"Let's see, I talked with Daphne Petersen. She told me some interesting things about her husband's character and that she'd fought with him on the day of his death. She still maintains that although he deserved to die, she didn't kill him because she worships the divinity in all creatures. She gave me a lock of her hair." April smiled then read on.
"I saw Emma Chapman, who told me Merrill Liberty was something of a shrew. The screaming and fights between the couple were pretty much onesided—Merrill was a coke user and did her partying with Tor Petersen because her husband didn't approve. That was one of their issues as a couple. I also had a long talk with Jason Frank," she said. "He told me an interesting story about a woman who tried to pierce herself in the heart with a coat hanger, and guess what? She didn't have to stab herself in the chest to do it. Dr. Frank also told me Liberty was not the kind of guy to kill his wife, anyway not with a coat hanger. I've just come back from a visit with the deputy medical examiner. We've gotten very friendly. She was so helpful she left me one of her hairs on the sink. I gave all the hairs I collected to Ducci."
Iriarte didn't look too happy with the report so far. "What do you want the hair for?" That was the part that got him.
"There was a hair on Petersen's body. I just want to find a match for it. You know how these little details can complicate a court case." April's bland expression didn't change.
Mike smiled. Oh, boy, are you looking for trouble!
Suddenly she smiled back. So I'll get an afterlife. "You know what else Dr. Washington told me? She now thinks the murder weapon may be a knitting needle. Did Merrill Liberty knit?"
"A knitting needle?" Iriarte coughed into his handkerchief.
"They come in all sizes," April said, sobering her face even more.
"This is all shit," Iriarte thundered. "You had a whole day to find this son of a bitch, and what did
you do? You went visiting with a bunch of women and a shrink."
"You wanted me to make nice to the ME," April reminded him. "I made nice to her."
"I didn't tell you to go asking for her hair."
"It was on the sink. All I had to do was pick it up," April said modestly.
"What do you think you're doing—no, don't answer that." Iriarte turned to Mike. "I get a call from the commissioner every hour. You know, we've known each other from way back. He used to like me. You know what the commissioner keeps telling me? He keeps telling me how personally let down he feels because we didn't clear that murder in the park last summer, and because of us, that maniac is still out there hurting young women. Now we can't clear a simple boyfriend/girlfriend murder. The whole world's watching us, and we can't locate one of the most famous people in the city. We got several people positive they saw the bastard on the street last night when there was an incident involving a possible shooting. The commissioner wants you two to get in a car and go up there and drive around until you get that guy. We've got to make an arrest before the week's up."
The heat rose to April's face. Her week was already up. She'd missed a day off. If you missed a day off, you didn't get to make it up later. She'd worked all day. It was her night off. Her mother was going to kill her. She glanced at Mike. He loved nothing more than driving around in a car with her all night. His eyes crinkled and he smiled like a pirate.
"Look, April, I'd like to talk to you about this in person," Dean Kiang said to April on the phone at 7
P.M.
"I don't want to lose touch on this. The boss is getting anxious. He's talking about putting some new people on the case."
So what else was new. April stared grimly out the window in her office door at Lieutenant Iriarte, talking to his men with his coat and hat on. The lieutenant
was on his way downtown for a huddle with their big bosses. Each time there was a downtown huddle, the effects radiated outward through the precincts like ripples in a pond. The talk would be followed by a press conference. The press conference would be on all the news programs. And out of the TV would come an announcement that some new important action was being taken that would inevitably make life a little harder and more pressured at the precinct level.
"April, you listening to me?" Dean demanded.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Here's the deal. I think you have potential, and I don't want you screwing up."
She'd heard this before. "I won't screw up," she promised, fairly sure it was too late for such assurances.
"I heard you paid another visit to the ME's office," Dean went on.
"Yes, I went to make nice."
"Well, that's the kind of thing I like to hear. Now tell me what's happening."
"Not a lot. We've got a BOLO out on Petersen's driver, Wally Jefferson. Also on Liberty. Word is Liberty's hiding out up in Harlem." She didn't add that she was still working on the double homicide/Daphne Petersen angle.
"Anything else?"
April considered Rosa's suggestion of a knitting needle as the murder weapon. Damn. She'd forgotten to call to ask Emma if Merrill had been a knitter. If Liberty turned out to be the killer, he could have picked up something close at hand on his way out, something out of his wife's sewing basket. Nice. But unlikely, since she hadn't seen any such knitting basket when they'd gone over the place.
"No, it's frustrating. There's nothing else," she said. Liberty and his wife were having problems. Merrill was a doper. The usual.
A pause, then Dean made a suggestion. "April, why don't you come down and have dinner with me?"
"Ab," April hesitated. She didn't want to say her evening was already booked, that she had an assignment to drive around Harlem in a car for four or five hours. With Sanchez most likely at the wheel.
"This is your night off," Kiang said.
How did Dean Kiang know when her days off were? "Well, not tonight, Dean. I'm working off the chart," April replied.
"I have to be in court tomorrow, but we could have a quick one. How about it?"
April watched the loyal troops wave as Iriarte departed with a flourish. "Gotta go, Dean, my boss calls. Sorry about" dinner."
April hung up, dejected.
"Ready?" Mike stuck his head in the door. He'd done some washing up, had combed his hair and mustache. It was clear he was ready.
"Give me a minute." April dialed Jason's home number. No one answered. She checked her watch. Of course. It was late. Emma had probably already left for the theater. She dialed information for the number of the theater and explained who she was and what she wanted to three different people before the phone finally rang in Emma's dressing room.
"Hi, it's April," April said when Emma picked up and said hello.
"Oh, God, did you find Rick?" was Emma's quick reply.
"No, not yet. I'm sorry to bother you, Emma, but I have some important questions for you."
"Okay, but I've got to get dressed in a second."
"Okay. One, did Merrill knit?"
"Huh? Knit?"
"Yeah, knit, quilt, do needlepoint? Anything like that?"
"Uh-uh, she thought it was boring. Merrill was a big reader. And she liked to cook. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, I'll explain it to you later."
"The other question," Emma prompted.
"Oh, yeah, did you ever show an interest in owning Merrill's mink coat?"