The Finishing School

16

THE DRIVE BACK to Melanie’s office was slow because of holiday traffic, but not slow enough to come to terms with the evidence she held in her hand. A glassine bag, stamped GOLPE in red ink, sealed inside a clear plastic evidence envelope. Unlike the empty glassines recovered from Whitney Seward’s bedroom, this one still held its stash of grainy white powder. On the outside of the evidence envelope, Ray-Ray Wong had neatly printed his initials, the date, and the place of discovery: “Miss Holbrooke’s School. Locker of Carmen Reyes.”

Why was Melanie so disappointed? So what if Carmen was the one who’d corrupted her friends, who’d provided the heroin that killed them? What did Melanie care? She hadn’t even known the girl. Too often in life, the ugly, cynical explanation was the right one. She should just grow up and get used to that.

Ray-Ray dropped Melanie in front of her building and headed off to the DEA lab to get the heroin tested. She ran for the door, the bitter wind cutting right through her coat. The sky was an ugly grayish white, and she felt exhausted, cold to the bone, depressed. This case was pretty much over, and she didn’t like the way it was turning out, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Juan Carlos Peralta had been remanded to custody and was refusing to talk any further. They’d seized heroin from him and from Carmen’s locker. The only missing link-literally-was Carmen herself, who presumably would be found and arrested in short order. Juvie charges, but still enough to wreck her life and break her father’s heart. Melanie told herself she should just accept the evidence the way it was coming in. Yet something didn’t feel right.

There was a yellow Post-it stuck to her office door with a virtually illegible message scrawled on it. Melanie picked it off and squinted at it. Her best guess was: “Made arrest, 6th Floor, Dan.” Man, he had terrible handwriting. And, mierda, she was infatuated. Because learning that new fact about Dan made her feel all warm and gooey inside. His handwriting sucks, how cute! Barf. Melanie hung her coat on the rack, slapped herself lightly on both cheeks, and muttered, “Snap out of it,” under her breath. Only then did she go looking for him in the interview rooms on the sixth floor.

Dan and Bridget Mulqueen were debriefing a strange-looking kid Melanie didn’t recognize. Pale and pimply, with long brown dreadlocks, his face riddled with eyebrow and lip piercings, an angry line of Chinese characters tattooed down his left cheek. The second Melanie stuck her head in the room, Dan leaped to his feet and came outside to speak with her.

“Who’s that?” she asked. Dan pulled the door shut behind him and came to stand beside her-way too close to her, in fact. As if she didn’t already have enough trouble ignoring his looks, his height, the clean way he smelled. She took a step backward.

“Name’s Trevor Leonard,” Dan said. “We picked him up about an hour ago on a failure to appear. Kid had an outstanding warrant for wire fraud from some Internet hacking scam. Heard about it from Brianna Meyers’s mother.”

She nodded. “Oh, right, Trevor Leonard. The school psychologist at Holbrooke says he was Brianna’s boyfriend.”

“I’ll tell ya, he’s a fucking treasure trove of information about these girls.”

“So he’s talking?”

“Yup. I grabbed him on the warrant, and come to find out he had twenty tabs of ecstasy in his jacket pocket. With the drug charge piled on, he rolled in a heartbeat.”

“Great. I’ll sit in with you so we can lock him into a statement.”

“Yeah, sure, but one thing you should know first.” Dan moved even closer. He was leaning down, practically whispering in her ear. There was no call for it. Yes, they were standing right outside the interview room where Bridget held the prisoner. But the door was closed. Dan couldn’t reasonably think they would be overheard. Melanie took another step back, heart beating way too fast.

“What?”

“Bridget got Whitney Seward’s phone records already,” was all he said. “That wack job actually has good phone-company contacts, I’ll say that for her. Anyway, you’ll never guess who’s all over Whitney’s phones-cell and landline.”

“Who?” Melanie asked.

“Jay Esposito. That nightclub guy.”

“Right, the school psychologist mentioned him, too. Who is he?”

“Remember a few years back it was all over the papers? Wiseguy wannabe, owned a string of nightclubs, investigated for moving product?”

“Club drugs?”

“Nah, serious shit. Heroin, cocaine. I just talked to a guy I know on the squad that did the investigation. They were looking at Esposito for running a string of heroin mules. Moving Colombian product from Puerto Rico to New York.”

