by Gerard Denza
-Now that you mention it, I did. Whatever Catrina gave her has to be someplace on the second floor.
-So, how will you get it?
-Lt. Donovan can get a search warrant and maybe that will put the fear of God in that bitch.
He started up the car.
-Let's head over to Rachel's place. It's only a few blocks from here.
-Why not leave the car here? We can walk and you won't have to look around for another parking space. It's stopped snowing.
Edward patted her on the cheek.
-You're on. I could use the exercise.
In a few minutes, they were standing in front of Rachel's three story brownstone. Every floor was alive with the sound of people and music.
-Sounds like Rachel is having a party. I can hear the music from out here.
-A real contrast to Linda's place, that's for damned sure,.
Edward knocked on the door. They waited for a couple of minutes before a middle-aged woman answered. She had on a loose fitting blouse and bohemian pants. Her hair was a little too long and she wore no make-up.
-I'll bet you're Edward Mendez. And, you're Yolanda Estravades, the ice skater. Oh, I've seen your picture in the papers. Come on in!
Rachel practically shoved them into a small dining room just off the main hallway.
-Have a seat. Nobody will bother us in here. I don't serve any food at my parties...just booze and plenty of it. Can I offer you a drink? A friend brought over some fancy bourbon.
Edward and Yolanda declined the offer.
-Suit yourselves. Now, how can I help you?
Edward wanted to hug this wonderful woman. Yolanda liked her, too, but thought she was a little too friendly.
-Rachel, my sister, Catrina, was murdered.
-Oh, God! How awful! I'm so sorry to hear it. When did it happen? Why? Oh, Mr. Mendez...I'm rambling on. I mean...me and Catrina didn't really part as friends...but to be murdered... Are you going to solve the case?
-In a manner of speaking, Rachel. But, I have to ask you this: did Catrina ever mention anyone to you by the name of Louis Octavio or Ricardo Montenegro?
-No...not that I remember. We never talked much about boys. You know, come to think of it, I don't think she or Linda had any boyfriends. That's where I didn't fit in. I've always been boy crazy myself. Those two were always talking about clothes and jewelry and taking holidays...and always to Mexico! Why Mexico? What the hell was so special about Mexico? And, to get back to Linda, I don't think she ever married. She takes care of her elderly mom, you know. I guess it gives her something to do. Oh, God! I sound so catty.
Edward didn't know about Linda's mother.
-Rachel, did Catrina ever give you anything in the way of presents?
-Who? Me? Forget it! Catrina wasn't generous that way. I'm not really helping much, am I?
Edward smiled in bemusement.
-Rachel, how did you and my sister ever become friends?
-Good question! I'm not too sure, you know. Just one day she started chatting me up and invited me to come along with her and Linda to her house. I almost turned her down. But, for some reason, she wanted me along. I've never figured it out.
Edward didn't know what to say. He didn't want to offend this woman because he thought he just hit upon the reason.
Rachel rambled on.
-But, it's kind of interesting...well, sort of...my ex-husband actually ran into Catrina last year...right before the sun did a disappearing act. She just got back from one of her holidays, I guess. He knew her from high school, like me, but really didn't like her. No offense.
-None taken.
-They were civil to each other; but, she said something odd.
Edward was alert to the extreme.
-Like what?
-Well, my ex-husband, Charlie, he's here as a matter of fact, if you want to talk to him. He brought over most of the booze.
-You tell me first, Rachel.
-She said, Catrina, that is, that she had seen Linda and that the meeting was a fruitful one. Your sister would say something like that. Charlie didn't say anything. He really didn't know how to react. He never liked Linda either. That's the reason I broke off with them, because of Charlie.
-Just how “fruitful” was this meeting?
-She, Catrina, that is, gave Linda a special lipstick from Mexico. Again! Mexico! Was your sister obsessed with that place?
Edward tried not to laugh, but wasn't too successful.
