“Just in this neighborhood,” Joe said. He quickly checked his e-mail, then brought up Bartz’s rap sheet. Joe turned his monitor so both he and Suzanne could read it.
“Worst thing is assault-no weapons charges.”
“The guys who know him said he never carries a weapon, and it’s served him well. Three arrests, all bumped down to misdemeanors, one time-served, and a three-month, then six-month stint in county. No hard-jail time.”
“And he then kills a woman for a ring?”
“Could have been hired.”
They both shook their heads at the same time.
“Let’s play with him a bit. He’s a two-bit thief. Money drives him.”
The on-call detective said, “Hey, DeLucca, you need to pressure Bartz? Drop his buddy’s name-Franks. His stats are in the rap sheet. They’re friendly rivals.”
“Thanks, Parker.”
He turned to Suzanne. “Let’s see what this guy has to say.”
Jimmy Bartz was a scrappy forty-year-old who didn’t look strong enough to snap a toothpick. Suzanne could see why he was an effective thief-he looked harmless, skittish, and had quiet gray eyes. But his eyes became fearful when he saw Joe’s stern expression.
“You’re not Detective Kramer.”
“I’m Detective Joe DeLucca. This is Special Agent Suzanne Madeaux with the FBI.”
Bartz looked at Suzanne. “FBI? Why’s the FBI here? Detective Kramer handles property crimes in this jurisdiction.”
Joe smiled slyly. “You know our system well. Kramer is off today. I’m in Homicide.”
“Homicide? Why is Homicide handling property crimes? Why is the FBI here?”
This guy was either a great actor or truly clueless.
Joe said, “You tell us the truth and you’ll be able to walk out the door today. You lie to us and you’ll be in Rikers before lunch.”
“I told the officers exactly what happened. I found that ring, just wanted to know how much it was worth.”
“You pawned it for two thousand dollars.”
“It was worth a lot more than I thought. I thought it was fake, thought I’d get two bills, maybe three.”
“Where did you find the ring?”
“At Citi Field.”
“In the stadium?”
“No, in the parking lot.”
“Inside someone’s car?”
“No, just lying on the ground.”
Suzanne said, “Was it on the finger of a dead woman?”
Bartz’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “Dead woman? There was no dead woman. It was just lying on one of the white lines. I saw it sparkle, picked it up. I swear to God, I didn’t take it off any dead chick. I didn’t even steal it, I swear I found it.”
Joe leaned back. “I don’t believe you.”
“Kramer would believe me. Call him; he’ll tell you if I’m lying. He always knows.”
“I’m telling you, you’re lying.” Joe stared at Bartz. The thief fidgeted.
Joe glanced at Suzanne and gave her a subtle signal. She stood up. “Well, you can have him, DeLucca. He doesn’t know anything, I’ll talk to the other guy about the reward-what was his name?”
“Carmine Franks.”
“Franks. That’s right. Is he next door?”
“Yes, just tell the desk sergeant you’re ready.”
“Reward?” Bartz said. “What kind of reward?”
“For information leading to the murderer of Rosemary Weber,” Suzanne said. “You found her ring, we thought you might have seen something. I didn’t want to deal with this Franks guy-he’s a jerk-but I need to get information any way I can.”
“I don’t know anything about a murder, but neither does Franks!”
“How do you know what Franks knows?” Joe asked.
“He’s been in Jersey with his daughter all week. Just came back yesterday. His oldest had a baby boy. First grandson and all that. Ask him, because he saw nothing.”
“And you did?”
Bartz hesitated, trying to think up something to tell them to get him closer to the fictitious reward. Joe nodded at Suzanne, and she left the room, watching through the one-way mirror.
“Look,” Joe said conversationally to the suspect, “you have a ring that was last seen on a dead woman. You hocked it. Now you’re telling me you found it at Citi Field.”
“Right. Because I did.”
“I believe you.”
Bartz looked relieved.
“What day?”
Bartz thought about it.
“It’s not a hard question, Jimmy.”
“Tuesday?”
“Morning or night.”
“Night?”
“Why are you asking me? Either you found it Tuesday night or you didn’t.”
“I did.”
Then Joe hit him with the facts. “The woman was killed at Citi Field. In the parking lot. On Tuesday night. And I’m going to book you for murder.”
“You can’t!”
“I’m a homicide detective. It’s what I do.”
“But-but-”
Suzanne came in and handed Joe a file. It was blank, but Joe smiled. He didn’t say anything.
“Special circumstances,” Suzanne said. “We’ll take the prosecution, since we can try him for the death penalty.”
“You got it,” Joe said. “I love this new task force, Agent Madeaux. Especially since New York no longer has a death sentence.”
Bartz was shaking.
“I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t. I swear to the Almighty God, I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I didn’t kill anyone, ever in my life.”
Joe stared at him. “How did you get this ring?” He slapped the ring, in an evidence bag, on the table.
Bartz stared at it. He seemed to weigh what he should say.
“You just told me you found it Tuesday night in the parking lot at Citi Field. The victim was murdered at Citi Field on Tuesday night. Every jury will agree you just confessed.”
Suzanne nodded. “I already ran it up to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. They say we have enough.”
“No!” Bartz looked trapped. “I–I didn’t find it.”
“You didn’t find the ring.” Joe’s flat voice told Bartz he didn’t believe him.
“I–I-I got it from a guy.”
“Does this guy have a name?”
Bartz shook his head. “Just a guy. Said he broke up with his girlfriend and was going to toss the ring. He gave it to me instead.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Jimmy,” Joe said. “This ring”-he held it up-“is worth over fifteen thousand dollars. No one just handed it to you!”
Suzanne didn’t think Bartz could have grown even more pale. He was downright ghostly. “Fi-fi-fifteen?”
“And a guy gave it to you.”
“I–I was hustling on my corner, selling pictures, ask Kramer, I sell pictures outside the subway across from Citi Field.”
“When?” Joe asked.
“Yesterday morning.”
Suzanne said, “The Mets are on the road.”
“But there was an event. A charity game, retired players or something. I was there at eleven; game started at noon. I swear to God.”
There was a ring of truth, but Suzanne was withholding judgment. This guy was a piece of work.
“An-and it was slow, this guy comes up and asks if I want to buy this ring. Said his girlfriend broke up with him at the game on Tuesday, and he was going to toss the ring, but decided to sell it. See, I sometimes buy things-”
“You knew him?”
“No, I swear, never seen him before.”
“What did he look like?” Suzanne asked.
“Baseball cap. White guy.”
“A white guy in a baseball cap. That’s the best you can do?”
Bartz shrugged.
“What was he wearing?” Suzanne prompted.
“Jeans. T-shirt.”
“Anything on the T-shirt?”
“It was plain. White.”
“Tattoos?”
Bartz shrugged.
“Height? Weight? Fat? Thin? Did he have wings?” Joe was getting irritated.
“Um, he was taller than me.”
“Everyone in New York is taller than you, Jimmy.”
“Um, six feet? A little less? More? I was sitting down. I don’t know!”
“And you bought the ring from him?”
“No, I thought it was hot.”