Murder in Alphabet City (26 page)

After the star was pinned to his uniform, he would be expected to throw a party in his present command to wet down his new shield. Not much chance Jane would be invited, but he would see her later or the next day. It was the way they lived.

She stopped at a red light and made a complete turn, checking for Fletcher, then hopped off the curb at the green. Fletcher didn't want to kill her, she decided, at least not until he knew everything the team had learned. Then he would deal with it. He was giving them rope. She just hoped it would end up around his neck, not theirs.

37

S
HE GRABBED A
copy of the
Post
from a newsstand near 137 Centre Street and took it upstairs without reading it. The cover had a heartrending picture of a woman in grief, not likely the source of Hack's agitation but the kind of thing that sold papers.

It was eight forty-seven when she sat down at her desk. Drinking her coffee, she and Defino talked about getting DNA samples from the women who had given birth at the end of October, and Defino made a list of candidates.

At nine, Jane became aware that MacHovec's desk was still empty. “Where's Sean?” she asked.

“It's not my day to babysit him.”

Jane got up and went back to Annie's office. She shrugged. “What else is new?”

“He's always here on time. Do you have his home phone number?”

Annie flipped her Rolodex, wrote a number on a slip of paper, and handed it to Jane. “He's probably having a morning drink.” Her feelings about MacHovec were no secret and anything that reinforced them gave her satisfaction.

At her desk, Jane dialed the number. “Mrs. MacHovec?” she asked when a woman answered.

“She can't come to the phone right now. Can I help you?”

“This is Detective Bauer at Centre Street. Detective MacHovec hasn't come in yet and he's always on time. I wondered—”

“He left at the usual time. Maybe the subway was delayed.”

“That's probably it. Thank you.”

“He on his way?” Defino asked.

“So she says.”

“Don't sweat it. He stopped for coffee.”

“Something's wrong, Gordon.” It had happened once before, in the fall, not exactly this way. After doing a search at One PP, MacHovec had stopped off for a couple of beers, neglected to make his rings, antagonized Annie, and shuffled in half crocked. “He doesn't buy coffee and he doesn't drink this early.” MacHovec didn't spend a dime he didn't have to.

“A drinker drinks when he feels like it, when the opportunity is there.”

She looked at her watch. Nine-twenty. Everyone gets caught in a subway backup once in a while, but he had never been more than five or ten minutes late. Defino tossed his list of women needing DNA tests on her desk. She glanced at it, nodded, and tossed it back. Nine-thirty. The phones in the office were all still. If MacHovec didn't want to talk to Annie, he knew he could reach Jane and she would smooth things over for him. She had done it before. Something was wrong. She was feeling it in her stomach. She took the
Post
out of the drawer where she kept her bag and opened it to page two.

An entire police unit was being dissolved after an internal affairs investigation. The description of what they had done was mind-blowing. The top of the command structure was being flopped back to the bag; two mid-level supervisors were being formally charged and fired on orders from the commissioner. The fallout would have the job in turmoil for months. It was exactly the kind of story the department kept under wraps until they were ready to act.

As Jane moved down to the details, Annie knocked on the open door. Her face was ashen.

“What is it?” Jane said.

“I just got a call. Detective MacHovec phoned in a ten-thirteen.”

Ten-thirteen was the code for “officer needs assistance,” the signal for a major event or life-threatening situation including a wounded cop or a shootout. When it was broadcast on department radios, all department personnel in the area responded as quickly as possible. “Where did he call in from?”

“Centre Street near Canal.” She looked as though she were about to cry. “He must have gotten off the subway there.”

Defino was out of his chair and running for the stairs in seconds.

“Tell Lieutenant McElroy, Annie, and tell him we're on our way.”

On the street they turned north. Sirens sounded, but this was New York, the city of unending emergencies; sirens were always sounding. It wasn't far, and at their pace less than two minutes to the southwest corner. They could see a crowd pushing to get the best view they could of another New York crime scene. A van from a cable station was edging toward the curb, a reporter already out and weaving into the crowd; this was news.

