Authors: Richard Hawke
“I want everything in it,” she said to Rodrigo.
“I’ll vacuum that puppy.”
“No crumbs. Get it all.”
“Do you want to dust the keyboard first?”
Megan thought for a moment. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
Rodrigo perched on the edge of the chair, flipped open his attaché case and got to work. Megan stepped into the bedroom. It was fairly neat. A bra on the floor, along with about eight shoes that looked like they’d decided to get up and walk around on their own. The bed was made. Nikki’s bedside reading was a stack of
Marie Claire
magazines,
People
, an old
Time
. On the dresser Megan found a merchandise tag from a boutique called Liana: WOOL â„ PLD SIZE 4. When she was found in the park, Nikki had been wearing a black sweater under a red crepe jacket and a thin black cotton skirt. Nothing plaid. Megan pulled open the dresser drawers and rifled quickly through the clothes. She did the same thing in Nikki’s closet. Curious, she went into the bathroom, where she found a light blue duffel filled partway with dirty clothes. Ryan Pope stepped to the door as Megan was dumping the dirty clothes out onto the floor.
“I’ve seen Kathy do this before,” Pope said. “You’ll want to sort out the colors from the whites.”
“It’s not here.”
“What’s not here?”
Megan was thinking out loud. “It’s possible she returned it to the store.”
“What store? What’re you looking for?”
Megan had a thought and very nearly regretted having it. She pushed past Pope and went back downstairs and rang Mrs. Campanella’s buzzer.
“I’m sorry to bother you again, Mrs. Campanella. But I was wondering if you by any chance recall what Ms. Rossman was wearing that night you saw her.”
The woman answered immediately. “She had on a puffy jacket. It was red. And a green and black skirt.”
“Green and black?”
“Yes. Plaid.”
“Plaid? You’re sure?”
“I remember thinking that she looked like Christmas. With red and green.”
“Green plaid.”
“Plaid. Squares on top of other squares. Isn’t this plaid?”
Megan thanked her again. As she ascended the stairs, she turned the information over in her head. She leaves her apartment in a new plaid wool skirt, but she’s found dead in a black cotton skirt. Means? Obviously, it means she changed somewhere along the line. Changed skirts but not her entire outfit. Why? Megan had no idea. The conundrum popped completely out of her head when she reentered Nikki’s apartment. Pope was standing behind Rodrigo, peering over his shoulder at the computer screen.
“Finding anything?” Megan asked.
Rodrigo’s eyes remained on the screen. It was Pope who looked up.
“Gold mine.”
MEGAN LOST IT. She felt the eruption starting and was helpless to lock down the lid.
“Son of a
bitch
!” She grabbed the blow-up doll by the arm, pulled it out of her chair and stormed across the hall. Ryan Pope was seated at a table with two uniformed cops. “Where is he?” she demanded.
She followed the eyes. Brian McKinney was leaning against the soda machine on the far side of the room, nibbling on a partially unwrapped candy bar. “Who’s your friend, Detective? She’s kinda cute.”
Megan crossed the room in a blood fury. Everything blurred except the smug bastard peeling back the candy wrapper as if it were a banana peel. She stopped several feet in front of him. Instantly, she regretted having stormed into the corral like this. She knew how ridiculous she must look, standing there with a beet-red face, clutching the female-figure balloon. McKinney certainly knew how ridiculous she looked. His measured aplomb was a precise contrast.
No going forward, no going back. Lose, lose. Dammit, the man did have his talents. Megan gulped her rage. As much as she could. “Maybe you’d like to explain this.” She clenched her teeth in order to keep the waver out of her voice.
“Explain it?”
“Yes.”
McKinney glanced past her at his audience. “Really?”
“Yes.”
McKinney shrugged and pushed himself off the soda machine. He removed the remainder of the wrapper from the candy bar, and before Megan could react, he prodded the black candy into the ugly puckered mouth opening of the balloon.
“Maybe you can help me out with this. If I understand this correctly, you—”
Megan’s slap was dead-on. Her entire hand covered the left side of McKinney’s face. “You fucking
bastard
!”
“That’s assault,” McKinney said calmly.
