Frenzy

Qui

The queasy super’s story seemed simple and honest enough. Qui

Fred stayed seated, still obviously upset by walking in on a butchered woman who had been a tenant and at least something of a friend. An artsy friend at that.

“Thanks both of you for your help,” Qui

Serri stood, tucked the card in a pocket, and escorted them to the door.

“It’s jarring to discover a dead body,” Pearl said. “Especially when it’s a murder victim. Sometimes a session with a professional counselor can help. Jeanine Carson’s death seems to have hit your husband hard.”

“Like a rocket-propelled grenade,” Serri Charleston said. Still in the Middle East.

“Those things make a lot of noise, cover up a lot of other noises,” Qui

Leaving her to wonder.

25

Qui

So here Qui

The horrified and angry glances of a cluster of passersby indicated to Qui

Qui

It took Qui

He squinted down at the tiny illuminated screen. Renz was calling.

“What’ve we got, Harley?” Qui

“A break,” Renz said.

Qui

“Are you smoking one of your Cubans?” Renz asked. Casually, as if an admission of guilt might slip smoothly out of Qui

“Cuban what?” Qui

“Never mind.”

“So what’s the break?”

“We found Jeanine Carson’s cell phone tucked down between the cushions of her sofa. The sofa was the kind that opened and became a bed, so the phone slid down out of sight in the mechanism.”

Qui

“Maybe. There were a lot of calls to the phone from Andria Bell’s number.”

“Any recorded messages?”

“ ’Fraid not. The last such call was made from LaGuardia airport the morning of Andria’s death and the mass murders at the Fairchild Hotel. Another call that day, from Jeanine Carson’s phone, went to a Winston Castle.”

A new player?

“Is that a person or a place?” Qui

“Both, in a way. A guy named Winston Castle owns a restaurant called the Far Castle, on the Upper West Side. He runs the establishment, along with his wife Maria.”

“I don’t know the place,” Qui

“It hasn’t been open all that long. One of those trendy theme restaurants. It’s been renovated to resemble a medieval castle, with towers, narrow vertical archers’ windows, concrete cornices, gargoyles, and a serene English garden where customers can dine among statuary and topiary. The garden was put in when the neighboring building, a closed lamp and fixture shop and showroom, collapsed and created an empty lot. Castle extended his long lease on both lots. Did it in such a way that the leaser receives a cut of restaurant profits.”

“You’re telling me this Winston Castle is a kinky businessman type.”

“Weaver went to the restaurant to size him up. She said phony stands out all over him.”

Qui

“Anyway,” Renz continued, “there was enough space and rich enough soil to extend the garden. There’s even a miniature but baffling English hedge maze.”

Qui

“Yep. New York for you. When Castle is asked about selling it, he laughs and tells prospective buyers he’s pla

Qui

“And Jeanine Carson talked to this guy on her phone the day Andria Bell died?”

“Talked to him or his wife.”

“Maybe she called to order takeout,” Qui

“You think I would have called you before checking that out?” Renz asked. He sounded genuinely injured. Weren’t they both pros here? He must be a pro—he was the goddamned commissioner.

“Sorry, Harley,” Qui

“Whatever you come up with, let’s keep it under our hats for now.”

“By ‘our’ you mean only Q&A Investigations and you.”

“Correct, Qui

“And Nancy Weaver?”

“Of course. She’s a great snoop. Got the balls of a cat burglar.”

“I don’t know that much about her anatomy,” Qui

“You don’t?”

Qui

“That’s her reputation, Harley, not her anatomy.”

“Whatever works for you,” Renz said. He paused. “You absolutely sure you’re not smoking one of those Cubans?”

“Sure as sure can be,” Qui

“I know that tone, even over the phone. You could be lying to me about cigars and Weaver. Probably you’re batting at least five hundred.”

“You got an address on the Far Castle restaurant?” Qui

Renz gave Qui

“Your part of town,” Renz said. “Moats and alligators would fit right in.”

“My cigar smoke keeps alligators away,” Qui

“You bastard! I knew it. You’re smoking a Cuban! You know damned well there’s a law against—”

Qui

There must be, he decided.

26

After talking with Renz, Qui

A heavily perspiring woman in blue Lycra and walking a bicycle glared at him as if he’d just killed a puppy.