Not A Social Call –Two
The Happy Dragon Chinese Restaurant,
Mott St
Monday 25 September 2006
"I'm guessing this isn't a social call," Briscoe said, although if he was honest nothing so far had led him to believe otherwise. Regan Markham – the Lieu had told them she said she used to be a cop, and that made her make sense to Briscoe in a way she hadn't during the Walker case – Regan Markham listened to Green and Briscoe's cop-talk and asked the right questions and laughed at the right jokes. She might not be as much of a looker as say, Abby Carmichael, but she looked pretty good to Briscoe in her neat blue suit with her light brown hair tucked back in a twist, and she was good company and she bought lunch. But he guessed he didn't look as good to her as she did to him, and he guessed she had a reason for feeding two homicide detectives for free.
"Maybe fifty-fifty," Markham said.
"What's the other fifty?" Green asked.
"I'm about to get into something and I don't know how to do it under the radar. It's a cop thing. It's maybe a cop problem – or a problem cop."
"Hey, I don't eat cheese!" Lennie said.
"I know. Don't misunderstand me. I'm just looking to work my way around the problem. I've been told the fifth precinct has been a bit of a roadblock for hate-crime reports. Including some by or about Jennifer Walker."
"You serious?" Green said, eyebrows up.
"Yeah. You know she was on the turn, right? Ditched Conroy and got herself a girlfriend. A girlfriend I think you know – Serena Southerlyn." Markham reached across the table and snagged a spring roll with her chopsticks. "And you know Jennifer knew she was being stalked. Didya know she went to the police? And Serena did?"
"No." Briscoe said. "No, I didn't."
"And we shoulda heard that," Green said. "We're running after a murderer and there's a file on someone's desk that tells us she's been stalked and we don't hear anything about it?"
"Mighta got us to Conroy without the deal with Nettle," Markham pointed out.
"Forget getting us to Conroy," Briscoe said. "If someone had been quicker off the mark to stop Conroy before he killed her, they might have stopped Conroy before he killed her."
"I'm not saying this is something for the rat squad, but I'd like to know." Markham said.
"Well, we were the primaries on the case," Briscoe said. "If anyone has a reason to follow it up …"
"Case is closed, Lennie!" Green objected. "Conroy's pleading out."
"It ain't over till it's over," Briscoe said. "Are you rock-solid sure he's going to stick to the plea?"
"Pretty sure," Markham said.
"Maybe you aren't hearing me clearly," Briscoe said. "Are you rock-solid sure he's going to stick to the plea?"
Markham, catching on, smiled broadly. Briscoe thought for the fourth time since she sat down at the table that she had a nice smile, and that Green should ask her out. It was a slightly melancholy thought: ten years ago, he'd have been shouldering Green aside. Time passes.
"It never hurts," Markham said, "to be sure. Does it, detectives?"
"We'll get that paperwork in order for you ASAP, ma'am," Briscoe said.
"I'll send a memo this afternoon," Markham promised.
A/N: My entire knowledge of the precincts of Manhattan is based on the NYPD website, so I may have picked an inappropriate precinct for Serena Southerlyn to have reported the incidents to. I also want to point out that this is a work of fiction, and any characterisation or implication that any police officers of any precinct (or indeed, any ADAs, DAs, judges, defence lawyers etc) is not meant to reflect badly on any actual living people holding those jobs.
