She clenched up inside, but refused to look down. It was a daily trial to her that Sergeant Joyce, who was so tough and so good with men, and smart enough to pass every test, didn’t seem to like her. Every day April was aware Joyce could orchestrate her removal to some other precinct, and this kept the edge on April’s anxiety nearly all the time. She didn’t want to go back to Brooklyn or Queens or the Bronx and get lost in the backwater. She wouldn’t mind being assigned to a special unit. Special Crimes, Sex Crimes. DEA. Even go home to the 5th in Chinatown. But not now, sometime in the future.
After a full year in the Two-O, April had seen a lot of things she had never expected to see, met people she never would have known. In Chinatown she spoke the language of the powerless and ignorant, the prey of every kind of predator. She knew how they thought, where to go to ask the questions. No matter what the case, she knew the path to follow, knew the secrets. And she had never known that she was one of them, as powerless as they, until she was summarily moved up to the Two-O.
Now she was in a different world, a world of random violence, where rich, educated whites tried not to rub shoulders with the disenfranchised blacks and Hispanics all around them. And the people of color refused to be ignored, pounded white heads whenever they could. But this homicide was no street crime.
April held her ground as Joyce stared at her with apparent hostility. “Have you located the other salesgirl?” she demanded. “Maybe she knows who the guy is.”
When in the world would April have had time to check out the second salesgirl? It took her and Sanchez three hours to get someone from the Sheriff’s office in Seekonk, Massachusetts, to locate Maggie’s parents. It was the part of the job she hated most. She was glad this time she didn’t have to be the one to knock on their door and tell them.
April had learned that the Wheelers had six kids, but the number of kids never made the slightest bit of difference. She once knew a Chinese couple who had five kids. Baby drowned in the Central Park reservoir, where they were picnicking in a rowboat. Afterward, the mother went crazy, sat in a chair staring at the wall. Never recovered even though she had four other children to care for.
“I’ve got her number and her address,” April said about the missing salesgirl. “She was first on my list.”
Joyce nodded. “Okay, get the hell out of here and find out what she knows.”
April shoved off the windowsill with a small sigh of satisfaction. Released without bail. Wow. She pushed through the crush of detectives, who didn’t exactly make way for her because Joyce gave her the show in front of everybody. It felt good. Two minutes later Mike was at his desk, and they began trying to find the other salesgirl, Olga Yerger.
It was an hour later when they finally located her. She wasn’t at home and the girl she lived with didn’t want to say on the phone where she was.
“Gee, I don’t know a thing. Monday’s Olga’s day off. I have no idea where she goes,” her roommate said with so many hesitations and pauses, April was pretty sure she did. “How do I know you’re really from the police?”
“You can call the precinct and ask for me. You want to do that?” April asked. “Or do you want me to come over and show you my badge?”
“How do you spell your name?”
“W-o-o. How do you spell yours?”
“Ah. We just share the rent. I hardly even know her. Do you want to leave a message?”
“No. I need to talk to her now.”
“Why, did she do something wrong?”
“Someone’s been killed in the store where she works.”
“Jesus.”
There was a pause. The girl didn’t ask how or when.
“Now will you tell me where she is?” April said.
“I’ll call around and see if I can find her. I’ll call you right back,” the girl promised nervously, and hung up.
April threw her notebook in her bag and turned to Mike. “Want to take a drive?” she asked.
“That was easy.” He reached for his jacket. “Where is she?”
“Doesn’t want us to know. She’s probably working without a green card. Let’s try the roommate.”
It was seven P.M. on the first day of a big case. The squad room was riotous and smelled strongly of sweat and stale coffee. Five people in the detective squad day shift were still there, the seven-man evening shift had long since arrived, and both shifts were jockeying for desk space and the phones. April and Mike’s departure opened up two desks and phones. In the barred cell which was the main decoration of the room, an outraged mugger screamed obscenities.
11
Well, What did you do for a whole week without me?” Mike said as soon as they were in the car. It was hot, maybe eighty-five degrees. They took the unmarked red Chevy Sergeant Joyce had used earlier even though the air conditioner was broken. They didn’t like to use their own cars while they were on duty, and taking a blue-and-white was beneath Sanchez’s dignity.
“Pined away,” April answered lightly, busy with her seat belt.
It had taken him all day to get personal. It always happened when they were in a car together.
“No kidding.” He pulled out of the police lot. “Where to?”
“Prince Street.”
“Hah. Your old neighborhood.”
Hah. Now he was making the same sounds she did.
“Hah, yes indeed. My old neighborhood. I’ll try not to hyperventilate when we get there.”
He turned at the corner and headed down Columbus. Yellow crime-scene tapes still sealed The Last Mango. April knew she and Sanchez were both having the same thought. That someone should die so young and so grotesquely not even a block from the precinct was an offense that was hard to take.
Sobbing off what was left of her mascara, Elsbeth Manganaro had said that of all her stores, she felt safest in this one. “Because of the police next door. And what good was that?” she added for the fourteenth time.
“How many stores do you have?” April had asked to make the question go away.
“Four, but two of them are on the Island.”
“Long Island?”
“Where else?” Elsbeth demanded.
April lifted a shoulder. There were other islands.
Now she was silent. The beginning of each case was like walking into a fog so dense you couldn’t see to the corner, couldn’t even see your own feet on the ground. Everything was unknown. You didn’t know what kind of awful thing you might find when you put your hand out. What piece you might miss if you didn’t ask the right question. Or look in the right corner when the light was just right. Sometimes the fog didn’t lift to reveal the puzzle pieces for a long time. Sometimes it never did. Anxiety about finding some pieces in the murk caused April’s thoughts to jump around like a bird hopping from limb to limb.
Who would kill a girl with police cars parked all over the place just outside? Sometime on Saturday, probably just after seven when the store closed, but maybe later. The girl could have waited for someone who was picking her up. Maybe there were no police cars out there. Maybe they were all on call. What else happened on Saturday night?
“So where were you on Saturday night?” Once again Mike’s thoughts echoed her own.
“Not on duty. I don’t know what was going on here.”
“I know. I checked.”
“Checked what?”
“I checked to see if you were on duty.”