NYPD Red

Chapter 51

Kylie and I holed up in the office and started digging into all things Gabriel Benoit. We were eating sandwiches from Gerri’s Diner when we got word that Brad Schuck died without ever coming out of his coma.

It didn’t change anything. I updated his file and went back to work. It was after 9:00 p.m. when Cheryl Robinson finally returned my call.

“Zach, I just got your message,” she said talking loudly. The background was noisy. Happy noisy. “I’m out to dinner, my phone was buried in my purse-sorry. What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a suspect, and Captain Cates would like you to jump in and try to get inside this guy’s head.”

“Give me a top line.”

“Gabriel Benoit, thirty-four, only child, born in Stuttgart, Germany, father was an officer in army intelligence. Family bounced around-South Korea, Alabama, Georgia-and eventually Dad wound up at the Pentagon. Gabriel went to high school in northern Virginia, where he was a B student with a keen interest in film studies. Dropped out of college in his freshman year. After that, it’s spotty till he moves to New York, where he’s in hundreds of movie and TV productions, using his real name and Social Security number. Two years ago, his mailing address changed from an apartment to a PO box, and finally to a mental health facility, which is where we tracked him, but he vacated a few months ago.”

“Two years ago he either became so paranoid he didn’t want anyone to find him, or that’s when he started planning these murders,” Cheryl said.

“Or both,” I said.

“Email me whatever you have on him. I’ll try to make sense of it when I get home tonight and I’ll meet you at the diner in the morning. Is five too early?”

“Not for this case. Thanks, Doc. Sorry to interrupt your dinner.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “He totally understands. He’s a cop too.”

She hung up.

He? She was having dinner with a guy? And he’s a cop? It sure as hell didn’t take her long to replace Fred. I wondered how this guy felt about opera.

Kylie and I worked another two hours, and I crawled into bed at midnight. Four hours later, my cell phone rang. Caller ID said it was Kylie, but I knew better.

“Hello, Spence,” I said.

“This is not Spence,” Kylie said. “I read him the riot act yesterday. ‘If you have any bright ideas in the middle of the night, don’t wake Zach, wake me.’”

“Well, tell Spence thanks for not waking me,” I said.

“Listen up, I’m serious,” she said. “I brought home a copy of the video of Benoit tossing the Molotov. I’ve watched it a dozen times. Sometimes Spence is in the room, sometimes he’s not. Tonight he wakes me and says, ‘I just figured it out.’”

“Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the candlestick?”

“Zach, I know you think Spence is…I don’t know…creative. But this time I think he has something.”

“Sorry. I’m listening.”

“I don’t know about you, but when I watch that tape, I tend to zero in on Benoit. Spence did a freeze-frame on the Molotov cocktail. There’s no wick on it. No oily rag. No flame.”

“So?”

“So according to Spence, that’s one of the tricks of the trade. If the bottle is flaming, you can’t hand it to some megastar actor who’s insured for millions. Rather than have a stuntman stand in for the shot, they go wickless. We know Benoit had an accomplice in the robbery, so maybe his partner is a special effects guy.”

“I don’t mean to shoot down another one of Spence’s middle-of-the-night epiphanies, but any kid with a chemistry set and a mean streak can make a basic incendiary device-with or without a tampon for a wick. The simplest way is to take brake fluid, Drano-”

“A kid didn’t make this, Zach. Spence said it looks very professional, and whatever else you think about him, give him some credit for knowing the film business.”

“Kylie, let’s not argue. We’re both exhausted. Tell Spence I appreciate the input.”

“He gave me a list of special effects guys he thinks fit the specs. There are only six of them, and even if they’re all clean, one of them may see something in the video that points us to the guy who built it. I know it’s grasping at straws, but what other clues do we have?”

“Okay, I’m meeting with Cheryl Robinson in about an hour,” I said. “After that we can track down these special effects guys and talk to them.”

“You didn’t tell me you were meeting with the profiler,” Kylie said.

“I’m meeting her at five in the morning. I thought you might want to get some sleep.”

“Hell no. Besides, I’m awake now anyway. Where are you guys meeting?”

“Gerri’s Diner on Lex around the corner from the precinct.”

“Great. I’ll see you there. Order me some coffee and a toasted English.” She hung up.

And just like that, I had plans for breakfast. Just me, the beautiful old girlfriend I was trying to get over, and the beautiful new woman who, the more I thought about it, might be just what I needed to help me get over the old one.

I got down on the floor and unrolled my yoga mat.