The 6:20 Man

Chapter 41

Devine left her on the roof and hit the street once more. He had only gone about ten feet when he had an idea. He used his phone to look up the real estate records to see who owned Montgomery’s building.

Bingo. It was owned by the good old Locust Group.

He put his phone away and was starting to walk toward the nearest subway station when two men approached from the shadows.

Detectives Shoemaker and Ekman.

They both looked grungier and even more pissed off than the last time. And that was saying something. Shoemaker took the cigarette out of his mouth and tapped it dead on the pavement with the heel of his shoe.

He’d probably like to do the same to me, mused Devine.

“So, are you following me now?” he asked. “I feel very special.”

Neither man said anything.

“Found Detective Karl Hancock yet?”

“He doesn’t exist,” said Ekman.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Because we think you made him up.”

“And why would I do that?”

Ekman barked, “To make yourself look innocent. An alleged victim of some nutty conspiracy to throw us off the scent.”

“Oh, right. And it worked so well. I mean, you guys spent, what, minutes, going down the rabbit hole because of it?”

Shoemaker said darkly, “Shut up with the smart mouth. Who were you visiting in that building?”

“It’s got nothing to do with what you’re looking into.”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” snapped Ekman.

“No, you won’t be.”

“You think we’re messing around here?” said Ekman, drawing so close Devine could smell his fuggy breath. “You think we screw around with murder investigations?”

“I think you’re trying to do all you can to solve it. At least I hope you are. Have you checked the video feed? Examined the electronic entry log for the time in question? You have a time window you can fit your suspects in. I actually pointed all that out to Detective Hancock.”

The only response was twin glares.

He looked at each of them. “Please tell me you’ve at least done that.”

“There seems to be a little electronic hiccup,” conceded Ekman.

Oh, it’s bigger than a little hiccup, Mr. Homicide Detective.

“Okay. And in case you talk to her again, Mrs. Ewes asked me to meet with them tonight. I already have. She told me about your finding the abortion clinic.” He glanced around, thinking. “But maybe you followed me here from Brooklyn.”

“She shouldn’t have told you anything.”

“Did you explicitly tell her not to? Because I think with that lady, you give her any wiggle room and it’s off to the races. Just my two cents.”

When they didn’t respond, he continued, “Now, here’s something really relevant to the investigation. Will there be any DNA left in Sara’s womb that you could match to whoever the father of her baby was?”

“Why?” asked Ekman.

“Because if you have any, I’ll volunteer my DNA to clear me from the pack.”

“You’re only offering because you know there’s nothing there.”

“Are you sure? She was pregnant.”

Ekman snapped, “And she aborted the fetus months ago. We’d get nothing admissible.”

Shoemaker was watching Devine through slitted eyes. “And why do I think Mrs. Ewes told you how far along Sara was, and you knew you were in the clear on the window, even though you’d slept with her?”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“And now you’re trying to play all innocent by offering up your DNA. You make me sick.”

“Well, that was clearly not my intent. But if there’s nothing else, I have a train to catch.”

Shoemaker put a hand on his shoulder. “Do not, I repeat, do not leave the area.”

“I already told you I wouldn’t. Since you guys can’t seem to catch Sara’s killer, I guess I’ll have to do the honors.”

“If you obstruct this investigation in any way—” began Ekman.

“I was thinking more along the lines of improving it.”

“You better watch yourself, Devine.”

“Right. I hope you guys have a productive rest of the night. In case you want to follow me, I’ll be on the Metro North out to Mount Kisco. If you could ever manage to find Karl Hancock, he could tell you all about that.”