A Clean Kill

Forty-four

On Wednesday morning at seven thirty a.m. Lily Eng was waiting for April at the Sutton Diner on Fifty-sixth Street and First Avenue. Outside it was still pouring. Mike dropped April off and she dashed for the small patch of sidewalk that was protected by an awning outside the restaurant. She charged it, and a wall of rain sleeted off the edge of the awning onto her head. "Shit."

Inside the door, she immediately caught sight of Lily, who was seated at a table in the window looking dry and chic and every bit the TV reporter. She was wearing a distinctive pastel tweed suit that could well have been Chanel. A pink plastic raincoat was folded over the back of the chair next to her. Compared with her splendor and calm, April felt both poor and frantic. She had not had a good night or morning with Skinny Dragon and was irritated that Lily, who came from highly educated college-professor parents and made a great deal more money than she did, didn't have a lot to worry about.

"Thanks for being on time. I ordered a tea for you," Lily said, pointing to a cup and stainless teapot opposite her.

April sank into a wooden chair by the window and dripped all over the floor. "Shit," she said again. Already nothing was going right in her day.

"What's the matter?" Lily asked.

"Nothing." She was just soaked, and she felt sick again. Her mother had appeared in her house like a deadly mold, giving her food that upset her stomach. No doubt the Dragon was going to have to be forcibly removed before she'd ever feel well again. Mike was being nice about it now, but that wouldn't last forever. The case was at a critical point. Today she was hoping for a COD on Alison and some important break in the nannies' stories. She was poised for heavy action, and hardly in the mood for a tete-a-tete with a TV reporter who didn't have anything else to do but get her nails done and look good on the six o'clock news. When she looked at the beautiful clothes Lily was wearing, she really did think she'd chosen the wrong career path.

"1 hope the rain will give us a break from these murders," she muttered, trying to keep herself on track.

Lily was taken aback. "Are you expecting another one?"

"No, 1 didn't expect the first two. But a storm like this can put off the bad guys." If only it had rained all week, she would have gotten her honeymoon, no problem. Then she was ashamed of herself for thinking of better jobs and better parents and a honeymoon on a cruise ship. She made a frustrated gesture. "Sorry, I think I'm getting the flu. What did you have to tell me?"

"I did a little checking on Remy Banks yesterday and came up with something interesting," Lily said, pulling out a manila envelope.

"Oh, yeah? What?"

"She was placed through the Anderson Agency. I did a feature on the agency a few years back, and I know quite a bit about it."

"Great. What do you know?" April raked her hands through her wet hair, then poured herself some tea, and made a face. It was a generic brand of tea. The water turned the unappetizing color of rust and didn't taste much better. "I'm sorry. I must have missed the program."

Lily laughed. "You miss everything, April. You're always working."

April nodded—the story of her life.

"So how about a trade?" Lily asked.

"No way. I've told you a thousand times I can't say anything," April replied impatiently. "Don't waste my time."

"How about I ask you questions and you give me a yea or nay?"

April shook her head.

"A shake of the head, then." She laughed again. For once she was relaxed, and April was all nerves. "Come on, it's my day off," she wheedled. "Make me happy for once."

"No one makes me happy," April grumbled.

"Bullshit. Didn't I do that great story on you? And you got promoted?" Lily reminded her.

April didn't want to tell her that she'd done the interview under orders from a superior, but another correction was in order. The interview had nothing to do with the promotion. "I took a test for the promotion," she said.

"Still, the story didn't hurt."

April smiled. "All right, I'll let you break the story when we're ready to make an arrest, okay?" That was a big concession. "But you'll have to keep your mouth shut about your source."

"Serious? How soon will that be?" Lily bounced in her chair.

"I have no idea. We're following leads. What was your take on Anderson?"

"Oh, it's the oldest domestic employment agency in the country still run by a family member. I did the piece as a human-interest service story just after 9/11 when thousands of people lost their jobs in the city and were looking for any kind of work, kind of like the Depression," she reminisced.

"I mean the owner," April prompted.

"Well, actually she did the interview with me because she wanted my help to write a book about her service to the rich and famous."

"No kidding." April woke up.

"I didn't have time to use what she gave me because the slant was the high-end field of domestic workers. But what she had was dynamite. She claims to have the inside dope on three generations of high-profile, wealthy clients. You should see her home. It's filled with memorabilia and photos of herself with megastars. She showed me gifts from movie stars and politicos, princes and presidents. Frank Sinatra, mob bosses. You wouldn't believe the people she knew. It's like a museum."

"What about her? What's she like?"

"This is the part that I thought would interest you. She kept files on everybody—the people she worked for, the staff members she placed, their friends. She made a point of knowing everything about everybody. Get this—she called it good business. She bragged to me about having their complete trust. She went into their places to water their plants when they were out of town. 1 thought it was kind of creepy. It seemed to me that if you had her or one of her people in your house, you were kind of harboring a spy."

April had already been alerted to that possibility. "That's very interesting," she said. "What happened to the book?"

"Oh, 1 referred her to some agents I know. She needed a writer, of course. And that got her all paranoid. She was afraid someone would steal her material."

"So nothing came of the book?"

"No. What do you want to eat?"

April glanced at the menu, then checked her watch. Five minutes to Woody time. "I'm really sorry. I have a long day, and 1 have to get cracking. "

Lily looked disappointed. "This was my day off," she grumbled.

"We'll do a long lunch soon, okay?"

"Right."

"One more thing. Where is Miss Anderson's home?"

"Beekman Place. She has a town house on Fiftieth."

"Fiftieth Street?" April's head jerked up.

Lily nodded. "I wouldn't forget something like that. It's a real freaky place, been in her family for a long time. Didn't you know?"

"Oh, the home address was on my list for today,"

April said slowly. Jo Ellen had been on her list for the day.

"It's close, right?"

"Yeah." April touched her hair. It was drying off now, absolutely flat on her head. It reminded her of another question she needed to ask. "By the way, what color hair does she have?"

"Jo Ellen? Gray."

"No kidding. She doesn't color it?"

"She didn't when I talked with her."

April started gathering up her things. "You've turned out to be a doll," she said. "I'm really grateful for your time."

"Was I useful?"

"Very useful. Where are you- going? Do you want a ride? I'll take you anywhere between here and Midtown North."

Lily laughed. It was almost a straight line west. "No, thanks," she said. "And good luck."

April nodded. She needed it.