She wanted to hit him again. There were actual white finger marks on his cheek where she’d slapped him, though they quickly disappeared under the rising pink. The candy bar had fallen to the floor when McKinney took the slap. He reached down and picked it up and held it out to Megan. “I guess a girl like you is a little out of practice for this. Why don’t I—”
She went at him. Though she was nearly half his body weight, her shove sent him backward into the soda machine. Her hand came up and slashed at his cheek, cutting a small pink swath. As McKinney attempted to turn his head away from the attack, Megan dug a thumb at the corner of his left eye. McKinney let out a grunt. “
Fuck
!”
His head whipped back against the soda machine, cracking the plastic bubble atop the Pepsi logo. Megan’s thumb kept digging, while with her other hand she shoved the blow-up doll at McKinney’s face, jamming its puckered ear into his slightly opened mouth and pressing it there with all her strength. The noise coming up from her throat sounded only vaguely human. McKinney took a mouthful of the doll, his head backed up against the soda machine, before he managed to twist his head free. He brought his arm up hard and broke Megan’s grip on him. “Bitch!”
Megan heard the skidding of chairs behind her. She reached for her belt. With blurring speed, she unholstered her Glock and brought the muzzle up under the offensive detective’s nose, prodding it partway up one nostril.
“Megan!”
Joe Gallo moved from the doorway, sweeping past Pope and the two cops. McKinney’s fear showed through his nervous laugh.
“Hey there, Lieutenant. I think we—”
“Shut up.” Gallo addressed Megan: “Holster it. Now!”
Megan hesitated. She could feel her heartbeat as far out as her elbows.
Gallo repeated, “Now!”
She pulled the gun away from McKinney’s face. Her breath dropped away. She realized she was about to cry. Dear God, no. Do
not
cry in front of this ape. Not in front of any of them.
McKinney started again. “Lieutenant, look. Miss—”
“Can it.” Gallo looked from Megan to the grotesque doll she was still clutching in her other hand. He held out his hand, snapping his fingers. “Give.” Megan handed the thing to him. She felt as meek as a child. It was horrible. “Put your gun away, Detective.”
As Megan reholstered her weapon, Gallo plucked a pen from McKinney’s shirt pocket and plunged it into the rubber doll. Megan let out an involuntary gasp. Gallo shoved the deflating doll into McKinney’s arms. “My office. Five minutes.” He turned to Megan: “You. Now.”
He spun on his heel and left the room. Megan watched him as if he were disappearing down a tube. She wanted to dematerialize. Behind her, McKinney was scrunching the doll up in his arms.
“You’re a sick little twit, you know that?”
Before she could respond, Megan caught Ryan Pope’s eye. She could feel the blood surging into her face. Her cheeks felt blister-hot. She eyed the door across the room. It seemed years away.
“IS THERE ANYTHING you’d like to tell me?” Joe Gallo shot his cuffs and landed his wrists gently on his desk.
“He’s an ape.”
“I don’t care if he’s an ape, Megan. You pulled your weapon on him. Do you mind telling me what it was you had in mind?”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
Gallo made a show of rolling his eyes. “You weren’t thinking? Let me tell you something. That gun comes out of its holster, I want you to be Albert Einstein, you’re thinking so fucking hard. For Christ’s sake, do I have to tell
you
how stupid—”
“No, you don’t. I know it was stupid. I’m sorry.”
“Is that what you would’ve said if McKinney was lying in there right now with a hole out the back of his head? ‘Oh. Sorry, Joe. I was angry’?”
“I
was
angry. He—”
“Then kick a dog! Go into the ladies’ room and scream at the top of your lungs. Hold it in until you get home, then wreck your place, I don’t care. But I’m telling you right now what I’m
not
having. I’m not having one of my detectives pull her goddamn weapon on another one of my detectives in the goddamn
precinct
house. Or anywhere else. McKinney’s an ape, fine. No argument here. They got apes at the Bronx Zoo. You want to go up and take a few shots at them, too?”
“I didn’t take—”
Gallo leveled a finger at her. “Are you good? That’s what I’m asking.”
“Am I—”
“Good. You tell it right here, Megan. I backed you up for reinstatement. You’re aware of that. I still think there’s plenty cop left in you. In fact, I know there is. You got bucked way the hell off the saddle, that’s no secret. It was a hell of a hit you took, but you told me you wanted to come back. And you’re back. We talked about McKinney already. We talked about all the other crap that was likely to come up now and then, so nothing’s a surprise here. I’m not going to put this delicately. To some people out there, you’re a freak. Apes like McKinney are never going to understand people—” He cut himself off.