“Let us through,” Defino ordered. He held his shield high and elbowed civilians out of the way, ignoring curses and catcalls. They only love you when you're doing them a favor.

Radio cars were parked all over the intersection, lights rotating on roofs. A couple of cops in uniform were trying to redirect the traffic away from the scene.

“Gordon,” Jane said, her voice shaky. She put her hand on his arm. On the sidewalk, covered by a disposable department sheet, was a body. The crime scene detectives hadn't arrived yet—they had a long trip from Queens—but the still-arriving radio cars were bringing brass of all ranks. A shooting involving a cop occurs this close to headquarters, every boss not chained to a desk at One PP would be there in minutes. The commissioner was not yet on the scene. Before appearing, he would have to be fully briefed by phone.

“Calm down,” Defino said. “He's over there.”

“Who?”

It was MacHovec, standing outside a radio car, talking to two men in plainclothes.

“Thank God.”

They moved quickly across the sidewalk and into the street now fully blocked with radio cars.

“Howdy, partners,” he said. His voice was calm but his face looked a wreck. The men talking to him moved away and eyed the newcomers.

Jane opened her hands in a what-happened gesture, not wanting to ask a question that could get him in trouble.

“He went for my gun in the subway stairwell,” he said, nodding toward the body. “Take a look.”

They walked over, keeping their shields visible. Defino knelt and pulled the sheet down to reveal the face. “Holy shit,” he said.

It was Fletcher, the handsome face pale and peaceful. Standing, Defino kicked the body angrily around the buttocks, his mouth set in hatred.

“Gordon,” Jane said, pulling him away as a uniformed sergeant dashed over. “It's OK,” she told him. “We're fine. We're leaving.”

The sergeant gave Defino a look that should have reduced him to ashes. Then he said, “Get out of here, both of you.”

Hack got out of a radio car as they went back to MacHovec, who was smiling now. He had enjoyed the small drama. “I got rid of him, partner,” MacHovec said. “He won't touch your kid anymore.”

The two men stood for a moment, their eyes locked. Then Defino turned away.

“Anyone we can call?” Jane asked MacHovec.

“All taken care of. I'll see you later, minus my weapon.” It was standard procedure to take a cop's gun after it had been used in a shooting.

“Let's get a cup of coffee,” Jane said to Defino.

“Fucking rapist,” he said under his breath. “I wanted that guy so bad—”

“I know.”

They passed a pair of uniforms who were rolling out the yellow crime scene tape, turned a corner, and found a coffee shop.

“Anyone know what happened?” Graves had come into their office when they returned after lunch. “I already called the Detectives Endowment Association and had them send over a union trustee to talk to MacHovec and their lawyer is responding ASAP. The deceased didn't have a weapon on him.”

“He went for MacHovec's gun when he came up from the subway,” Jane said. “Sean wasn't just walking down the street when he decided to kill Fletcher.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing,” Defino said, “except that it was Fletcher.”

“Well, your family should rest a lot better tonight. Where does this leave us?”

“We still don't know why Stratton died,” Jane said, “if anyone here remembers Stratton.”

“His sister does. She's called me twice. And you don't know if Rinzler was a homicide or a suicide. And you don't know what the Chinese laundry connection was. So the case isn't closed. You seeing the Chinese family tonight?”

They both said yes.

“You feeling up to it?”

“We're fine, Cap.” Jane waited to see if he had gotten a complaint about Defino.

“I got a phone call, Gordon.”

“I'm sorry. I was out of line.”

“Consider this your chewing out.”

“Thank you, sir.”

MacHovec didn't turn up for the rest of the day. Defino called his wife and gave her the good news.

Then Flora called. “You want to tell me what happened on Centre Street and Canal this morning? That was your partner, I'm told.”

“Hi, Flora. How are you today?”

“Don't give me hi Flora. Give me the truth.”

She told Flora what she knew, which was little.

“Who was following whom?”

“If I knew, I would tell you.”

“There'll be one hell of an investigation on this one, you know.”

