Tracking Time

Nineteen

After the Special Case detectives took off and Slocum left with the dog, April went in search of Woody, who had been busy asking questions and photographing people on the scene with disposable cameras all afternoon. The cameras were a surprising new initiative on his part. She walked north and found him under a tree near Eightieth Street talking to a boy and a girl. The girl, she realized with a jolt, was wearing a pink sweater.

Right away April pegged the two of them as private school kids. She saw their rank in the way they stood. Even from way off down the path she could tell the girl was holding court, aware of the power of her little body. Her voice carried a long distance.

"I love dogs. I bet you don't know anything about dogs. I know everything about dogs." She was excited, was bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You should see me work with that dog," she said.

"Sure." Woody caught April's eye. Relief was evident in his face as she strolled over.

"Hey, Sergeant, I've got a present for you. A real find. A tracking expert with a sense of style. Nice sweater, huh." He rolled his eyes at April as the girl turned to her.

"Yes, I'm an expert." The girl bounced some more, the boy couldn't take his eyes off her.

Woody raked at his crew cut with one hand and introduced the kids with the other. "This is Sergeant Woo." He turned to April. "What we have here is Brandy Fabman. She lives right over there." Woody pointed out the pink brick building, then checked his notes for the exact address. April spoke before he could recite it.

"Hi, Brandy." She gave the girl a warm smile.

Woody pointed at the boy. "This is David Owen. He lives on Park Avenue, but he hangs out here a lot. Brandy goes to All Saints, she's a tenth-grader. David's at Madison Prep; he's in the eleventh grade. These two have been going to camp together since they were nine. How about that?" He went on without taking a breath. He took a picture of them. Brandy gave him a big smile. David put a hand in front of his face.

"Brandy's mom and dad just got divorced, and last Friday her mom had everything done. Everything! It's hard to imagine, isn't it? David's mom is a banker at York Bank, his father's a lawyer at Debevoise Plomptom. They want to help us out," he finished. "Isn't that nice?"

"Hi, David." April gave him a smile, too, but he didn't return it. She could see the girl was high. She smelled beer, guessed they'd been drinking, maybe smoking pot, too.

"You're a cop? I bet it's cool to be a cop. Nice outfit," Brandy commented. There was nothing nervous about her.

"Thanks." April appraised the fuzzy pink sweater. At least two sizes too small. "Yours is hot, too. Angora?"

"How'd you know that?" Brandy gave her a wide-eyed stare.

"I'm a cop. I know everything." April smiled again. "What's up with you guys?"

"Could I see your gun? I've never seen a gun up close." Brandy kept on bouncing. She was wired, no doubt about it.

"Nope."

"Okay." Brandy spun around, changing the subject abruptly. "Hey, where'd the dog go? Did it find what you were looking for?"

"What are we looking for?" April asked.

"David and I know all about search dogs. I'll bet you're looking for a dead body."

"We're looking for a man who disappeared last night. Do you know anything about it?"

The girl spun back to Woody with surprising grace and gave him a hurt look. "Why wouldn't he tell us that?"

"He must have had his reasons." April glanced at Woody. He shrugged.

"You cops are spooky," Brandy giggled.

"Thank you," April said. "How come you know so much about dogs?"

"That dog that was here was a real dork. I bet I could fake it out easy." Brandy stopped bouncing, moved off the sidewalk, and drew a line in the dirt with her toe, challenging.

"No kidding. How would you do that?" Woody asked.

Brandy shrugged.

"I bet you couldn't. Freda's pretty well trained," April told her.

"Is that its name? Freda? I had a great-aunt Freda. She looked just like that dog." Brandy laughed. So did David.

Kids acting out. April was half amused. The other half thought they should be whipped. "So, how can you help us?" she demanded. "Where were you in the park last night?"

"In the park? In the park?" Brandy frowned at David. "Didn't it rain? Yeah, it rained last night. Nope, we weren't here. We did our homework and watched a movie."

"Where did you watch the movie?" Woody asked.

"My dad's," Brandy said loftily.

"What was on?"

Brandy smiled. "Who is this guy that's missing?" She drew another line next to the first one. Both cops watched her.

"He's a doctor," April told her slowly.

"What kind of doctor?"

"A psychiatrist."

"Eeew. David goes to a shrink. He hates him, don't you David?"

David's face went red. "I do not."

She punched his arm. "Yes, you do. You go every Thursday at five. His name is Frog. Frog, right?" Brandy started hopping on one foot. "Your shrink's name is Frog, isn't that crazy?"

