“So long, Inspector.”
Flaherty walked to the door and let herself out, walking just like a general on a parade ground.
Amelia Sachs was about to call Pulaski and find out what he’d learned about Sarkowski when she heard a voice near her ear. “The Grand Inquisitor.”
Sachs turned to look at Sellitto, dumping sugar in his coffee. He said, “Hey, step into my office.” And gestured toward the front hallway of Rhyme’s town house.
Leaving the others, the two detectives walked into the low-lit entryway.
“Inquisitor. That’s what they call Flaherty?” Sachs asked.
“Yup. Not that she isn’t good.”
“I know. I checked her out.”
“Uhm.” The big detective sipped coffee and finished a Danish. “Look, I’m up to my ass in psycho clockmakers so I don’t know what’s up with this St. James thing. But if you got cops maybe’re on the take, how come it’s you and not Internal Affairs running the case?”
“Flaherty didn’t want to bring them in yet. Wallace agreed.”
“Wallace?”
“Robert Wallace. The deputy mayor.”
“Yeah, I know him. Stand-up guy. And it’s the right call, bringing in IAD. Why didn’t she want to?”
“She wanted to give it to somebody in her command. She said the One One Eight’s too close to the Big Building. Somebody’d find out Internal Affairs was involved and they’d cut and run.”
Sellitto jutted his lower lip out in concession. “That could be.” Then his voice lowered even further. “And you didn’t argue too much ’cause you wanted the case.”
She looked him in the eye. “That’s right.”
“So you asked and you got.” He gave a cool laugh.
“What?”
“Now you’re walking point.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Just, you gotta know the score. Now, anything goes bad, anything at all—good people get burned, bad guys get away—the fuckup’s on your shoulders, even if you do everything right. Flaherty’s protected and IAD’s smelling like roses. On the other hand, you get righteous collars, they take over and suddenly everybody forgets your name.”
“You’re saying I got set up?” Sachs shook her head. “But Flaherty didn’t want me to take the case. She was going to hand it off.”
“Amelia, come on. End of a date, a guy says, ‘Hey, had a great time but it’s probably better if I don’t ask you upstairs.’ What’s the first thing the girl says?”
“ ‘Let’s go upstairs.’ What he had in mind all along. You’re saying Flaherty was playing me?”
“All I’m saying is she didn’t take the case away from you, right? Which she could’ve done in, like, five seconds.”
Sachs’s nail dug absently into her scalp. Her gut twisted at the idea of department politics at this high level—largely uncharted territory for her.
“Now, my point is, I wish you weren’t lead on a case like this, not now in your career. But you are. So you have to remember—keep your head down. I mean stay fucking invisible.”
“I—”
“Lemme finish. Invisible for two reasons. One, people find out you’re after bad cops, rumors’re going start—about this shield taking cash or that shield losing evidence, whatever. Fact they’re not doesn’t mean shit. Rumors’re like the flu. You can’t wish ’em away. They run their course and they take people’s careers with ’em.”
She nodded. “What’s the second reason?”
“Just because you got a shield, don’t think you’re immune. A bad uniform in the One One Eight, yeah, he’s not going to clip you. That doesn’t happen. But the civilians he’s dealing with won’t want to hear his opinion. They won’t think twice about tossing your body into the trunk of a car at JFK long-term parking. . . . God bless you, kid. Go get ’em. But be careful. I don’t want to have to go breaking any bad news to Lincoln. He’d never forgive me.”
Ron Pulaski returned to Rhyme’s, and Sachs met him in the front hallway, as she stood, looking into the kitchen, and thinking about what Sellitto had told her.
She briefed him about the latest in the Watchmaker case then asked, “What’s the Sarkowski situation?”
He flipped through his notes. “I located his spouse and proceeded to interview her. Now, the decedent was a fifty-seven-year-old white male who owned a business in Manhattan. He had no criminal record. He was murdered on November four of this year and was survived by said wife and two teenage children, one male, one female. Death occurred by gunshot. He—”
“Ron?” she asked in a certain tone.
He winced. “Oh, sorry. Streamline, sure.”
His copspeak was a habit Sachs was determined to break.
Relaxing, the rookie continued. “He was the owner of a building on the West Side, Manhattan. Lived there too. He also owned a company that did maintenance and trash disposal work for big companies and utilities around the city.” His business had a clean record—federal, city and state. No organized crime connections, no investigations ongoing. He himself had no warrants or arrests, except a speeding ticket last year.”
“Any suspects in his death?”
“No.”
“What house ran the case?”
“The One Three One.”
“He was in Queens when he died, not Manhattan?”
“That’s right.”
“What happened?”
“The perp got his wallet and cash then shot him three times in the chest.”
“The St. James? Did she ever hear him say anything about it?”
“Nope.”
“Did he know Creeley?”
“The wife wasn’t sure, didn’t think so. I showed her the picture and she didn’t recognize him.” He grew quiet for a moment and then added, “One thing. I think I saw it again, the Mercedes.”
“You did?”
“After you dropped me off I crossed the street fast to beat a light and I looked behind me to see if there was traffic. I couldn’t get a good look but I thought I saw the Merc. Couldn’t see the tag. Just thought I’d mention it.”
