Fighting Chance(81)

“They didn’t come back to the courtroom,” Stefan said. “They went away and it was a long time and then the guards came and took me back here. And I heard people talking about it in the hallways, but nobody told me right away. But Petrak told me later. He said that Father Kasparian was in the room near the body of the judge and he had blood on him everywhere, but everybody else had blood on them, too; there were a lot of people. Even Petrak had blood on him, and his teacher who had given him the ride to the court, she had it all over her. He said there was blood everywhere.”

“Did he tell you anything about a cell phone? Not his cell phone, but another one?”

Gregor saw it happen right before his eyes. The blank stare went. The head turned away.

And suddenly, Stefan Maldovanian could speak nothing but Armenian.

2

The call came just as Gregor was getting into a cab outside JDF, and since it was from George Edelson, he took it.

“I’ve just gotten word of something very peculiar,” Edelson said. “Tony Monteverdi and Ray Berle have just caught another murder case.”

“And that’s peculiar? Murder isn’t all that peculiar in Philadelphia.”

“The guy the uniforms detained turns out to be somebody you know,” Edelson said. “Kid by the name of Petrak Maldovanian. On the suspect list for the murder of Martha Handling, if there was a suspect list when the DA’s office thinks the case has been solved. Brother of the kid whose hearing was supposed to happen the day Martha Handling was killed.”

Gregor considered this. “Who was killed?”

“I don’t know,” Edelson said. “Ray called and he told me about the Maldovanian kid, but he didn’t give me a full report. We should both be glad he called. He said if you wanted to come down and talk to the kid, he and Tony’d wear it. I thought you might want to go.”

“Did Mr. Berle say if they were interested in arresting Petrak Maldovanian? Do they think he committed the murder?”

“I don’t know that either,” Edelson said. “Let me give you the address. Go check it out yourself. I’ll bet anything John didn’t think it was going to go this far when he decided to call you in and give you some rope.”

“John doesn’t think Tibor killed Martha Handling any more than I do.” Gregor fumbled around in his coat pocket and came up with a stub of a pencil and a crumpled envelope. DON’T THROW THIS OUT! the envelope said. YOU CAN SAVE BIG!

“Go ahead,” Gregor said.

Instead of an address, Edelson gave a city block and directions to follow the police cars to an alley.

“I know that sounds crazy,” Edelson said. “But there’s a full-bore police investigation going on. You won’t be able to miss it.”

“I’ll be one of a hundred rubberneckers.”

“Nope on that, too,” Edelson said. “Ray’s left word with the guys at the tape to let you through. I don’t suppose there’s a possibility we have a baby serial killer on our hands.”

“There’s always a possibility,” Gregor said.

Gregor gave the driver the instructions, and the driver looked visibly annoyed. “You could’ve walked there,” he said. Then he took off, and Gregor tried to get himself oriented.

It turned out the driver was right. Gregor probably could have walked there. The ride was so short, it was almost embarrassing.

The destination was unmistakable. The block was packed solid with police cars, mobile crime unit vans, ambulance, medical examiner’s office cars, and God only knew what. There was crime scene tape up at their end of the block, and Gregor was sure there would be crime scene tape up at the other end. There was a uniform directing traffic.

“I don’t think you’re getting through this,” the driver said as the uniform came up to warn them off.

The uniform was another policewoman. Gregor cranked down his window and gave her his name. “I was told—”

“Detective Berle,” the woman said. “We were warned. You can come on through, but we can’t let the vehicle in. There isn’t any room.”

Gregor got out his wallet and dumped a twenty-dollar bill on the front seat next to the driver. It was twice what the meter read.

“Is the Homicide Division building somewhere around here?” he asked.

“Right around the corner,” the policewoman said. “Right on our doorstep, so to speak. Why?”

“I’m just trying to figure out where I am,” Gregor said.

Gregor made his way through the vehicles, a little surprised that none of them was a news van. He found the alley by heading for the real logjam, and just as he came up to the opening, four men came out, carrying something in an evidence bag. It was not the body. It was too small.