-What kind of a lipstick?
-She didn't say because Charlie asked her – he's the curious type, like me -- and of course Miss Catrina had to be mysterious and a snob. Oh, I'm sorry.
-Don't be. You knew my sister to the proverbial “T.” Rachel, thanks a lot and try to stay indoors for the next couple of day. Savvy?
-Sure. Now, can I get you and Yolanda here a drink?
Nineteen
WHEN THEY got back to the car, the P. I. opened up the trunk and got out his Geiger counter.
-You can stay in the car, if you want, baby.
-Are you kidding? Stay out here all alone? I'm coming with you. And, besides, I can help with her elderly mother.
-Let's go, then.
For the second time that night, Edward knocked hard on Linda Silverman's front door.
-Where the hell is she? She can't have gone to bed already.
-Try, again, Edward. She probably knows it's us and doesn't want to answer.
The P. I. rapped on the door even harder. They heard footsteps from inside the house.
-Someone's coming.
A voice from inside replied.
-Who is there, please?
Yolanda whispered.
-Edward, it must be Linda's mother. Let me talk. Mrs. Silverman, my mane is Yolanda Estravades and Mr. Edward Mendez is here also. Please. We must talk with your daughter. Would you be so kind as to let us in?
The door was opened by an elderly woman with a pink, woolen shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked frightened, but otherwise composed.
-Come in. It's such a cold night. Let's go into the parlor where it's warm.
Yolanda took the woman by the elbow and helped her.
-Mrs. Silverman, where is Linda?
-I honestly don't know, Miss Estravades. She left me all alone.
Edward spoke to her.
-Mrs. Silverman, may I look about your house? I won't touch anything. It really is urgent.
The old lady cast him a shrewd glance.
-That's a Geiger counter you've got there, isn't it? Yes. Of course. Please, go ahead with your search, Mr. Mendez. It'll be a relief to know that my house isn't radioactive.
-I'll stay with her, Edward.
The P. I. scanned the house from top to bottom and found no trace of radioactivity except for some residual readings in Linda's bedroom from her vanity dresser.
Edward rejoined the two women in the living room.
-Mrs. Silverman, did your daughter take anything with her when she left the house this evening?
-Only her handbag and, of course, her hat and coat. Has it stopped snowing? Such dreadful weather we're having, lately...ever since the sun disappeared last year.
Edward waited for Mrs. Silverman to finish her musings. Inadvertently, she reminded him of something that he kept forgetting to ask Marlena. He continued his questions.
-Any idea where Linda might have gone?
-None at all.
-Did she ever mention getting a gift from my sister, Catrina Mendez?
-Yes. She did. A rather gaudy looking lipstick case. It wasn't very pretty. I don't mean to sound ungracious.
-May I use your phone?
-Of course.
The old woman turned to Yolanda.
-What has my headstrong daughter done? I'm not blind to her faults so you needn't be kind.
-We don't know that she's done anything, Mrs. Silverman.
Edward pla
ced his phone call to the Park Slope police precinct. It was brief and to the point. He hung up and turned to Mrs. Silverman.
-I don't want to alarm you, Mrs. Silverman, but I'm about to have the police put out an APB for your daughter.
-I think I understand. It's for withholding information or possibly for something even worse.
-I'll be frank with you. Yes. And, Mrs. Silverman, what's your daughter's means of support?
-As far as I know, she draws from a fund.
-From what bank?
-From the Hamburg Savings and Loan bank. She doesn't think that I know, but I do.
-Who set up this fund?
Mrs. Silverman smiled.
-My daughter's not unattractive. I believe a male friend.
-But- never mind. Did you ever meet him?
-Never set eyes on him . Don't even know his name. I believe...well, I'll just come right out and say it. She and your sister spoke of a certain man who had a Latin sounding name...Octavio, I think..
-May I use your phone, again?
-Make as many phone call as you need to, Mr. Mendez. I'll help all I can even if my daughter won't.
