by Oliver Stark
Christ, thought Lenny, there was no need for a headline at all. The photograph did all the talking. His hand moved across the thick black letters and rested on the grainy shot of a bright, childish face. The girl had a ribbon in her long blond hair, large blue eyes and the shine of gloss on her smiling lips. A face that said everything was all right. Except it wasn’t.
Mary-Jane Samuelson was a girl with so much life ahead of her. Her expression was full of optimism and innocence. And now that she was dead, hers was the kind of face that sold papers and made America stand up and take notice.
A week earlier, the beautiful debutante had been brutally strangled inside her family’s Upper East Side apartment. Mary-Jane Samuelson was just fifteen years old. The attacker had raped and tortured her before killing her with her own pantyhose.
But Elwood knew that things were about to get a whole lot worse. An hour earlier, the dispatcher had called through a second female body with ligature marks round the neck. They now had a potential serial killer on their hands, and Lenny wasn’t going to stand for it.
At 1.58 p.m., he opened the door to his office, glared at the two police chiefs in their smart black uniforms and waved them in with a rapid flutter of his right hand.
He watched each of them pull out a chair, sit down, shuffle a little and place his forearms on the table in silence. He sensed their fear and liked how it felt. They knew they had to move things along rapidly or someone would be cut off at the knees.
The men waited in silence around the large polished table. It sat between them like a still pond, all their reflections upside down. The weekly crime meeting early that week had not gone well. High-profile murder cases were bad for the city and girls like Mary-Jane were about as high profile as you got. Lenny had told them that he wanted this sorted immediately and now there was another body. The two chiefs knew this meeting was coming. It was how the NYPD worked these days. Accountability, they called it. But it was nothing more than an old-fashioned back-alley shakedown.
They waited a moment as the tight-lipped PA shuffled her satin blouse around the deputy commissioner’s shoulder and laid a beige file in front of him. She licked her thumb, leaned forward and opened it for him.
Elwood looked at the report. ‘Okay, gentlemen, let’s get down to business.’ His lip twitched with eagerness. ‘Why the hell are you letting this maniac kill these girls? We’re two down and I’ve got a handful of shit from you. A handful of shit.’ Elwood looked down at his open palms and eyed each man in turn. ‘He’s cut up two girls in the most populated piece of rock on the planet and you’ve got jackshit. This is unacceptable, gentlemen. Give me some answers, right now.’
He looked round the table, giving both men a chance to speak up. ‘You’ve got nothing? Nothing at all? The police commissioner told me this morning that he wants this sealed, solved and off the books. You must have something for me, gentlemen.’
The chief of detectives, Bureau Chief Ged Rainer, swivelled on his seat and threw a sarcastic smile to the head of the table. ‘Well, if it’s coming straight from the police commissioner, why don’t we start doing something rather than sitting on our butts all day long? Who’d think he’d never served as a police officer?’
‘You think this is worthy of a comedy routine, Rainer? Listen to me and listen good - if Commissioner Garry’s reputation is on the line, then so is yours, get it? And he’s asked me to come in here and shoot one of the horses. Now I’ve got two horses sitting here and I’ve got one bullet. Is it going to be you, Rainer, you fucking comedian?’ Ged Rainer looked down at the table, his ears burning. ‘Now who’s going to tell me the whole story?’
The chief of the homicide bureau, Jim Stanton, finally spoke. ‘I got Captain Lafayette outside,’ he offered. ‘He heads up North Manhattan Homicide. I thought you might want to hear it from the guy leading the team on the street.’
‘Sure, bring him in if neither of you have a fucking word to say for yourselves.’
Outside the deputy commissioner’s office, Frank Lafayette sat in a brown leather chair. He’d been made to wait too long already. He had better things to do with his time than shine his ass. He had a killer on the loose who liked to cut his bodies open and pose them. He wanted his best man on the job, a specialist - but that wasn’t going to be easy. He’d already asked, but Ged Rainer had slammed the door in his face each time. The PA appeared silently at his side like some slinking cobra and showed him into the room.
‘Welcome, Lafayette. Take a seat,’ said Elwood with a smile that looked more like a sneer.
