A Killing Gift

Twenty-seven

The next morning bright and early Harry had a surprise visit from two uniforms in a squad car, and got a free ride downtown to where April and Mike were waiting to do it all over again.

"You know we slept on your story and it's just plain disrespectful," Mike said. "You hurt our feelings."

"How so, my man?"

"We're not your man. We're your only hope here. You expect us to believe that Bernardino gave you a suitcase full of cash to buy a freaking horse? Come on." Mike had had a good night's rest and didn't give a shit how long it took to break Harry down.

"It's what happened, pally." Harry shrugged.

"No paperwork, nothing? What a friend!"

Harry shrugged some more.

"Listen, I heard different. I heard you and Bernardino were on the outs."

"Who said that? I never heard that." Harry feigned amazement.

"The way I heard it, he blew you off a long time ago, so what happened to change his mind?"

"What can I tell you? We went back a long way together. I gave him all the particulars on Warlord. He started slow, but he was picking up. A real beauty. It was a good deal."

"Who started slow? Bernardino or the horse?"

"The horse started slow. He was a late bloomer."

"So Bernardino gave you money for a slow horse. Why would he do that?"

"Bernie was like that, real heart-of-gold kind of guy. He believed in dreams. You know that about him, right?" He locked eyes with April.

"When did he fulfill your dream, Harry?" she asked.

Harry smiled. "I don't know, a couple of weeks ago. I don't remember what day."

"You can't remember getting a suitcase full of money. Can't remember when your dream came true. Come on." Mike laughed. "You're an insult to the field."

"Honest. I'm retired. I don't know one day from another."

But Mike knew they had a problem, and so did April. There was no mention of any meeting between Bernardino and Harry in Bernardino's daily calendar, and certainly no file on horses. Not any kind of horses. Bernardino had been a careful man. If he was going to spring for a racehorse, the odds were his files would be full of horse statistics, or spreadsheets-whatever they did with horses. But there was none of that. Bernie didn't have horse pinups in his file like his house pics. So many houses, all in different styles, different locations. Bernardino wouldn't purchase an item cold. He wasn't that kind of individual. Mike figured Bernie hadn't known about any horse. He changed tack and hammered the other subject.

"We need to talk to your girlfriend, Harry. Clear up a few things."

"Talk to her. Who's stopping you?" Harry lifted his shoulders, saw his hands fly up in front of his face, and took the opportunity to examine his nails. He could hardly control his grin. He was enjoying himself. No one could touch him.

"I would talk to her if I had a last name, a number," Mike said.

"I'm old. I forgot."

"Harry. Be easy on yourself. Give us a name. We're going to find her anyway. Down the road it's going to get nasty. You know how it is. If everything's on the up and up, nothing can hurt you. You got a gift horse. Okay we'll forget the gift tax. I give you my word. This is not about the money, you know that. Money…" Mike lifted his own shoulders and let the word trail off. "Money between friends. That's sacred. We won't touch it. Just give us the name." Mike glanced at April. She tapped her wrist. She was going out for a break.

"Mikey, I've been married forty-five years. Cherry's just a friend, but my wife is everything to me. You know how it is; I just can't do it."

Mike did know how it was. He'd hit a brick wall. But he had a method for finding people, and pretty much it always worked. "Yeah, pally, I do know how it is. See you later."

"Can I leave now?"

"What do you think?"

Mike and April left the interview room together. Mike called Marcus Beame on his cell. "I need you to find someone," he told him.

"No problem, Lieutenant, who?"

"Female known as Cherry. Breeds horses. I'd guess around fifty, maybe a little younger, maybe a little older, but not much. I don't have much more than that. She's a known associate of Harry Weinstein."

"Harry's girlfriend?" Marcus laughed.

"You got it."

"You got a place to start looking for Harry's Cherry?" Beame joked.

Mike clicked his tongue. "You know, he said he'd spent Wednesday night with her in the city, but I'm thinking she doesn't live here. Try upstate somewhere. Horse country. Nothing fancy, though. Harry's a lowlife."

"Okay. I can do that. Work back from Harry."

"You might try checking horse-breeding records, too. I think thoroughbreds are registered with the racing association-I don't know, some association. Cherry's got a horse called Warlord. See if she sold it to anyone."

"Anything else, sir?"

"That's it. And I don't want to know how you do it-whatever you have to do, just get her in here."

"Do I have twenty-four hours, boss?"

Mike checked his watch. "Yeah, sure. Before noon tomorrow would be real good."

April met him on the stairs a few minutes later. He was on his way to the men's room. "Something odd has come up."

"Oh, yeah."

"The same number came up on both Bernardino's and Jack Devereaux's caller ID list."

Mike frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Beats me," she said.