“He's a good cop. He'll come through it.”

“You know the deceased?”

“We were looking for him.”

“And your partner found him.”

“Other way around, I think.”

“Let's hope so.”

38

J
ANE AND
D
EFINO
had dinner out, drinking coffee leisurely at the end. Defino was feeling a lot better. He had talked to his daughter when she got home from school. He could call off the cops who were watching her morning and afternoon on their own time, keeping her safe. His family could start living normally again.

At a quarter to seven they left the restaurant and Defino hailed a cab. They were close to Chinatown but he didn't want to walk, out of deference, Jane thought, to her. It was her first time back in the Five since her ordeal. The taxi passed the building where it had happened and she swallowed and said nothing.

Defino paid the cabbie and they entered the hallway of the Tsao family's building. It was still before seven and they waited there. A moment later, Bobby Chen showed up, holding a bouquet of flowers. They went upstairs together and Bobby knocked and called through the door, announcing herself.

Inside, the apartment reflected a middle-class family with Eastern taste. The decrepit appearance of the building ended at the door. Rose took their coats. Jane had moved her Glock to her pants pocket and Defino's was inside his jacket. They could have been a New York couple visiting their Chinese friends.

Rose's mother served tea and desserts. Jane had eaten them before during her tour in the Five. She didn't like them much, but she ate and gave compliments to the hostess.

Finally they got started, Bobby doing the talking and translating into English, although the meanings of the responses were often clear from the tone of voice and the facial movements. Bobby started off with innocuous questions she had made up on her own to soften them up, and there were smiles and agreement. That ended when she asked about the babysitting.

“They say there were no babies,” Bobby reported as Rose picked up the conversation, perhaps reminding them of the crib she remembered from her childhood.

Her mother responded coldly, waving her husband off.

“No babies,” Bobby said again. She leaned forward and said something. After Rose's mother, shaking her head, commented, Bobby said, “She doesn't understand why I'm repeating a question she has already answered.” Bobby opened the file folder Defino had given her and took out the sketch of Rinzler. Passing it to Rose's mother, she asked a question.

The woman shook her head and Bobby showed it to the husband, who refused to touch it. Bobby turned to the grandmother, who acted as though she were the only person in the room. Her eyes never moved toward the picture.

Bobby repeated her actions with the sketch of Fletcher, with the same results.

“Tell her we know a baby was there,” Defino said quietly and Rose turned to look at him. “Otherwise we'll be here all night and get nothing.”

As Bobby began to speak, Rose put her hand up to stop her. Then Rose, looking from one family member to the other, asked her own question.

There was silence for a moment. Then Rose's mother whispered to her husband.

Jane glanced over at the grandmother and touched Bobby's arm. “Look.”

Bobby turned toward the old woman. Tears were coursing down her gnarled face. She stared stoically ahead, as though unaware of them.

Bobby leaned toward her and whispered something. The old woman began to cry loudly, wailing and speaking. Rose said, “Oh no,” as she listened and then Rose's mother stood and began to shout and wave her hands, apparently trying to interfere with whatever her mother was saying.

Through the chaos, Bobby, who had moved toward the old woman, knelt in front of her, holding one hand and listening to the sounds that poured from her lips as fast as the tears poured from her eyes.

Jane and Defino sat quietly, observing, Jane hoping that something useful was developing. Rose watched her grandmother, wide-eyed, then began to cry herself. The scene lasted several minutes. Then Bobby Chen patted the old woman's hand, gave her a tissue, and backed away.

“We can go now,” she said in a low voice, “or I can tell you what she said and maybe you have a question.”

“Tell us,” Defino said.

She spoke softly, as though the older people might hear and understand. “The woman in the picture had an agreement with them. Once in a while she would bring a baby to the laundry, a newborn. Each one had a little bracelet of tiny beads and one big bead that had a letter or a number on it. She provided the crib and the diapers and the bottles of milk. All they had to do was keep the baby there.

