Death of a Blue Movie Star

"Okay, a detective with three suspects. What would you do to figure out who the perp is?"

"Perp," he said. "See, I said you were a born cop."

In a thick Slavic accent: "I learned English from Kojafe reruns." She grew serious. "Come on, Sam. What would you do?"

"In order to make an arrest you need probable cause."

"What's that?"

"Something that shows your suspect is more likely than not to've committed the crime. A witness, conflicting alibis, physical evidence at the scene co

"How do you get confessions?"

"We put the suspect in a room, turn the camera on and ask them questions. You don't arrest them because then their lawyers show up and tell them not to say anything. They can leave at any time but we… encourage them to stay."

"You ever trick somebody into a confession?"

"Sure. That's part of the game. But no more answers till you tell why you're curious about police procedures."

"Okay, I've got three suspects."

"What suspects?"

"In the Shelly Lowe killing."

"Three suspects? You mean, you know three people in the Sword of Jesus? Why didn't you tell Begley or somebody in Homicide?"

"Oh, there is no Sword of Jesus. It's a cover-up. Somebody's making it look like it's a religious thing but it's not."

"But-"

She continued before he could ask what would undoubtedly be some questions that would result in either awkward answers or outright lies. "See, Shelly didn't just do those movies. There's this guy named Arthur Tucker. He was Shelly's acting coach. Only you know what's interesting?" Her voice faded and she looked at him. "What's the matter?"

"Rune, you weren't going to do this."

"I was just interviewing people about her, for my film, and I found some fu

Healy glanced at Adam, stalking a mangy pigeon twenty feet away, and rested his large hand tentatively on her knee.

Rune stared at the gargoyles. They were smiling, not leering, she thought. It seemed that was an important omen but she couldn't tell what it meant.

Healy didn't speak for a second. He clicked his tongue. "Okay. Fu

"Shelly was a legitimate actress and she wrote plays, okay? She and her coach, this Arthur Tucker, had a big fight when he found out about her movie career. Oh, oh-he also was a commando in the war. So he knows about bombs."

"But you need a motive to-"

"I've got one. He stole a play that Shelly wrote. He took it and put his name on it. He told me he'd never gotten anywhere with his career and I think he could've killed her and stolen that play."

"Pretty damn speculative. Who else is a suspect?"

"Michael Schmidt."

Healy was frowning. "It's familiar. Who's he?"

"The Broadway producer. The famous one."

"Him?"

"Right. He told me he didn't remember Shelly but he was lying. It turns out he'd almost offered her a role in one of his plays. Then he found out she did porn and withdrew the offer. She was going to blackmail him into getting the part."

"You don't kill someone-"

"He's a deacon in the church. She could've brought down his whole career. He's also an obnoxious son of a bitch."

"That doesn't violate the Penal Code of the State of New York, being obnoxious. Who else is on the list?"

"Another asshole. Da

"And you heard about an insurance policy on the building?"

"No. On her."

This got Healy's attention. "Go on."

"Shelly told me that she had a terrible fight with someone she worked with. I think it might've been him. He was always flirting with her and she was rejecting him. And he's really into S and M; he gets off on beating women. So I broke into his town house-"

Healy put his face in his hands. "Rune, no, no, no. You can't do these things."

"It's okay. One of his girlfriends said it was all right. She also let me go through his safe."

Healy sighed. "At least you didn't steal anything." He looked at her. "Tell me you didn't steal anything."

"What, I look like a thief?" Rune asked. "Anyway, what I found was this insurance policy on Shelly. Almost a half-million dollars."

"No exclusion for murder?"

"Nope. His girlfriend made a copy of it for me."

"You've got three suspects. Could any of them been the one who attacked you?"

"They're all about the same build. Oh, and Schmidt's eyes were all red. Like he'd been teargassed recently."

"Teargassed? What does that have to do with anything?"

"The man in the windbreaker?" she said sheepishly. "I sort of teargassed him."

"Sort of?"

"Self-defense," she pointed out in a lame voice.

But Healy didn't lecture her about illegal weapons in the city of New York. He just shrugged. "I don't know. Tear gas burns disappear within twelve hours or so. How 'bout the other two?"

"They're all built about the same. Not muscle builders."

"Did any of them look really shocked to see you? I mean, if they'd tried to kill you, there would've been some recognition in their faces."

"I don't think so," she said, frowning in disappointment.

"Of course," Healy added, "the smart thing would be to hire a strong-arm."

"A hit man?"

Healy was nodding absently. "That's good… It's not enough for probable cause but…" Then he laughed and shook his head as if coming out of a daydream. "Hey, forget this whole thing." He held up his hand-not the one that was still resting on her knee. "I'm not even in Homicide… I don't want to know any of this."

"Just tell me about the explosives. From the second bombing."

"No."

"I thought you were having them traced."

"I am."

"Well?"

"No results yet, and when I get them I'm writing them in my report and sending it upstairs. And that'll be that."

She said defiantly, "I'll just have to keep looking, I guess."

"Rune." Healy was debating. "Tell you what. I'll steer a couple guys from Homicide over to check out-what was his name?-the acting coach. He's the only one seems to know anything about explosives."

"Really? Only promise you won't arrest him till I'm there. I want to film the bust."

"I think you know we can't make any promises like that."

"Well, just try. Please!" Rune wrote Tucker's name on a mustard-stained napkin and handed it to Healy. She asked, "What about the other two?"

"You want my opinion? The insurance angle with, what's his name, Traub. That's too obvious. And Michael Schmidt? Doesn't seem a celeb like him'd risk a murder conviction because of a blackmail threat."

"Oh, but he's got an ego like the Grand Canyon."

Healy looked at the napkin. "Let's do one at a time. No rush. There's no statute of limitations on murder."

"See, I told you we'd make a great team."

"Team," he was saying, only in a softer voice. He leaned toward her. His head tilted slightly. His eyes darted to where Adam had been just a moment before; the boy wasn't visible. Quickly Healy bent closer to her. "You're very pretty. You know that?"

She didn't know it at all. But it didn't matter. She was perfectly happy to know thathe felt that way. Rune found her eyes closing, her head tilting back, lifting up to meet his lips. He reached over and took her hand and she was surprised that his was shaking slightly.

"Don't do it," Adam said, scaring the hell out of them both as he climbed on top of the bench from behind it, where he'd been stalking them. "You'll scar me for life."

Healy jerked back.