Sachs shook her head. “I had a visitor too.” She told him about the break-in to her car. And added that she believed she’d seen the Mercedes as well. “That driver’s been a busy boy.” She then looked at his hands, which held only his thick notebook. “Where’s the Sarkowski file?”
“Okay, that’s the problem. No file, no evidence. I went through the entire evidence locker in the One Three One. Nothing.”
“Okay, this’s getting funky. No evidence?”
“Missing.”
“The file was checked out?”
“Might’ve been but it’s not in the computer log. It should’ve been there if somebody took it or it got sent somewhere. But I got the name of the case detective. He lives in Queens. Just retired. Art Snyder.” Pulaski handed her a sheet of paper with the man’s name and address on it. “You want me to talk to him?”
“No, I’ll go see him. I want you to stay here and write up our notes on a whiteboard. I want to see the big picture. But don’t do it in the lab. There’s too much traffic.” Crime scene and other officers routinely made deliveries to Rhyme’s. With a case involving crooked cops, she didn’t want anyone to see what they’d learned. She nodded toward Rhyme’s exercise room, where his ergometer and treadmill were located. “We’ll keep it in there.”
“Sure. But that won’t take long. When I’m done, you want me to meet you at Snyder’s?”
Sachs thought again about the Mercedes. And she heard Sellitto’s words looping through her head: . . . The trunk of a car at JFK long-term parking . . .
“Naw, when you’re through, just stay here and help out Lincoln.” She laughed. “Maybe it’ll improve his mood.”
THE WATCHMAKER
* * *
CRIME SCENE ONE
Location:
• Repair pier in Hudson River, 22nd Street.
Victim:
• Identity
unknown.
• Male.
• Possibly middle-aged or older, and may have coronary condition (presence of anticoagulants in blood).
• No other drugs, infection or disease in blood.
• Coast Guard and ESU divers checking for body and evidence in New York Harbor.
• Checking missing persons reports.
Perp:
• See below.
M.O.:
• Perp forced victim to hold on to deck, over water, cut fingers or wrists until he fell.
• Time of attack: Between 6 P.M. Monday and 6 A.M. Tuesday.
Evidence:
• Blood type AB positive.
• Fingernail torn, unpolished, wide.
• Portion of chain-link fence cut with common wire cutters, untraceable.
• Clock. See below.
• Poem. See below.
• Fingernail markings on deck.
• No discernible trace, no fingerprints, no footprints, no tire tread marks.
CRIME SCENE TWO
Location:
• Alley off Cedar Street, near Broadway, behind three commercial buildings (back doors closed at 8:30 to 10 P.M.) and one government administration building (back door closed at 6 P.M.).
• Alley is a cul-de-sac. Fifteen feet wide by one hundred and four feet long, surfaced in cobblestones, body was fifteen feet from Cedar Street.
Victim:
• Theodore Adams.
• Lived in Battery Park.
• Freelance copywriter.
• No known enemies.
• No warrants, state or federal.
• Checking for a connection with buildings around alley. None found.
Perp:
• The Watchmaker.
• Male.
• No database entries for the Watchmaker.
M.O.:
• Dragged from vehicle to alley, where iron bar was suspended over him. Eventually crushed throat.
• Awaiting medical examiner’s report to confirm.
• No evidence of sexual activity.
• Time of death: Approximately 10:15 P.M. to 11 P.M. Monday night. Medical examiner to confirm.
Evidence:
• Clock.
• No explosives, chemical- or bioagents.
• Identical to clock at pier.
• No fingerprints, minimal trace.
• Arnold Products, Framingham, MA.
• Sold by Hallerstein’s Timepieces, Manhattan.
• Poem left by perp at both scenes.
• Computer printer, generic paper, HP LaserJet ink.
• Text:
The full Cold Moon is in the sky,
shining on the corpse of earth,
signifying the hour to die
and end the journey begun at birth.
—The Watchmaker
• Not in any poetry databases; probably his own.
• Cold Moon is lunar month, the month of death.
• $60 in pocket, no serial number leads; prints negative.
• Fine sand used as “obscuring agent.” Sand was generic. Because he’s returning to the scene?
• Metal bar, 81 pounds, is needle-eye span. Not being used in construction across from the alleyway. No other source found.
• Duct tape, generic, but cut precisely, unusual. Exactly the same lengths.
• Thallium sulfate (rodent poison) found in sand.
• Soil containing fish protein—from perp, not victim.
• Very little trace found.
• Brown fibers, probably automotive carpeting.
Other:
• Vehicle.
• Probably Ford Explorer, about three years old. Brown carpet.
• Review of license tags of cars in area Tuesday morning reveals no warrants. No tickets issued Monday night.
• Checking with Vice about prostitutes, re: witness.
• No leads.
INTERVIEW WITH HALLERSTEIN
Perp:
• EFIT composite picture of the Watchmaker—late forties, early fifties, round face, double chin, thick nose, unusually light blue eyes. Over 6 feet tall, lean, hair black, medium length, no jewelry, dark clothes. No name.
