“But now, Commissioner, could someone access those areas today?”
“That wouldn’t be possible, Ms. Cooper. After the dig, the soil and plantings were completely restored. The men who work in that zone would have noticed any attempt to interfere with the ground cover. Why?” Davis asked. “These objects you’re talking about, do you think they’re connected to the murder?”
Peterson moved to the front of the room, next to Davis. “We’ll get back to you on that, Commissioner, once we’ve gotten further along with our investigation.”
“But why did you ask, Ms. Cooper?” Davis wasn’t easily put off.
“It’s like what you said about the girl’s body.”
“What? That the killer wouldn’t have put her in the Lake unless he wanted her to be found?”
“Yes. You’ve got half the NYPD doing a strip search of your Park. There’s no garbage, of course. We get that’s a cardinal sin. So they’re not wasting any time picking up candy wrappers and soda bottles. But they find three objects-each of which looks antique, and each of which is not a child’s toy or a broken sailboat-three objects that appear to be of substance and of value, on the shore of the Lake, just dozens of yards from the girl’s body. We’ve got no other leads at this point, so perhaps you should take a look at them.”
“I’m happy to do that,” Davis said. “Maybe your killer wanted them to be discovered.”
“Or maybe,” I said, “maybe it’s our victim who’s talking to us.”
Mike stopped shaking his head and picked it up to stare at me.
“Could be the dead girl,” I said, “who’s leaving us a sign. Could be she’s the one who wanted something to be found.”
TWELVE
I knew that would get Mike’s attention. Like most good homicide detectives, Mike developed a special bond with his victims. It started at the scene of the crime, when he saw the body at its worst, with the reveal of all that the murderer had done to take a human life. How much force, how many blows, what kind of injuries and how many of them were needed to cause death or were just an additional outpouring of some interpersonal venom.
He was there for the autopsy, when the brilliant pathologists coaxed more of the story from the bones and the tissue, the trunk and the limbs of the deceased.
And then he stayed on it, with fierce determination and a unique skill set-part from his father’s DNA and the rest from his own training and experience-until he could see that some measure of justice was done.
The detectives hammered Commissioner Davis with questions for another hour. We took notes of every mention, interested as always to see in how many different directions each one of these investigators could go with the same information.
The meeting broke up at two o’clock, most of the men as anxious to grab lunch as they were to get back to work.
Davis had invited Peterson, Chirico, Mike, and me to come to his office and had instructed his assistant to call out for sandwiches.
While he returned some of the calls that had come in during our session, Sergeant Chirico took me aside, steering me by the elbow into an alcove outside Davis’s office.
“It doesn’t help things if you start going rogue on me, Alex. Jumping up on the table in the boathouse to threaten to take your clothes off, letting go with a line about being lovers in front of the whole gang…”
“Look at the faces of your men, Sarge. I don’t think Judge Pell’s wrath is a well-kept secret. And according to Vickee, DCPI might as well put out a press release confirming that Mike and I are a couple. Whatever plan you think you have, I’m guessing it’s too subtle. I think you need to fight Pell’s fire with fire.”
“How?”
I exhaled. “I don’t know. Let me think about it. You just can’t let her win this battle.”
“Alex? Manny?” Peterson called from down the hallway. “Where are you two?”
We walked back to the commissioner’s office in silence, past the handsome murals of nineteenth-century soldiers in formation, a reminder of the original purpose of the building.
Davis asked to see the three photographs I had taken of the vouchered items. He studied the angel with intense focus. “All I can suggest is sending someone to the Columbia group with this figure, to see if it looks like anything they uncovered in the dig.”
“Will do,” Mike said.
“And these miniature statues of the fort and the Obelisk, they’re really interesting. Do they have any maker’s marks?”
“I left them at the lab the other day, just to see if they might have any forensic evidence on them. But that was a negative. So once the mud is off them, we can check for that.”
“What I need to do, Detective, is introduce you to the head of the Conservancy. This is the kind of thing that looks unusual enough that she or someone on her staff might be familiar with it.”
“That would be great,” Mike said, steno pad in hand to take down her information.
“Her name is Mia Schneider. My secretary will give you her number. But she’s out of town for another two days, and no one knows the Park’s history as well as she does.”
“Then I’ll pick them up tomorrow and be ready when she’s back on Wednesday or Thursday.”
“I can do better than that,” Davis said. “Wednesday evening is the annual Conservancy fund-raiser. It’s held in the Park-in the Conservatory Garden. It’s a pretty spectacular way to see Central Park. My wife and I have a table. Why don’t you be my guest, Detective? I can introduce you to anyone connected to the operation that you might need to know.”
“Thanks, sir, but I can’t-”
Gordon Davis’s eyes twinkled as he talked. “Sure you can, can’t he, Lieutenant? Hell, you can even bring your-Ms. Cooper here.”
“We’re not really involved,” I said. “I was just joking.”
Davis liked being mischievous. “I’ve got a sense of humor. I can roll with that.”
“It’s a good idea for you to go, Mike,” the lieutenant said. “Alone.”
“Sure,” Davis said. “After all, what if one of the zookeepers is the killer? Or a trustee? Might as well get to know the players. See them in their natural habitat.”
“Loo, I think the commissioner’s right,” Manny Chirico said. “No disrespect, Loo, but I think Alex needs to go with Mike. I’ll explain my reasoning later.”
Chirico clamped his lips together and nodded at me. If he didn’t have a plan to deal with Jessica Pell earlier, he was developing one now.
Mike planted his left hand on his hip, and the fingers of his right hand began working his hair. “Bad idea, Sarge. Let’s save the dirty laundry for when we get out of the commissioner’s office, but me and Coop? Not happening.”
Davis pointed a finger at Mike. “I’m expecting you, Chapman. You and Ms. Cooper. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I know Coop looks very Downton Abbey on the outside, Commissioner, but this broad is totally Homeland. There’s a Carrie Mathison inside her, obsessed with me like I’m Nick Brody, waiting to burst out,” Mike said, faking half a smile, “and I’d just hate to see it in full bloom at your fund-raiser.”
“Black tie, Detective. Cocktails at six, dinner at seven.” Davis said, dismissing us. “Anything else right now, Lieutenant Peterson?”
“Thanks, sir. Thanks for your time.”
Davis’s secretary gave us a small office so that we could eat our sandwiches. I carried them in, and Mike slammed the door behind me.
“Deal breaker. I don’t own a tux, Loo.”
“It’s a good opportunity, just like Davis says. Rent one.”
“I’ve got to spend a hundred bucks to go to fund-raiser for the squirrels and wildflowers?”
“Use some of the dough you made on all that overtime guarding Judge Pell,” the sergeant said before biting into his roast beef sandwich.