Saints Of New York (39 page)

'I
knew Jenny Baumann had been killed. I told you I was aware of that—'

'Jenny?'

'Yes,
Jenny Baumann.'

'I
thought you didn't know her.'

'I
don't -
didn't
- whatever. No, I didn't know her. Just her name. Had heard that she was
killed, but this was the better part of eighteen months or two years ago.'

'You
remember when you heard?'

'Yes,
I do. It's not every day that you hear someone has been killed.'

'And
do you remember how she was killed? The circumstances of her murder?'

'No,
not particularly. Why?'

'I
just wondered, Mr McKee, nothing more.'

McKee
frowned again, seemingly utterly perplexed by the direction and tone of the
discussion.

'I'm
sorry, Detective, I really think I might have misunderstood your purpose here,'
he said. 'You've brought me here because you think that I might know something
else about these girls and the circumstances of their deaths. You asked me to
come here and I came voluntarily. I came of my own accord, and I came to help,
not to be harassed. I'm starting to wonder whether I need a lawyer.'

Parrish
didn't speak for a moment, and then he leaned forward and closed his hands
around his take-out coffee carton.

'Do
you have a car, Richard?'

'A
car? Yes, I have a car.'

'What
kind of car?' 'A Toyota. Why?'

'What
kind of car is it? A compact? A coupe?'

'No,
it's an SUV.'

Parrish
nodded slowly. He glanced sideways at Radick.

'And
you are single?'

'Yes,
I told you that yesterday.'

'I'm
sorry. I spoke to so many people yesterday, and after a while I forget
specifics.'

'You
didn't forget that I knew Jennifer's case officer.'

'You're
right, Richard. I didn't forget that, did I? I'm sorry. So let's get back to
your car, your SUV.'

'What
about my SUV?'

'Wouldn't
you say it's generally the sort of car you have for a family? Throw the kids in
the back, go away somewhere for the weekend. You know the sort of thing,
right?'

'I
do throw the kids in the back. We do drive somewhere for the weekend.'

'I'm
sorry?'

'When
I have the kids. We do go places. We do go to different places.'

'You
have children?'

'You
know I have children, Detective. I told you in the interview. I told you I had
two children. Is that a crime now?'

Parrish
laughed, it should be for some people, yes.'

'But
you
are
single?' Radick interjected.

McKee
sighed, a slightly exasperated sound. 'I am single now. I was married. I have
two children ... I say
children,
but they are in their teens now.'

'Divorced
or separated?' Parrish asked.

'I
said already. I'm divorced.'

'Amicable?'

'When
is a divorce ever amicable, Detective? It was noisy, let's put it that way.'

'Who
divorced who?'

'I
divorced her.'

'Because?'

'Why
did I divorce her? What the hell does that have to do with the fact that these
girls have been murdered?'

Parrish
smiled. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm divorced too. I also have two kids, perhaps
a little older than yours. It's just that so many of us make the same sort of
mistakes, and sometimes it's reassuring to know that there are other people
who've had the same difficulties—'

'I
divorced her,' McKee said. 'She was sleeping with someone else.'

'I'm
sorry to hear that.'

'Why?
It wasn't your fault.'

'We're
off track here,' Radick said, sensing that Parrish had elicited as much as he
was going to about the familial arrangements of McKee without instilling a
greater degree of paranoia and suspicion in the man. He could see what Parrish
was doing, and he knew Parrish would bring the man back to the subject soon
enough.

'Yes,
we're off track,' Parrish echoed. 'We were talking about the circumstances of
Jenny Baumann's death.'

'No,
we were talking about why I had an SUV.'

'You're
right, we were, but before that, Jenny Baumann . . . not Jennifer?'

'Yes,
fenny
Baumann,' McKee said. 'It
is
very common, I believe, for girls named
Jennifer to be called Jenny.' There was an edge of sarcasm in McKee's tone
which Parrish ignored.

'Do
you remember how you heard she had been killed?'

'I
told you. Lester Young told me about it.'

'And
he was her case officer?'

'No,
Jennifer was never an active case here. Lester was the case officer for another
girl, and there was a potential sexual abuse thing, and Jennifer was believed
to have been a witness, someone who could corroborate the girl's story. That
was all. As far as I know the case was never pursued by the police.'

'And
Lester Young went into the Probation Service.'

'Yes,
he did.'

'Did
you ever speak with him about Jennifer?'

'No,
I did not.'

'And
how did you know about Karen Pulaski?'

'I
knew of her, not about her. As I said yesterday, I had no idea that she had
been murdered.'

'Yes,
you did say that. So how did you know of her?'

