Couples
Chapter 122
To Esposito, Bambi looks incredible, and she isn't even wearing a skating skirt. But her leggings perfectly outline her well-shaped calves. And although she's wearing a thick jacket against the late November freeze, the chill of the rink brings inviting color to her face. She isn't making any showy moves, but he can tell she's a much better skater than he is. So while she glides effortlessly over the ice, he has to think about keeping his balance. If his gloves didn't prevent it, he'd cross his fingers against hitting a bad patch and falling on his ass.
Fortunately, the Zambonis come out often enough to keep the ice smooth, and he doesn't embarrass himself. Still, as a runner, he hates to admit it, but his legs are getting tired.
Holding Javi's hand, Bambi can feel him beginning to drag. She's not surprised that he'd have to put some effort into keeping pace with her. While growing up, ice skating was one of her favorite things to do. Her parents first took her to a rink when she was little, and she instantly fell in love with the sport. When her mom first helped her lace on a pair of skates, she took off over the ice with hardly a wobble, as if she'd been programmed to live on the frigid surface. Unfortunately, her parents didn't have money for lessons, but she learned simple tricks by watching skaters on T.V.
If Javi were a little steadier, she might try a spiral or maybe even a spin. But the company is more important than executing a stunt or two. Moving together in concert is good enough. If anything, it's better. Still, for his sake, she decides to call a break. "I'd really love to warm up with some coffee or hot chocolate. How does that sound to you?"
"Great!" he responds, thinking it would be even better if he could pour a little of Ryan's favorite Irish whiskey into his brew. But if he's going to stay upright, the last thing he needs is alcohol. In any case, it's prohibited in the park.
After Esposito picks up their choices at the concession stand, Bambi points toward a bench. "If we sit there, we won't be in anyone's way, but we can still watch the other skaters. There are a couple of little girls who are cute as buttons, and one of the little boys is acting like he's training for the Olympics."
"Maybe he thinks he is," Esposito suggests. "Kids should be able to go after their dreams. If he's good enough, maybe he'll make it."
Bambi wraps her fingers tightly around her drink container, her hands suddenly in need of warmth. "That's one expensive dream. But maybe he'll get lucky, especially if he finds someone to believe in him. That's the most important thing I try to communicate to my students, that I think they're all worth believing in."
Esposito wraps his arm around her shoulders. "I could see you do that. And I think you're worth believing in too – all the believing in the world."
She strokes a gloved finger against his cheek. "So are you, Javi. But how do you feel about all the time I spend on the children?"
He draws her against his side. "A woman who wasn't like that with the kids wouldn't be you."
By the time Kate arrives at the 12th, the holding cells are already half-full, mostly with shoppers who attacked each other over low-price wide-screen T.V.s or other Black Friday doorbusters. One woman wanted the last set of extra -big-pocket bedsheets and duked it out with three other linen seekers. As far as Kate's heard, no one's been seriously hurt. It will be a banner day if things remain that way.
Three landlines ring simultaneously, two on unoccupied desks, one on hers. Even as she picks up the receiver, she knows the day's lucky streak is coming to an end.
"How did you get stuck with Black Friday, Perlmutter?" she asks, as the M.E. regards her over a body. "I thought you have seniority."
"I do," he explains, "but my brother Edgar wants to take a trip together over the holidays. So I'm banking as much time as I can. Why is the wife of the infantile author on the job?"
"Favor for a friend. I was hoping murders could hold off for a while. Any chance this was an accidental death?"
Perlmutter shakes his head. "Not unless he accidentally stabbed himself ten times – especially since the first wound stopped his heart. The other nine barely bled. If he had a rhythm, they would have spurted all over him."
"Sounds like someone really wanted him dead," Kate muses.
"That's for you to figure out, Detective. And before you ask, there was no I.D. on the body, and I'd put the time of death at two hours ago, or less." Perlmutter gestures around the alley where the body lies. "And he wasn't murdered here. The body's barely cooled at all. He was killed someplace warmer."
"That jibes with the report I got from the unis who secured the scene. They took the call after a woman told 911 she saw someone push the body out of a car."
Perlmutter rolls his eyes. "I wasn't looking for confirmation. The science is clear. So shouldn't you be talking to that witness? I'll be able to tell you more after I get the body back to the lab."
"Yeah, you do that, Perlmutter. Call me when you have something."
"It will be the highlight of my day, Detective."
As she walks away, Kate isn't sure if Perlmutter was being sarcastic or not. Usually, the only time he gets openly hostile is when Rick is with her. It could be that he's not looking forward to whatever his brother has in mind and resents being at work today at all. She can't always read the cantankerous M.E., but whether he's pissed off or not, he'll do his job. Right now, that's all that matters.
Kate studies the information sent to her by the 911 dispatcher. The witness who called in about the body said her name was Irene Sadler and gave her address as an apartment in the building across from the alley. That should simplify getting an interview.
The woman who answers Kate's knock has the pale, slightly shaky appearance that the detective's so often seen on witnesses to a crime. "Ms. Sadler?"
"I'm Irene Sadler," Kate's witness replies, her voice steadier and stronger than Kate might have expected.
"Ms. Sadler, I'm Detective Kate Beckett, and I'm here about the report you gave to the 911 operator. Can I come in?"
As Sadler waves Kate inside, she immediately notices the most prominent piece of furniture, a baby grand piano. Her hostess indicates a seat at a wooden table. "Are you all right? Kate asks. "Would you like me to call someone for you?"
"I'm fine," Irene insists.
"Good. But if you need me to stop at any time, just let me know. I was wondering if you could give me any more details of what you saw," Kate explains. "Did you notice what kind of car the body was in?"
Irene nods. "It was an old Cadillac, like from the fifties, blue, with fins and a white top. I'm sorry I couldn't get a license plate."
"The description should be enough," Kate encourages her. "There can't be too many caddies like that in the city. Now, the man you saw push the body out…."
"It wasn't a man," Irene interrupts, "it was a woman. Maybe I didn't tell the 911 operator that. She was at least a triple D cup. I've never seen that on a man, except maybe a drag queen. I'm pretty sure the driver was a man. I didn't get that good a look. But the person who pushed out the body was definitely a woman."