“She usually brought the baby around lunchtime and she always came in the back door of the laundry. She apparently used Stratton to send messages about when they could expect her to bring a baby. Rose delivered Mr. Stratton's laundry and he would pay for it by putting money in an envelope. The woman would then add a note with a day of the week written on it. That was when the next baby would come.

“After she dropped off a baby, if she didn't pick it up later that day, the grandmother would take it home with some bottles of milk and the woman, Rinzler, would come the next day and take it.”

“What about the man?” Defino asked, referring to Fletcher.

“Sometimes he picked up the baby, but not often. The last time Rinzler came—it may have been two days in a row; she wasn't completely coherent—she brought four babies, not all at once. They stuffed two in the little crib and put two on a table where they did the ironing. The Rinzler woman brought extra bottles and diapers. They had never had more than one baby at a time and they didn't have enough milk for all of them.

“They fed the babies before they left for the evening. The grandmother intended to come back in the middle of the night and feed them again, but she was very tired and she slept through the night.

“She remembers that it was very cold, unusually cold for the end of October. So when they left for home, they lit a kerosene stove to keep the place warm. The landlord didn't supply heat after business hours in the stores.” Bobby stopped.

The ranting had subsided too, and the old woman sat with her head in her hands, Rose beside her, patting her back. Rose's mother was walking around, muttering to herself.

“A tragedy happened,” Bobby Chen said, her face distraught as she related it. “There must have been fumes from the stove because when the family came in in the morning, all the babies were dead.”

“Oh shit,” Defino said.

Jane took a deep breath. “What did they do?”

“They had a number for Rinzler. They called her and left a message. I think they have more English than they let on, at least Rose's parents. In any case, Rinzler showed up an hour or so later with the man in the other picture.” She meant Fletcher. “Rinzler was terribly upset. They put the babies in laundry bags and took them away. That was the end. They never saw her again.”

“Rinzler pay them?” Defino asked.

“Yes. I think she said a few hundred, but I don't remember exactly. It was enough to make it worth their while. You can see how upset she is. The three of them decided they would admit nothing, but Grandma lost control when the babies came up. She blames herself.”

“It wasn't her fault,” Jane said.

“I told her that. It's not always easy to rid yourself of blame. It happened a long time ago but she'll never for-get it.”

They got up to go. Bobby said their good-byes and Jane and Defino added their own in English. Rose walked out into the hallway with them.

“I didn't know,” she said. “I remembered that Mr. Stratton sent money back to my parents for his laundry, but I didn't know anything else was in the envelope. I just gave the envelope to my mother. I'm so sorry. Will my parents get into trouble?”

“It was an accident,” Defino said. “Tell them not to worry. We're glad they told us the truth.”

“Thank you. Good night.” She smiled and went back inside the apartment.

Out on the street, they walked a block to find a taxi. Jane and Defino went as far as the parking lot where Defino's car waited and Bobby took the taxi home.

“Didn't expect that,” Defino said as they walked to his car.

“Four dead babies. Rinzler must have been on the verge of collapse. How are we going to determine if Fletcher killed her?”

“I'll think about it tomorrow.”

He dropped her at her building and took off. Inside, she emptied the mailbox and went upstairs, leafing through the envelopes on the elevator. At her door, she stopped. A piece of yellow paper was taped under the peephole: See the super.

She pulled it off, went inside, and left her bag and coat, then went downstairs again and rang his bell.

“Oh, Miss Bauer. Hi. You got a delivery this afternoon. I'll get it for you.”

She felt uneasy. She hadn't ordered anything for weeks and wasn't expecting anything. The super came back in half a minute carrying a glass vase filled with red roses.

She saw them and said, “Oh.”

“Guess someone thought it was Valentine's Day.”

“I guess so.” She thanked him and went up to her apartment, carrying the vase carefully. The round bottom was filled with water. In the kitchen she removed the tiny envelope and pulled out the card. It had flowers across the top and no printed message and no written message. A familiar hand had written the letter
H
in black ink.

She smiled, breathed in their essence, and placed the vase in the living room on the table where the passport application still lay. He still hadn't said he was sorry.