'Just
in passing. There was a change in the whole administrative system at the start
of the year. We used to be Family Welfare South and Family Welfare North. I was
in South, of course. They split each division into eight sections, and now I am
South Two. We had to handle all the file transfers, hard copy and electronic.
It was a huge job. We divided it up alphabetically and there were enough of us
to have only two letters of the alphabet each and I got P and R. It was about
three hundred files. Karen was amongst them, but she went elsewhere, not to us
at Two. I think she was from Williamsburg or Ridgewood or someplace.'

'It
was Williamsburg,' Parrish said.

'Right.
Anyway, she was South originally, and now she'd be South Seven or Nine or
something.'

'So
why would you remember her out of three hundred or so files?'

McKee
smiled awkwardly. 'This is going to sound foolish.'

'I
don't mind how it sounds, Richard, I'm just curious as to why she stuck in your
mind.'

'Because
of her name.'

'Her
name?'

'Karen
Pulaski.'

'Yes,
I know what her name is, Richard, I just wondered why—'

'My
ex-wife's name is Carole. Her maiden name was Paretski.'

No-one
spoke for a moment or two.

'Carole
Paretski,' Radick said matter-of-factly.

'Yes,
that was her maiden name. That's the name she's gone back to now. I remember
looking at the Pulaski girl's file and thinking how similar their names were.'

'And
what does she do . . . your wife?'

'She
works for a law firm out near Lafayette Park.'

'She's
a lawyer?'

'No,
she's a secretary.'

'And
how long since your divorce?'

'It
was final in the early part of 2005.'

'And
your kids are how old?' Parrish asked.

'My
daughter, Sarah, is fourteen, and my son, Alex, is fifteen.'

'And
they live with their mother?'

'Yes,
during the week they do. I have them Saturday and Sunday alternate weekends,
and Sunday the other weekends. That's because I work Saturdays once a
fortnight.' 'Which is why you were at work this Saturday.'

'Right.'

'Why
not have them all weekend every weekend?' Radick asked.

'I
need the money. It's still a lot of money I have to give her every month.'
McKee looked at Parrish. 'You have the same, right?'

'I
did,' Parrish replied. 'They're old enough to make their own way now, but until
recently it was a lot of money, yes.'

Radick
leaned forward. 'Is there still bitterness and animosity between you and your
ex-wife, Mr McKee?'

'Still?'
McKee asked. 'We were married for over fifteen years, and I think the first
year or two was the only time there wasn't bitterness and animosity.'

'But
you stayed together for the kids?'

'We
did. We put on a brave face for the world, and we kept it together for as long
as we could. It was the last affair she had that was the final straw.'

'You
want to tell us about that?' Parrish asked.

'What
do you want to know?'

'Anything
at all, whatever's on your mind,' Parrish said.

'I
don't have anything to say about it. What happened happened. It's over.'

'And
she is with someone else now?' Parrish asked.

'I
presume so. She's not someone who can ever be alone.'

'But
you don't know for sure?'

'The
kids tell me this and that. Got to a point where I didn't want to know so I
asked them not to tell me any more. I could see what it was doing to them, the
constant unpredictability, the instability it caused in the home. It's not a
good environment for kids, but what the hell, eh? The law is on the side of the
mothers, not the fathers, right?'

'Right,
yes. It is.'

'So
that's where we are. I see them for a day or two every week. I do what I can to
brighten their lives a little. I wait patiently for them to be old enough to go
to college or whatever, and then I will see them more frequently and make sure
that they get a little bit of stability and sanity in their lives.'

'And
you have no wish to get married again?' Parrish asked.

'Married
again? No, I don't think so. Hell, what am I saying? I'm a sucker for women. If
I got another relationship and it seemed right, and she wanted to get married,
then yeah, sure, I'd probably give it another go.'

'But
no-one in the crosshairs at the moment?'

McKee
smiled at the expression Parrish used. 'No, Detective, no-one in the crosshairs.'

'So
let's go back to Jenny Baumann. Lester Young was Family South, and he dealt
with her directly.'

'Well,
he was present at the police interview, that was all. Jennifer was questioned
by the police, and because this other girl was present in the interview they
had Lester Young along as her Welfare representative.'

'And
you knew Lester?'

'Yes,
somewhat. Not a great deal more or less than anyone else at South. There were a
hell of a lot of people there, which is why we got this most recent shake-up and
the division of the two sections into sixteen units. It was long overdue, and I
think that once the confusion has all settled down then it will work a lot
better.'

'Let's
hope so, eh?' Parrish said. 'Let's hope that these girls can be looked after a
little better.'

'I
don't think that's entirely fair, Detective,' McKee said, a defensive edge in
his tone. 'I think - given the resources and facilities we have - that we do as
good a job as we can under the circumstances—'