Stealing Time

CHAPTER 35

W

hen they met just before eight o'clock Friday morning, Lieutenant Iriarte was in high spirits. "Well, this is good news. Very good." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

"How's that?" April didn't get the reason for her boss's pleasure at the news of a young woman's death in Chinatown. But then she wasn't feeling up to par herself, and therefore was maybe a little slow on the uptake.

"We're out of it now." Iriarte waved his hand for her to sit down. "And that's good, because you messed this one up. Woo."

April's eyes burned, her throat hurt, her head was reeling, and she seemed to be having some trouble breathing. One young woman had a concussion and was covered with bruises and burn marks, a baby was still missing, and another young woman was dead, and Iriarte was congratulating himself because he thought they were out of it. "Can I go now, sir?" she asked, not wanting to hear how she'd messed up.

"Go? Go where?" The lieutenant's face registered annoyance again.

Green spots jumped in front of April's eyes. She'd just explained that Lieutenant Bernardino, her boss for five years down in the 5th, had asked her to come down there to question Annie Lee, the old woman from the Popescu factory who claimed she'd seen the dead woman jump from a window. "Downtown, sir."

"No way. You let a lot of things slip here. You gotta get back on track. Right here. I want you all over Popescu. Shake him up. I want to know where that baby came from." He picked up a complaint from the pile that had collected since last night.

"The baby came from down there," April told him. "We haven't found him yet. I thought finding the baby was our highest priority—"

"And what's the matter with you? Why haven't you found it yet? You getting soft or something?"

April flushed.

"What does your shrink friend say?" Iriarte went on to another tack.

Soft, was she getting soft? And now that he mentioned it, she'd forgotten to call Jason. Was she losing her edge? She felt clammy and scared. Soft? Really? "I'll call him," she promised.

"Good, call him now." He flapped his hand for her to leave. She didn't move. Iriarte and Hagedorn exchanged glances. "Is there something wrong, Sergeant?"

"Bernardino needs a translator for the witness," April said firmly. She wasn't going soft. She was going down to Chinatown to find out what happened to that woman and her baby.

"So? Chinatown is filled with translators."

Now her head was getting hard to hold up; it was as heavy as a boulder. She was torn between her former boss and her present boss and couldn't think straight.

Iriarte sniffed the air. "Do you smell something funny?" he asked Hagedorn.

"Yeah, what is that weird smell? Ugh." Hagedorn's eyes circled their sockets.

Both men focused their attention on her. "April?"

What was this about? She sniffed, horrified, wondering what it could be.

"What is that smell?"

She wrinkled her nose. Yes, there did seem to be a weird smell, and it did seem to be coming from the white shirt she was wearing under her navy jacket. Or maybe it was coming from the red-and-gold scarf tied around her neck. "I have no idea, sir."

Hagedorn not so discreetly sniffed the air around her. Suddenly she knew what it was. Sweat broke out on her forehead. Her bottom slid forward on the chair. The steam from the kettle had gotten inside her and was now coming out of her pores. Her face was red, and the boulder that was her head threatened to explode. Oh, she was in trouble, and there was a dead woman in Chinatown who needed her attention.

"And they found the missing stroller right on Allen Street. I know we can clear this up today, sir," she promised.

Iriarte wrinkled his nose, then flapped his hand at Hagedorn. Hagedorn nodded, jumped up, and moved out the door, closing it behind him. "Are we going to have a problem, you and I?" Iriarte demanded.

Dizziness overcame her. "No, sir."

"Then don't make assumptions. Do what you're told."

"Yes, sir." She tried to sit up, felt horrible, wondered if her mother would go so far as to kill her to stop her from marrying a Mexican.

Iriarte grimaced, grit his teeth, stroked his skinny mustache with two fingers, then punched out his words, enunciating clearly. "Find the baby. That's your job here."

"Yes, sir."

"And whatever you do, get back here before lunch."

April smiled weakly. "Thank you, sir." "And April—"

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you sure you're all right?"

April touched the cell phone in her jacket pocket. "Oh yeah, I'm fine."

He raised his eyebrows. "Okay, then take the dunce. Maybe he can do something useful."

April pulled herself out of the chair, mustered what she could of her dignity, and left the office. "Woody," she called into the squad room.

Baum was sitting at his desk, eating a bagel. "Morning, Sergeant. Ooh, what's that smell?"

"Let's go," she barked.

"You all right?"

"Now."

"Uh, any chance of finishing my breakfast?"

"No." April was angry and hurt. She'd been poisoned by her mother, and her boss was calling her soft. She scowled at the bagel crumbs proliferating on Woody's desk. She'd be damned if she'd let herself get soft. She felt worse and worse. She hadn't spoken to Mike this morning. If she died now, he'd never know what happened.

"Okay, okay, if it's that important." Woody brushed the crumbs onto the floor.

