Couples

Chapter 63

A text from Sela pops up on Kate's phone not long after she arrives in the bullpen. The young woman apologizes profusely for not getting back to Kate sooner and suggests meeting at the boutique. Kate agrees but uses Rick's gift to the precinct to make a vanilla latte to go. Ryan and Esposito haven't arrived yet. They had a late-night stakeout. If she has to face rush hour traffic alone on her way uptown, she'll do it awake.

It's trash pick-up day in lower Manhattan, and the sanitation trucks provide a steady stream of temporary blockages. Kate expected it, but there's nothing she can do about it. Suddenly a shimmer, the memory of which had faded almost to a dream, appears in the passenger seat. "Mom! What are you doing here?"

"You know that, Katie," Johanna rebukes. "The Father only allows me to return when you're in mortal danger, and that's right now."

"Danger from whom? From what?" Kate demands.

"I don't know all of it. As I've told you before, only the Father is omniscient. Even Raphael didn't know the details. We both overheard someone at City Hall talking about taking you out this morning. He was laughing about sanitation cleaning up a mess."

"Did you get a name? Anything?" Kate presses.

"No, but he was wearing Italian shoes, the kind the corporate lawyers liked to wear to depositions when they weren't trying to fool the jury into believing they were plain folks."

"Someone at City Hall with money," Kate considers. "City officials aren't paid that well, not the ones who would have anything to do with sanitation. The crime families have been in waste removal for decades, but I don't see how any of that would connect to my case."

Johanna fades out for a moment before returning. "You don't have to see the connection. Just see what's coming up in three blocks. Four garbage trucks are going to converge right around the time you get there. Any one of them could smash this car like a tin can, but four…"

"Would be inescapable," Kate realizes, taking the first available driveway off the street. The short stretch of asphalt leads to the parking area of a strip mall. Circling around the line of buildings, Kate finds an alley that opens onto a low-traffic North-South street. She drives two blocks back the way she came before pulling into a massive public parking structure. "They must have put a tracker on my unit. How else would they know where I'd be? This much concrete might block the signal, but I'm not counting on it. When Rick was in one of his preparing for a zombie apocalypse moods, he downloaded an app on all the family cellphones. It's supposed to spot stray signals. I don't even know if it will work."

"Give it a try," Johanna urges.

Kate pulls her personal cell out of her glove compartment and scans her car. "There's something." She circles the vehicle, watching the signal increase at the rear. Reaching underneath, she removes a device the size and shape of a deck of cards. Using her knife to pry it open, she pulls out the battery. "The tracker was attached magnetically," she explains to Johanna. "That means someone did it on the fly. When our people are serious about monitoring someone's location, they hardwire a module into the car, where it's a lot harder to detect. Wired-in electronics draw from the car's power, so they don't run out of juice. Usually, it takes a good mechanic to uncover one. I got lucky. Or maybe I just haven't been working on the case long enough for whoever planted this to do the job right."

"Thank the Father for small blessings," Johanna declares. "What are you going to do now?"

"Go interview a potential witness. If I let this stop me, whoever is trying to shut down my case wins."

"Just be careful, Katie," Johanna implores. "I don't know how long the Father will let me stay."

"Whoever is behind this is in a hurry and sloppy," Kate asserts. "I'll be careful, Mom, and I'll be fine."

To avoid influencing Sela's testimony, Kate holds back the sketch Jed generated. "Did you see a man hanging around in the days before the murder?" she asks.

"I did," Sela confirms. "And when I knew you were coming, I drew a picture of him." Sela retrieves a large sketchpad from beneath the counter and points to the page on top. "This is him. His features are pretty average, although his eyes are slightly closer together than the mean. And the birthmark would stand out. It's shaped a little like New Jersey."

Kate stares at the image. It's similar to the one the police artist produced but more detailed. And Sela's right. The birthmark does look like New Jersey. "This is great! And it confirms what your guitarist friend saw. What else can you tell me about this man?"

Sela flips the page with the sketch over. "I want to be a fashion designer, and I've been following my grandmother around for a long time. I've gotten pretty good at estimating sizes and measurements. I wrote down his height, weight, chest, neck, sleeve length, waist, and shoe size. I also added his hair and eye color. Everything he had on except for his shoes was ready-to-wear but more high-end than big box. The shoes were orthopedic. Someone made them to order."

"Can you give me his name and address too?" Kate responds, her lips twitching upward.

Sela returns Kate's smile. "Sorry I can't, but I know who might be able to put you on to it. I saw the man in my sketch carrying the ten-buck sandwiches in Maroni wrappers twice. Maroni's is three blocks uptown on this side of the street. Your suspect might have paid with a credit card. And even if he didn't, you have to give at least a first name there when you put in your order."

"Great!" Kate replies. "You know, Sela, with your observational skills, if you ever change your mind about fashion design, you'd make a great cop."

An open-mouthed Sela throws out both hands against an invisible menace. "No thanks. I could never spend that much time in a uniform. But have you ever thought about modeling? You have great cheekbones and the figure for it."

"No thanks," Kate responds with a "Here we go again" feeling. "I can't deal with standing still that long."

Nick Maroni Senior examines Sela's sketch. "Yeah, I remember this guy. Not many customers get the Supremos to go. They like to sit, read the Ledger, and take time to enjoy them. No credit card receipts. He paid cash. Not many customers do that anymore, either. He said his order was for Bradley, but I don't know if that's a first or last name."

Kate nods. "Either way, it helps. Thank you, Mr. Maroni. Do you remember anything else about him?"

"Just that he was on his cellphone a lot while he was waiting. But a lot of my customers are." Nick leans over the counter. "Detective," he inquires, lowering his voice, "how is Celia Bulova doing about the body in her place and all? She comes in here sometimes for a bag of black and white cookies, and after everything happened, she could barely eat one. I hope she's all right."

"So far, I've only talked to her on the phone," Kate admits. "But she sounded OK. If you're worried about her, you might check with her granddaughter. They seem very close."

Nick nods thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll do that."

Kate strides across the bullpen straight to Tech. "Tori, can you search the DMV database with just a first or last name, but with a full description?"

"Piece of cake," Tori responds. "I have time to get on it now. And by the way, the cupcakes Rick sent from Imagination Patch for my birthday were fantastic."

"I'll tell him," Kate promises, wondering if Chef Auchincloss made another batch.