“Is that what you think?” He touched her, a hand to her cheek, a cheek pale from a restless night. “Because the name was given to him along the way instead of at the beginning, it isn’t real?”
“It’s not what I think, it’s what he thinks that matters.”
Now he framed her face. “You know who you are, Eve.”
“Most of the time.” She lifted a hand, laid it on his wrist. “You want to come along because of the nightmare. You’d already worked it out that I was making correlations with myself on this. I won’t deny I have, but it doesn’t get in the way of the job.”
“I didn’t think it would.”
“I’ll think about it. I’ll contact you and let you know.” She turned toward the door, then back. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
The building on Avenue B was a beauty. Or as she was told by the cooperative job foreman, the three buildings being turned into one multipurpose complex was a beauty. The old brick had already been blasted clean of grime and soot and graffiti so the color glowed muted rose.
She doubted that would last long.
The lines were clean and straight, with the beauty in the simplicity of form.
“Damn shame the way it was let go” was foreman Hinkey’s opinion as he walked them inside the entrance of the middle building. “Useta be apartments and such, and the basic structures held up. But, jeemaneze, you shoulda seen the guts of the place. Torn to shit and back. Wood rotted out, floors sagging, plumbing out of the freaking Ice Age. You had your cracked drywall and your busted windows. Some people just got no respect for buildings, you know?”
“Guess not. You lock the place down tight when the crew’s not here?”
“Damn straight. You got your vandals and your looters and your sidewalk sleepers, your assholes looking for a place to screw around or deal.” He shook his head, adorned with a dusty Whittier gimme cap. “We got a lot of equipment in here, not to mention the supplies. Steve-Mr. Whittier-he don’t stint on security. He runs a class operation.”
She didn’t know about class, but she knew about noise. Inside there was plenty of it.
“Lot of space,” she commented.
“Five floors, three buildings. You got round about eighteen thousand square, not counting rooftop area. Gonna be a mix of residential and business. Keeping as much of the original structures and features we can salvage, and we’ll install new where we can’t, keeping the original style.”
“Yeah. This much space, three buildings, there’s a lot of ways in and out. A lot to cover.”
“We got a central security system, and individual backups on each building.”
“Who’s got the codes?”
“Ah, that’d be Steve, myself, head carpenter, assistant foreman and the security company.”
“You can give those names to my partner. We’d like to look around.”
“You going any farther than this, you gotta have your hard hat and goggles. That’s the law.”
“No problem.” Eve took the canary-yellow construction hat and the safety glasses. “Can you show me where you’ve used the flame sealant?”
“Damn near all the subflooring’s been sealed.” He scratched his chin. “You want, we can start here, work our way through. But I’m telling you, nobody coulda gotten in here after hours.”
“It’s my job to check it out, Hinkey.”
“Gotta do what you gotta.” He jerked a thumb and began to wind his way around equipment. “This here’s commercial space. Probably lease it to a restaurant. This here floor’s been sealed up. Had to rip out what was left of the original. New flooring’s not installed yet, just the sub and seal.”
Eve took the scanner out of her field kit and ran a standard for blood trace. Gauging the size of the building, the time it would take to scan each area of flooring, she straightened from her crouch.
“Can you do me a favor, Hinkey? How about you get somebody to take my partner through the next building while you and I go through this one? We’ll hit the third after that. Save us all some time and trouble.”
“Whatever you want.” He took a two-way off his belt. “Yo, Carmine. Need you floor one, building two.”
They divided into teams, and Eve moved from area to area on the first floor. After a while she was able, for the most part, to tune out the noise. Buzzing and whirling, the sucking of compressors and the smack of air guns.
The voices of the crew came in a variety of accents. Brooklyn and Queens, Hispanic and street jive. She filtered it out, along with the music each section selected as background tunes. Trash rock, tinny country, salsa, rap.
Because he was giving her time and no hassle, she listened to Hinkey’s running commentary on the job progress and details with half an ear.
He droned on about climate controls, inspections, electrical and filter systems, walls, trims, labor, plumbing. Her brain was jammed with it by the time they hit the second floor.
He nattered on about windows, framing, stopped off to chew out a laborer and to consult with another crew member on specs. It gave Eve hope she’d shake him off, but he caught up with her before she made it to the third level.
“Apartments up here. Give people a decent place to live. Fact is, my daughter’s getting married next spring. She and the guy, they’ve already put in for this unit right here.”
Eve glanced over in time to see him look a bit baffled and sentimental. “Be nice for them, I guess. And I know the place is built good. Solid.” He rapped a hand on the wall. “None of that toothpick-and-glue shit some of these places use when they slap one of these old buildings back together. Steve, he takes pride.”
“You worked for him long?”
“Seventeen years this October. He ain’t no fly-by-night. Knows his buildings, too. Works side by side with you in a crunch.”
She found a few drops of blood, discounted it as she had in other areas. Not enough. And you put a bunch of people together with a bunch of tools, a little blood was going to spill.
“He spend much time on this job?”
“Oh yeah. Biggest we’ve had. Worked his ass off to get this bid, and he’s by here every day.”
He walked with her out of the unit, down the hall formed by studded walls.
“How about his son?”
“What about him?”
“He put in time?”
Hinkey snorted derisively, then caught himself. “Works in the office.”
Eve paused. “You don’t like him much.”
“Not for me to say, one way or the other.” Hinkey lifted a beefy shoulder. “I’ll just say he don’t take after his old man, not that I see.”
“So he doesn’t come around.”
“Been here once or twice, maybe. Doesn’t take much interest. Suit-and-tie type, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” She stepped over a stack of some sort of lumber product. “Would he have the access codes?”
“Don’t see why he would.”
“Boss’s son.”
Hinkey’s shrug was his response.
Her ears were ringing, her head pounding by the time they hit the fourth floor. She decided she’d have asked for ear protectors if she’d known how bad it would get. It seemed to her that the tools had gone to scream level here. She eyed, with some respect, a large, toothy saw run by a man who looked to weigh in at a hundred pounds flat.
She gave it a wide berth, flipped on the scanner.
And hit the mother lode.
“What the fuck is that-beg pardon.”
“It’s a hell of a lot of blood, Hinkey.” She ran the scanner over the floor, revealing a bright blue pattern along the floor, splattered on the wall. “One of your men cut off an appendage with that saw up here?”
“Jesus Christ, no. Lieutenant, I don’t see how that could be blood.”
But she could. Just as she could see the smear of it running down the hall. Where Tina Cobb had tried to crawl.
He’d walked through it, she noted, squatting down for a better look. He’d left some prints, and wasn’t that handy?