Murder 101 (30 page)

“Which is why you don’t call him,” Oliver said. “No warning works to our advantage.”

Decker said, “Anyway, it’s moot right now. At this rate, we won’t make it until midnight.”

Rina yawned. “We’ll be there by seven at the latest.”

“Take a nap, Rina,” Decker said. “You’ve certainly earned it.”

“Maybe I will close my eyes for a moment. It’s been a long day.”

No one spoke for the next five minutes. Then McAdams said, “Maybe I should make my protagonist a woman.”

“Good idea,” Decker said. “Model her after my wife.”

Rina smiled. “That’s a lovely thing to say. Thank you.”

McAdams laughed. “Call me crazy but I don’t see an Orthodox Jewish woman who bakes chocolate chip cookies and makes sandwiches as a gritty crime fighter.”

“Excuse me?” Rina said from the backseat. “Cookies notwithstanding, I’ve had as much input in this case today as you have, Tyler.”

“You’re right about that,” McAdams said. “Don’t take offense, Rina. You know how I am.”

“I do. No offense taken.”

“Like I said before I have absolutely no imagination.”

CHAPTER 30

T
HE PREWAR BUILDING,
fashioned in brick and stone, was located on the Upper East Side between Fifth and Madison: two ten-story towers with a six-story edifice connecting them. The street, framed by small, bare trees, was filled with slush, and the sidewalk and steps had been salted. Awnings and eaves dripped ice as well as ice cold water. The double glass doors were unlocked, so the three of them went inside where the temperature was warmer but still leaked cold from the doors. A uniformed man sat behind a desk off to the left side. A sign said that all visitors needed to be announced.

The doorman was about to call, but then McAdams reached over the desk from his wheelchair and put his hand over the phone. “We’re all cops. Let’s keep it low key.”

“But—”

“If anyone gets pissed, I’ll take responsibility. Seventh floor, 3A, correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“Shouldn’t there be two of you down here?” McAdams asked. “Where’s the other man on duty?”

“Karl’s taking out the trash.”

“I take it in a building this big, there’s no specific elevator man.”

“No—”

“So it’s on automatic. Great.”

“I think I should take you up.”

“Don’t bother.” McAdams wheeled up to the doors and pressed the up button.

“I’m going to call up right now.”

The elevator doors opened. “I wouldn’t if I were you. It might get you in trouble.” McAdams wheeled inside the cage with Oliver and Decker in tow and pressed the seventh-floor button. The doors closed. “Poor guy. Taking all this shit for around 40K a year.”

“That’s all they make?” Oliver said. “I thought it was unionized?”

“It is. But the cap is small. They depend on Christmas tips. Dad and Mom were always generous. I’ll say that much for them.”

“How do they live on 40K a year?”

“Well, for one thing, they don’t live in the city.”

Decker said to McAdams, “This is your baby. You do the talking about the Petroshkovich book. Keep your questions short. Don’t give away anything prematurely.”

“Got it.”

“We might talk if we think of something,” Oliver said. “Also we like to throw out questions just to keep them off balance.”

“Sure.”

Decker said, “I’ll start then nod when you should go.”

“Got it.”

“You have your pad?”

“Yep.”

Decker took out his own notebook. “Then we’re all set.”

The elevator dinged and the trio got out. The door to the apartment was already open and Lance Terry was waiting in the hallway. The kid had on a sweatshirt, jeans, and slippers. His eyes immediately went to McAdams’s wheelchair, then up to Decker and Oliver. They held the terror of uncertainty. “What’s going on?”

“Can we talk inside?” Decker said. “No sense making the neighbors curious.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The door swung all the way open. Terry took them down the hallway and into a traditionally furnished living room: hardwood parquet floors, crown molding, expensive-looking rugs, a crystal chandelier, and a roaring fire. On the coffee table in front of a jacquard silk white couch were two almost empty brandy snifters and an ashtray of butts. The throw pillows had been crushed. Terry plumped them up. “Sit wherever you want.”

“This is Detective Oliver,” Decker said. “You know Detective McAdams and me.” He looked around. “Are you alone?”

“My parents are out.”

“That’s not what he asked,” Oliver said. “He asked if you were alone.”

The group heard a door open and turned to the source of the sound. “It’s all right, Tee.” The voice was male, and he slowly ambled his way down the hall until the long hair came into view. He was sloppily dressed but the material was expensive. When he stepped into the living room, Decker said, “Hello, Livingston. What brings you here?”