‘Prefer to stand, if I may.’
‘Stand, sit, I don’t give a damn,’ said the deputy commissioner. ‘What is it with the detective bureau? You know everyone here, Captain?’
Lafayette nodded respectfully.
‘So, Captain, how does it look?’ Elwood leaned in, staring fiercely.
‘We got nothing at the present time, sir. That’s the plain truth. No bullshit. We’re nowhere. Detective Nate Williamson is leading the team. He’s a veteran and he’s got nothing to follow. This killer is clean.’
Leonard Elwood scratched the shaved hair at the back of his head. ‘I want more, Captain. Honest to fucking God, it’s not enough. How many detectives you got on the case?’
‘Near to eighty, sir.’ Lafayette stared down at his shining shoes. He knew what was coming.
‘And you’ve got zilch? It’s bullshit!’ shouted Elwood. ‘Rainer, I’m right, aren’t I? It’s bullshit.’
Ged Rainer leaned forward. ‘We don’t want a killer on the streets of New York, do you understand, Captain? This isn’t the nineties, we can do without the drama.’
‘I don’t want one either, sir,’ said Lafayette. ‘But it’s not easy catching a pattern killer, if that’s what we have. There’s no motive, no witnesses, no informants and no leads. They strike where and when they want to.’
‘What do you need?’ said the deputy commissioner. ‘What is it you want from us? I presume there’s something or you wouldn’t have showed up here, taking shit for these assholes.’
Lafayette paused. Chief Rainer was the guy who’d refused his request and now he was going right over Rainer’s head in public. The captain swallowed hard. ‘Sir, with all due respect, if we want to move forward on this, we need our best man on the case.’ Rainer turned and shot a look of contempt down the table.
‘Who’s your best man, Captain?’ said Elwood.
‘Someone who knows how to track pattern killers, sir. One of the very best. You may know the name. Detective Tom Harper. Five years ago, he brought in the Mott Haven strangler, Gerry North. He traced a used dollar bill found in the victim’s throat back to a payroll of Gerry North’s employer. It gave us a list of thirty-five men. North was the fifteenth guy we saw. Great police work, sir. Last year, he brought in the serial killer Eric Romario. You’ll remember that case, sir. Eric liked to break into apartments and wire people up to the line power and switch it on. He killed eight people. Harper worked on the killer’s background. He thought the killer would’ve begun life as a firestarter, so he picked out the records of petty arsonists from ViCAP and traced them through employment records of the power companies. He got a hit list. Eric Romario was on his way to wire up a children’s swimming pool when Harper came calling. No one else would’ve taken that line, sir.’ Lafayette looked up. ‘He came in late, took over the lead and pulled these guys down. He got somewhere with next to nothing. He’s our best guy.’
‘Then get him in. What are you all waiting for?’
Rainer shouted across. ‘Lafayette, pipe the fuck down. I told you no already.’
‘Shut it, Rainer,’ spat Elwood. ‘If this is the guy who can do the job, then get him in.’
‘Harper can do it, sir.’
Rainer was up on his feet. ‘He’s on suspension for assaulting a superior officer, sir. He’s facing termination.’ He leaned into Lenny Elwood and whispered something.
Elwood nodded and looked up. ‘This is the s
ame guy that knocked Lieutenant Jarvis off his fucking feet?’
‘Yes, that’s him,’ said Rainer. ‘A real throwback to the bad old days.’
‘He was provoked, sir,’ said Lafayette.
Rainer was shaking. ‘Detective Harper is not coming back on my team, sir. Lafayette, you’re overstepping the mark here. I’ve already told you that’s not gonna happen. Harper’s a volatile bastard and we’re just about ready to go with the termination.’
‘Is he our best detective or not?’ said Elwood, firing looks all round the room.
‘He’s the best, sir,’ said Lafayette. ‘Unconventional. Aggressive. But most important, he’s a specialist in these kinds of kills. He’s worked three previous pattern homicides, two in NYC as you just heard and one upstate. These aren’t the usual kinds of homicides we deal with, sir: we think this is a pattern killer.’
‘He assaulted a superior officer,’ Rainer snapped. ‘Are we losing our minds here?’
