Third Victim (4 page)

“It’s not uncommon. Partners are usually assigned to each other based on the perceived effectiveness of the combination … strengths and weaknesses—you know what I mean.” I studied her expression and understood—Mrs. Koufax may have noticed some chemistry between us and was playing matchmaker.
You go, girl!

She nodded, but again, there was something in her eyes that indicated she was entertaining a whimsical notion.

“I have one more question. Can you provide the names of people your son has had relationships with?”

Sam’s head dropped. It was obvious that my question stirred up images he didn’t want to see. “I don’t know,” he said. “That open he wasn’t.”

“If he was in a committed relationship, he never spoke about it, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved. He valued his privacy and I respected that. I never pried,” Esther said.

I wish you had. You’re not giving us very much to go on.
“All right. I think that’s enough for now.” We gave the Koufaxes a set of our business cards and the perfunctory, “Call us if you think of anything else that might be helpful. We’ll be in touch the moment there’s any news.” Before we left, we asked for and were reluctantly allowed to take DNA swabs from both parents. We were also given several snapshots of their son.

We settled into our car and obtained the address and phone number for Bernie Sadock. “I’m going to pick up a box of that tea. It was really good.”

“You? Tea?” Lido mused. “You’re a diehard coffee drinker.”

“My palate is constantly evolving, Lido. Who knows what culinary delicacy I’ll begin to enjoy tomorrow.”

“Get real. You’re a bigger garbage belly than I am.”

I smirked. My new partner wasn’t half wrong.

Chapter Six

Bernie Sadock agreed to meet us in his office.
It was the height of tax season and his staff was operating in chaos mode. His employees were scurrying about like squirrels stashing nuts before the winter.

“Did you do your taxes yet?” I asked Lido as we took seats in the reception area.

“No. You?”

“Nope. Waiting for the last minute as always. I think I get a bigger refund when my accountant is angry with me. ‘Again, Stephanie? Why don’t you just show up at 11:59 on April 15th?’ he likes to say. ‘You think I can do a tax return in five minutes? You think I just pull your refund out of my ass?’ The more infuriated he gets, the more money I get back.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Yuh-huh. Try it. See what happens.”

“Uncle Stavros does my taxes. If I’m not at his doorstep by February 1st, tax documents in hand, he starts badgering me like a lunatic.”

“Go to someone else.”

“You’re obviously not Greek. If he ever heard that I went to another accountant, he’d go ballistic. It would be worse than if I had accused him of being a child molester.”

“Okay. Stay poor. See if I care.”

“Like any of us are getting rich on our NYPD salary.”

“True dat.”

“Bernie will be a few more minutes,” the receptionist said. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

I perked up. “Swee-Touch-Nee?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s all right. I’ll pass.” I elbowed Lido. “What about you,
shtarker
?”

“I’m good,” he said with a smile as the receptionist left us. “My God, they’re certainly big on tea around here. You’d think we were in London.”

“It’s a very civilized beverage,” I said in my best English accent. “I’ll have you know it’s far more refined than that coffee you scallywag Americans are so fond of.”

Lido chuckled. “Don’t work yourself into a tizzy, Lord Byron. We don’t want to start a kerfuffle right here in the reception area.”

I was about to check my phone when a man I figured to be Sadock appeared in the reception area. He was exceedingly tall with thick mussed hair, sort of like a giant Chia Pet. His shirt was half out of his slacks and his tie hung loosely around his neck.

“Bernie Sadock. How can I help you, Detectives?” It was apparent that he was short on time and unhappy about the interruption.

“Homicide investigation, Mr. Sadock. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Homicide?” He seemed to recoil as the word rolled around in his ears. “Who was murdered?”

“Subject to positive identification, Leonard Koufax.”

His eyes grew large. “Lenny?” he asked with disbelief. Silence fell over him as the shock settled in. “I don’t know anything about Lenny. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Still, we’d like to ask a few questions,” Lido said.

“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed. “Come with me.”