And, aside to Yolanda.
-Never liked that Catrina. Always looked down her nose at everyone as if she were something special. She wasn't and you can take my word for it.
Edward placed his call to Lt. Donovan.
-Hello? Lieutenant Donovan? Edward Mendez here. Listen, I've got a heads up on that bomb. The Park Slope police should be on their way to Linda Silverman's place just about now. The piece was put in a lipstick case. I know. I know! Linda Silverman...she's a walking keg of radioactive dynamite who just might blow up half of Brooklyn.
Edward turned to Mrs. Silverman.
-Do you have a photo of your daughter?
-Yes. I'll get it for you.
Yolanda got up.
-Just tell me where to find it. I'll go.
-Thank you, young lady. It's upstairs on my dresser bureau. It was taken before her face-lift, but it still looks like her.
Yolanda walked over to Edward.
-I'll be right back.
-Lieutenant? You still there?
-I'm still here, Mendez. As soon as I get off the phone, I'll put out an APB of my own just to stir things up.
-Good. 'Cause that chick is up to something and it's not good.
December 5, 1948
Manhunt
Twenty
-WITHOLDING EVIDENCE is a crime. And, if this woman is holding out on us, I'll have her sent up for life. What the hell is she on the run for?
It was past midnight and everyone in that Interrogation Room was tired both physically and mentally. The absence of Sgt. Rayno was acutely felt. Everyone in the station house liked the Sergeant.
Lt. Donovan continued.
-And, her mother and this Rachel Schwartz woman have no idea where she might have gone?
Edward put out his second cigarette.
-Linda is the anti-social type. No friends that anyone knows of and no living relatives except for her mother.
-How about enemies, Mendez? Everybody has those.
Edward tried laughing.
-We just don't know. And, that fund she's been living off of? It's under the name of Romo-Ark, Inc.
Lt. Donovan raised an eyebrow.
-The metal and ore company? What the hell do they call it...tool and dye...something like that. I hear they're also developing computer systems and missile launchers. They're all over the god-damned place.
Edward nodded.
-That's the one.
-But, who initiated this fund? Who okay-ed it? We need a name, damn it!
Miss Raymond spoke waving cigarette smoke away from her face.
-We're looking into it, Lieutenant. But, that company is vast. It's global. Our boys are having trouble sifting through the bureaucratic barriers.
Edward lit his cigarette.
-Edward?
-What is it, baby?
-How many cigarettes does that make?
-I'll make this one last. Just had a thought. It's wild, but what the hell?
He had everyone's attention.
-Just maybe Linda's gone to someone at Romo-Ark. It makes sense. She gets her money from them, so she must have a contact. Or...I just had another thought. You see, baby, smoking helps. What about those gray vans that keep popping up? Octavio was connected to them, somehow. And, if I'm not mistaken, so was my sister. But, for sure, check out Romo-Ark's top executives, Miss Raymond.
-We are, Eddie. We're going through their Accounting Dept. right now. That corporation is never closed for business.
Yolanda bristled at Miss Raymond's familiarity with her boyfriend.
Lt. Donovan put out a cigarette.
-We checked out that gray van. Its license plates were phony – no big surprise – and its driver and two passengers are being looked over by the medics. The preliminary results, which I've got right here, says they were normal enough, but their bodies were lacking iron and bordering on anemic. Doesn't really help us much, but there it is. And, one more thing: we're putting Linda Silverman's photo on the front page of every city newspaper. Like it or not, she's gonna' be a celebrity.
-Oh? Do you think she's still in the city?
-Yes, Miss Estravades, I do. Just call it a cop's gut feeling.
Yolanda continued.
-You know, I still think she's afraid of someone. She kept staring up at the ceiling and...
Lt. Donovan prodded her.
-Go on.
-And, there was only her mother in the house.
Edward finished her thought.