April stopped by her office to get her purse. Message slips indicated that during her meeting with Iriarte, Jason and her mother had called. Nothing from Mike. On the other hand, if she died suddenly, Mike might well investigate. He might figure out what happened and send Sai Yuan Woo to jail for life. That would be a fitting end for the Dragon.

April left the precinct without returning her calls. She didn't notice Baum's driving and didn't hear a word he said, though he chattered all the way downtown.

Bernardino's first words when she entered his glass

office were "You look bad. What's the matter with you?"

April sniffed her hand. "Don't worry about it."

"Who said I was worried? You just look green, honey pie." He called out into the squad room, "Madison, would you get the sergeant here some coffee? Baum, you want some coffee, too?" he asked Woody.

"Sure, why not?" Baum said.

Alfie returned to the subject. "You, ah, smell like a—"

"Swamp?" April helped him out.

"And you're green."

"So people have been telling me."

"You coming down with something?"

"Where's your witness? I haven't got much time."

Alfie regarded her uneasily. "You want me to get you a doctor?"

"No."

Madison came in with a single cup of precinct coffee and offered it to April. She took it, nodding her thanks. "Woody, you want to run up to the Popescu apartment and get hold of a photograph of Heather Rose?" she asked him.

"You want me to go up there now?"

"Yes. Don't call first, and don't say what you need it for. Is it okay if Madison brings the grandmother in here to ID Heather Rose?"

"Where are you going with this, April? We got a death to deal with."

"It's all connected. Madison's grandmother with the stroller saw Heather Popescu give the baby to a young woman. If we can get her to ID Heather, and ID the woman she saw Heather give the baby to as our dead girl, bingo. I just hope we don't turn up a dead baby down here."

"You think she may have killed the baby before she killed herself—or was helped along?" Alfie asked.

"Anything's possible," April murmured. She put her hand to her mouth and waited until Baum was out in the squad room. "I want to see where the body was found."

"I'll go with you."

"Then I want to see her."

"Annie Lee?"

"No, the body."

"Whatever you need, but I want you to talk to Annie."

"I only have until noon," April warned.

"What happens then, do you turn into a pumpkin?"

"Probably."

Alfie laughed. April didn't. They trooped downstairs and got into an unmarked vehicle parked down the street. A few minutes later they'd crossed the Bowery and were cruising Allen. The two-way divided avenue that bore the unassuming name of Allen Street had seen many changes over the years. Now, in addition to pockets of five- and six-story tenements from the turn of the century, and even smaller buildings like the one owned by the Popescu family, there were twenty-story apartment buildings with terraces and the large Hong Kong Supermarket where the daughter of the blue Perego stroller's new owner worked.

April stared out of the backseat window at the Popescu building. It hadn't been much to look at when it was built and was now lost in time, unexceptional in every way, just waiting for the wrecking ball. Nothing gave away what the property was used for. No air conditioners were installed in the blackened front windows. No signs identified the business. No brass plate named the tenants. And there were no yellow crime-scene tapes on the sidewalk where she assumed the dead girl had been found. April didn't believe for a moment that the girl had jumped. She guessed that the girl had killed the baby after Heather gave it back to her, and that one of the Popescus had thrown her out the window in a rage.

"Where's the scene?" she asked suddenly.

Alfie turned around and flashed her a look from the front seat. "Didn't I tell you? She was found in the alley."

No, he had not. April felt really sick. The uniform driving them killed the motor. April grabbed her purse and got out of the car slowly. It was her fault for not tumbling to this yesterday. If they'd been more agressive, maybe both mother and baby would still be alive. What were the chances of finding the baby alive now? She was afraid that the god of messing up had bewitched her last night. That faceless demon was responsible for making her think of shopping, of food. And yes, for making her so hot for love that she'd thought more of Mike, more of Emma and her pregnancy, more of searching birth records for a live Eurasian baby, than of pressing the Popescus about their employees. She'd followed the tangent instead of the lead, and now a woman was dead and had been thrown out, another piece of useless garbage.

Her face flushed. Drops of cold sweat sprouted like seedlings on her forehead—whether from sickness or shame, she didn't know. But she did know she couldn't just run away, just return to Midtown North and obey Iriarte's command to avoid involvement in this death that had occurred way out of her precinct. Alfie's concerned face told her that Madison Young had not taken her place in his estimation. She didn't have a choice. She had to stay and find out what happened to make that poor woman end up in an alley. She checked her watch. Now she doubted her wisdom in sending Baum uptown to get a photo of Heather. He'd been gone for more than forty minutes. Even with his driving style it would take upwards of two hours to get uptown to Fifty-ninth Street, wheedle a picture from the Popescu apartment, get back to show it to the stroller grandmother, and make a positive ID on Heather Rose. They also needed a photo of the dead woman for Heather Rose to see. April's gut clenched. She was getting soft. She was doing it backwards. And of course she needed to talk to the supervisor who'd said she'd seen the dead woman jump. It was already a quarter of eleven. No way was she getting back to Midtown North by noon. She looked around for a phone, thinking she should call her boss, had forgotten she now carried one in her pocket. Her right leg felt strange, weak, stuck with pins and needles. Another needle was lodged behind her right eye, stabbing outward. She wondered if this was what dying felt like.