We followed him to his office. He closed the door and covered the documents he’d been working on. “I’m amazed that you came to see me. Like I said, it’s been a long time, and Lenny and I were never the best of—” His eyes opened wide. “
Oh.
I get it. Really—you think that
I
had something to do with it?”

“It came up in conversation that you used to ride Mr. Koufax pretty hard. Is that true?”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m not proud of it. I’ve said some stupid things in my time, and for some reason Lenny always brought out the worst in me. But I would never say those things now, and the idea of me having something to do with Lenny’s death … Well, you’re way off base, Detectives. I don’t have the gumption to kill
a deal
let alone a living breathing human being. I don’t even step on spiders.”

“Where were you early this morning?” Lido asked.

“Here, right here in my office with my staff. You can ask any one of them. It’s tax season—I get in at six a.m. and stay until nine or later, six and a half days a week right up until April 15th. Kill Lenny?” he huffed. “I don’t even take lunch this time of year.”

It appeared that we had been given a bum steer, as it were. Of course, we’d follow up with his staff and verify his alibi but … “I realize that you haven’t seen Mr. Koufax recently, but is there anyone you remember it might be worth our while to speak to?”

He drummed his fingers on the desk and I could see that he was doing his best to be polite and patient with us. “Why don’t you talk to Sam’s cousin, Eli? He had more influence on Lenny than anyone else
I
can think of. If you ask me, he was responsible for Lenny turning out gay. I wouldn’t put it past him if he—” He ended his sentence abruptly.

“If he what?”

“No. I’ve said enough already and I’m not sure if I’m even remembering correctly. I wouldn’t want to slander him based on hearsay, and have you knock on his door like you knocked on mine.”

“Why don’t you tell us what you began to say and let us decide whether the information warrants further investigation or not?”

“I don’t like this, fooling around with a man’s reputation, but if it will help you in your investigation …” He paused and took a deep breath before beginning, “I heard—several of us in the old neighborhood actually, that after he was discharged from the army, Eli used to expose himself in front of young boys, but it was just a rumor and I don’t remember him getting into any trouble because of it.”

“Eli was already on our list of persons to interview, so don’t feel bad about providing us with the information you did.” Of course, I didn’t mention that Eli was a person of interest only in regard to a dish of roasted lamb and a satisfying Mediterranean meal.

“Thank God,” he sighed. “I can just imagine what’s been said about me and it’s probably all true, but that was before I became mature enough to realize that we’re all pretty insignificant in the scheme of things.” His expression saddened. “I’m sorry that I can’t apologize to Lenny face to face. I really am sorry to hear about him.”

“I’m happy to hear you say that.”

Sadock seemed devout, almost repentant. It was time to look somewhere else.

Chapter Seven

It was the dinner hour by the time we drove back into the city.
Driving an official vehicle means never having to say you’re sorry about where you’ve parked the car. We squeezed in right behind a “no standing anytime” sign, our front bumper no more than six inches from it, right in front of Glatt Pita.

“How many?” Eli Danziger asked as we approached the host’s station.

“We’re not here for dinner.”
Damn it. Why did I say that? I’m starving and the air is positively alive with the scent of freshly roasted meat.
“Are you Eli Danziger?”

“Yes?” he asked, a bit of outrage grinning past his obligatory host smile. Eli was tall with piercing green eyes and a sculpted mustache. He was elegantly dressed in a black suit with trendy narrow lapels.

I gave him a peek at my shield before slipping it back into my pocket. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Now?” he asked with indignation in his voice. “The dinner rush just started. I can’t leave my station,” he huffed.

Lido stepped forward, confronting Danziger with his formidable frame. “You’ll just have to.”

“Jesus!” He looked around with exasperation and snapped his fingers. A young woman rushed over. “I need to take five,” he told her, dropped a stack of menus into her hands, and beckoned us to follow with a nod of his head. “This is really a very bad time to do this,” he complained as we followed him toward the back of the restaurant, then down a flight of stairs. He came to a stop, reached into his jacket pocket, and fished out his keys. He unlocked the door to a small office—a desk, a few chairs, and a slew of filing cabinets were within. “What’s this all about?” he asked, then walked behind the desk and stood there.

