„What’s the problem, Harry?“
Sergeant Harry Bell was a beefy, red-nosed man in uniform. He and Riker had gone gray together over the past thirty-five years on the job. „You gonna see your partner before she gets back from vacation?“
„Yeah.“
„Well, you tell her she called it right on Oscar the Wonder Rat.“ Sergeant Bell leaned over the desk and handed down a fistful of currency in tens, fives and singles. „That’s four cops, ten apiece. We’re all square with Mallory.“
„What?“ Riker stared at the money in his hand. „You guys made bets on a freaking rat?“
„Riker, I told you about the rat. When you – “
„No, Harry. You only said she shot it.“
„Well, she said the rat was sick. That was the bet.“
„Talk to me, Harry. ‘Cause Mallory never talks to me anymore, and I get real lonely. What’s all this crap about a sick rat?“
„You’ve seen him. Fastest thing on four feet, right?“ Harry Bell made a quick darting motion with his hand. „But the other night, Oscar was movin’ real slow, tame as a stoned kitten. He was just sittin’ there on top of the candy machine watchin’ the world go by. So Pete Hong – “
„The new recruit?“
„Yeah. The kid’s real young. Comes from a nice quiet town upstate. I don’t think he ever saw a rat before. So he waves his nightstick at Oscar. No reaction. He gets closer, like he’s gonna pet that dirty little sacka fur. But before I can say anything, Mallory pulls rank and orders Pete to back away from the rat.“
That’s my little diplomat.
„So, Harry, how’d your boy take it?“
„Not real well. Then Mallory says the rat’s sick, and even a rookie should know better than to touch it. Well, that stopped Pete cold for a second. I felt kinda bad for the kid – first week on the job, and your partner makes him feel like a fuckin’ idiot in front of two other cops.“
„So then you had to back up your guy, right?“ Riker was nodding. He could guess the rest of it.
„Damn right, I backed him up,“ said Sergeant Bell. „I can’t have one of my men look stupid in front of a damn homicide dick – no offense, Riker. So, I figure she’s right, but I say the rat’s just overfed, bloated – and that’s why he’s slow. Old Oscar’s been raidin’ our lunch bags for years, and he was a fat little sucker. So now the other two guys are goin’ along with my bloated-rat theory.“ The desk sergeant shrugged. „They know a sick rat when they see one, but – “
„But backing up their guy is the main thing,“ said Riker, smiling.
„Damn right. So your partner says, ‘Put up or shut up.’“
„Mallory knows a good sucker bet when she sees one.“
„Yeah, she does. So we all put money on it.“
„Let me get this straight,“ said Riker. „You and the other two cops – you knew she was right, but you still made the bet? All of you?“
„Yeah, it’d gone too far. And Pete Hong was the first one to lay his money down. Hey, what could we do? Ten bucks – not a big wad to save the kid’s face. Well, now we all got cash riding on the little hairball. So Pete doesn’t want Oscar to get away, but Mallory still won’t let him touch the rat.“
„ ‘Cause the rat’s sick, maybe dangerous.“
„Yeah, you never know with rats. So Oscar’s just about to take a slow dive behind the candy machine. That’s how he was gettin’ in. Damn hole in the wall, big as your fist. Just as the rat’s going into a roll, Mallory picks him off with one round. Nice clean shot.“
The desk sergeant held a sheaf of paperwork out to Riker. „This is the lab report from the Board of Health. Came in this morning. Mallory was right – that damn rat was diseased. Now the city docs are comin’ in to do blood tests on everybody.“
Riker scanned the sheets. They included a copy of the watch commander’s report. Less colorful than Sergeant Bell’s telling, it briefly described the lawful and necessary dispatch of a potentially dangerous animal.
„Harry, I want you to send all this paperwork up to Special Crimes. Make sure Coffey sees it.“ Riker lightly slapped the desk. „Right now, okay?“
„Sure thing. Did the lieutenant have something riding on the rat?“
„Yeah, he did.“ Riker was grinning as he strolled toward the front door.
Jack Coffey had been wrong about Mallory. She had a sense of humor. And he had been right about her, too. The kid truly was a monster. She had let the lieutenant run his mouth on deadly payback for gun-happy cops. And all the while, she had been patiently awaiting this official delivery of a world-class punch line from the Board of Health.
What a setup.
When the report hit Coffey’s desk, the lieutenant was going to implode or put his screaming head through a wall.
Riker left the station house with one fist raised high in triumph.
Mallory rules.
Chapter 11
In a bid to outfox the law, the restaurant had sectioned off one quarter of the room. Enclosed by glass from floor to ceiling, people relaxed at their tables, lighting cigarettes and cigars. Their smoke plumed upward into the slow swirling blades of a ceiling fan.
Lest any illicit smoke escape the enclosure, an air-purification system was hard at work in the main dining room, vacuuming the atmosphere, suctioning out the aromas of wines and sauces, meats and pasta. In this odor-free section, nonsmokers observed the diners caged in glass as historical exhibits from the days before the sterilization of New York City.
The maitre d’ stood behind a lectern, turning pages in his reservation book and pretending not to notice the people queuing up in front of him.
A smiling waiter in a white dinner jacket walked toward the woman at the end of the line. „Detective Mallory? I recognized you from television.“
The celebrity alert had been sounded, and now she also had the attention of the maitre d’, who was admiring her black leather trench coat, the wildly expensive running shoes and a slightly less pricey handbag from Cartier. In the waiting line, more heads were turning, flashing movie-star-hunting eyes in her direction.
When she removed her coat, the black cashmere blazer and satin- trimmed jeans also passed inspection. The maitre d’ mouthed the words, Oh, yes. The people in his waiting line wore more formal attire, but Mallory was dressed in money.
The waiter took her coat and draped it over his arm. „They’ve been expecting you.“
„They?“
„Mr. and Mrs. Malakhai.“ He waved one hand toward the glass smoking section.
„Right, the invisible woman.“
Puzzled, the waiter looked toward the table where only Malakhai was seated. „His wife must be in the ladies’ room.“
„You’ve seen her?“
„Yes, of course.“
This man was reinforcing every bad thing she believed about civilian testimony to gunshots never fired, events that never happened – and now ghosts. She followed him to the smoking section. „Wait,“ she said, to stop him from opening the glass door. „What color is this woman’s hair?“
„It’s red. A bright fiery red.“
Mallory pointed toward the table. „He told you the color of her hair?“
„Well, no.“ The waiter seemed confused. „You mean it’s not real? But it looks so natural.“
As Mallory entered the glass room, she noted three place settings at the small round table, and a glass of wine had been poured for the corpse in the bloody blue dress.
Malakhai stood up as she set her new black handbag on the table beside the only clean wineglass. If her host had known her better, he would have been suspicious. She never carried a purse.
„Good evening.“ He dismissed the waiter before the man could pull out her chair. Now Malakhai performed this service himself. „You’re right on time.“ As Mallory sat down, he glanced at his watch. „And I mean to the second.“