NYPD Red 2(4)

I felt rotten for coming down so hard on her. “Sorry I got pissy,” I said. And just like that, I was apologizing to her. “Are you okay?”

“Better than her,” she said, examining the victim’s mangled teeth and disarticulated jaw. “This is nasty. She was alive when they did this. Were you serious about four murders? Where are the other three?”

“Dead and buried,” I said. “The previous victims of the Hazmat Killer.”

She already had latex gloves on, and she touched the Tyvek suit. “Anyone can buy one of these Hazmat outfits. How do we know it’s not a copycat?”

“Chuck Dryden worked the others, and he says the forensics on this one have the earmarks of number four.”

“He’s probably right. The carousel fits the pattern too. When Hazmat Man dumps his victims, he likes to pick a spot that makes a statement. It’s like his little touch of poetic justice.”

“So what’s the metaphor here? Parker-Steele’s life was a merry-go-round?”

She shook her head. “Horses. Evelyn grew up on them. Show jumping, dressage, all that rich-girl equestrienne shit. She and her husband have a big horse farm up in Westchester County.”

“So maybe he’s just saying, ‘Screw you and the horse you rode in on.’”

“Let’s go find him and ask. There’s no question that this is our case. If anybody fits the Red profile, she does. You think Cates is going to ask us to work the other three?”

“Can you think of any other reason why she called and said the mayor wants to see us at Gracie Mansion?”

“The mayor sent for us?” Kylie said, smiling for the first time since she showed up. “When are we meeting him?”

I looked at my watch. “Twenty minutes ago. But, hey, he’ll understand. He keeps people waiting all the time.”

“Damn,” she said. “Why didn’t you just go without me?”

“Cates is there,” I said. “If we’re both late, we can tell her we got jammed up at the crime scene, and she’ll let it slide. But if I showed up on my own and told her my partner was MIA, she’d find a new team in a heartbeat.”

Kylie took a few seconds to process what I’d said, and I could see that familiar look of appreciation in her eyes.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

Knowing Kylie, that was about as close to an apology as I was going to get.





Chapter 4



The squad car Cates sent for us was parked in the bike lane on Center Drive, lights flashing.

“Oh shit,” Kylie said as we hiked across the lawn.

“What now?”

“Timmy McNumbnuts.”

“I need another clue,” I said.

“Our ride. The driver’s waiting in the car like he’s supposed to, but his partner who’s out there chatting it up with those three women is Tim McNaughton.”

“I’ve met him,” I said. “Cocky son of a bitch, but so were we at that age.”

“Zach, there’s a difference between self-confidence and being an asshole who hits on anything with tits. His picture is on the bulletin board in the ladies’ room with a circle/slash symbol over it. On the bottom somebody wrote, ‘His pickup lines have all the subtlety of a chloroform-soaked rag.’”

“You always had a way with words,” I said.

“Thank you,” she said as a hint of the missing mischief crept back into her eyes. “Somebody had to warn the newbies.”

As soon as McNaughton saw us, he turned back to the women he was yakking with. On cue, the three of them yelled out “Go, Red, go!” and pumped their fists in the air.

“You guys deserve a cheerleading squad,” he said, proud of his handiwork.

“Not at a homicide scene,” I said, hoping there were no video cameras around to capture the moment.

“Oops!” He laughed. “My bad.”

“Gracie Mansion,” I said. “Lights, hold the sirens.”

The backseat of a cop car is not designed for comfort. It’s cramped, made of hard plastic for easy cleaning of body fluids, and slung low to make it tougher for the occupants to get any leverage should they try to attack the good guys on the other side of the steel mesh cage and bulletproof glass.

The driver pulled away and headed east out of the park. McNaughton twisted around and flashed Kylie his best game show host smile. “It’s a tight squeeze back there, Detective. Just wondering if you had enough room for those legs?”

“I am more uncomfortable than you can possibly imagine,” she said.

He laughed as if he actually got the joke. “How’s your husband doing?” he asked.