“People what? People like me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, fuck you very much, Lieutenant. At least it’s nice to know where you stand.”
“You know where I stand, Megan. Don’t try to go isolating yourself.”
“Not to worry. That’s taking care of itself. You’re the one who said it, Joe. I’m a freak. To Brian McKinney, I’m the bull dyke who failed to protect my partner.” She gave a laugh. “Partner. For Christ’s sake, I failed to protect
both
my partners. Though I’m sure McKinney’s not too glum about Helen—”
“Stop it!” Gallo slammed his hand down on the desk with such force, it gave Megan a start. “Look, I can’t hold your hand on this.”
“No one’s asking you to.”
“Do your job, Megan. To some people here, you’re a hero for loading up Albert Stenborg with lead. To some, you’re trigger-happy. Those are the facts. Either way, it’s on you like a big tattoo right on your forehead. Forget your personal life. I don’t give a damn about your personal life.
Professionally
, you’re a freak. You’re in a small, select club, and not a particularly happy one. You know the speech, it can make you a better cop or it can ruin you. You told me it was going to make you a better cop, and I happen to believe you. But a better cop does not pull the kind of stunt you just pulled in there. The bad guys are out there.” He gestured toward his window. “There’s one in particular we need to find and find quickly, and if Brian McKinney’s schoolboy pranks are going to distract you from your job, now’s the time to tell me. That’s bush-league distraction, Megan. I won’t put up with it. I need you focused. You’re back in the saddle. It’s up to you. Do you ride or do you slide back off?”
Megan didn’t hesitate. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. You’re right. McKinney’s going to bust my chops no matter what, and I might as well get used to it.”
“Good.” Gallo leaned back in his chair. “Now. Do you want to file charges?”
Megan’s mouth dropped open. “
Charges
?”
“Sexual harassment. You’ve got three witnesses. Four, including me. If you want to file, I’ll understand completely.”
“You must be kidding.”
“You can burn him if you want to. I’d just like a heads-up if you chose that route.”
“Sexual harassment? For Christ’s sake, I put a
gun
in the man’s face. I’m going to sue
him
?”
“Gun?” Gallo made a large point of blinking. “Brian McKinney’s a pain in my ass. It wouldn’t destroy me to see him transferred out. But the easiest way to do that is to get some leverage.”
“Three other men saw me pull my gun.”
“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. I’d have to talk with them.”
Megan shook her head. “Joe, that’s railroading. Worse, it’s perjury.”
“It’s just a question. I thought I’d get it out there for you to consider.”
“If I file sexual harassment charges, I’m finished. You know that. Talk about a tattoo on my forehead.”
“That’s a little dramatic.”
“I’m not filing.”
“You should take some time to think about it.”
“I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want to get back to Nikki and Cynthia.”
Gallo paused a few seconds. “Good. Let’s do it. You’ve got to give me a few minutes first to read McKinney the riot act.”
Megan waved him off. “Forget it. Don’t do it on my account. You’re not going to change him.”
“I could force him to apologize. You two could kiss and make up.”
Megan felt a flutter in her chest. It was as if a feather were fooling around behind her rib cage. Oh Christ, she thought. I’m going to say it.
“Hey, Joe, I don’t kiss boys, remember? That’s the basic problem here in the first place.”
RYAN POPE HAD NOT been exaggerating when he termed the contents of Nikki Rossman’s computer a gold mine. The printouts of material pulled from the dead woman’s hard drive were beginning to resemble skyscrapers. Sifting through the voluminous correspondences that Nikki had conducted with untold numbers of strangers (the tally was still not complete), Pope had commented, “This kind of throws into question the whole matter of just what
is
a healthy sex life.”
Pope and Megan talked to the people Nikki had worked with at Bloomingdale’s. They went through her address book. From a friend named Tina, they heard that Nikki had been hitting pretty hard on a bartender who worked at a bar fairly near Nikki’s apartment. They checked it out. The bartender’s girlfriend was present when Megan and Pope came into the bar to talk with him. The detectives picked up on some tension between the couple concerning the topic of Nikki Rossman, but nothing that suggested either of the two had staved in her skull, strangled her, slit her throat and dumped her body in Central Park. Not to mention that they both presented solid alibis.