-And her mother didn't look too much like an invalid. A little frail, maybe, but well enough.
Edward reached for his pack of cigarettes.
-But, why pay Linda any money? Why not just bump her off? It's got to be that she sold them something awfully valuable and part of the agreement was for her to keep quiet about it.
-Like what? A piece of the stone? But, she's been on their payroll for years.
-I've been thinking that one over. Linda Silverman and my sister sold Romo-Ark one of the two stones. They were paid off: my sister probably got one big lump sum for it and Linda opted for a lifetime allowance. Then, my sister got greedy and had no trouble persuading Linda to sell the second stone to Octavio.
Yolanda could believe that last part.
-Why would your sister split the profit? She didn't strike me as the generous type.
-Well, baby, she needed what we call a go-between. She never ventured beyond her own known sphere.
Lt. Donovan's laugh was nasty.
-I'd like to raise your sister from the god-damned dead and ask her a few pointed questions. And, then, I'd throw her back in her coffin and pour salt in the grave.
Edward didn't want to laugh, but he did in spite of himself.
Yolanda asked a question.
-But, what does Romo-Ark do with it? It's pretty dangerous stuff.
-Professor Moreland could probably answer that better than any of us, baby. Maybe, they could use it for some kind of rocket fuel or alternate source of energy. They've got the resources and the money to experiment with it. Marlena suggested it could be used constructively.
Lt. Donovan agreed.
-In that case, Miss Silverman's probably run off to Romo-Ark to get rid of what she had left in the lipstick holder. She was holding out on them. Maybe, she wanted an increase in her allowance. If so, she's playing with some pretty ruthless people.
Edward agreed with the Lieutenant.
-I might have scared her off. I hope you're right, Lieutenant because if she's sold that piece to Romo-Ark chances are good they won't misuse it. It'd be too valuable to them. As a matter of fact, they'd have the world market cornered.
-But, we can't make that assumption. We've gotta' go with the fact that Linda's at large and dangerous. We've got a squad car out
side her house in Borum Hill on the out chance that she returns home. And, we've got men posted at the HQ of Romo-Ark right here in the city.
Yolanda asked her question as she inhaled the smoke from her boyfriend's cigarette.
-Do you think she might be home? That maybe she never left?
Lt. Donovan responded.
-I doubt it. We've been through the house a couple of times with a fine tooth comb and found nothing and no one except her mother.
Yolanda continued her line of inquiry.
-What about Rachel's place? Might be a good place to hide with so many people going in and out all the time. I know they weren't girlfriends anymore, but Rachel would be the sort who would help her.
-Your girlfriend makes a good point, Mendez. I'll get a squad car over there...pronto!
Edward and Yolanda were driving home. There was virtually no traffic at this early hour of the morning.
-Edward?
-I see him. That same Buick that's been tailing us since we left the precinct.
-At least it's not one of those gray vans. And, I don't see anyone in the car except the driver. And, I can't really make out his face. It's too dark and the street lights don't help.
-Don't look back any more. When we reach your place, I'll make it so that he's gotta' pass us by. Try and get a glimpse of him then. And, do you notice that I haven't asked for a cigarette?
-Good boy. And, we're almost at our apartment.
-I'm going to pull over so get ready to look.
Edward pulled the car over to park and the Buick passed them by.
-Did you get a good look at him, baby?
-An older man with gray hair and a goatee, but no mustache. He looked over at us as he went by. I got the impression that he was about your height and built.
-And?
-He sort of looked familiar. Maybe, I passed him on the street or saw his picture in the papers.
-Good work. I wonder what he wants?
-You mean: what is he up to?
December 6, 1948
Nor'easter
Twenty-one
EDWARD WAS lying in bed next to Yolanda. He was staring up at the ceiling, but not really seeing it. The manhunt for Linda Silverman was entering its second day. She was an inexperienced criminal, technically speaking, but New York City offered a lot of hiding places.
