She didn't have to tell him what to do if things went badly or a warning call had to be made. He was a pro and he had everything at stake- his life, his family's safety.
She got up, pulled some bills out of her jacket pocket, selected a five dollar bill, dropped it near her cup, and walked toward the door. The man didn't watch her. He waited till he heard the door close before looking around quickly, pretending he was just glancing at the women in the booth and the traffic outside the window. Satisfied that he wasn't being watched, he suddenly felt hungry. He finished his egg rolls quickly, took big bites, savoring the taste even though the egg rolls had gotten just a bit soggy.
Across the street the man in the car with tinted windows had to make a decision, either follow the woman or stay with the man at the counter in the Chinese restaurant. He decided on the woman. He knew where to find the man later.
He flipped down his sun shade, got out of the car, locked it, and went after the woman who was walking slowly, collar turned up, hands in her pockets.
He figured she was heading for the subway station on 86th Street. He was right.
He was also certain that the man she had met in Woo Ching's and to whom she had handed something had something to do with this morning's murder. He meant to find out what it was before people started to pass out more blame, at least some of which would fall on him.
He buttoned his jacket, put on his ear muffs, and followed the woman down the street.
Stella stood over the table looking down at thirty one-foot-long, new metal chains laid out next to the wooden section of window sill that had been removed from the hotel room in which Alberta Spanio had been murdered.
Mac, arms folded, looked down at the display of chains. Danny stood at his side.
"Couldn't be a cable?" Mac asked, pointing at the groove in the wood and picking up a magnifying glass.
"Take a close look," she said.
It was her turn to fold her arms.
"See it?" she asked.
Mac examined the groove carefully and nodded.
"Cable would leave a smoother groove, neat, cleaner," Stella said. "The groove is half an inch across. All these chains are half an inch."
Mac straightened up and looked at her.
"If the killer came down a half-inch chain to the bathroom below, he or she would have to be really light," Stella said.
"Or really brave," said Danny.
"Or stupid or desperate," said Stella. "And he or she would have to swing through the bathroom window below without disturbing the snow. That, given the size of the space in the open window would mean a supermodel."
"Or a child," said Mac.
Stella shrugged, wondering just how small the man who had been with Stevie Guista when he took the room in the Brevard was.
"Still leaves a big question," she said. "Who was inside the room holding the chain?"
"It wasn't screwed into the floor or tied to any furniture," said Mac, picking up one of the chains.
"No. Danny tore up the floor. No holes. No chain marks or significant scratches in the furniture," she said.
"So, whoever was in the room held the chain."
"Or tied it around himself," Stella added.
"Even so, it would take a strong person to do it, lower someone down and hold steady while they swung into the bathroom window," he said.
"I tested the strongest chains that would fit marks on the window sill," she said. "Even a ninety pound person on the end of the chain would probably break it, especially if they had to swing through a small space."
"Sounds like a circus act," said Mac.
"Think so?"
"No," he said. "Database. Check for height and weight."
"Can we do that?" asked Danny.
"We can," Mac said.
"Can you see a man or boy dumb enough to let himself be lowered by a chain from a seventh-floor window during a snowstorm?" asked Danny. "Have to be awfully stupid or awfully brave."
"And have a lot of faith in whoever was holding the chain," added Mac.
"And what about that hole in the wood at the bottom of the bathroom window," Stella said. "It's not from a chain. It's from a big screw."
"So," Mac said. "What do we have?"
"A fingerprint belonging to Steven Guista," she said. "Also known as Big Stevie."
"Got an address?"
"He could be out celebrating," she said, handing Mac a fax sheet with Big Stevie's photograph and record on it. "Today's his birthday."
"I wonder what he was celebrating last night," said Mac. "Let's bring him a present."
It felt wrong. Flat. Detective Don Flack felt it. No evidence. Gut feeling. He had checked out the door to the bedroom in which Alberta Spanio had been killed. He had asked a maid to go into the room and scream after he closed the door. The maid was Mexican, a legal alien, Rosa Martinez. She didn't want to go into the room where the woman had died hours ago.
"You're not going to lock the door?" she asked.
Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. The door could only be locked from the inside.
Rosa went in the room, closed the door, and screamed. Then she opened the door.
"Go over by the bed, next to the bed and scream again," he said.
She definitely did not want to go over to the bed in which the woman had died, but she did, and Flack closed the door. She screamed again and then hurried to open the door and step into the outer room.
"OK?" she asked.
"One more thing," Flack said. "Go into the bathroom. Open and close the window and scream."
"Then I'm done?" she asked.
"Then you're done," he said.
Rosa returned to the bedroom, closed the door, moved to the bathroom, and opened the window. Then she screamed once, closed the window, and hurried through the bedroom and into the outer room where the detective was waiting.
"OK," he said. "Thanks."
Rosa left quickly.
The first time she had screamed Flack had heard her, but faintly. The second scream from the bedside was even more faint, and he heard neither the scream from the bathroom nor the opening and closing of the window.
He pulled out his cell phone and called Stella.
They had news for each other.
7
AIDEN BURN ENTERED THE LAB about five minutes after Mac and Stella had departed. She had the lab to herself. The refrigerator in the corner hummed and through the closed glass door she could see only an empty corridor.
She put down her kit, carefully unloaded the contents she needed, placed them next to the microscope, and then went in search of a cup of coffee.
She could get decent coffee from Adelson in firearms but she'd have to politely endure at least five minutes of feeble jokes. She chose the machine instead. With plenty of cream and one of the packets of Stevia in her bag, the coffee was tolerable.
She carried it back to the lab table, carefully placing it several feet from where she was working. No spills. She would move when she wanted a sip.
First she wanted to look at the typewriter ribbon from Lutnikov's apartment, which she did by placing it over a built-in light box in the laboratory table.
She drank some coffee. It was still hot but not burning.
Aiden gently, slowly, rewound the ribbon. It took her a little less than five minutes to get back to the beginning. She laid the ribbon flat and slowly began to wind it again, reading the words that showed through as clear indentations in the black ribbon.
… the third door, the last one, the only one left. He, it, had to be behind that door. Peggy had two choices. Run or, fireplace rod in hand, open that last door. It was almost dark, but not quite. Some light came through the window in the hallway of the small house. She had no idea how much light there would be inside the room. She had more than an idea of what she would find, a killer, the person who had brutally dissected three young women and one gay transvestite. The killer would be holding his working tool, a very sharp knife or a scalpel. The killer could be behind the door ready to attack her. Peggy knew she could use the rod. All she had to do was remember the photographs she had been shown of the victims, particularly of her own niece Jennifer. Rod held high in her right hand, Peggy reached for the doorknob. There was still time to turn and run, but if she did that the killer known as The Carver would get away, get away to kill again. There was no point in being quiet. He knew she was in the house, had certainly heard her footsteps on the wooden floor. Peggy turned the knob and shoved the door open.