"Clog," David said, looking miserable. "His name is Clog."

"How do you spell that?" Woody asked.

"I don't know." The kid was alarmed. "Brandy!" he said. "We gotta go."

April checked her watch. Smiling, she made a small motion of her head at Woody. Separate these kids. "God, I'm tired. Come on, Brandy, let's sit down for a minute." She headed for an empty bench, talking as she walked.

The girl followed her at a skip. "Can I see your gun? Please. I won't shoot it or anything."

Back on the gun. April ignored the request. "You know, I'm thinking about yesterday. It rained in the afternoon. It didn't rain at night. Maybe you went out for a while in the evening and forgot about it. You look like you enjoy a good party, drink some beer, smoke a little pot. What else?" April's tone was neutral.

"Oh no, no, no. You got the wrong person. My dad doesn't let me out at night." Brandy shook fingers decorated with black nail polish at her. "I don't do anything like that. Don't you know how bad that stuff is for you?"

"Do you live at your dad's?" April asked.

Brandy hesitated for a beat. "I live mostly with my mom. She just had surgery, though. She's kind of out of it." Finally, Brandy threw herself down on the bench, keeping a worried eye on David. "What's that guy asking him?"

"Same thing I'm asking you-what you did and what you saw in the park last night. What you do for entertainment, that kind of thing."

"Nothing. I told you, we weren't in the park last night, and I don't do drugs. My parents would kill me."

"Oh come on, everybody does it. I know what it's like."

Brandy gave her a sharp look and a little shake of the head. "Don't get me in trouble."

"Why would I get you in trouble? You look like a nice girl to me."

"Ha," Brandy said, but she was pleased.

"Anybody with half a brain could guess what a pretty girl like you would be doing in the park with your boyfriend."

Brandy blushed and swung her legs. "He's not my boyfriend."

"He looks like he's crazy about you."

"Doesn't mean he's my boyfriend. And I wasn't in the park," Brandy added.

"That's not what the officers over there said you told them."

"Look, we were in my dad's apartment. We saw the SAR dog. We came down because we wanted to play with the dog, that's all. I know how to work with dogs. I could give you some tips."

"What kind of tips?"

Brandy shrugged. "I know about dogs, that's all."

"How do you know about dogs?"

"I'm a dog trainer."

"No kidding. Who did you train with?"

"John Zumech-ever heard of him?"

April was stunned. She'd not only heard of Zumech, she'd worked with him. She looked at the kid with sudden interest. Maybe Brandy wasn't a complete flake. The girl yawned, and April caught sight of the tongue pierce. Okay, what was she seeing? A girl whose parents were just divorced; her mother was taking care of her own business, having her face lifted. The kid was acting out with alcohol and pot. But a lot of kids did. Right now Brandy looked wistful.

"Brandy, I can see you've taken something. If I took you into the station and searched you, would I find anything on you I shouldn't?"

Brandy laughed uneasily. "You're a cop. I bet you like to hurt people. Are you going to arrest me and beat me up? That would be so cool. My mom and dad would have your ass."

April's face didn't change. "Brandy, I'm with the good guys. I don't hurt people. I help them."

"Well, if you want to help that guy, you should try another dog. This one doesn't know shit."

April tended to agree with her. "Okay, it's getting late. I'm going to let you go home now. But I'm going to talk with Sergeant Zumech about your dog-training skills, and also your parents."

"Wow, do you know Sergeant Zumech?"

"Yes, I do."

"You know Peachy?" Brandy was stunned.

Peachy was Zumech's Doberman. "Yes, I know Peachy," April told her.

"Wow. My mom calls this kind of coincidence synchronicity."

"No kidding, your mom must be a smart lady."

Moodily, Brandy stared at David and Woody. "Not really."

April smiled in spite of herself. No daughter thought her mother was smart.

"He took my picture, why?"

"We're looking for a girl in a pink sweater, fits your description."

"Wow." Brandy frowned. "I saw a girl in a pink sweater yesterday. I saw her today, too. Real thin, long black hair, is that the one you're looking for?"

"Might be. If you see her again, will you give me a call?"

"Sure, I will, sure. I love to help."

April and Brandy exchanged phone numbers.

Then she met up with Woody.

"Anything?" she asked.

"They're high, but I don't think they know anything. Want to bust them?"

"It's an option for later. Right now I want to check Maslow's office," April told him. "It's up on Eight-nine and CPW. Let's go."

They hurried out of the park. The show was over. Central Park West was moving. The barricades were down, the media circus had moved somewhere else, and the park was open to the public again.