“Yes. He’s in the office next door.”
“So he does coffee runs for you?”
“No. He brought it as a thank-you. I gave him a book on birth order.”
“Why?”
“He has two brothers. One older, one younger—”
“Ah, the old middle child syndrome,” I said. “Poor Matt didn’t get enough attention from his parents, so now he’s looking for love in all the wrong places.”
“For God’s sake, he bought me a coffee. It’s a nice gesture. He’s a nice guy.”
“Yeah, a nice, good-looking single guy. Are you going to tell me that was strictly a thank-you-for-the-book gesture? He wasn’t hitting on you?”
“Maybe he was. I’m recently single, and nobody but Captain Cates and Kylie know that you and I are dating. As far as Matt is concerned, I’m fair game. So maybe he was flirting with me. I wasn’t flirting back.”
“Of course not. I was standing right there.”
“Zach, as a woman, I’m flattered at the absolutely insane conclusions you are jumping to, but as a shrink, all I can say is get a grip.”
The latte had cooled down, and she sat there staring at me and sipping from the cup.
“Taste good, does it, luv?” I said, putting on my best English accent.
“Quite,” she said, trying not to smile.
“Did we just have our first fight?”
She thought about it. “Not a biggie, but yes, we did.”
“Good,” I said. “Then I have something to look forward to.”
“You’re looking forward to a bigger fight?” she said.
“No,” I said, picking up my file and heading toward the door. “Makeup sex.”
I didn’t look back, but I could hear the laughter.
Chapter 16
“We’re in deep doo-doo,” Kylie said when I got back to my desk.
“Deeper than when I left ten minutes ago?” I said.
She held up one of the Hazmat files we’d just inherited. “Do you remember whose brilliant idea it was to keep Donovan and Boyle involved in this case?”
“I believe you were dazzled by their scintillating personalities and their—and I quote—‘serious learning curve.’”
“I was dead wrong on both counts.” She dropped the file on the desk. “There’s nothing in here.”
“Define nothing.”
“Most of it is backgrounder stuff. Bios, ME reports, and rap sheets on the victims. We could get more by reading Pete Hamill’s column in the Daily News. Three murders, Zach. These guys investigated three murders and came away with zero leads.”
“Then I guess we’re in luck,” I said. “We’ve got a fourth murder, and they haven’t screwed it up yet. Put those aside, and we’ll start with Evelyn Parker-Steele. That’s the one where we have the learning curve.”
“Are you in La-La Land?” she said. “We’ve got squat. Everything we know we got from a fast-talking politician. And that was before Parker-Steele changed her status from MIA to DOA, and before she outed herself and confessed to murdering her gay lover. As far as I’m concerned, we’re at square one.”
“You’re right,” I said. “So let’s start by going through Parker-Steele’s emails, phone records, credit card transactions—whatever we can dig up—and see if she knew any of the other three victims.”
“Based on their backgrounds, she probably didn’t know them,” Kylie said, “but let’s see if they’re connected in any way. Maybe they have a common enemy. Also, let’s talk to the family and see what they can give us.”
“Good idea,” I said. “Because zillionaires are always quick to divulge all their dirty little family secrets to help the authorities bring the truth to the surface. Now who’s in La-La Land?”
“Now you’re right,” she said. “Let’s call Muriel Sykes. Even if she doesn’t know anything, we can at least get our hands on Evelyn’s computer.”
Sykes had given us her personal cell number on Saturday when she’d called in to report Evelyn missing. Kylie dialed.
“Mrs. Sykes, this is Detective MacDonald. I’m—”
Sykes cut her off. It was at least twenty seconds before Kylie got a word in. “Ma’am, I called you as soon as I could find a minute. We were at the crime scene and—”
Pause. Then: “What do you mean, ‘what crime scene’? We were in Central Park with Ev—”
Another interruption. Kylie’s expression went from exasperated to confused. “No. Nobody told us. When did you report it?… That’s the Seventeenth Precinct. What was taken?”