As he followed her down the stairway to the 7 train, he wondered why he had settled on Megan. It was true that she’d been assertive enough to e-mail him, satisfying his initial criterion. In her first e-mail, she suggested they had a lot in common because she also enjoyed reading The Da Vinci Code. But his in-box had no shortage of annoying e-mails from other women, each convinced they had found their soul mate in the most generic profile he had been able to create.
What was it about Megan that had piqued his curiosity? He had plenty of time to figure that out as he got to know more about her – from a distance.
ELLIE FOUND JESS sprawled across her couch at the apartment. He wore a wide-collared, checked shirt and a pair of weathered blue jeans. Were it not for the change of clothing and the can of aerosol cheese he was emptying directly into his mouth, she would have wondered whether he’d moved at all the entire day.
She draped her down coat on a hook inside the doorway, kicked off her fleece-lined suede boots, and grabbed a bottle of Rolling Rock from the fridge. Nudging Jess’s legs, she sat next to him and took a long pull from the bottle.
“New Yorkers are a bunch of wusses,” she declared, blowing her bangs from her forehead as she stripped down further, pulling off her bulky cable-knit cardigan.
Jess used the remote control to mute a show about motorcycles. “That’s not a claim one hears too often.”
“It’s the snow. A couple tiny flakes of wimpy pansy snow, and everyone goes ballistic. The drivers can’t drive. The pedestrians keep on with their stupid habit of waiting in the street for the light to change. Then they’re outraged when some dumbass who can’t drive starts to slide right into them through the slush. I must’ve seen three near misses just coming from the subway. And don’t get me started about the crowds on the train-”
“I hate to break it to you, El, but you sound like a true New Yorker. ‘Yo, don’t gemme started.’”
“Except I don’t talk like that. And I know how to drive in snow. And walk in it. And dress in it, for Christ’s sake. You know how many women I saw on the train wearing pointy high-heeled shoes? Three days of a Kansas winter, and these people would grow some sense.”
“In more ways than one.”
Ellie tipped the bottle at him, then finished it off. “Damn. Two weeks without a cigarette and I’m still craving it. You want something?” she asked, heading to the refrigerator. He passed on the offer, and Ellie settled back onto the couch with another beer and her laptop. She told Jess that they’d cleared Taylor and Mr. Right. “Still no word from Enoch,” she said.
“What kind of name is Enoch?” Jess asked. “Sounds like some celebrity kid name, like Apple or Blanket.”
Ellie flipped open her laptop and Googled “Enoch.” She clicked on an encyclopedia entry in Wikipedia.
“Turns out to have at least one thing in common with Apple. It says here the name is biblical.” She scrolled down the screen. “The name comes up in two contexts. One was a son of Cain, as in Cain and Abel. And one was the son of someone named Jared.”
“We sure learned a lot in those Confirmation classes, didn’t we?”
The Hatchers had attended mass at Blessed Sacrament most Sundays, and Jess and Ellie had been raised to say prayers every night. But other than the well-known stories of Adam and Eve, Mary, Job, and Noah, their knowledge of the Bible was limited.
She clicked on a few other links that popped up from the search. “I guess one of them is the basis of something called the Book of Enoch, which isn’t actually part of the Bible. Who the hell knows? Maybe it was the name of the guy’s first dog.”
Ellie switched the computer to standby mode and lowered it to the floor.
“I need a favor, Jess.”
“Can’t say I recall you ever speaking that particular sentence.”
“I mean it. It’s not much of an imposition. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ll find some enjoyment in it.”
“So what’s the hitch?”
“Don’t make me regret asking. I need you to go with me somewhere.” She added, “It’s for the case I’m working.”
Jess paused, obviously fighting the urge to go another round with her about her involvement in the case. “I can’t say anything to change your mind on this, can I?”
“Nope.”
Jess shrugged his shoulders. “Well in that case, don’t sweat it. I was being a dick last night anyway. So where are we headed?”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they stood in the Vibrations parking lot.
“Classy!” Jess yelled above the sound of traffic on the West Side Highway. He gestured to a life-size purple neon sign of an arched-back naked silhouette.
“I don’t know. She’s got a little gut, don’t you think?”
“I never thought I’d be going to a titty bar with my baby sister. It’s so wrong, on so many levels.”
“I’m sure you won’t be looking at any of the dirty stuff.”
“Of course not. I’m absolutely repulsed by the mere notion of it. The objectification of these women – it’s reprehensible, is what it is. I’m just doing my civic duty at the request of a police officer in need.”
Ellie figured she’d have better luck at a club like Vibrations if she had a man with her. Since Flann had personal obligations, Jess would have to do.
Vibrations earned its name in more than one way. The kinetic bass thump of heavy metal music rumbled through the floor of the building, while women in pasties and G-strings gyrated against poles, the floor, and, to the apparent delight of one drooling man at a front table, each other. The crowd was a bizarre mix of men sitting solo, staring longingly at the dancers, and groups of rowdier men who tried to appear more amused than titillated. Interspersed throughout were a few young women, no doubt fulfilling all kinds of fantasies for their accompanying boyfriends.
The bouncer apparently assumed that Ellie and Jess were a similarly adventurous couple, throwing Jess a look that said, You scored, dude. His look turned guarded when Ellie asked for Seth Verona, the manager who was on duty the night Tatiana Chekova was shot.
“Who’s asking?”
“The New York Police Department.” Ellie flashed her shield.
“He’s a little busy right now. We don’t have no problems here.”
She took a look around the vast club. “You mean to tell me that the pasties and G-strings always stay on in those back rooms? I won’t find a guy copping an extra feel during a private lap dance? Something like that would cause you big problems with your liquor license.”
“Yeah, all right. Hey, Crystal. Crystal. Get your skinny ass over here.” A tall woman with long, dark auburn curls and full red lips came their way. She wore four-inch plastic heels, a nine-inch leather miniskirt, and a purple halter top that barely covered her enormous breasts. “Take these guys back to Seth. Make sure you knock first.”
“I’m sure Crystal’s her real name,” Jess said to Ellie as he eagerly took his place behind the towering woman.
Following a knock and a quick conversation through the cracked door, Crystal delivered them to a plain-looking man sitting at his desk surrounded by ordinary off-white walls adorned with metal-framed Monet prints. Seth Verona, with his striped, collared shirt and horn-rimmed glasses, could have been anyone working anywhere. He invited them to take seats, like a travel agent about to book a trip for the happy couple.
“We’re following up on an old case. Tatiana Chekova.” Ellie handed him a photograph to refresh his memory, but he shooed it away with a wave of a hand.
“I remember. Not every day we have an employee shot in the parking lot.”
“What do you remember about her?”
“Dark blond hair. Pretty. Kind of a sweet girl, really. A lot less screwed up than most of them around here. She only worked for me a couple of months.”