"Hshh, hshh, hshhh."

Alfie was making the kind of sniffing noises in her direction that excited dogs make when they're close to dead meat. April's heart accelerated in a sudden surge. She could feel the

thud thud thud

as the crucial muscle kicked into gear, shooting boiling blood through her veins. She didn't want to die.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, let's go."

They crossed the sidewalk and passed through a chain-link gate into a junk-filled alley festooned with the yellow police tape April had somehow thought would be out front on Allen Street. Why had Alfie given her the impression the girl had gone out the front windows? She shook herself.

"What?" Alfie read her mind.

The cracked pavement around where the body had been found had been picked clean, possibly swept up or even vacuumed by the Crime Scene Unit. Only a few spots of dried blood were visible. April looked up at the sky. The eyes of dozens of uncurtained windows stared down at her. The alley streaked west across rows of building backs on the two blocks perpendicular to north-south running Allen Street. On the side streets moving west most of the buildings were small and had laundry strung out the windows. But directly opposite, with an entrance on Allen, was a modern apartment house, more than twelve stories tall. One side of this building had ringside seats on the backyard. Alfie followed her gaze and read her mind once again. "Yeah, we have people in there now."

April's pocket burbled, unnerving her with the unexpected vibration. After a few pulses, she managed to pluck out the plastic flip-down and gingerly punch the Talk button. She was upset and distracted by the interruption. In a normal and healthy state she would have grumbled and snapped. But now her voice came out like warm honey.

"Where are you,

chico?

' Oh, she was in trouble.

"I have a prelim on your Jane Doe," Mike said without introduction. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Guess."

"How do you know about this?" she asked.

Mike made a sound that managed even on the phone to sound arrogant and impatient at the same time. "The woman was already dead when she hit the ground."

April's eyes swept the few spots of blood on the cement.

"Tell me something I didn't know."

"Okay. She was young, a teenager, a seamstress from the looks of the calluses on her thumbs, index, and pinkie fingers. She was undernourished, dehydrated, and had some real bad pelvic infection. The doc said she also had herpes and pneumonia. She was not a healthy lady."

April's spirits sank. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, she'd had a baby."

"Uh-huh."

Alfie scowled at her, tapping his foot impatiently. "What?"

April held up a finger to silence him.

"Might be the mother you're looking for."

"Uh-huh."

"What

?" Alfie punched her arm. She ignored him.

"What was the COD?" April asked.

"Someone bashed her skull in."

"Oh, God." More green spots drifted across April's field of vision. She had a brief vision of Anton's angry face and wondered if he was the killer. Maybe he'd retrieved the baby already and had hidden it somewhere. April wanted to tell Mike that she was sick, that people around her were sniffing her as if she smelled of death. She knew that sick smell and was scared of it. She'd been so out of it when she left home that morning she hadn't known the putrid odor was clinging to her. She didn't know how to tell him any of those things on the phone.

"You don't sound good. Is something wrong?"

"Yeah. What's your involvement in the case?" she asked weakly.

"I'm in. Where are you?"

"Allen Street. Maybe there is a God," she murmured, surprised she was so relieved.

"What?"

Alfie demanded again.

April handed the phone to him. "It's Sergeant Sanchez of Homicide. He seems to know all about it. Talk to him yourself."

The two conferred while April swayed on her feet. I'm dying, she thought. Then, Better find the baby first.

Alfie hung up and handed her the phone without turning it off. It took her a few seconds to hit Power, flip it up, and put it away.

"What's the plan?" she asked.

Bernardino turned to a detective smoking a cigarette at his side. "Annie Lee?"

"Okay." April wondered where Mike was and when he planned to join her.

Now she was irritated as well as faint. Baum hadn't come back from uptown yet. Mike had hung up before she could tell him she was seriously sick. She didn't remember his cell number so she couldn't call him back. She might have beeped him if she'd thought of it, but she didn't think of it. Instead she gazed bale-fully at Alfie, who was being high-handed just like the old days. Only one person knew how long her legs would hold up; her mother. She wasn't going to call Skinny Dragon.

Alfie approached her, stepping over some soiled rags to get there. He put a solicitous hand on her shoulder. "You're not looking too good, April. Come on, I'll take you back."

Back where? April heard thunder, but the sun was out, shooting blinding white light into the Ming-blue sky. She looked up at the blacked-out windows in the Popescu building, her brain scuttling like a rat in a maze. They were going to talk to Annie Lee, but why weren't they going up there to examine the rooms behind the windows first? Her vision clouded and her brain shut down before she had a chance to ask.