NYPD Red

Chapter 11

I gave Philippe my email address and told him to send me a list of everyone who was in the dining room. “And put the two guys who had breakfast with Roth and bolted before the cops got here at the top of the list.”

I thought about asking Rafe the waiter to sit with a police artist and come up with a sketch of the busboy, but I know a waste of time when I see one. No sense circulating a picture of a generic male Puerto Rican who looks like half a million guys from East Williamsburg to Spanish Harlem.

I thanked Philippe and motioned Kylie toward the exit. As expected, the Regency’s unholy trinity was waiting in the doorway.

“Do you have any surveillance cameras in the dining room?” I asked.

The manager looked at me like I’d asked if they had peepholes in the guests’ bathrooms.

“This is the Regency,” he said. “Our clients come here for discretion and privacy.”

“How about the back of the house? Do you keep an eye on the kitchen staff?”

“We did, but…” He looked at the executive chef. “Etienne had the cameras removed when he came here two years ago.”

The burly chef gave a wave of his hand to let me know that he had no regrets. “I find them offensive, distracting,” he said.

The old me would have said something like Makes it easier to spit in somebody’s bouillabaisse if they piss you off, but my sensitivity training kicked in and I went with, “We’ll need a list of everyone who worked here this morning.”

“Fine,” Chef Etienne said.

Not so fine with the guy from corporate. “Detective, is that really necessary? It’s a heart attack.”

“It’s a police investigation,” I said. “My partner and I have to go. We’ll be talking to you.”

“Wait!” It was le chef. “We have to set up for lunch. How long before that, that…” He pointed at the dead man on the dining room carpet, which I’m sure he found offensive and distracting.

“I’m sorry it’s taking so long,” I said. “He’ll be out in a few minutes. Thank you for being so patient.” It was the classic bullshit response waiters are trained to give customers when the dinner they ordered an hour ago still hasn’t come out of the kitchen.

I seriously doubt if Chef Etienne appreciated the irony.