The Jake Helman Files Personal Demons (28 page)

When Jake stepped off the elevator in the private lobby, Tataopoulis and Chan looked at him with apprehension in their eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Helman,” Tataopoulis said.

“Still here, huh?”

“Mr. Graham’s got us working nine-to-nine today,” Chan said.

“Nine o’clock, huh? I guess you’ll live.”

They both looked relieved to hear him say so. Jake glanced at the front doors. Outside, the Soul Searchers stood staring up at the Tower.

“What the hell do they want?” Tatopoulis said.

“Don’t worry,” Jake said. “They’re harmless enough and they’ll leave soon.”

“I don’t like the way that one keeps looking at me,” Chan said, nodding at Shannon.

“She’s a handful,” Jake said, retrieving a nightstick from beneath the security station. “If any of them get in here, use this.” He slapped the stick down in the palm of his other hand. “That will get rid of’em.” He laid the stick across the top of the counter so they wouldn’t forget it. Crossing the lobby to the front doors, he made eye contact with Shannon, who glared at him.

He heard Tataopoulis whisper to Chan, “Can you believe this guy? What a hard-ass.”

Jake pushed a glass door open and stepped outside. Gray clouds loomed overhead. Shannon detached herself from the group and circled him like an animal.

“How are you?” Jake said under his breath.
As a Murder Police, I used to speak for the dead; now I speak to them
.

Shannon took a step back at the sound of his voice. “I need to find my soul.”

“So do I,” he said. As he turned around, another figure stepped before him: Sheryl. His heart skipped a beat and he stared into her eyes, waiting for her to speak. The windows to the soul.

At last she said, “I need my soul.”

His heart sank.

“Mister—?”

Stepping around her, he hurried away with his back turned.

“I need my soul!”

Police vehicles lined the curb outside the Detective Bureau Manhattan on East Thirty-third Street. Jake’s palms turned moist as he pulled the wooden door open and mounted the creaking, rubber-coated steps in the dark stairway. He bowed his head, hoping that neither of the uniformed officers descending would recognize him. He had been in this building day after day for three years, and now he entered it as an outsider. Stepping through the squad room’s doorway, he pinpointed the locations of his former colleagues: Hoskins and Garcia stood at the watercooler; Kozey and Gardner sat speaking to L.T. in his office; Butler disappeared into the men’s room with the morning papers; and Edgar sat at his desk, speaking on the phone and scribbling notes in a pad, his jacket draped over the back of his chair and his sleeves rolled up.

Jake saw copies of the police sketch of the Cipher everywhere. He approached his old desk, now covered with colorful knickknacks, framed photographs of what appeared to be a very large Hispanic family, and a name-plate that said
DETECTIVE MARIA VASQUEZ.
A brown leather jacket hung over the back of his former chair. Looking up at him, Edgar cut his call short and stood up. They embraced like brothers.

“I’m so sorry,” Edgar said.

Closing his eyes, Jake felt his chest contract. Shut it down, he told himself as they parted. The other detectives joined them, and one by one they shook Jake’s hand and offered their condolences. Lieutenant Mauceri emerged from his office.

“I’m sorry about Sheryl, Jake.”

“Thanks, L.T.”

“We’re doing everything we can.”

Jake said nothing.

“If you need anyone to talk to, my door is still open for you.”

“I appreciate that.”

Mauceri returned to his office and closed his door.

Exactly
, Jake thought. “Let’s get this over with,” he said to Edgar.

“Do you mind if we do this in the box?”

“No, let’s go by the book.” Jake preferred to be interviewed without an audience. He and Edgar crossed the squad room together.

Edgar opened the door to the interview room and Jake stepped inside. After working at the Tower, the squad room seemed small and confined, and this room felt like a closet. A vertical hot water pipe broke up the horizontal pattern of the cinder blocks, and a pretty woman with curly brown hair sat waiting for them at the interview table, a notepad before her. Jake recognized Detective Maria Vasquez from some of the photos on his old desk. She appeared to be in her late twenties, too young to have earned her gold shield through achievement, and he guessed that the brass had promoted her to meet some departmental quota. Special Homicide had lacked female detectives when he had been on the Job, and he knew he would have found Vasquez’s presence distracting.

A digital camcorder on a tripod overlooking the table reminded Jake of Clarence’s equipment in the boiler room. How many interviews had he conducted in this very room, and how many meals had he and Edgar consumed here? Too many to count. He approached the table as Edgar closed the door behind them, and Vasquez offered him a sympathetic smile.

“I’m Detective Vasquez.”

“My replacement.” Jake sat on the opposite side of the table for the first time.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She wore a purple sweater with a gold crucifix hanging from a chain around her neck.

Like Shannon
, Jake thought, still feeling feverish. “Thank you.”

“I’ll try to make this as fast as I can.”

Edgar sat beside Vasquez. “Why don’t you take off your coat and stay a while?” he said to Jake.

Jake removed his coat, careful to keep his Glock hidden. He would have left the weapon back in his unit, but he feared that if he returned to retrieve it, Kira would find some excuse to prevent him from leaving again. And he had things to do.

Edgar folded his hands before him on the table. “Since I knew Sheryl, L.T. felt it would be better for Maria to be the Primary on this. I agreed because I want to be as involved as possible, and if I’d refused, the case would have been assigned to another team.”

Jake studied Vasquez. She had green eyes and honey-colored skin, unusual for a Latina. “Congratulations. Primary on your first big homicide case.”
At Sheryl’s expense
.

“Do you mind if we record this?” Vasquez said, ignoring his retort.

Without a lawyer present?
“Go ahead.” He wanted to appear cooperative.