“But they never arrested him?”

“They were just about to go up on a wire on his phone when their main snitch got fished out of the East River. Minus his head, which they never found.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Esposito doesn’t fuck around. Since then, as you can imagine, nobody’s been willing to flip on the guy. You never hear about him, unless he’s in ‘Page Six’ with some model.”

“And you say he shows up in Whitney’s phone records?”

“Yeah, big time. We got numerous calls, including-get this-a call placed last night at nine-fourteen from the Sewards’ home telephone to Esposito’s cell phone, meaning Whitney called Esposito during the incident.”

“Or someone else called Esposito from her telephone,” Melanie pointed out.

“Excellent point, Counselor. You’re very smart, you know that?” He gazed at her, grinning. Was he flirting with her?

“ Puerto Rico is an important transshipment point for Colombian narcotics, because it’s a domestic flight. No customs inspections,” she said hurriedly, blurting the first thing that popped into her head to quiet her fluttering heart. She was beginning to think she should’ve refused to work with Dan. Not that Bernadette had given her any option.

“Mmm-hmm.” He was still looking at her.

“You’re thinking maybe Esposito supplied the heroin that killed the girls?” Melanie asked.

“There’s another angle I’m just getting into with this kid, and it’s even beyond that. It’s gonna surprise you.”

BACK IN THE INTERVIEW ROOM, Bridget and Trevor Leonard sat next to each other on one side of the conference table, Bridget cradling her head on folded arms. She jerked up when Melanie and Dan walked in.

“Finally! I was getting tired of shooting the shit with Beavis here all by myself.”

“That’s not too secure a posture, Bridget,” Dan chided as he took a seat on the other side of the table.

“What? Kid’s a pussycat. Plus, he’s cuffed to the chair, right, Trev?”

Trevor didn’t say anything. Underneath his fearsome looks, he seemed vulnerable and young.

“How old are you, Trevor?” Melanie asked, sliding into the seat next to Dan. If Trevor was a juvenile, they shouldn’t be interviewing him without counsel and a parent present.

“Nineteen.” His eyes were an unusual yellowy green, like a cat’s, but wide and frightened.

“Oh, okay, good. You’re legally an adult under federal law. Have you been advised of your rights?”

“He signed a waiver,” Dan said, sliding a piece of paper toward her. Melanie glanced at it and nodded.

“I understand you were taken into custody on an outstanding warrant for fraud?” she asked.

“I was hacking. I sent out a game. If you were stupid enough to play it, it would invade your PC and steal some personal data. I didn’t ever do anything with the information. I was just, like, punking on people. Like, for kicks.”

“Unfortunately, it turns out that’s a federal crime, Trevor. You skipped out on your warrant, which makes it worse. Plus, when these agents arrested you, you had a distribution quantity of ecstasy in your possession,” Melanie said.

“Yeah, okay. A small amount, but enough to sell.”

“Twenty pills. Not nothing. So you’re facing some serious charges. Which gives you an incentive to talk to us, to get a more favorable plea offer. Now, have the agents explained what we’re interested in?” she asked.

“Yeah, they just told me Whitney Seward hot-loaded last night.”

“You hadn’t heard?”

“No. I’m not much for reading the papers. I told these guys what I know about Whitney. She was hooking up with this total psycho club-owner dude, like, old enough to be her father. Now, he moves product. That’s where you should be looking.”

“Jay Esposito?” Melanie asked.

“Expo. Yeah. He owns nightclubs and sells heavy-duty drugs. My thing is strictly like X or K-”

“Meaning ecstasy and ketamine?” Melanie asked.

“Right. Club drugs, you know? Go down easy, don’t fuck with your head too much. But Expo moves the real McCoy. We’re talking H. Not that Whitney Seward messing with hayron surprises me in the least. That girl was constantly pushing the envelope, looking for the next jones.”

“Brianna Meyers, too?”

“What about Brianna?” Trevor looked blank. Melanie glanced over at Dan, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. He hadn’t broken the bad news to Trevor yet.

Melanie looked Trevor in the eye. “I’m sorry to inform you that Brianna Meyers OD’d last night also.”