Sobel didn’t answer. Instead, he sat down on the couch and poured brandy into one of the used snifters. His eyes went to McAdams. “What happened to you?”

“I was shot: the leg, the arm, and a graze to the head. I wouldn’t recommend it even for verisimilitude in a screenplay. The dude was serious.”

Sobel went mute. Terry sank down next to him. His voice was a whisper. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Why’d you take a leave of absence, Lance?” Decker asked.

It took him a while to find his voice. “I needed a break.”

“In your senior year of college?” Oliver asked.

“It wasn’t just Angeline’s death, it was the way she died. Everything went weird, the way people looked at each other, the way they looked at
me
! I had to get out.”

“What can you tell me about her murder?” Oliver asked.

“
Nothing!
” The room went silent. Finally, Terry said, “You guys know I couldn’t have done anything. You checked out my schedule. I was totally telling the truth. I don’t know
anything
!”

“Detective Decker filled me in, but I’m new here,” Oliver said. “You said people went weird after the murder. Maybe your friends have theories about Angeline?”

“You name it, they said it. She was everything from a prostitute and a drug dealer to a spy working for the CIA. And everyone was coming up to me for answers, like I was holding back. I’m sure some idiots think my absence means I’m guilty of something. But I swear I don’t know any more than anyone else. The break is temporary. I’m coming back for spring semester.”

Decker looked at Terry, then at Sobel. “So when did you two get so tight.”

“I called him up when I came back home,” Terry said. “We both knew Angeline. I . . . just wanted to talk to him.”

“You were suspicious of me,” Sobel said. “You were feeling me out.”

“And you were feeling me out,” Terry said.

“Fair enough.” Sobel regarded Decker. “It appears we’re both in the dark.” He swallowed hard. “We heard that the Latham guy got chopped up.”

Decker said, “Who told you that?”

“Word gets around,” Terry said.

“I know people in Summer Village,” Sobel said.

“He wasn’t chopped up,” Decker said. “But he wasn’t pretty to look at, either.”

“Oh God!” Terry hit his forehead. “Why are you here? I hadn’t been with Angeline for over a year . . . longer.”

Decker nodded to McAdams who said, “I was in Rayfield Library this morning—the reference desk.”

Terry shrugged. “Good for you.”

“I was looking for a specific book called the
History of Iconography
.” When Terry didn’t respond, McAdams said, “Want to tell us about it, Lance?”

“Tell you what?” A pause. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t remember a book you checked out only two months ago?”

A pause. “Is this some kind of trap?”

“Let’s try it again. The
History of Iconography
by Nikolai Petroshkovich.” The boy looked blank. “Doesn’t ring any bells?”

“Not a one.”

“You need to sign your name on an index card to check out this particular book because it’s very valuable. It’s worth six figures.”

“Interesting but it has nothing to do with me.”

McAdams licked his lips. “Your name was on one of the index cards.”

“You must have misread the card.”

“No, I did not misread the card. Furthermore, the school ID number belongs to you. Try again.”

“What was the book again?”

“The
History of Iconography
by Nikolai Petroshkovich. Published in 1926. An old art book with original plates?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never checked out a book on iconography. I have no interest in iconography. I’m not even sure what an icon is. If you suspect it has something to do with Angeline’s murder, then maybe she put my name . . .” He fell silent.

“What?” Decker asked.

“That little bitch!” Terry’s face turned dark. “That scheming little bitch!” He sat down so that he was eye level with McAdams. “Angeline asked me if I could check out a reference book for her—for her thesis. She told me she’d do it herself, but she already had too many reference books out and they wouldn’t let her check out any more. She caught me at a weak moment . . . on purpose . . . fucking whore!”

“Go on,” McAdams said. “She asked you to check out a book for her and . . .”

“I don’t remember the title and I don’t remember the author. All I remember is that the book came in a big, wooden box and we had to wear gloves to look at it. We weren’t even allowed to take it out of the reference library. She looked at it for about an hour, put it back in the box, and gave it back to me and that was that.”

“So you were with her when she went through the pages?” McAdams asked.

“I was there but I wasn’t sitting next to her. I sat at a different table across the room.”

“Why was that?” Oliver asked.

