Hanging Time

20

Sergeant Joyce had made the day’s assignments first thing after roll call. Five of the eight detectives on the day shift were working the Maggie Wheeler homicide. Healy and Aspirante were out in the field looking for witnesses in the neighboring shops on Columbus Avenue who might have seen something Saturday night they didn’t at the time know they were seeing. Detective Stevens, a tough young black man pretty new to the squad, was working the phone, checking the boutique’s Saturday receipts. With the help of MasterCard and Visa, he was putting together a list of the names and addresses of the seven people who had made charges that day. The store didn’t take American Express, so that narrowed it down. They were out of luck with the people who had paid cash, but you never knew who might turn up with information later. Mike had gone to the police lab.

April got back from questioning Hadgens just around noon. Downstairs, three scraggly members of the press loitered on the metal chairs, their knapsacks and coffee cups on the floor around them, looking like homeless waiting for a meal. If there wasn’t a break in the case by that night or the next morning, they’d give up on the meal there and move on to something hotter. As she passed the two eager-looking young men and hawk-faced woman on her way to the stairs, April ignored them, and they ignored her.

In the squad room Mike was on the phone. He raised his hand in a small wave. “Yeah, I want a printout of all the calls coming in and out of that number. Yeah. Thanks.” He hung up. “Maggie Wheeler’s home number,” he said.

April dropped her bag in the bottom desk drawer. “What’s new?”

He looked her over. “Not a whole lot. What about you?”

His way of examining her as if she were a storm front on a weather map made her nervous. Today his gaze was so intense, she could feel herself beginning to sweat, suddenly anxious that she had done something terribly wrong, or something was inappropriate about her makeup or outfit. That day she was wearing hardly any makeup, a pale blue cotton jacket over a white blouse and khaki slacks. Her outfit was very conservative. Not even the top button of the blouse was ever open. She didn’t want anyone looking at her with monkey business in mind.

Mike knew everything. He was studying her so intently, she thought maybe he’d already heard about Dr. George Dong. It occurred to April that she’d forgotten to ask what kind of doctor Dong was. She frowned, thinking about Skinny Dragon Mother’s treachery, then hauled herself back to the moment. This case was a whole lot of blanks.

“I talked to one guy in Maggie’s phone book. Possible abuser of some kind. He knew what I was calling about, but said he didn’t know anything more about it than what he saw on the news.” She brushed at some stray ashes on the seat of her chair before sitting down. “He says he didn’t call her this weekend and hasn’t spoken to her in years.”

Mike picked up on her doubt right away. “But you think it’s possible he knows more than he’s saying.”

“Yeah. Maggie’s boss said she’s been here for only six months. How come she had his number if he hasn’t spoken to her in years? Doesn’t add up. What have you been up to?” She narrowed her eyes at him, preparing for a lie.

“I went down to the M.E.’s office to pick up the crime-scene stuff and took it over to Duke. Now he’s got everything.”

“Did you look in on the autopsy?”

“Sure. And stayed for breakfast.”

“It was scheduled for this morning.” Was that a lie? She looked at her watch.

“I know.”

“You seem to know everything,” April muttered. “Duke say anything?” Her desk was behind Mike’s. He had to swivel around to face her. Now his feet were up on an open drawer and he was facing out at the pen, the holding cell in the middle of the squad room. It was empty at the moment.

Except for Maggie, it was a pretty quiet day.

“Yeah, he misses you. Wondered why you weren’t the one to come and see him. It’s not my job to carry evidence around.”

“I didn’t know the stuff was ready.”

“You sore?”

April swiveled around the other way so she was looking toward Sergeant Joyce’s office. The doorway was just outside the squad room, down the hall so no one could see in. No way to know what Joyce was up to. Yeah, she was sore. Second day back on the job and already Mike and Sergeant Joyce were being secretive. What did Mike know that she didn’t? Hey, if she was investigating and he was supervising her investigation, he had to share whatever information he had.

“Well, it should be done by now,” April said. “I’ll give them an hour or so and go down and pick it up.”

“What’s the matter?”

April swiveled back. “I asked you if Duke had come up with anything and your response was he missed me. You holding out on me, Sanchez?”

Mike spread his hands. “What’s the matter with you? I think you got a lot of potential. Why would I hold out on you?”

April chewed on her lip. There were a lot of reasons. He was a man. He had monkey business on the brain all the time. He was her superior and maybe wanted to keep it that way. And maybe he just had some reasons of his own she didn’t know about.

“Lighten up,” he said.

“I will not lighten up until I have some answers.”

“Well, there aren’t any answers. Duke hadn’t even looked at what I gave him yesterday. He hasn’t had time.”

Still didn’t have an answer. Why did Mike go to the M.E.’s office first thing this morning? It was on Thirtieth Street and First Avenue, sort of an adjunct to Bellevue. Thirty-fourth to Twentieth, then up here to Eighty-second and Columbus. Back and forth. She shrugged. Maybe there was nothing in it. Most police work was just running from one place to another—getting warrants, moving evidence from one place to another, trying to reach people who weren’t home. Mike’s phone rang. He swung his feet down and picked up.

April looked at her watch, then punched out the number of one of the other male names in Maggie’s book. Still no answer there. She tried Maggie’s mother. Yesterday Mrs. Wheeler had told the sheriff who came to her house that she’d do anything she could to help the detectives in New York. Maybe the mother was ready to answer a few questions.