Distracting.
Finally, Markowitz hung up. His gaze incorporated them all. “Everybody upstairs’s happy. I was worried, they were worried, well, it was a little radical what you wanted to do. But it worked out.”
Lincoln shrugged — one of the few gestures he was capable of — and turned his chair slightly to face Markowitz. “The plan was logical, the execution competent,” he said. Those were about his highest forms of praise.
It was Lucas who’d initially come up with the theory of who’d killed Verlaine and set Lily up.
Amelia, you know somebody in the NYPD evidence room?
He had a possible source for the shell casing with Lily’s fingerprint on it: the crime scene where she’d tapped Levon Pitt. Sure enough, the evidence log from that crime reported three slugs recovered but only two spent casings. Somebody, possibly, had pocketed the third.
“Okay, the gun at Verlaine’s belonged to Levon Pitt. The shell casing at Verlaine’s had been Lily’s, fired when Pitt was shot,” Lucas had pointed out when they’d learned this. “How could they be linked? Only through the one individual who had a connection to them both: Andy Pitt, Levon’s son, the kid who had — supposedly — been held hostage by his father.”
But what, Lucas speculated, if he hadn’t been a hostage? What if he was his father’s accomplice in the serial shootings back then? And he was enraged that Lily had killed his father?
It made sense, Lincoln had agreed, and he’d pointed out that Andy might’ve met Verlaine through his father’s junkyard, where, possibly, the sculptor bought metal for his art.
They’d found where the young man lived and worked and set up surveillance.
But no evidence implicated him. They needed more. They had to flush him, force him into making a move.
And Lincoln had come up with a plan. Using Lily as bait. They’d proved to Markowitz she was innocent and asked him to make the initial press announcement to that effect. Then Amelia contacted more reporters. Lily, too, had made her statement.
That virtually guaranteed that Andy knew Lily was getting close. He’d have to make his move.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Markowitz said. “I mean, you, Lucas, coming all the way from Minneapolis. That was really above and beyond the call.”
“Glad to help out.”
“Better get back to it.” Markowitz’s attention was elsewhere now. He was glancing at the notepad on which he’d jotted notes during his conversation with the commissioner. There were a lot of notes.
But nobody rose. Lincoln glanced at Lily, who was the senior law officer here. She said, “Stan, just one thing we were thinking about. One loose end, sort of.”
Still distracted. “Loose end?” He was ticking off something on the paper in front of him.
“You know what occurred to us? Remember we had the idea that somebody was using Verlaine to kill those women? Well, what if it wasn’t Verlaine they were using, but Andy Pitt?
“Huh? I don’t get it.”
Lily continued, “Sure, he had a motive to get even with me. But that doesn’t mean somebody else didn’t force him or hire him to kill those women, and Verlaine.”
Amelia said, “Like maybe somebody from Narcotics Four, after all. Andy Pitt never got to tell us why he picked those women. Why? Maybe the women could provide good info on drug operations in the city. Maybe it was Andy who got recruited by somebody in Narc Four.”
“And another thing that we were pondering,” Lincoln said. “Who exactly was it doing everything he could to protect the unit? The one who insisted that the killings had to be the work of a psycho, nothing to do with any cops?”
Lily took over again. “That’d be you, Stan.”
If the words didn’t have Markowitz’s full attention, the Glock that Lily drew and pointed more or less in his direction sealed the deal.
The chief of detectives sighed. “Goddamnit.”
“What’s the story, Stan?” Amelia asked. Voice cold. She tossed her hair. Lucas was still looking.
There was a pause.
“All right,” Markowitz muttered. “I did pull some strings to get the drug side of the investigation downplayed.”
“Let me guess,” Lily snapped. “Because the women were tortured and killed to get information on the drug player in town so Narc Four could become the shining star of the department.”
“Guess again, Detective.” Markowitz gave a guttural laugh. “Do you think there might’ve been some other reason why Narc Four has such a great conviction record — other than hiring a psycho to torture and kill users?”
No one replied.
“How ’bout because the fucking head of Narc Four was on the take.”
“Marty Glover?”
“Yeah. Exactly. We’ve suspected it for six months. Sure, the team was collaring suppliers and importers and meth cookers all over the city — except for one location. A big heroin distribution operation based in Red Hook, Brooklyn.” He tapped a file on his desk. “Glover was on their payroll and using Narc Four to take down their competition. The others on the team weren’t in on it. All they knew was that Glover had good sources.”
Markowitz waved at Lily’s weapon as if it were an irritating wasp. “Could you? Do you mind?”
She holstered the Glock, but kept her hand near the grip.
The COD continued. “But the Internal Affairs Red Hook operation against Glover had nothing to do with Verlaine or Pitt, or the torture-murders. It was just a coincidence the women were druggies, the victims. But then you started looking for connections. Glover freaked out. I thought he was gonna rabbit, go underground and burn the evidence. So I told you to back off. That’s all there was to it.”
Lucas asked, “What happened with Glover?”
“I didn’t want to move so fast but there was no choice. I called Candy Preston — from Narc Four — and we set up a sting to nail Glover. I had her use one of her snitches to offer him a payoff. Fifty thousand. I didn’t think he’d go for it, but he couldn’t resist. We got him on camera taking the bribe. It’s not as righteous a collar as we’d like — I wanted some of the Red Hook scum, too. But the prosecutor’ll work him over. He’ll give up names if we play with the sentencing.”
Lincoln gave him points for credibility. But he remained skeptical.
Lucas, too, apparently. He said, “Good story, Stan. But I think we’d all like confirmation. Who can we talk to who’ll vouch for you?”
“Well, there’s somebody who’s been in the loop from the beginning of the Red Hook op.”
“Who?”
“The mayor.”
Lincoln glanced toward Lucas and said, “Works for me.”
Outside, they headed toward the accessible van, where Thom sat in the driver’s seat. He saw the entourage and hit the button that opened the door and lowered the ramp. Then he climbed out.
Lincoln wheeled up to the van then braked to a stop, spun around. “Anyone care to come back to the town house for an aperitivo? It’s approaching cocktail hour.”
“Bit early,” the aide pointed out. Such a mother hen.
“Thom, our guests have had an extremely traumatic time. Kidnapping was involved, knives were involved, gunplay was involved. If anybody deserves a bit of refreshment, it’s them.”
“Love to,” Lucas offered. “But I’m heading back to the family. Got a flight in an hour.”