“She didn’t want me around! I sat next to her at first. But then she told me it made her nervous to have me peering over her shoulder. I wasn’t peering over her shoulder. I wasn’t even paying attention to her. I took out my computer and was playing a video game. So then the bitch told me I was making too much noise, which was ridiculous because I had the sound on mute. When I pointed that out, she had the nerve to tell me that the typing was too loud. So I moved to another table. I woulda left altogether but I had to return the damn book. The area is in a cage and you can’t get out unless someone unlocks it.”

“That’s true,” McAdams said. “You didn’t think that her behavior was strange?”

“She was always acting strange . . . hot one minute, aloof the next. I have no idea why I didn’t tell her to fuck off. I suppose I was hoping for another go-around. But obviously she only fucked me to get to the book. I swear I don’t know who murdered her, but I’m sure that it musta been someone she pissed off!”

McAdams said, “And after my experience, I’d say he’s still pissed off.”

Terry blanched. “Sorry.”

McAdams said, “Not your fault.”

To Tyler, Sobel said, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Decker said, “Lance, can you walk us through the day she asked you to check the book out for her?”

“Uh, I’m assuming you’re not interested in the sex part.”

“I want a timeline for you. If you two had sex, I want to know when and where.”

“This was a while back.”

“Take your time,” Decker said.

“I guess we hooked up around eleven. I remember because I skipped my class. It took about an hour. Afterward, she said something about working on her senior thesis and that she needed to go to the library.”

“And you said?”

“I said okay. See you later or something like that. Then she must have asked me if I was busy because I remember asking her what she wanted.”

Decker was taking notes. “Okay. Go on.”

“She said ‘I need a favor’—in those words, ‘I need a favor.’ I asked what and she said that she needed a specific reference book for her thesis. But she had checked too many books out already. Could I check a book out for her? And since she had just done me a favor—mutual favors I’d like to think—anyway, I was in a good mood so I said sure. Because it wasn’t outrageous that she’d be working on her thesis. She worked a lot and she often worked in Rayfield.”

“Okay,” Decker said. “So then what did you do?”

“We went to the library and I checked out the book in the big wooden box.”

“Back it up for a minute,” Decker said. “Where were you when she asked you to do her a favor?”

“We were in my dorm room.”

“So she came to your dorm.”

“Yeah. I was surprised when she showed up. No phone call or text or e-mail. She just showed up.” He shook his head. “Shoulda known better.”

“So she went to your dorm room, you two had sex, and then you two went to Rayfield.”

“That about sums it up.”

“And you took your computer with you.”

“Always. I always have my phone, my pad, and my laptop. People steal things.”

“How about Angeline? What was she carrying with her?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I didn’t pay attention.”

“If she was looking at the book for her thesis, she must have had her laptop, right?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Anything else?”

“I couldn’t tell you. I don’t even remember if she had her laptop.”

Decker paused. “She was an artist, right?”

“Yeah. A pretty good one, too.”

“Did she carry any materials with her?”

“Like an art box?”

“Or a portfolio case.”

“Yeah, she carried her portfolio case everywhere, never let it out of her sight. Like I said, she was a good artist, but it’s not like her stuff was worth anything.”

McAdams said, “Can I get back to the library for a moment? You said that while Angeline was looking at the book, you were playing with your laptop and she was sitting away from you.”

“Yeah.”

“Where was the reference librarian?”

“Beats me. I know I had to ring to get her when I wanted to turn in the book, so I guess she wasn’t at her desk the entire time.”

The men exchanged glances. McAdams said, “Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?”

“Here.” Oliver tore off a sheet of paper and gave him a pen.

McAdams drew a map. “I was at the library this morning. As I recall, the reference area has six tables.” He quickly drew up a schematic and gave it to Terry. “Where were you sitting?”

Terry looked at the map. “Do you want to know where
I
was sitting or where
she
was sitting? Because I remember
she
was sitting next to the window here. And I probably was sitting here; clear across to the other side.”

“So you were sitting closer to the reference desk and Angeline’s table was the farthest from the reference desk.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m not saying, I’m asking. Look at the map and tell me if I’m right?”

Terry glanced at the rudimentary drawing. “Yeah, sure. That looks about right.”

“Could you see what she was doing?” Decker asked.

“I assumed she was looking at the book.”

“Let me ask it this way,” Decker said. “Was she in your direct line of vision?”

“Because it doesn’t look that way from my map,” McAdams said.