Vasquez stood and switched on the camcorder. After checking the focus, she sat down again. “This is a preliminary interview with Helman, Jake; husband of Helman, Sheryl; homicide case number 77610. Attending detectives are Hopkins, Edgar, Detective Second Grade, and Vasquez, Maria, Detective First Grade, Special Homicide Task Force, Detective Bureau Manhattan.” She recited the date. “Until recently, the subject was a detective with this Task Force and served as Detective Hopkins’s ex-partner. He is aware of his rights and has not requested an attorney.”

Jake lit a cigarette, and as he blew smoke over the detectives’ heads, he stared at the reflective window on the far wall. He knew that Mauceri stood on the other side of the two-way mirror, observing the session.
Sanctimonious little prick
.

Vasquez composed herself. “Mr. Helman—”

“Call me Jake, Maria.”

“You resigned from this department on Monday, November first.”

He stared at her, waiting for a question.
Never volunteer information
.

“Can you tell me why?”

Jake tapped his cigarette against the ashtray. “Personal reasons.”

“You killed two men on that day, didn’t you?”

That’s a matter of opinion. “I
killed two perps in self-defense. IAB ruled it a righteous shoot.”

“And earlier that same Monday you assisted on the Shannon Reynolds case?”

“That’s right. Edgar was the Primary and I was the Second.”

“And you were the Primary on two other murders attributed to the Cipher, weren’t you?”

Jake nodded. “Edgar and I worked Luther Bass and Miguel Jerez together.”

“So you investigated half of the Cipher’s first six murders?”

“Half of the first six that we know about.” He took a drag on the cigarette.

“That makes you an expert on his modus operandi, wouldn’t you say?”

Exhaling smoke, he shrugged. “If I’d been an expert, we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“You’re currently unemployed?”

“No, I have a job.” Edgar raised his eyebrows and Vasquez said, “Would you mind telling me what that is?”

“Sure. I’m the new director of security at the Tower.”

Edgar and Vasquez glanced at each other, unable to mask their surprise.

“Since when?” Edgar said.

“I started there on Thursday.” Jake took two business cards out of his wallet and handed them to Vasquez. “That top one is mine. The bottom one belongs to my supervisor, Kira Thorn.”

Edgar stroked the ends of his mustache. “Did you already have this gig lined up when you resigned?”

Let him think so
. “I’m not allowed to comment on that. I signed a confidentiality agreement.”

Vasquez passed the cards to Edgar. “Did you work yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“What time did you get home?”

“Six o’clock.” No need for them to know that he and Sheryl had just separated.

“Did you see anyone hanging around your building?”

Just those two guys I already killed
. “No.”

“Where were you between 7:00 p.m. and 9:00 p.m.?”

“I was still home between 1900 and 2100 hours.”

“Did you and Sheryl have an argument?”

Had any of the neighbors reported yelling in the apartment?
“No.” “Why would she go to the park during a rainstorm?”

“That park was her favorite place to think. I’m guessing the storm hadn’t started yet.”

Vasquez made a note in her pad. “What do you think was on her mind?”

He swallowed.
Don’t let her get to you
. “I have no idea.”

“When did she leave the apartment?”

“I don’t know. I was asleep.”

“When did you wake up?”

Jake considered his options. “A little before Edgar called, around 2045 hours.”

While Vasquez consulted her notes, Jake looked at Edgar, who shrugged.

“What did you do after he called?”

A tear formed in his eye and trickled down his cheek. He didn’t care if they saw it. “I ran out of there as fast as I could.”

“Why did you run? Did you do something wrong?”

Jake stabbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I ran because I was upset, damn it. I’d just learned that my wife had been murdered and I had to get out of there.”

She leaned forward. “Why not wait for Edgar and me to arrive?”

So she had seen Sheryl’s corpse, too. “Because I didn’t want to. I couldn’t breathe.”

“Where did you go?”

He sniffled and sighed. “To a bar.” “Why Which one?”

“I don’t know, one I’d never been to before. It was pouring outside, and I was upset when I went in and tanked when I came out. Somewhere on the East Side, downtown from my apartment.”

Her green eyes burrowed into him. “Where did you spend the night?”

“I crashed at my job.” He knew that the security discs at the Tower could confirm this part of his story.

“Was Sheryl religious?”

So Vasquez shared his old theory about the Cipher’s motive.
Good for her
. “She was Episcopalian—non-practicing.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us that might help our investigation?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Vasquez stared at him, saying nothing. A prosecutor’s trick: make the witness feel compelled to say something more, and usually he would.

Jack remained silent.

“This interview is concluded,” Vasquez said, switching off the recorder.

Jake stood up. “Now what have you got for me?”

“You know we can’t tell you anything at this stage,” Vasquez said, removing a minidisc from the recorder.

He did know that, but he also knew that it would look suspicious if he didn’t ask the question.

“The media publicized that you were after the Cipher when you resigned,” Edgar said, drawing a look of disapproval from Vasquez. “We’re toying with the idea that he might have killed Sheryl to thumb his nose at the Department.”

Jake turned to Vasquez. “Are you sure you don’t think that an ex-cop killed his wife and tried to frame it on a serial killer?”

Vasquez blanched. “Your wife wasn’t killed at home. The Cipher’s other victims were.”

“His other victims were alone.”

“That’s true,” she said.

“Every possible theory has to be explored,” Edgar said.

Jake pulled on his coat. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Did you toss my place?”

Edgar shrugged. “We had to. Your super locked up after we left.”

Jake did not relish the idea of CSU going through his and Sheryl’s belongings. “My work number is on that card and you know my cell.” Edgar stood up and Jake raised one hand. “I know the way out.”

Edgar offered his hand. “Let me know if I can help with anything, okay?”

Jake shook his hand. “Yeah, I’ll be in touch.” He winked at Vasquez. “You did fine.” On his way out of the room, he gave the mirror a hard look.