Nodding, Sheldon said, "It fits the evidence-not to mention the COD."
"And," Danny added, "since nobody noticed, and then Barker got shivved, it all fits. Barker gets cut, there's blood all over the place, people run around like headless chickens, and bam! Somebody bumps into Washburne and sends him to the ground-with a detour to the weight to crack his skull open."
Flack walked in, knocking politely on the glass door as he opened it. "This a private party?"
"Come on in, Don," Mac said. "We were just talking about the Washburne case."
"Well, I gotta get back down there in a little bit to process Mulroney for Barker's murder. Our little gay-basher's gonna find out what life is like in max security." That last was said with a feral grin that Flack only reserved for perps getting what they deserved. Mac understood the sentiment.
"He'll go to pretrial holding first, won't he?" Mac asked.
"Maybe-depends on the mood of the DA's office. But they got everything, so it's up to them." He looked at Danny. "Thanks for gettin' the file over so fast."
"No problem." Danny shrugged. "Not sure how much good it'll do, since the guy confessed."
"Evidence never hurts," Mac said.
Sheldon folded his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. "Doesn't always help, either, Mac. I mean, we've got plenty of evidence to tell us what happened, but we still don't have the faintest idea what killed Malik Washburne."
"Yeah." Mac walked around his desk and sat down. "Let's go over what we know. Washburne died from his throat closing up, which was an allergic reaction to-something."
Danny asked, "He have anything in his stomach?"
Mac shook his head. "Some digested food, but for someone to react to a food allergy, it would have to be right when they eat it, not hours later."
"And tox just turned up the Klonopin?" Sheldon asked.
"Which he's been on for weeks." Mac shook his head.
Sheldon unfolded one arm and gestured to the air with it. "What if somebody injected him with something? Maybe something we couldn't detect. If there's a puncture mark-"
"There isn't," Mac said. "Peyton checked."
With a sigh, Sheldon turned to Danny. "It's good when your replacement's as talented as you are, right?"
Mac managed a half-smile, then grew serious again. "Besides, there's no opportunity. How would someone get a syringe into the yard?"
Danny shrugged. "Mulroney managed to sneak in a shiv."
"Yes, but that was a clumsily put-together weapon, using material Mulroney had on hand. A syringe with something in it that would kill Washburne instantly would be a lot harder to get in the first place, much less take into the yard."
"Besides," Flack said, "after the stabbing, everybody in that yard was searched, and you guys went over the scene. No syringe."
Sheldon shook his head. "It's too bad he'd been on the Klonopin so long."
Frowning, Mac asked, "Why?"
"Well, an allergic reaction to Klonopin could potentially cause your throat to close up. It fits the evidence."
"What gets me," Flack said, "is that he was on it in the first place."
Cursing himself for not seeing it sooner, Mac stood up. "Of course. Washburne became a Muslim because of its proscription against mind-altering substances like alcohol-and drugs. He wouldn't take anything like Klonopin willingly."
"Yeah, but Mac-he's in prison. Hell, Terry and I were just talkin' about this yesterday-these guys try all the tricks in the world to get outta takin' their meds, but the COs usually nail 'em. If Washburne was prescribed the drugs, he'd be takin' 'em."
And then it all fell together for Mac. He walked around his desk. "C'mon."
"What?" Flack looked bewildered.
"I'll explain on the way. You've got to get to RHCF to process Mulroney, and I'm going with you."
The other men stood up as well, though they all seemed just as confused. Danny said, "I don't get it, Mac, what's-"
"I know what killed Malik Washburne," Mac said, turning around in the doorway. "Let's go, Don."
As he and Flack left a confused Sheldon and Danny behind, Mac put in a call to Peyton. He needed her to run a particular blood test…
19
CANNOLI WERE A SICILIAN delicacy: a creamy filling inside a hard shell. The filling was a mixture of ricotta cheese and sugar, and the shell was dough that was rolled into a hollow tube and deep-fried; the filling was inserted just before serving to keep the shell from getting soggy.
Many places mixed chocolate chips into the filling, which Stella had never objected to but never much saw the point of, either. It always felt like gilding the lily, trying to improve on perfection.
Belluso's Bakery did not put chocolate chips in their cannoli. It was the first place Stella had been to in New York that refrained from that particular excess, and it was enough to make Stella forgive Sal Belluso for his pola comment.
When she first came in, she noticed that there was a sign in the window that said NOW HIRING. Stella saw that Jeanie Rodriguez and one other young woman she did not recognize were working behind the counter. There were a few people at the tables downstairs, and a quick glance up showed at least two people upstairs as well. One of the people downstairs was working on a laptop; another table had two women and a stroller, in which a blond-haired infant was dozing; an older woman was finishing up a large cup of tea at another table and got up to leave as Stella stepped up to the counter.
As soon as Stella approached, Jeanie said, "You need to take more DNA or something, Detective?"
Shaking her head, Stella said, "No, no. I'm actually off the clock now. But this looked like such a nice place. I wanted to take in the atmosphere-as a cafй, not a crime scene."
"Oh, okay." Jeanie lowered her voice to a whisper. "But you guys're still gonna solve Maria's murder, right?"
Stella nodded and matched Jeanie's tone. "Don't worry-Detective Angell and the crime lab are on it. We'll find out the truth, I promise you."
"Good."
"Can I have a cannoli, and also a large iced coffee?"
"Sure. What size cannoli?"
Blinking, Stella asked, "What are my choices?"
Jeanie walked around to the secondary counter and pointed at the miniature cannoli, which were only a couple of inches long, and then the large ones, which were just short of half a foot.
"Oh, the large," Stella said with a big grin.
"Not the chocolate-covered ones?"
Stella made a face. "Uh, no." In Stella's opinion that was even worse than putting in chocolate chips.
While Jeanie rang her up, Stella said, "I see you're hiring. Guess that's inevitable."
"Yeah, we lost two people. Sal fired Dina when he found out she stole Maria's necklace. Can you believe that? I didn't think Dina could do something that crazy, y'know?"
Stella winced at that, feeling a bit responsible for Dina losing her job, but after a moment, the feeling passed. The fact was Dina lost her job because she chose to steal jewelry from a corpse. It was likely that she'd lose her freedom as well-Angell was probably going to bust her on obstruction, as her actions had confused the investigation.
After devouring her first cannoli in record time, Stella went back for a second that she could properly savor, then made sure to pay closer attention to the people who came in and out of Belluso's. She took up position at a table only a few feet from the main counter, which enabled her to overhear everything that was said, even with the light-music station being pumped out over the bakery's speakers.
About half of the customers just came in, ordered, paid, and left. Others had their order to stay. If people did converse beyond the confines of their order, it was on a subject other than Maria Campagna: the hot weather, the doings of the customer's job, the current state of affairs of either the Yankees or the Mets or both, whether or not the Jets and/or the Giants got hosed in the draft, how the customer's children were doing, how the customer's parents were doing, who was getting married, whether or not the customer's wife had given birth yet, what the customer's plans were for the upcoming school year, and so on. It reaffirmed Stella's belief that this wasn't just a corner Starbucks where people walked in, got their venti skim latte or grande iced mocha, and left; it was an organic part of a residential neighborhood. It was like the saloon in Old West towns, or the neighborhood pub in a small British town-this was where many of the area's residents came to refresh themselves and chat about their lives.