"Who's the guy?" I asked.
She picked up her sunglasses from the table and put them on.
"Cliff. His name is Clifford Trane, okay?"
"Take those off, Barbara." I needed to see her eyes. I needed to gauge whether she was feeding me more nonsense.
"I don't have to take them off. I don't have to be here if I don't want."
"Tell me about Cliff."
She wiggled her head back and forth, as though deciding what to tell me.
Mike took three steps forward and pulled the sunglasses off Barbara's nose. She was beginning to cry.
"He plays basketball for St. John's. He'll be a senior this year."
"Coach would flip out if his name was in the paper anywhere but the sports pages, I guess. Booze and clubbing don't fit with preseason training," Mike said. He would have to fill me in later on the college basketball scene. "Sometimes I think the media drives the criminal justice system, everybody worried about their fifteen minutes of fame instead of doing the right thing. That didn't hurt much, did it? Give Coop the rest."
"Why did you leave the Columbus Café?"
"Because of Elise. She wanted to meet somebody downtown."
"It's a big place, downtown. Where?"
"The Bowery. A bar called the Pioneer." The strip of land that ran from Canal Street up to Cooper Square had been skid row for more than half a century. Gentrification and the spread of yuppie hangouts across SoHo had encroached on the once-dangerous avenue, replacing some of the flophouses and homeless shelters with pubs and clubs. "Who was she going to meet?"
"Kevin. She said his name was Kevin. Or Kiernan. Maybe it was Kiernan. I don't know him, all right? I don't know anything else about him."
"You, Cliff, and Elise-you all took a cab together?"
"Yes," she said, whining more heavily now. "What happened when you got to the Pioneer?"
"It's a bar, Ms. Cooper. Get it? We ordered drinks," Barbara said. "Cliff was doing tequila shots. I think I had wine. I don't know about Elise."
"Why not?"
"She was upset, that's why. We stayed at the bar and she sat down at a table against the wall. She was talking on her cell."
"To whom?"
"Kevin, I guess."
"For how long?"
"Five minutes, maybe ten."
"Then what happened."
"Elise and I had an argument," Barbara said, as tears streaked down her cheeks.
"About what?" I kept digging at her rather than letting her pause to collect herself. The floodgates had opened and she was telling us the real story for the first time.
"I was mad at her for dragging us all the way downtown, like practically half an hour in the cab. I was really pissed off." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
"Why? "Because I wanted to go home with Cliff, that's why. I think Elise was jealous of me," she said, growing more sullen as she tried to justify her annoyance at her dear friend. "I mean, I don't know if she made up this Kevin or Kiernan or whoever he is. We went out of our way to go with her to the Pioneer, and the damn guy never showed up. Was I supposed to wait all night?"
"Did she know you were mad?"
"Yeah. Like I said, we had an argument."
"Inside the Pioneer, in front of other people?"
Barbara lowered her head. "In the bathroom. I don't think anyone else would have heard us."
"How did it start?"
"I told Elise that Cliff and I were leaving. It was after three o'clock.
I was tired and starting to feel-you know, sleepy," she said. "I asked her what was up with this Kevin guy, and she like blew me off. Told me to go ahead without her. That'd she'd be fine getting home. I tried to get her to come with me, I really did."
"How hard did you try?" Mike asked.
"I didn't like drag her by the arm and all, okay? Was I supposed to carry her out?"
"Did she know anyone at the Pioneer? The bartender?"
"We'd never been there before. Neither one of us. We only went 'cause this guy Kevin told her he'd meet her there."
"How did she know him?"
"Some party the week before. She said a girl she knew from work introduced her."
"Was she drunk when you left her?"
"Buzzed. I'd say Elise had a good buzz on."
"Was she still drinking?"
"Cliff bought her a glass of wine. Left it on her table. I don't know what she did with it. He was only trying to be nice."
"Where did you tell her you were going?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes once more. "Cliff wanted to come to our place, okay? I told her we were going home. I didn't care whether she came with us or not."
"How big is your apartment?"
Barbara blushed. "It's a studio."
It would be hard for two kids their age, one still in school, to afford more than that on Manhattan's Upper West Side. But the situation didn't offer much privacy when one of them hooked up with a guy. "Maybe she felt like a third wheel," Mike said.
"I can't help that. This isn't my fault. I didn't kill Elise and I don't know who did."
"The last time you saw her, where was she and what was she doing?" I asked.
"She was at the same table against the wall. Sitting there by herself," Barbara said, giving us an additional fact each time she opened her mouth. "I even called her from the cab, just to see if that jerk ever showed up."
"Did you talk?"
"Yeah. She told me she was going to take a walk, go to one of the other bars down there to find him."
"Which one?"
"I don't know, really. I told her not to do that. I told her it wasn't safe to walk around alone down there at that hour," Barbara said, rubbing her eyes. "I told her that I'd stay over at Cliff's place instead. That she just ought to get in a cab and come home."
The detectives would have to play catch-up. Nights wasted in the chic eateries on Columbus Avenue would now be spent in the uneven mix of spots-upscale and lowdown-that bookended the Bowery. Bartenders, bouncers, patrons, and passersby would be canvassed anew.
The photograph of the smiling girl in the white shirt, wings on the collar-and the description of her outfit, including the crested gold ring on her finger-would be posted in the Pioneer and in the other bars on the blocks around it. They'd have to find Kevin-or Kiernan- or whoever it was Elise expected to meet.
"Did you talk to Elise again? Did you try to call her after that?"
"No."
"Weren't you worried when she didn't come home Saturday morning?" I asked.
"I had no idea she wasn't at our apartment," Barbara said. "I didn't get there myself until Sunday night."
"You spent the weekend with Cliff Trane?"
She rested her elbows on the table and placed her forehead in her hands. "Yeah."
"I don't get it, Barbara. Who are you protecting in this?"
"Cliff's going to be so mad at me," she said, sliding down in the chair and twirling her hair again. "He was suspended from school sophomore year. Some girl claimed that she was date-raped by his roommate and that he was an accomplice."
I didn't know where to take this next and looked over to Mike for help.
"The charges were dropped, Ms. Cooper," Barbara said. "But if he's connected to another scandal he'll be thrown out this time."
"It'll be up to Dickie Draper, from the Brooklyn homicide squad, to figure out how connected your man is," Mike said. "In the meantime, you'll be working 24/7 to help the detectives find out who the guy is Elise was supposed to meet."
"I don't want Mr. Huff to hear this," Barbara said, lowering her voice. "I don't know if Kevin or Kiernan even exists, Mr. Chapman.
Like the way she told guys she was a flight attendant? Elise was making things up all the time.
FIFTEEN
The hundreds of gunshots that erupted continuously in the still, muggy air of that August morning sounded more like a war zone than an old park grounds in the Bronx. I waited with Mike at the entrance to the pistol range at Rodman's Neck, the training base run by the NYPD Firearms and Tactics Section, just over the drawbridge that led to the little village of City Island.