Trevor swallowed hard. His strange eyes welled up. “Did she…did she die?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Jesus. I didn’t know that.” He fell silent, his face reddening. Tears began to slide down his cheeks.

“Uncuff him,” she instructed Bridget. Melanie stood up, got a box of Kleenex from a side table, and handed it to Trevor. Shoulders heaving, Trevor rubbed his wrist, then pulled out some tissues and pressed them to his eyes with both hands.

“Are you okay to talk, Trevor?” she asked, resting her hand on his shoulder for a moment.

“Yeah, okay. I had no idea.” He took the tissues away and shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“Did you know Brianna was using heroin?” Melanie asked gently, settling back into her seat.

“No. She wasn’t. I mean, you can tell me that, but I don’t buy it.”

“You were dating Brianna?” Melanie asked.

“I’ve known her since nursery school, but dated, no. We’re like BFFs.”

“BFF?”

“Best friends forever. It’s only since she started hanging with Whitney that things got weird with me and Bree. Whitney had Brianna pretty brainwashed. She only let me hang with them if I paid for shit, and it was at the point where Brianna was going along with her on that.”

Melanie waited as Trevor blew his nose and wiped his eyes some more.

“What kind of stuff did they want you to pay for? Like, drugs?” she asked.

“No. I mean yes, but not only. Just everything, you know? Whenever we went out. My parents are divorced, and my dad’s a dentist, which doesn’t rate shit on the Upper East Side. So I start saying no, because I really couldn’t afford it, and Whitney goes, ‘Oh, Trevor, I used to like you when you gave me money, but now you bore me,’” he said, adopting a high falsetto. “The fucking bitch, I’m glad she’s dead,” he added, wadding the Kleenex into a ball in his fist, though his tears were still flowing. Melanie fed him a few more from the box, until he got himself somewhat under control.

“We’re trying to figure out where they got the drugs that killed them, Trevor. Tell us anything you know. About Carmen Reyes, too,” she said.

“Carmen? The custodian’s daughter? What’s she got to do with it?” Trevor asked, sniffling, his eyes and nose still streaming.

“She was there last night when they did the drugs, and now she’s missing. We’re wondering if she’s involved somehow,” Melanie said.

“You’re messing with me!” He sat up straighter.

“No. Why?” she asked.

“Carmen’s this, like, uptight priss. They just use her to cheat on tests and shit because she’s a nerd, but they weren’t friends. If Whitney scored some hayron, she would never share it with Carmen. She didn’t owe Carmen favors like that, see? Carmen owed her, ’cause Carmen was a nobody and Whitney was the man.”

“So you didn’t know Carmen Reyes to be involved with drugs?”

“No way. That surprises me. But then again, I barely knew the girl. She wasn’t part of the scene, you know?”

“What about Brianna and drugs?” Melanie asked.

Trevor smiled fondly through wet eyes. “Aw, y’know, me and Bree’d smoke weed and shit. I mean, we been doing that since we were ten years old. But it was all pretty mellow. Get high, watch old movies, and order takeout from this Szechuan place on First Avenue. That was our thing.”

“Just marijuana? Brianna wasn’t doing any other drugs, as far as you knew?” Melanie asked.

“Once in a while, I’d get her to do a hit of X so, you know, maybe she’d blow me or something.” Trevor shrugged, blushing and looking down at the table.

“I thought you said you weren’t dating.”

“Oral sex isn’t dating. It’s just a way to pass the time.”

Melanie raised her eyebrows. Kids today. She was gonna lock Maya in her room until the chiquita turned twenty-one. Make that forty.

“Seriously,” Trevor said, noticing her reaction. “Holbrooke girls are pretty fast that way. They’ll blow the delivery guy instead of giving him a dollar for the tip, but since most of ’em don’t, like, actually fuck anybody, they pretend to be all virginal. It’s kinda bogus, when you think about it. You heard of rainbow parties?”

“No.”

“It’s where every girl wears a different-color lipstick, and they all suck off some, like, football player or-”

“Trevor, we really need to focus in on what you know about these three girls and heroin, okay?” Melanie said.

“Right. Okay.” He nodded, wiping his nose.

“Tell me what you know about Whitney’s relationship with Jay Esposito,” Melanie prompted.

“Like I said, Whitney was hooking up with him.”

