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with whatever Joe Berk has here."
"No need for apologies. Overtime, my good man. Back-to-back tours in the big
city? Doesn't happen often enough for a guy in the 123rd. Just tell me where I
can get the best steak and a couple of brews when I stroll out for my dinner."
The portly, red-faced Merriam worked in one of the three precincts that
covered Staten Island. The city's fifth borough was part of the same police
department, but it seemed like a different planet. To cops who spent a career
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working the streets of Manhattan, the 123 rd might as well have been in the
Cotswolds.
"Those men we saw going out a few minutes ago. You happen to get the name of
the tall guy? The younger one?"
Mike answered. "You mean Kehoe? Ross Kehoe."
"That's the moniker. I thought he looked familiar."
"You know him?"
"Not a drinking buddy, if that's what you mean. Remember the Kills?"
The expressionkills derived irons an old Dutch word meaning "channels," dating
from the period when New York was once New Amsterdam. The Kills was the body
of water separating Staten Island from the New Jersey shoreline, and Mike and
I had come to know it well.
"Sure."
"We had a homicide body washed up near the Outerbridge Crossing. Probably a
hit, somebody who got whacked, but was dressed up real nice to look like a
suicide."
"How long ago?"
"Two, maybe two and a half years."
"Who died?" Mike asked.
"Construction worker. Had something to do with one of the unions and some mob
heavies. You've met my partner, Vinny, right? He thought Kehoe looked good for
it. Four or five guys who grew up with the union boss. Seemed like they'd do
anything for him, and Kehoe was one of the slickest in that pack."
"Grew up where?"
"Staten Island."
Mike and I looked at each other before he spoke. "Where's Clay Pit Ponds
park?"
"You oughta come hang out with me sometime. I'll give you a tour. None of this
blackboard jungle you live with in Manhattan. We got beaches and golf courses
and lakes. We even got us a wildlife refuge now."
"Clay Pit Ponds park, Frank? C'mon." Mike was serious now, and I thought of
the Staten Island site of the rare Torrey Mountain mint plant that had been
found on Talya's pointe shoe.
"Southwestern part of the island."
"Near the Kills? Kehoe have any family there?"
"He did then. His mother lived off Woodrow Avenue. I think he had a sister who
may have gotten the family house when she kicked the bucket, but I didn't
follow it close like Vinny." Frank was exploring the niches that ringed Joe
Berk's office, looking at the bizarre assortment of Napoleonic objects.
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"The homicide Vinny was working he ever clear Kehoe?"
"Nah. The ME gave us an inconclusive. Body was in the water too long for a
cause of death so we never got no murder charge to go with."
"Listen to me, Frank. You guys out on Staten Island, news reach you yet about
this stuff they call DNA?"
"Only lately. Don't Nab his Ass DNA Don't Nab his Ass until you get his spit
or his sperm. That's what the captain always tells me. Right, Michael?"
"Did Vinny get a DNA sample from Ross Kehoe?"
Frank put down the Empress Josephine's tortoiseshell hair comb to turn around
and face Mike. "What do you think, buddy? You cross the Verrazano and it's all
amateur hour to you? We get a few homicides every year, a handful of rapes.
Sure, Vinny got DNA. That's how come I saw Kehoe. He had to come into the
station house to be swabbed one night. Cool as an ice cube. Never gave us a
bit of trouble."
"And the deceased?"
"Nothing left of what was once his body to compare to anything or anybody.
Waterlogged bones inside of a zoot suit. Fishes and frogs got to him first."
I walked to Joe Berk's desk and picked up the phone to call Serology.
A technician answered and I identified myself. "I've got an urgent request. I
need you to drop whatever you're doing to examine two samples tonight. I need
you to make a comparison to some evidence in the Metropolitan Opera murder
case."
The tech rambled an objection while Mike smiled at me, the biggest grin I'd
seen on his face in months. "That's the Coop I know. I can hear those steel
balls clanging against each other even while you're standing still."
"Well, either you call Dr. Thaler at home or I will, but we're going to get
this done before your shift is over tonight."
The tech continued his protest. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]