‘He lost his head one time and took a swipe at a lieutenant, but he had good cause.’
‘Took a swipe?’ said Rainer. ‘He busted his jaw so bad it’s been wired up for a month. He was on the boxing team. He’s dangerous. We can’t let this guy go around beating people up.’
‘And this is our best detective?’ said Elwood. ‘A pair of fists with a chip on his shoulder?’
‘If I could have one man on the team, it’d be Harper. No question. These girls have the right to expect us to do our best.’
The deputy commissioner’s eyes narrowed. ‘Will he do it?’
‘He doesn’t feel so charitable towards NYPD at the moment, but he might.’
‘Well, offer him a clean break. Tell him we’ll scrub the charge if he succeeds - that’s an offer he can’t refuse. Get some department shrink to sign him up for some anger management therapy to cover our backs. Bring him in, Captain.’
Rainer was shaking his head vehemently. ‘If it comes out that we’ve put a madman on the case, if the papers get hold of it, we’re going to be blown out of the water. I don’t think he’s our man.’
‘With all due respect, Chief Rainer, he’s exactly our man. Now go get him, Captain.’ Elwood stared hard at Rainer. Their eyes locked for a few seconds.
‘With all due respect to you, sir,’ said Rainer, ‘I’m the senior ranking operational officer here, and for the record, I’m not reinstating an officer who beats up other officers. I’ve got morale to think about. I’m not doing it. I categorically refuse.’
Larry Elwood rose from his leather seat and pointed a bony finger at Rainer. ‘Looks like I’ve just found my horse, Chief Rainer.’
Chapter Two
Central Park
November 15, 3.35 p.m.
The solitary walkers in Central Park were all wrapped up warm. The wide skies overhead were bright blue into the distance and the air was cold and dry. At the northeastern corner of the park, the suspended homicide detective Thomas Elias Harper crouched on his haunches on the edge of the sandbank overlooking the glittering water of Harlem Meer. He was dressed down in a pair of old combats, a well-worn overcoat and an orange cap. He was alone, with a pair of binoculars tight to his eyes, watching the movement in the trees on the far shore, keeping deadly still.
Then he spotted it again and his heart rose a beat. He focused slowly with his forefinger and caught the image crisp in his sights. There it was, almost flat against the oak bark, a white-breasted nuthatch edging down the tree trunk, its sleek head and white throat darting out for insects. Harper followed the bird across the leafy ground as it hopped on to a forsythia twig and pecked beneath the fallen maple leaves for grubs. He smiled with satisfaction.
The detective moved down through the park, a small knapsack on his back. He reached the brow of a hill in the North Woods and moved across the ravine. He climbed up a low bank to get a good position and stood looking into the dense vegetation, the stream babbling through the trees, the leaves crisp and whispering in the light wind. Reports had mentioned a glossy ibis in the area; he’d been back to the same site for three days, but hadn’t had any luck.
Out of the trees behind him, Harper caught a scuffling sound. He listened intently as the sound grew. It sure as hell wasn’t a glossy ibis. It wasn’t some walker strolling through, either: the movements were quick and determined. Every now and then, the noise stopped. A moment later, Harper could make out the heavy breathing of a man out of condition a few yards behind him. It could be only one thing - a homicide cop.
‘Harper!’ called a deep voice.
Captain Frank Lafayette had waited an hour outside Harper’s apartment in East Harlem before he got a lead from the guys in the fish market and went hunting in the park. The captain, his face a delicate lacework of tiny red veins, put his hands flat on his knees and looked at Harper’s back. ‘You couldn’t take up bowling or some fucking thing?’
There was no reply, not even a flicker. Tom Harper was standing still beneath a small group of bare trees. He was six two, athletic, his close-cropped hair brown, flecked with grey. He had been the NYPD cruiserweight boxing champion for three seasons and the muscle in his back and shoulders still showed.
‘Detective Harper, it’s Captain Lafayette. I need to speak to you. It’s urgent.’
‘Keep quiet, Captain.’
‘What?’
‘I said - keep your voice down.’
Tom had caught sight of a warbler edging forward from behind a rock, a flash of yellow and black, and then it appeared, its quick head turning from side to side.