“Hooking up. You mean sex?”

“Yeah. Now, Whitney was no virgin. And, like, recently she made a buncha trips to Puerto Rico with Expo. She started getting Brianna into it, too. I got weird vibes about what they were up to, but Brianna was holding back on the details.”

Dan shot her a glance, and Melanie instantly caught his meaning. Trips to Puerto Rico. Supposedly Esposito was moving heroin from Puerto Rico to New York. Could there be a connection?

“Whitney Seward went to Puerto Rico with Jay Esposito?” she repeated.

“Yeah. A few times. More than a few.”

“Did she tell you anything about the trips? Why they went, where they stayed, what they did there? Anything?”

“I mostly heard about it from Brianna. She was jealous because Whitney always had a great tan and a lot of money. See, money was a problem for all of us.”

“Well, Whitney was rich, right? I mean, did the money come from the trips, or was it just Whitney’s own money?” Melanie was careful to keep the excitement out of her voice. Sometimes, when witnesses were eager to cooperate, they’d say whatever they thought you wanted to hear. Best not to clue them in as to what that was, or you’d get unreliable information.

“Oh, Expo was giving Whitney money,” Trevor said definitively.

“How do you know?” Melanie asked, exchanging glances with Dan again.

“Brianna told me. She said every time Whitney went to Puerto Rico with Expo, she’d come back with, like, a lot of Benjamins and buy some amazing shit. Like, one time it was a Christian Dior bag with crystal charms on it, another time this kinda fetishy, like, Gucci dress. All stuff that cost thousands. And I saw it, really.”

“Brianna said Benjamins? Meaning cash?”

“Yes.”

“That was the exact term she used?”

“Yeah.”

“But isn’t it possible that Whitney was just spending her own money? That it didn’t have anything to do with Esposito?” Melanie asked.

“No. That stuff about the Sewards being so rich? Done! They’re burnt. The money’s gone-at least that’s what everybody says. It’s tied up in the apartment and the houses or something, and there’s not much else. That’s why Whitney was always hitting me up to pay for shit. Either that or she was really cheap, which I guess is possible.” He gave a harsh laugh, like a bark.

“Why would Esposito give Whitney such large amounts of money?” Melanie asked.

“Well, she was a hot blonde with a slammin’ bod, and Expo was definitely doin’ ’er.”

“You’re saying he was paying her for sex?” Melanie asked.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Trevor replied, shrugging.

“What else could it be?” Melanie asked.

“Well, okay, something weird happened this weekend,” Trevor said, kneading his eyes and sighing. “On Saturday I was supposed to hang with Brianna, right? But she texted me that morning and said she was on a plane to San Juan with Whitney.”

“She texted you from the plane?”

“Yeah. Both ways, going and coming.”

“It was just Brianna and Whitney? Did Esposito go also?”

“I think so. Because Brianna texted me Sunday, from the plane coming back. And she seemed scared.”

“Wait a minute, let me get this straight. Brianna, Whitney, and possibly Esposito traveled to San Juan on Saturday morning and returned Sunday at what time?”

“Really late. I think they missed school yesterday, actually.”

“I’ll pull the manifests of all possible flights and see if we can corroborate that,” Dan said.

“Do you happen to know which hotel they stayed in?” Melanie asked.

“Brianna said the El San Juan.”

“Okay. Now, explain to me what made you think Expo went with them,” she said.

“If you give me my phone, I can find the message.”

Melanie nodded to Dan. He pulled a small silver phone from an evidence envelope and handed it to Trevor. Trevor fiddled with the buttons and handed the phone to Melanie.

“Here,” Trevor said.

The message read: “Hey Tinks miss u DB is creeping me out with her fucked up shit her friend too you wouldn’t believe who’s here anyway she’s coming back to the seat in a minute if I ever see you again give me a brain transplant don’t let me do this again Friday for a fucking FB totally not worth it what was I thinking wanna smoke weed when I get home really really miss u luv bree.”

Melanie looked at Trevor. “Translate this for me. I don’t understand all the abbreviations.”

Trevor took the phone back. Tears began rolling down his cheeks again as he scrolled through the message. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, sniffling violently, as he read.

