe a tear from my eye. “That’s what I love about you, baby; you’re so romantic.” Gus gave me a silly smile. “Okay, we’ll throw him a party. He deserves it.”
“No K-girls?”
I gave Gus a harsh sneer.
We pulled up at the intersection of Liberty and West. I could see a crime scene team at work no more than a hundred feet away. My dear friend Herbert Ambler was standing curbside as we pulled up. He opened the door for me. I got out of the car and gave him a huge hug. “Well, good morning, Mr. Special Officer Herbert Ambler.” I adore the man. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. He may have moved up in the world, but his appearance had not changed. He looked the same way he always did with the barbershop crew cut and the aviator glasses. “Are you all set with that?”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You found the Chinese ambassador’s son. It was a toss-up between Rodriguez and me as to who was going to get the job. Finding R.C. Liu’s son sealed the deal.”
“Oh, stop the self-deprecating crap. You got the job because you deserve it.”
“Yes, that and because I associate with the right people. Liu’s son was about to be decapitated. You’re the one that found him in the underground tunnel beneath Pilgrim State Mental Hospital. You made me look like a hero. I’ve wanted this promotion for a long time. Frank and Lisa Chalice raised one hell of a smart cop.”
“Stop it. You’re going to make me cry.”
Gus caught up with us just in the nick of time. The two men bro-hugged. “Are congratulations in order?” Gus asked.
“It’s official,” I boasted on Ambler’s behalf.
Gus hugged him again. He could get emotional at times. The three of us had been through a lot together.
“Stop it,” Ambler said. “You’ll have me singing ‘Kumbaya’ in two minutes.” He pulled away from Gus.
“So what’s going on over there?” I said as I looked over Ambler’s shoulder at the crime scene activity.
“Ready to get busy, Chalice?” Ambler said. “Let’s see if you can make me look good one more time.”
Chapter Five
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day.” Kowsky Plaza is a recreational area not far from Battery Park, replete with a promenade and a dog run. The key focal point, however, is a twelve-foot-tall section of the original Berlin Wall. It’s painted with a primitive drawing of a bright-green, elongated face with red, bulbous lips. A wrought-iron fence encloses the two and three-quarter ton section of concrete. It didn’t, however, stop someone from depositing a body at the base of the wall. The process of collecting and cataloging evidence was in full swing as we approached. “Are we here to investigate a murder or locate the perpetrator of that horrific piece of art?”
“I see pregnancy hasn’t taken the edge off your incredibly sarcastic sense of humor,” Ambler said.
“Some things never change,” Gus said with a chuckle.
“It was a gift from the German Consulate and came from downtown Berlin,” Ambler said. “It prevented East Germans from escaping.”
“Because the wall was so high?” Gus asked.
“No, because the East Germans took one look at that big, green face and tossed their cookies. Speaking of which, I forgot to bring my barf bag.”
Ambler rolled his eyes. “Are you going to be okay—I mean being pregnant and all?”
“Chalice women are tough. I’ll deal. So what’s going on here?”
“The body was discovered around dawn,” Ambler said. “This is not the scene of the murder. The body was deposited here postmortem.”
“No blood?” Gus asked.
“No blood, no identification, no witnesses, and no—”
“Let me guess, no clues?”
“Oh there’s a clue all right, a strange one. That’s one of the reasons why I asked for your help.”
“I thought you wanted my recipe for chicken cacciatore.”
Ambler smirked. “All right, let’s take a closer look,” he said. “Time to get busy.”
Cinder blocks had been stacked on both sides of the wrought-iron fence—jury-rigged stairs, if you will. They provided enough additional height for us to step over the pickets without spearing our respective man and lady parts. The victim was a young Caucasian male. He was dressed in a tight-fitting blazer and jeans, which were sopping wet. His hair was gelled and spiked. His complexion was gray. “Have we established the time of death?”
“He’s in full rigor. I’d say he’s been dead at least one day,” Ambler said.
“He hasn’t bloated yet,” Gus said, “so he was kept cold—the inner cavity hasn’t filled with gas yet.”
“Any idea why he’s so wet? It hasn’t rained all week.” I scanned the area. “I don’t see any sprinkler heads.”
“I could answer both questions, but I’d rather watch the two of you at work,” Ambler said. “Put your gloves on and have at it.”
Gus and I snapped on the latex and got busy examining John Doe. I knelt next to him and immediately felt waves of cold radiating from his body. I put my hand on his chest. “Jesus, he’s frozen.”
“You’re a quick study,” Ambler said. “That’s why he’s wet, he’s thawing.”
“Yeah, like a big turkey in trendy clothes. I don’t see any wounds. Is it possible he died of hypothermia?”
“Very possible,” Ambler said. “We’ll just have to wait for a coroner’s report.”
I examined the victim’s face, head, and scalp. “No bruising anywhere.” I looked up at Ambler. “So what’s so special about a frozen man that the FBI has to call in NYPD for an assist?”
“You’ll like this,” Ambler
said, “Check his teeth.”
The crime scene investigators had left Doe’s mouth partially open. I looked in and winced. The upper and lower incisors had been removed and not by a dental professional. The victim’s mouth had been butchered. I started to feel nauseous. “You could have warned me, Herb. I am pregnant, you know.”
Ambler chuckled. “Don’t wus out on me, Chalice.”
I stood up and took a deep breath and another and another. The nausea subsided. “I know you’re setting me up. So where are his teeth?”
Ambler smiled and then waved to one of the crime scene investigators. The investigator handed Ambler an evidence bag. Ambler held up what looked like a small, tablet-shaped medallion, rectangular in shape and rounded on one end. It was attached to a leather thong. “This was around his neck,” Ambler said. He turned the medallion so that we could get a better look. The front of the medallion was a blue ceramic mosaic. Teeth had been used to form the numeral two.
“That’s different,” Gus said.
“I’d say so.” I turned to Ambler and asked the question that was ready to spring from the tip of my tongue. “Where is number one?”
Chapter Six
“Oh, we’ve got number one,” Ambler said. “What’s left of him anyway.”
“Spill it!”
“Sure,” Ambler replied. “Give me a lift back to Federal Plaza. I’ll fill you in back at the office.”
“You walked?” Gus asked.
“Yeah, I hoofed it.” Ambler patted his belly. He always had a small paunch—it didn’t appear to be any larger. “Haven’t seen the inside of a gym in years—have to do something to keep fit. It was a short walk anyway.”
We marched over to the car. Ambler seemed to have a little extra pep in his step. He opened the rear door and got in.
“You look happy, my friend. The new promotion seems to be agreeing with you,” I said.
Our Honored Dead (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 4) Page 2