“We’re investigating a homicide.”

“
Really?
Whose?”

“Leonard Koufax presumably.”

He furrowed his brow and mouthed, “Cousin Lenny?” He sighed deeply, then, “Presumably? What do you mean, presumably?”

“Three people were killed in an explosion at the Broadway Chabad on Forty-Third Street this morning. Two of the victims were positively identified, but the third … the third victim was male. The ID the deceased was carrying belonged to Mr. Koufax, but we’ve been unable to make a positive identification.”

“Why’s that so difficult?”

“The victim’s face was rendered unrecognizable,” Lido offered. “So visual identification is impossible. We need DNA test results in order to confirm the victim’s identity.”

He seemed horrified. “My God, the blast tore off his face?”

Lido turned to me for direction, apparently unsure of how much to say.

“That’s up to the coroner to determine. For now we’re trying to determine who might’ve wanted to kill Mr. Koufax.”

The harsh reality of a relative’s death took hold of him. He fell into his chair, dropping suddenly, as if he was a popped balloon. His face grew pale. “I don’t get it. Why would someone want to kill Lenny? Are you sure the explosion wasn’t an accident?”

“It most certainly was not an accident,” Lido said. “We found evidence of an IED in the chabad kitchen.”

“What the hell is an IED?”

I almost grimaced.
Really? Doesn’t this guy watch CNN? He doesn’t read a newspaper? Has he been living under a rock?
“An improvised bomb, Mr. Danziger. The explosion was no accident.”

“And you’re sure this bomber was targeting Lenny?”

“That’s our theory at this time.”

Eli took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. We’d completed a records search on him and there was no evidence of a criminal record. Based on what Bernie Sadock had told us, I was a little leery of Eli and was watching him carefully. Sadock had alleged that Eli was or may have been a child molester. Even if he wasn’t guilty of murder, I’d be thrilled to turn him over to the Special Victims Unit if I had the slightest suspicion that he had been preying on children. He did indeed look overcome with grief. If he was playing it up, he was doing a good job, because when he looked up I could see that he seemed on the verge of tears. “I can’t believe it. Lenny was like my little brother. Who would do something like this?” He tapped his fingers on the desk and I noticed that there were black streaks on a few of them, which began at the cuticle and ran down to the edge of the nail.

“I know this is difficult, but if you can think of anyone we should question … it’s far more effective if we speak to all persons of interest at the very onset of the investigation.”

“That’s just great,” he snapped. “Would you like me to make up some names so that you can waste your time interviewing them?”

“There’s no need for sarcasm,” Lido told him.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just kind of shaken by all this. How long before you have the DNA results?” He tapped his fingers once more, again drawing my attention to the black streaks in his nails.

Hmm, that looks familiar.
“Should be back sometime late tomorrow.”

“And you seem to feel that this victim might not be Lenny, is that what I’m getting from you?”

“Like I said, it’s a theory. Can you tell us anything about his relationships here in the city? His parents didn’t seem to know much about his life outside of Brooklyn.”

“I’m not surprised. I think Esther and Sam are intimidated by the city. You know how people become when they get elderly—they like to stay close to their home base.”

“Anyone here in Manhattan we should be looking at?” Lido asked.

He struck a thoughtful pose. “Gee, the theatrical circle is a pretty big one. One big troop, if you know what I mean. Lenny had dozens of friends. Did you speak with his buddy, Ira?”

“Yes. Mr. Bascom was very helpful. Anyone else you can think of?”

“I’ll take out my phone and give you a laundry list of starving actors, wannabes, and ne’re-do-wells hoping to grab onto the coattails of the next rising star—a fraternity of gay men clinging to one another for hope. They know in their hearts that they’re never going to make it, but they never give up. The dream is too powerful.”

“Celebrity is a strong itch for some.” I was hoping for a short tight list, but it seemed that was not in the cards. At the very least I appreciated Eli’s level of cooperation. “Can you prioritize the list for us? Closest friends first, followed by strong associations and so forth.”