“I don’t think it takes much to get on the local news in Tallinn. It’s just a nice town with nice people. Mostly nice people.”
Eddie turned from the computer and gave me a hug. That was somewhat un-Eddie-like. He was more reserved than most of the kids.
He said, “I’m just glad you’re back. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“And from what I’ve read, you were lucky. That guy from Estonia, Henry, sounds like a really bad guy.”
“I don’t want to give him that much credit. I’m just glad to be home and with you guys.”
And that was the God’s honest truth.
CHAPTER 96
THE NEXT DAY I went to my office on the sixth floor of an unmarked building on the Upper West Side. I wasn’t built to sit around my apartment and wait for things to happen. The kids were in school, and Mary Catherine was busy, so I decided to go in and get back to my real life.
I hadn’t gotten official approval to return to my normal job, and I hoped no one would shout at me as I walked through the door. But everyone welcomed me back, even my lieutenant, Harry Grissom. If someone was going to tell me to get lost and take more time off, it was going to be Harry. His first concern was how well the squad operated. I’d trust him with my life, but if he thought I was going to be a detriment in any way, he’d send me home in a heartbeat.
Detective Terri Hernandez was in the building, checking whether any information had developed on the suspect in her homicide, Tight. She surprised me with a hug.
I stepped back and looked at her. “You could pass for a college student.”
“That’s the idea, Slick.”
I laughed and we caught up on what had happened since I left. The long and the short of her investigation was that she had no other leads except for the guy I’d met, Tight. The media had kept up a pretty good pace of coverage for three or four days after the murders. A young nurse and her daughter being killed in their own apartment captured people’s attention for a little longer than most stories. But now interest had ebbed in what was quickly becoming a cold homicide.
Terri looked down. She was one of the most dedicated detectives I’d ever met. She checked in on a victim’s family for months after a homicide, filling them in on progress. She looked at every murder as a personal quest to be solved, and she excelled in public service because she really cared.
I said, “We’ll catch a break. This one won’t haunt you.”
“They all haunt me. Even the ones we’ve solved. They’re murders. I think God wants them to haunt us.”
“That’s a good point. And you’re right. We shouldn’t get callous toward homicides. It’s too easy to start taking shortcuts if we do.”
I checked in with Harry and spent most of the day at my desk. In the midafternoon, my phone buzzed, telling me I had a text. I looked down and saw it was from the mayor’s mobile phone. It said, I’m sending a car. Meet it at Riverside and 132nd Street, just a few blocks from your office. Don’t say anything to anyone. The little fat prick.
I had to smile at his sense of humor.
I started to make my way out and nodded at Harry Grissom as I walked past his office.
I took a leisurely stroll, actually looking in storefronts for a change. I saw a rented Lincoln stretch limo right where the text said it would be. It was a little gaudy and obnoxious, but I didn’t get to ride in the back of a limo very often.
The driver didn’t get out to meet me, so I leaned down and waved to him. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I crawled into the back.
I was not the only passenger.
CHAPTER 97
I EASED INTO the seat and made a quick assessment of the giant passenger compartment of the limo. There was even a wet bar. Too bad I was on duty.
The driver lowered the glass partition, turned his head, and said, “Hello, Detective. It was lucky you two were in the same area. As soon as Natalie said she was nearby, the mayor said I could get you both at the same time.”
The young woman’s Yankees baseball cap and big sunglasses made her look like a celebrity trying to keep a low profile. A little of her hair had popped out from under the ball cap. She looked relaxed but didn’t say anything.
I said, “Hey, Natalie. You doing okay?”
She nodded and said quietly, “Not thrilled about seeing my dad.”
I noticed the driver was eavesdropping. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You just have to give him a chance.”
“Like the chance to greet me at the airport?”
“That was disappointing.”
She grunted but kept quiet after that.
The driver was still listening, I knew.
I asked him, “Do you work in the mayor’s office?”
The tubby man with slicked-back, light-brown hair had a slight accent. He said, “No, sir, I help the mayor in his unofficial life. In other words, he contracted me. I guess Hizzoner wants this meeting to be low profile.”
“It seems like he feels that way about most meetings.”
I sat back and enjoyed the ride. At this time of the day, with traffic, it was going to take a while to get to City Hall. Then the driver cut east through Manhattan. It’s not the way I would’ve gone, but he was a professional and no one had asked my opinion.
Ten minutes later, the driver made another turn and I realized he was headed for the Queensboro Bridge.
I leaned up and said, “Where are we going?”
The driver focused on traffic in front of us for a moment, beeping at a tourist from Delaware who was clearly unsure where he wanted to go. Then the driver called over his shoulder, “The mayor told me to bring you to an address in Queens. I didn’t ask any questions. Let me call and see if I can get any answers you might need.”
He pulled out his cell phone and started to speak. His conversation lasted until we were over the bridge.
We were on the upper level when the driver turned off to loop around back under the bridge onto Vernon Boulevard. We passed Queensbridge Park on our left. He was pulling past the sprawling Ravenswood power plant when he called over his shoulder, “I guess the mayor drove over here as well. He’s anxious to see his daughter. He says we can meet him by Rainey Park just up here.”
I looked across the seat and said, “You doing okay?”
She nodded, the ball cap pulled low over her face.
The limo was so big that any change in speed felt like a boat moving in water. We slowed and turned down a narrow street that ran along the north of Rainey Park, some blocks past the power plant and right along the backside of a big-box store. Cars were parked next to the building at first, probably those of the employees, but the driver continued to the nearly empty far end of the road, closer to the river, and stopped. I reached into my pocket for my phone.
As we came to a stop, the driver looked in the rearview mirror and said, “Please, sir, no calls.”
“What? I’m sorry, I need to check in with my office.”
“I don’t think so.”
When I looked up from my phone to see what would make the driver say something so crazy, I froze. He had turned around and held a small semiautomatic pistol in his left hand, pointed at my head.