Night Fall

I said to Marie, “Can you think of anything else?”

“No, but I’ll think about it.”

I gave her my card and said, “Call my cell phone if you do. Don’t call the office.”

She nodded.

I asked her, “Can you give me a name?”

“I can’t. But I can make some calls and see if any of the other three cops want to talk.”

“I’ll let you know about that.”

“What’s this all about, John?”

“Well, I’ll tell you what Griffith didn’t tell you-on that blanket found on the beach was the lens cap of a video camera.”

It took her two seconds to say, “Holy shit. You think-?”

“Who knows?” I stood and said, “Keep that to yourself. Meanwhile, think about that day at the Bayview and about what you might have heard afterward. And thanks, Marie, for your time and your help.”

I ambled over to the kid’s playpen and wound the mobile, then said to Marie, “I’ll let myself out.”

She gave me a big hug and said, “Be careful.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Slobadan was sitting in the taxi, talking on his cell phone, and I got in and said, “St. George Ferry. Quicko.”

Still talking on the phone in some language that sounded like a leaf blower, he took off.

We got to the ferry terminal ten minutes before the 5:30 departure, and I paid the meter plus five bucks. I made a mental note to turn in my expenses to Ms. Mayfield.

There was an ice cream truck near the terminal, and in a moment of sheer nostalgia, I bought a sugar cone with a double scoop of pistachio.

I got on the ferry, which was still free, climbed to the top forward deck, and within a few minutes we cast off and set sail for Manhattan.

It’s a twenty-five-minute ride, and during that time, I thought about a few things that weren’t computing. Things that Kate said, or didn’t say. This job is about fifty percent information and fifty percent intuition, and my intuition was telling me that I didn’t have all the information.

I looked at the Statue of Liberty as we passed by, and yes, I was a little bit moved by patriotism and my sworn duty to defend the Constitution of the United States and all that, but I wasn’t yet convinced that what happened to TWA 800 was an attack on my country.

And then there were the victims and their families. As a homicide cop, I always tried not to get personally involved with the deceased’s family, but lots of times I did. This motivates you, but not always in a way that does you or the victims any good.

I flashed forward to a scene where I actually broke this case open-visualize success as they say, and you will succeed. I pictured Koenig, Griffith, and my immediate boss, NYPD Captain David Stein, shaking my hand while my colleagues clapped and cheered, and I was invited to the White House for di

That wasn’t exactly what was going to happen if I succeeded in reopening this case. And I didn’t want to even think about what would really happen. In fact, there was no upside to this-only a very bad downside-except for fulfilling my need to indulge my ego and assert my slightly obnoxious personality.

And then, of course, there was Kate, who was counting on me. How many guys have fucked themselves up trying to impress a woman? At least six billion. Maybe more.

The ferry docked, and I got off and caught a cab to Delmonico’s on Beaver Street, a short ride from the ferry.

Delmonico’s has been around for about a hundred and fifty years, so I figured it hadn’t closed recently, leaving Ms. Mayfield out on the street. Being in the Financial District, it was full of Wall Street guys, and not frequented by anyone from 26 Fed, which was the point.

I went to the bar where Ms. Mayfield was engaged in conversation with two horny Wall Street types. I cut in between them and asked her, “Did it hurt?”

“Didwhat hurt?”

“When you fell from heaven.”

She smiled and said, “I hope you never used that line.”

“That’s not a line.” I ordered a Dewar’s-and-soda and said to her, “You look familiar.”

She smiled again and replied, “I’m new in town.”

I replied, “Me, too. My ship just came in. Actually, it was the Staten Island ferry.”

My Scotch arrived, and we clinked glasses. She asked, “Where were you?”

“I just told you. Staten Island.”

“Oh, I thought that was a joke.”

“I don’t make jokes. I was in Staten Island.”

“Why?”

“Looking for a house for us. Did you ever think about having children?”

“I… I have thought about it. Why do you ask?”

“I’m pregnant.”

She patted my gut and said, “So I see.” She asked, “What’s with the house and kids?”

“I just interviewed a female cop on Staten Island-home on maternity leave. She was ATTF back in ’96. She did witness interviews at the Bayview Hotel.”

“Really? How did you find her?”

“I can find anyone.”

“You can’t find two socks that match. What did she say?”

“She interviewed a maid who saw this guy who apparently took the room blanket to the beach. The maid saw his lady, too.”

Kate thought about that and asked me, “Did your friend know if the FBI identified this couple?”

“Not as far as she knew. The guy checked in under an alias.” I sipped my drink.

Kate asked, “What else did you learn from this lady?”

“I learned that the three Federal agents who were ru

She didn’t reply.

I looked at her and said, “Meanwhile, tell me how this Westhampton police report about the blanket on the beach happened to come to your attention.”

She didn’t reply for a few seconds, then said, “Just by accident. I was going through a lot of reports one night in my motel room, and this one caught my eye.”

“Try again.”

“Okay… Ted and I were having drinks one night, and he mentioned this to me. I think he had too much to drink.”

I was pissed off beyond belief, but I got myself under control and said very nicely, “You told me you never discussed this with him.”

“Sorry.”

“What else have you lied to me about?”

“Nothing. I swear.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I… I just didn’t think it was important for you to know where I got that information. I know how you are when it comes to any mention of Ted Nash.”

“Really? How am I?”

“Psychotic.”

“Bullshit.”

We were attracting a little attention because I think I was raising my voice above the barroom din. The bartender said to us, “Everything okay here?”

Kate replied, “Yes.” She said to me, “Let’s go.”

“No. I like it here. Tell me what else you forgot to tell me. Now.”

Kate kept her cool, but I could see she was upset. I was not upset-I was fuming. “Talk.”

“Don’t browbeat me. You’re not-”

“Talk. And no bullshit.”

She took a deep breath and said, “Okay… but it’s not what you think-”

“Never mind what I think.”

“All right… Ted worked the TWA case, too, as you may know by now… and I knew him from the office… but we were never involved, which I told you a dozen times, and which is the truth.”

“Then why did he tell you about this blanket on the beach, and the video camera lens cap if this wasn’t your case?”

“I’m not sure… but we were having drinks one night at a local bar… about a week after the crash, and he was drinking too much… we all were… and he mentions this local police report and he says something like, ‘This couple was probably taping themselves having sex on the beach, and they may have videotaped the explosion.’ I asked him some questions, and he clammed up. Next day he called me and says they found this couple, and they were an older, married couple and the lens cap was from a regular still camera, not a video camera, and this couple didn’t see or photograph anything to do with the explosion.” She stirred her drink.