Blood Innocents by Thomas H. Cook Page A

Coast Realty Investors Company. East Coast was a subsidiary of an even larger real estate corporation called the New York Investment Enterprise, Inc.
    And for all intents and purposes, New York Investment was owned and controlled by a single individual: Wallace Van Allen.

9
    FRIDAY
    On Friday morning Reardon reported to Piccolini on the fallow deer and the murdered women. He began with the deer. “Bryant said —”
    â€œNow that’s the guy that works with Petrakis, right?” Piccolini interrupted.
    â€œThat’s right. He said that he saw Petrakis about three A.M. in a coffee shop only a few blocks from the zoo. Petrakis told him that he was just about broke and that he had decided to come to work that night because he needed the money.”
    â€œOkay,” Piccolini said.
    â€œBut Petrakis never reported coming to work that night to anybody in the Parks Department.”
    Piccolini nodded.
    Reardon continued. “Now Bryant said that Petrakis was in a rage at being thrown out of his old apartment on the East Side. He kept talking about how rotten his landlord was, how he hated him, all that.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œWell, his landlord was Wallace Van Allen,” Reardon said. “It’s our first real angle. Our first connection. It may not be anything, not even worth a second thought, but it could be something. Petrakis could have killed the deer to get back at Van Allen.”
    â€œFor evicting him.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œHe knew that Van Allen gave the deer to the zoo?” Piccolini asked.
    â€œAll the people at the zoo knew that and Petrakis was working at the zoo when the donation was made. It’s not likely that he wouldn’t have been aware of it. You know all the publicity it got.”
    â€œYeah,” Piccolini agreed, “he would have to have known. Where is this Petrakis?”
    â€œWe haven’t been able to locate him yet. After he was evicted nobody seems to know where he went.”
    â€œWell, find him,” Piccolini said. “And do it fast. I would be the last person to blame it on the guy if there’s no connection, but he could be our man.”
    â€œAnd we’ve also got a cocaine bust not far from where the deer were killed at about the same time — I mean, a little after the time they were killed. We’re trying to get to talk to the guy who got busted.”
    â€œTrying to talk to him? What’s the problem?”
    â€œWell, there’s a lot of lawyers between him and us.”
    The idea of a lot of smart lawyers hanging around a potential witness seemed to cool Piccolini’s determination. “Well, do your best,” he said quietly. Then he changed the subject. “What about the girls in the Village?”
    â€œWe have one witness.”
    Piccolini’s ears perked up like those of a hunting dog. “A witness?”
    â€œWell, not to the murders themselves …” Reardon added quickly. “Not a witness to those. But a woman saw the women go up to the apartment with a third person.”
    â€œDescription?”
    â€œNo. They all had their backs turned the whole time. They were going up the stairs.”
    Piccolini nodded. “Well, what about that number? Dos?”
    â€œIt’s there. Probably written in Lee McDonald’s blood.”
    â€œHow’d the bodies look?” Piccolini asked. Then he caught himself. “I don’t mean exactly how. But I mean, was what Mathesson said right? Was one of them pretty well cut up and the other one not?”
    â€œYeah,” Reardon said. He did not want to go any further with it, any more than Piccolini wanted him to.
    â€œWell, is that it, then?”
    â€œFor now it is,” Reardon said.
    â€œOkay,” Piccolini said. “Stay busy.”
    Reardon nodded and walked out of the office. Yeah, he thought, stay busy.
    Late that afternoon Reardon met Melinda Van Allen in the Children’s Zoo. He