‘Tom, I just need a few minutes of your time.’
‘Quiet!’
‘For fuck’s sake, Harper, stop shitting me here!’ shouted Lafayette. The voice rattled through the woods and the nervous little warbler darted a look towards them, lifted off and flew away downstream.
Harper let his binoculars drop to his side and turned to Lafayette. He glared across. ‘Leave me the hell alone.’ He strode off through the undergrowth, following the flight of the bird.
‘Harper, wait up. I just want a word. We need your help.’
‘Well, I’m suspended right now. You not noticed that, Captain?’
‘Detective, I know you better than that. I want to make you an offer.’
‘I don’t need anything from you.’
‘You heard about the case?’
‘I’ve seen the girl’s picture just like everyone else. You’ve got a serious killer on the loose and Williamson hasn’t got a clue. You’re getting pistol-whipped at One PP, so you came to see me.’
‘Give me one minute of your time, Harper. Come on.’
‘I can’t help you, Captain. It’s time for me to move on.’
Lafayette paused. He had to get the timing just right. He caught Harper’s eyes. ‘They found a second body this morning. Same killer, we think.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ said Harper.
‘She was walking home last night and disappeared. Probably abducted.’
‘I don’t need to know the details, Captain. It’s not my case.’
‘Look, Harper, these girls were raped and strangled. Same ligature.’
Harper looked into the trees, the details playing on his mind. ‘As you know, I’m not available for duty.’
Lafayette moved in close. He took a photograph from his inside pocket and tossed it on to a white rock. ‘Take a look. The unknown subject is a mean bastard. After he killed Mary-Jane, he scattered flower petals all over her body like in some ritual.’
Harper looked down at the crime scene shot of a bloody corpse. ‘He cut her?’
‘Tortured her with shallow cuts, yeah. Likes to watch them bleed.’
‘The papers didn’t say.’
‘We keep the real grim stuff to ourselves, you know that.’
‘I’m sorry for these girls, Captain, but I can’t go back now. I broke Jarvis’s jaw. You know what that means as well as I do. There’s a big door and it’s shut in my face. My own stupid fault, I know that.
I’m not looking for sympathy. I deserve whatever I get.’
‘You were provoked, Tom. Everyone knows how you feel about Lisa. Jarvis was a fool, but he’s just one stupid cop who tried to get himself a name by getting a rise out of the big guy.’
‘Well, you tell him it worked. I’m riled. Lisa wanted out, that’s one nightmare, but I don’t need some failed detective telling me she’s screwing around.’
Captain Lafayette looked at Harper. He was thinner than before, leaner, with a thin line of red around his eyes. Three months earlier, Harper’s wife, Lisa Vincenti, had decided that enough was enough. There’d been one lonely night too many and she’d moved out while Tom was working all hours closing the Romario case. Jarvis was a smart-ass lieutenant and a local precinct bully who thought it was worth making a joke out of, and he’d gone in hard. It was a mistake. Harper had been in no mood for jokes.
‘Will you listen to my offer?’ said Lafayette.
‘I need to start over,’ said Harper. ‘I need new ground under my feet. I need to get a job somewhere else. That’s my feeling.’
‘What as? A birdwatcher? You know no police department in the country will touch you. You’ve got a charge over your head. You assaulted a senior officer. Listen, Ged Rainer will have you out by the end of the week. What you going to do then?’
‘I’ll find work.’
‘But I can make the Charges and Specs go away, Tom.’
‘How?’
‘We’ve got a killer out there and the department needs you. Hell, I need you. They’ll wipe the slate if you come on board.’
Harper paused and stared at Lafayette. ‘I can’t go back. End of story. Sorry.’ He started to walk down the valley, fast.
Lafayette struggled behind him and pulled to a standstill. He couldn’t keep up any more. He stared at Harper’s back and shook his head. ‘What you going to do? Pity yourself the rest of your life? Everyone loses someone, Tom. Get off the fucking canvas.’
Fifty yards ahead, Tom Harper stopped in his tracks. The words got him cold. He counted to ten real slow, keeping his anger from getting out of control, and then he walked on without turning his head.
