Speak of the devil. Bernadette poked her head out into the anteroom. “Come on in, girlfriend,” she called. “I’ve got Lieutenant Albano on the line.”
Melanie walked in and sank into a guest chair, feeling utterly drained. The sky beyond Bernadette’s window was already ink dark. Melanie felt about a million years old, and like the day would never end.
“Vito?” Bernadette said.
“Still here, hon,” Albano’s voice squawked from the speakerphone.
“Melanie’s with me now. Melanie, can you please explain what the hell the deal is with this new cooperator?”
Melanie sat up straighter. “You mean Trevor Leonard?”
“That freaky kid I saw leaving your office an hour ago.”
“Yup, that’s Trevor. He was a close friend of Brianna Meyers. Trevor says Brianna and Whitney Seward were working as drug couriers for Jay Esposito, the nightclub owner. Esposito’s been investigated-”
“Jesus,” Bernadette exclaimed, dropping her head into her hands, “you were right, Vito.”
“I don’t see what the big tragedy is,” Albano said. “Sounds like a promising lead. We know about this Expo character from way back. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’s the supplier.”
“Supplier, fine. But did you hear what Melanie just said? The last thing I need is an allegation from some slacker freak that James Seward’s daughter was muling heroin.”
Albano was silent.
“Vito?” Bernadette said.
“Yeah, okay, I see what you mean. It’s a little sensitive.”
“Sensitive, my ass. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Am I the only one who worries about the big picture around here? Think, people. What if the tabloids get ahold of it and then it doesn’t pan out?”
“So don’t tell ’em,” Albano suggested.
Melanie plucked a copy of that morning’s Daily News off Bernadette’s desk. It was the same one Brad Monahan had in court earlier, with the word “Suspect” emblazoned beneath Carmen Reyes’s photo on the front page.
“It would be better if nobody talked to the press,” Melanie said. “About anything.”
“Oh, what’s that supposed to mean?” Bernadette snapped.
“Leaking this thing about Carmen Reyes being a suspect-”
“Leak? Watch your language. ‘Leak’ means you disclosed confidential information without proper authority. I’m authorized to tell the press anything I damn well please, so by definition I can’t leak. I apprised the taxpayers of how we’re spending their money. They’re entitled to know. They pay our salary.”
“Fine, whatever you want to call it, but the point is-”
“And you seem to forget that Ray Wong found heroin with the Golpe stamp in Carmen Reyes’s locker. That’s why she’s on the lam, not because her picture’s in the paper. But instead of trying to locate a girl who’s obviously involved, you’re spending your time debriefing this highly problematic witness about potentially libelous allegations.”
“I am trying to locate Carmen, Bern. Believe me, I’m very concerned about her. And Trevor’s not problematic. Young, yes, but he’s quite credible when you talk to him. Like you always say, nuns and schoolteachers aren’t the ones with inside information about drug trafficking.”
“One look at this Leonard kid and anybody can see he’s gonna tank in front of a jury. He was probably on drugs when you debriefed him, for crying out loud.”
“He was not. Pretrial Services screens all defendants before arraignment and reports dirty urines. Trevor was completely clean. Besides, we’re not taking his word for anything. We’re doing a full investigation to corroborate him, including a buy tonight at Esposito’s club.”
“Yes, okay. That’s what we wanted to speak to you about. Vito, are you still there?” Silence from the speakerphone. “Vito?” Again silence. “Christ, so much for him,” Bernadette said irritably, and punched the button to hang up the line.
“Don’t worry, Bernadette,” Melanie began.
“What do they pay me for if not to worry about you hotheads screwing up? I can’t believe you’re actually sending this Leonard kid out to do a buy.”
“Bridget Mulqueen is doing the buy. Trevor’s just making the introduction to Esposito’s people.”
“That’s hardly better. I want you in there personally supervising, Melanie Vargas. Do you understand me?”
“Well, I was planning to meet the agents later to give them instructions on getting into Esposito’s club. But going in myself? Isn’t that their job? I thought you said no cops-and-robbers stuff this time.”
“Don’t quote me to myself! I said that in a completely different context. I’m not suggesting you personally make a drug buy. Just keep an eye on things and make sure they don’t fuck it all up, excuse my French. I don’t trust Mulqueen, and I don’t trust your cooperator.”
Melanie shrugged. “Okay.”
“I’m giving you some rope here by letting you explore this angle. Don’t hang yourself with it.”
“I won’t. Really, Bern, I appreciate your confidence in me.”
Shekeya buzzed Bernadette with a phone call. “If it’s Vito, he better have a damn good explanation for why he hung up on me,” Bernadette muttered, picking up the receiver. “Who?…Well, did you tell them she’s in a meeting?…Oh, all right, put it through.” Bernadette’s top line flashed red. She pressed the button and picked up the receiver, holding it out to Melanie with the tips of her fingers as if it were radioactive. “It’s for you.”
Melanie stood up and grasped the receiver, pulling the cord taut across Bernadette’s desk. “Hello?” she said tentatively.
“Melanie? Shavonne Washington from the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office. Sorry to interrupt your meeting, but I thought you’d like to know that we just completed the autopsies on Whitney Seward and Brianna Meyers. You should get down here right away.”
21
THE HULKING OCME BUILDING, at First Avenue and Thirtieth Street, loomed over the neighborhood like a haunted castle. By the time Melanie entered its depressing, institutional-looking lobby, Ray-Ray Wong was already seated in the reception area waiting for her. She needed an agent present to take chain of custody on the girls’ personal effects, and Dan and Bridget were busy setting up the heroin buy for later that night.
“Evening, ma’am,” Ray-Ray said, rising to his feet, nodding crisply.
They crossed a span of muddy brown carpet and signed in with the good-looking black guy behind the reception desk, who directed them to a freight elevator that would take them down to the morgue in the basement.
“So what were the autopsy results, ma’am?” Ray-Ray asked as he pressed the call button.
“Shavonne didn’t want to go into it over the phone, but apparently the deputy M.E. is waiting to give us a report.”
“Okay.”
“Any developments on your end?”
“Yes. Well, this might be nothing, but…”
“What?”
“I had Gidget run rap sheets on the faculty and staff at Holbrooke, like you said?”
“Yeah?”
“Not much. An English teacher with a couple of DWIs. The guidance counselor had a disorderly from fifteen years back, but no details in the record.”
“Probably some kind of political protest, knowing him.”
“Yeah, okay, but here’s the sort of creepy one. That lawyer?”
“Siebert?”
“Yeah. He’s in a sex-offender database.”