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“You gave her a card with the address of your loft and the phone number of the landline there.”
“That’s ridiculous. I gave her the card with my business address, 400 Park Avenue.”
Barrott tossed the card at him. “Read it.”
Perspiration on his forehead, Nick DeMarco read the print on the card several times before he spoke. “That was two weeks ago today,” he said, more to himself than to the others. “I had some cards made, with just the loft address. They came in that day from the printer. I must have put one of them in my wallet. I thought I was giving my office card to Leesey.”
“Why would you need an address card for the loft and the telephone number there unless you wanted to slip it to beautiful girls like Leesey?” Barrott asked.
“Nick, we can get up and walk out of here right now,” Murphy said.
“That’s not necessary. I’ve got my Fifth Avenue apartment up for sale. I plan to live in the loft. I have too many friends I haven’t seen in a long time because I’ve been too busy trying to be a hotshot restaurant and club owner. Having those cards made was a gesture toward the future.” He placed the card back on the desk.
“Is one of the people you want to see in the loft Mack MacKenzie’s sister, Carolyn?” Barrott asked. “Cute picture of the two of you, hand in hand, rushing for your car last night. It brought tears to my eyes.”
Ahearn turned to Be
“I drove his sedan home.” Be
“Don’t you have a car? Surely you must get paid enough to have your own wheels.”
“I can answer that,” Nick interrupted, before Be
Ahearn ignored him. “So, Be
“No. Mr. DeMarco had the SUV in the garage at the loft because he was going to drive to the airport in the morning with his golf clubs. I dropped him off at the Woodshed at about ten o’clock in the sedan, then drove home to my place that night.”
“You then went into your apartment, and to bed.”
“Uh-huh. That was about eleven o’clock.”
“Be
“Parking’s lousy everywhere in New York City.”
“But you lucked out. You got a spot for your employer’s vehicle right in front of your apartment building. Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah, that’s where I parked it. I got home and got into bed and turned on Jay Leno. He was really fu
“I don’t care what he was talking about. I care about the fact that the black Mercedes vehicle owned by Nick DeMarco wasn’t there thr whole night. Your neighbor in apartment 6D saw you pulling into a space in front of the building at about 5:15, when he was leaving for work. Tell us, Be
Be
“Be
“You don’t have to answer that, Be
“Why not? Sure I do. I place a few bets. A hundred bucks here and there. So arrest me.”
“Didn’t you buy one of those cell phones and prepaid cards as a joke birthday present for Nick, I mean Mr. DeMarco?”
“Keep quiet, Be
Be
“You’re a real Sir Galahad, Be
“He’s a cop,” Be
Paul Murphy stood up. “We’ve had enough,” he told Ahearn, Barrott, and Gaylor. “I’m sure you’ll be able to confirm Be
The three detectives watched the men depart. When the door closed behind them, Ahearn said, “That story is full of holes. Sure, Be
They looked at one another in an agony of frustration, each man hearing in his head, once again, Leesey Andrews’s desperate cry for help.
59
A nd the walls came tumbling down…” Was that an old gospel folk hymn? Something about Joshua and the walls of Jericho? He wasn’t sure. The only thing that was sure was that time was ru
I really, really didn’t want to end up like this, he thought. It was forced on me. I really did try to stop after the first one. That wasn’t counting the real first one, of course, the one nobody knew about. But then I wasn’t allowed to stop.
Not fair. Not fair.
The end is coming, he thought, feeling his pulse quicken. I can’t stop it. It’s all over. I’ll be found out, but I’m not going to be arrested. I’m going to die, but I’m going to take someone new with me. What’s the best way-the most exciting way-to do it?
I’ll figure it out, he told himself.
After all, he always had.
60
M artha’s Vineyard is about three hundred miles northeast of Manhattan, and slower to warm up. On Tuesday morning when I woke up, I looked out the window at the bright cold day. Feeling physically and emotionally stronger, I got out of bed and considered what to wear when I confronted Barbara Hanover Galbraith. It was cool enough for the ru
I didn’t want to seem either overdressed or too casual. I wanted no sense of being Mack’s little sister when I saw Barbara. She was a pediatric surgeon. I was a juris doctoris, an attorney-at-law, and had just completed a clerkship with a civil court judge. My alternative was a dark-green cashmere jacket, white fitted camisole, and white jeans I had taken from the closet at the last minute. Now I was glad that I had the option of wearing them.
Although it was nearly lunchtime, I called room service to order a continental breakfast, and drank black coffee and nibbled on a ci