"What are we taking her in for?" April asked after a minute. "Intentionally messing up an autopsy or unintentionally messing up an autopsy?"
She had been working for seven days straight, the last three days for fourteen hours at a stretch. Today with the funeral and the fiasco in Kiang's office had been the worst. Mentally, she shook herself, trying to wake up. She was tired, felt flabby and soft as she tried to work herself up to the nervy state necessary for telling the deputy ME she was in big trouble.
"You know her best. What's your call?"
"Here we go again with the your call, my call bit," April complained.
"You did pretty well last time."
"Fine. No plan. We play it by ear." She sank into her own thoughts and didn't glance in Mike's direction until he said, "There it is."
April studied the building at Rosa Washington's address. Nine stories. Red brick. Small windows except on the Hudson Street side, where the middle apartment every other floor had French doors and a narrow balcony for plants. The building was prewar, but not the kind of prewar Petersen's lavishly appointed Fifth Avenue building was—all limestone and brass and marble with huge windows. This kind of prewar was just old, kind of run-down, had an external fire escape. Mike parked in front of a fire hydrant and killed the engine.
"Let's take this real easy." April inhaled and exhaled a few times, trying to take it real easy herself. She glanced up at the sixth floor. The left apartment still had Christmas lights ringing the window, but the inside lights were off. The right apartment was dark. The middle windows glowed. April guessed that Rosa was up.
The front door of the building was open. Inside, the second door was locked. Mike found Washington's name on the menu of tenants: 6B. His options were to ring the super's bell and, if the super was there, have a conversation with him about letting. them in. Mike could ring Rosa's bell, ask her to ring them up, thereby alerting her to their presence. Or he could wait for some other tenant to open the door for them. Apparently none of those options appealed to him. He didn't look at April as he casually popped the lock open with a tool from his pocket.
April brushed past him, got into the elevator, hit the button marked six. "Nice and easy," she cautioned again as they moved slowly upward after a few introductory bumps. She realized she was afraid of Rosa.
The elevator door slid open. Mike moved out into the narrow hall first. April followed. Five apartments on the floor; 6B was in the middle of the hall, just opposite them. April took the center position. She glanced at Mike's face, taut now. When he lowered his chin, she rang the bell. She knew he didn't like her position. He preferred to be the target in front of the door, liked her to be the one covering him from the side. She smiled. Macho man. Rosa wasn't going to hurt them.
A crack of light showed under the door, but the occupant was in no hurry to open up. April rang the bell again. Maybe she had company.
Finally a low voice came from within. "You have the wrong apartment."
"It's Sergeant Woo," April said, then added, "and Sergeant Sanchez."
"It's late. What do you want?"
"We want you to open the door." This from Mike.
Rosa didn't reply. She took some time rattling the chains and turning the locks. When she finally opened the door, she was gazing past April at the elevator door. The window in it showed that the elevator was not there. It had returned to the first floor. Rosa stood in front of the entrance to her apartment. "What's up?"
"We need you to come uptown with us." April took in the fine white sweater, the gray trousers, and gold chain belt the doctor wore. The gold earrings and gold watch. The doctor's hair was washed and set, not wispy now. Her lips red. She looked good.
"This is my day off," she said.
Mine too, April didn't say. "Are you going to let us in, or do you want to talk in the hall?"
Rosa's face showed no sign of tension as she backed away and let them enter her surprisingly gracious apartment. The foyer had a parquet floor and a black-painted fence that ran the width of the sunken living room except at the entrance in the middle where two small steps went down. Recessed lights gave the yellow living room a warm glow. Trees and plants lined the windows facing Hudson Street. Two maroon sofas and two club chairs had a comfortable look. A large square coffee table placed between them was laden with books. The focal point of the room were the French windows that opened on the narrow balcony Mike and April had seen from below. Now that they were up here, April could see that the French windows were cracked open.
Dispassionately, Washington watched them examine the place. "You want to sit down?" she asked, inviting them down the steps into the sunken living room.
Mike checked his watch. "We're in kind of a hurry," he replied.
April could see he wanted to get moving. When they'd entered the building, she'd unbuttoned her coat, just in case. Now it was very hot in the apartment even with the French doors not fully closed. If they didn't get going immediately, she'd have to take the coat off. It didn't look as if Rosa was ready to come with them. The woman moved to the sofa closest to the windows and sat down. April considered her options in the coat department, but Rosa started speaking before she had time to make a decision.
"I saw that Liberty was arrested. Good job."
"Yeah. A real stroke of genius," Mike said sarcastically.
"What's the problem?" The doctor looked puzzled.
"You'11 hear everything uptown at the station." Mike checked his watch again. "They're waiting for us."
Rosa didn't ask who. She scowled and turned her attention to April. "I took you guys into my confidence. The least you can do is fill me in."
"It's your turn to fill us in," April said softly.
"About what?"
"Oh, a few things need clarifying."
"What things?"
"Your relationship with Tor Petersen. Your relationship with Daphne Petersen."
"Hey, hey, hey. I have no relationship with that bitch."
"She called you on the phone the day her husband died. What did she want?"
"She wanted to know when the body would be released. "
"Before she knew the cause of death? Come on, Rosa, the game is up. You have to come clean about this. We know about you and Petersen."
"Well, I can't do it this way," Rosa snapped. "I'm a doctor. I don't go to the precinct. You can send someone to my office tomorrow."
"Doctors come to the precinct to talk all the time," April told her. "Tomorrow is too late. We have to do it now."
"It's been a hard week. I don't work on the weekends," Rosa said stubbornly. "My position requires some respect."
"Rosa, none of us get respect in murder cases. Don't make this hard for yourself." April pursed her lips. She glanced at Mike, standing by the door. He was sucking on his mustache.
Rosa glanced at him nervously. "All right, I may have made a mistake about Petersen," she admitted suddenly. "Let's let it go at that."
"People make mistakes," April said, neutral.
"I thought I could get away with it. We were so careful."
"You and Daphne?"
"I told you I had nothing to do with her," Rosa said angrily. "It was Tor I knew. Isn't that—?" Her face flashed horror as April's mouth dropped open: Rosa Washington was Petersen's secret lover!
Mike picked up instantly. "Guess you weren't careful enough."