• Knows great deal about clocks and watches and which timepieces had been sold at recent auctions and were at current horologic exhibits in the city.
• Threatened dealer to keep quiet.
• Bought 10 clocks. For 10 victims?
• Paid cash.
• Wanted moon face on clock, wanted loud tick.
Evidence:
• Source of clocks was Hallerstein’s Timepieces, Flatiron District.
• No prints on cash paid for clocks, no serial number hits. No trace on money.
• Called from pay phones.
CRIME SCENE THREE
Location:
• 481 Spring Street.
Victim:
• Joanne Harper.
• No apparent motive.
• Didn’t know second victim, Adams.
Perp:
• Watchmaker.
• Assistant.
• Probably man spotted earlier by victim, at her shop.
• White, heavyset, in sunglasses, cream-colored parka and cap. Was driving the SUV.
M.O.:
• Picked locks to get inside.
• Intended method of attack unknown. Possibly planning to use florist’s wire.
Evidence:
• Fish protein came from Joanne’s (orchid fertilizer).
• Thallium sulfate nearby.
• Florist’s wire, cut in precise lengths. (To use as murder weapon?)
• Clock.
• Same as others. No nitrates.
• No trace.
• No note or poem.
• No footprints, fingerprints, weapons or anything else left behind.
• Black flakes—roofing tar.
• Checking ASTER thermal images of New York for possible sources.
Other:
• Perp was checking out victim earlier than attack. Targeting her for a purpose. What?
• Have police scanner. Changing frequency.
• Vehicle.
• Tan SUV.
• No tag number.
• Putting out Emergency Vehicle Locator.
• 423 owners of tan Explorers in area. Cross-reference against criminal warrants. Two found. One owner too old; other is in jail on drug charges.
BENJAMIN CREELEY HOMICIDE
* * *
• 56-year-old Creeley, apparently suicide by hanging. Clothesline. But had broken thumb, couldn’t tie noose.
• Computer-written suicide note about depression. But appeared not to be sucidally depressed, no history of mental/emotional problems.
• Around Thanksgiving two men broke into his house and possibly burned evidence. White men, but faces not observed. One bigger than other. They were inside for about an hour.
• Evidence in Westchester house:
• Broke through lock; skillful job.
• Leather texture marks on fireplace tools and Creeley’s desk.
• Soil in front of fireplace has higher acid content than soil around house and contains pollutants. From industrial site?
• Traces of burned cocaine in fireplace.
• Ash in fireplace.
• Financial records, spreadsheet, references to millions of dollars.
• Checking logo on documents, sending entries to forensic accountant.
• Diary re: getting oil changed, haircut appointment and going to St. James Tavern.
• St. James Tavern
• Creeley came here several times.
• Apparently didn’t use drugs while here.
• Not sure whom he met with, but maybe cops from the nearby 118th Precinct of the NYPD.
• Last time he was here—just before his death—he got into an argument with persons unknown.
• Checked money from o
fficers at St. James—serial numbers are clean, but found coke and heroin. Stolen from precinct?
• Not much drugs missing, only 6 or 7 oz. of pot, 4 of coke.
• Unusually few organized crime cases at the 118th Precinct but no evidence of intentional stalling by officers.
• Two gangs in the East Village possible but not likely suspects.
• Interview with Jordan Kessler, Creeley’s partner, and follow-up with wife.
• Confirmed no obvious drug use.
• Didn’t appear to associate with criminals.
• Drinking more than usual, taken up gambling; trips to Vegas and Atlantic City. Losses were large, but not significant to Creeley.
• Not clear why he was depressed.
• Kessler didn’t recognize burned records.
• Awaiting list of clients.
• Kessler doesn’t appear to gain by Creeley’s death.
• Sachs and Pulaski followed by AMG Mercedes.
FRANK SARKOWSKI HOMICIDE
* * *
• Sarkowski was 57 years old, no police record, murdered on November 4 of this year, survived by wife and two teenage children.
• Victim owned building and business in Manhattan. Business was doing maintenance for other companies and utilities.
• Art Snyder was case detective.
• No suspects.
• Murder/robbery?
• Business deal went bad?
• Killed in Queens—not sure why he was there.
• File and evidence missing.
• No known connection with Creeley.
• No criminal record—Sarkowski or company.
Chapter 15
The bungalow was in Long Island City, that portion of Queens just over the East River from Manhattan and Roosevelt Island.
Christmas decorations—plenty of them—were perfectly arranged in the yard, the sidewalk perfectly cleared of ice and snow, the Camry in the driveway perfectly clean, despite the recent snow. Window frames were being scraped for a new coat of paint, and a stack of bricks sat destined for a new path or patio.
This was the house of a man with newly acquired free time.
Amelia Sachs hit the doorbell.
The front door opened a few seconds later and a solid man in his late fifties squinted up at her. He was in a green velour running suit.
“Detective Snyder?” Sachs was careful to use his former title. Being polite gets you further than a gun, her father used to say.
Kathryn Dance Ebook Boxed Set : Roadside Crosses, Sleeping Doll, Cold Moon (9781451674217) Page 104