“DB is Whitney. Short for Diva Bitch. And FB is Fendi bag. Brianna’s saying, like, the bling isn’t worth it, because whatever Whitney has her into is so fucked up that it’s scaring her. Like, she realizes she made a mistake. And see, here it says ‘her friend too you wouldn’t believe who’s here.’ So somebody else was with ’em. I’m just guessing it was Expo.”

Melanie took the phone back. “What does she mean, ‘if I ever see you again’?” she asked Trevor.

“Beats the hell out of me. But it sounds like she’s scared, doesn’t it? Like she agreed to something thinking it was gonna be a big party, and now she’s in over her head.”

“What about ‘don’t let me do this again Friday’?”

“They must’ve wanted her to go back at the end of the week,” Trevor said.

“Where were these girls’ parents? I can’t believe they just let their teenage daughters go off with a thug like Esposito,” Melanie said, shaking her head.

Trevor shrugged cynically. “All Brianna had to do was say Whitney’s name, and her mom would be, like, How fast can I pay for your plane ticket? Buffy was pumped her daughter was hanging with a Seward. The Meyerses were Jewish, like me, and Holbrooke is WASP Central. Brianna didn’t fit in. Whitney taking her up changed everything for her socially.”

“What about Whitney’s parents? Were they totally out to lunch? I mean, these girls were only sixteen years old.”

“Yeah, Whitney’s parents were out to lunch. Out to something anyway. I was at her house a bunch, and I never once saw her parents. Her dad was always gone. Her mom stayed in her bedroom with the door locked, mainlining like OxyContin and vodka or some shit. If Whitney wanted to talk to her, she’d call her on the intercom, and most of the time her mom wouldn’t even answer.”

That certainly added up with the picture the tabloids painted of Charlotte Seward. Melanie briefly considered the implications of Whitney’s mother’s drug problem. Was it possible Charlotte had, knowingly or not, supplied the heroin that killed the girls? Perhaps she had a private stash and they swiped some? That would explain a thing or two-like why James Seward delayed calling the police.

“Dan, can you please make a note that we should interview Charlotte Seward right away?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, Trevor, did Esposito ever give any money to Brianna? Not Whitney. I’m talking about Brianna.”

A vein began to throb in Trevor’s temple. “I really wouldn’t know,” he said.

He avoided her eyes, and a light sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. Suspects held out on Melanie on a daily basis, but few were this obvious about it.

“I don’t believe you, Trevor,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Well, that’s rude,” he sputtered, flushing bright red. “Fine, then. Believe whatever you want. How should I know if Expo gave Brianna cash? I wouldn’t know that. Jeez.”

Melanie looked at him steadily. Trevor became even more uncomfortable and shifted in his seat.

Bridget Mulqueen had been shredding the label off a bottle of Poland Spring water, seemingly miles away mentally, but now she looked up. “Hey, Melanie, toss me that phone.”

“What?”

“Trevor’s phone. Chuck it over here.”

Melanie hesitated but then did as requested. Bridget began scrolling through the text messages.

“What are you doing, Bridget?” she asked nervously. All Melanie needed was Bridget erasing her evidence by mistake.

“I looked through these before. Hold on a second. Here it is. What’s this, Trev?”

Bridget held up the phone so Trevor could read the display. Without so much as a glance at it, Trevor thrust his chin out and said, “I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“Let me read it to you, then, jog your memory. ‘That lechuga is in locker 4703 near the Delta counter but only get it if something really happens to me then blow it all on something nice in my memory wuv u Bree,’” Bridget read.

Lechuga-“lettuce” in Spanish-was common parlance for cash among drug dealers, rap artists, and the teenagers who loved to imitate them. Melanie, Dan, and Trevor all stared at Bridget in astonishment.

“How much money is in the locker, Trevor?” Melanie demanded.

“Brianna wanted me to have it,” he whined.

“You’re in a lot of trouble already. Don’t make it worse for yourself. How much is in there?” Melanie said.

“Ten thousand,” he replied in a small voice, averting his eyes. Debriefing this kid was like taking candy from a baby, after the hardened characters Melanie was used to.

“Cash?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Why did Jay Esposito pay Brianna Meyers ten thousand dollars cash, Trevor?”

“Well, I can’t be a hundred percent sure, because she never came right out and said. But I have a pretty good idea Bree and Whitney were muling heroin for him.”