"Ducci's an asshole," Rosa muttered.
"We can't change what the bloodstains tell," April replied softly. "Got to work with the evidence."
Rosa made a face. "Okay, you've said you're sorry. What else do you want?"
"Oh, nothing. That was it."
"You have something else on your mind. I can see it sitting there on your brain, like a tumor the size of an apple."
you must be good if you can see that without an X ray." April moved a step toward the door.
"Who are the suspects? What's the theory now?"
The cop paused. "Oh, could be Liberty, could be Petersen's driver. We're still troubled about the murder weapon. We haven't found anything yet. As you indicated for us, measurements of the wound show that the hole in Merrill Liberty'S throat is smaller and neater than what we'd get with an ice pick. We're trying to figure out what kind of knife blade, or needle, might make a round hole that size."
"I suggest a knitting needle. They come in all sizes. Did the Liberty woman knit? He could have used one of her-"
April shook her head. "If she was a knitter there was no evidence in her apartment."
"He could have killed her with a knitting needle," Rosa said again. She liked that idea.
"That's a thought I hadn't had. Thank you, I'll check it out." The cop turned to the bathroom door again.
"No problem."
Rosa peered in the mirror. She sighed, then spoke again. "Who's the third suspect?"
"Daphne Petersen."
"Don't fuck with me, April. Petersen died of natural causes. It's in my report."
April shrugged and headed toward the door. "It was just a thought."
Rosa calmed down fast. "Anything else you want to know?" she asked, eager to make amends.
Again April paused before she got to the door. "Well, a lot of things. But probably nothing you can help us with."
"Maybe I can. What do you need?"
"A miracle."
"Well, I have a feeling you'll get one today, and then we can all get on with our lives." Rosa sighed, knowing it was wishful thinking.
"That would be nice. I wouldn't mind a day off," April murmured.
"No, I'm sure of it, and we women have to support each other, stick together more, know what I mean?' '
An Asian lab technician with heavy black eyeglass frames and permed hair pushed the door open, forcing April to move aside. She had a cup in her hand, nodded curtly at Rosa and April, then filled the cup at the sink.
Rosa frowned at her. "I wouldn't drink that if I were you, Marsha," she said.
"I wasn't planning to," the technician replied.
"Drink from the water fountain, not from the tap, don't forget," she admonished.
"Well, I've got to go now. Good talking to you." The cop opened the door and hurried off.
Rosa followed her out into the hall, thinking it hadn't been good talking to April at all. She was more tired than she'd been before. And now she had to go back downstairs to the stink chamber. She really needed a rest, but the next one was a five-year-old boy who'd possibly had his neck broken by his father. Rosa didn't want to keep him waiting.
38
Six days after the murder of Merrill Liberty, there were no more reporters hanging around Midtown North. A number of crime junkies from the local newspapers were now parked at the Two-O, bugging everybody in sight for printable material on progress in the Central Park basher case. Downtown at One Police Plaza, a huge crowd of reporters from all the communications gathered each afternoon, where Public Information held a press conference on the state of the Merrill Liberty investigation. The state that Public Information reported did not necessarily bear any resemblance to what was actually going on. Excessive amounts of airtime and page space, however, were filled with background stories on Liberty and Merrill and Tor, featuring the many highlights in their lives. Since all three of them had led very full lives, the saturation point had not yet been reached.
When April returned to the station from the medical examiner's office at 4:37, there was a chilling message on her desk. "Call mother." There were another two from Dean Kiang and one from Mike. In addition to those, there were five more messages related to cases she'd put on hold because of Merrill Liberty. She was looking through the little pile when Creaker leaned in the door.
"What's up?" April asked.
He smirked. "The lieutenant wants to see you pronto."
"Okay. Tell him I'll be right there." April didn't move. She stood at her desk with her coat on and called her mother.
Sai picked up on the first ring and spoke in a dangerously angry dragon voice. "Wei?"
"Hi, Ma, you all right?" April asked.
"No aw light," Skinny screamed. "Velly bad."
"What's the matter?"
"He die. Father no home. No can go."
"Who died?" April bit her tongue. Oh, God, she didn't need this.
"Unca Dai die," Sai screamed. "You worm, ni, you no better than ant—" She would have gone on, but April interrupted her.
"Oh, Ma, I'm sorry. What happened?"
Sai switched to Chinese for her account of going to the hospital with April's father (in a taxi because worm daughter wasn't there to drive them). Dai was in intensive care. She couldn't even recognize him he was so full of tubes and needles, Sai said. Tubes going in, tubes coming out. She began to weep. All the relatives were there. Al the friends. Out there in the hall, of course. April's father had to wait in the hall. Everybody in hall. The nurses only let special people go in. For some reason she got in. Then, when she went in, she'd only just had time to say hello and remind old Dai how they'd played together as children back in China when he began to jerk at his tubes. His eyes had been closed all the time and he seemed to be sleeping. But when she came in, it was as if old Dai had wanted to get up and join the living again. His spirit was not strong enough, however, Sai lamented. "Old Dai went to the other world before your father had a chance to wish him a safe journey."
Sai went on to describe how Dai had grunted as if he had something to tell her, then suddenly he was gone.
"I'm sorry, Ma," April said again, wondering who'd let her in intensive care and thinking most likely the old man had died trying to tell her to get out.
"It's almost five o'clock. Shift over. Come home now. Pay respect," Skinny Dragon shrilled.
"Ahhh, I'll be home soon."
"No bereave. How soon, ni?"
"As soon as I can. We've got a deadline here."
"TV say you double stupid, ni. Say you no good, can't find nothing."
"You watch too much TV, Ma."
As soon as she'd said it April knew it was the wrong thing to say. Dragons carry the pearl of life in their mouths and sometimes they breathe fire through it. Skinny picked that moment to breathe fire through her pearl. "You no gimme babies to take cawr, nothing to do, just watch TV."
Why did other Chinese mothers gather together in societies to improve the community in Chinatown and the neighborhoods in Queens? How come they bothered to build and work in community centers? Hah? How come other mothers found useful things to do and Sai Woo could only watch TV and nag her daughter?
With her coat still on, April hung up and went into Iriarte's office. Mike was sitting in his visitor's chair.
"Hi, Sergeant," he said carefully, then stroked his mustache.
Oh, great, trouble. April smiled at Iriarte.
Iriarte glared back. "Well?"
Well, it hadn't been the best day April had ever had. She made a big deal of searching for her notebook in her purse, then getting it out and opening it up. During her handbag rampage, her fingers brushed the paper with the printout of Liberty's E-mail to Jason. She knew she should give it over. But she turned the pages of the notebook, leaving the E-mail printout where it was. She didn't bother to inform anybody that there'd been a death. A pillar of the Chinese community had died. An old friend Skinny had known since the terrible China days. Maybe they'd been friends. Maybe even lovers. Who knew what went on back then? Her mother was distraught and wanted her to come home, which was not entirely unusual. But nobody would care about any of that.