Real tragedy. This job can really chew you up,” Evanson said.
“That’s just the thing, Detective. I don’t know if it was the job. There’re signs of a struggle. Chipped fingernails, a chipped tooth. Also, her computer is missing and—”
“Whoa. What the—? What the hell are you doing here, Bennett?” said an older Hispanic cop, stepping in.
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. I knew the cop, unfortunately. His name was Freddy Abreu, and he was known in the department as a creep and complete hack who for some unknown reason kept getting promoted. Actually, the reason was known. It was because he was a good friend and even better minion of Chief of Detectives Starkie.
“Get the hell out of here now, Bennett, before I have you written up for messing with my crime scene. Wait out in the hall. Now,” Abreu said.
CHAPTER 30
WE DID AS WE were told. We sat out on the steps in the building hallway as more uniforms and more detectives and the crime scene unit arrived. I got the call I was expecting right after I sent Doyle to get us some breakfast.
“Bennett,” I said.
“One question, Bennett,” Starkie said. “Just one. Are you effing kidding me? Five seconds ago, I put you in charge of that unit, and now one of your guys is a stiff? What kind of manager are you? This officer meets her new boss, then goes home and blows her brains out?”
“That’s just the thing, Starkie. There are signs of a scuffle. I don’t think she committed suicide.”
“Already heard about your little conspiracy theory, Bennett. You’re thinking maybe she was shot from a black helicopter, huh? Or the president put her on the drone kill list? Or maybe it had a teensie weensie bit to do with the fact that several of her prior assignment evaluations rated her as excessively emotional?
“She was unstable, Bennett, and you pushed her right over the edge. So if I were you, I’d get my think box humming to deal with that, because don’t be surprised if that’s the media narrative coming your way. Because if you think I’m taking the heat on this from the mayor or the press or anyone else, you’re crazier than I thought!”
There was a tiny crackling plastic sound as I gripped my phone savagely in rage. I literally could not believe the bullshit I was hearing. A cop had just been killed, and already Starkie’s primary concern was how inconvenient it was for his ambitious career?
“That’s funny. I have a message for you, too, Starkie. Go—” I managed to get in before I heard his click.
“Who was that?” Doyle said as he came up the stairs carrying a cardboard tray of coffee.
“Nobody in particular,” I said, putting my phone carefully away as I motioned to Doyle to follow me down the stairs.
A hundred different emotions and thoughts swirled through me as I descended. I was revolted, of course, and sad and angry and keyed up, but mostly I was disappointed in myself.
Starkie was right about one thing. I’d majorly screwed up. I should never have allowed Naomi to go off and start an investigation on her own. I should have forced a partner on her.
No one had been watching her back, and that was definitely on me.
As I made the ground floor, I looked down at my vibrating phone and saw that Chief Starkie was trying to contact me again. Instead of answering, I turned off my phone as I motioned to Doyle to follow me toward the super’s ground-floor apartment.
“What are we doing, Mike? I thought the DT wanted us to wait to be questioned?”
“Change of plans, Doyle,” I said as I knocked on the super’s door.
“Oh, that poor girl,” said Meg Hambrecht as she answered, in jeans and a sweatshirt now. “I remember the day she moved in, how concerned she was about her movers hogging the elevator. Not wanting to inconvenience everybody. She seemed so together. Now something like this. It’s just—”
“Thanks, Ms. Hambrecht,” I said, interrupting, “but I noticed you have a security camera by
“That’s just the thing, Detective. I don’t know if it was the job. There’re signs of a struggle. Chipped fingernails, a chipped tooth. Also, her computer is missing and—”
“Whoa. What the—? What the hell are you doing here, Bennett?” said an older Hispanic cop, stepping in.
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. I knew the cop, unfortunately. His name was Freddy Abreu, and he was known in the department as a creep and complete hack who for some unknown reason kept getting promoted. Actually, the reason was known. It was because he was a good friend and even better minion of Chief of Detectives Starkie.
“Get the hell out of here now, Bennett, before I have you written up for messing with my crime scene. Wait out in the hall. Now,” Abreu said.
CHAPTER 30
WE DID AS WE were told. We sat out on the steps in the building hallway as more uniforms and more detectives and the crime scene unit arrived. I got the call I was expecting right after I sent Doyle to get us some breakfast.
“Bennett,” I said.
“One question, Bennett,” Starkie said. “Just one. Are you effing kidding me? Five seconds ago, I put you in charge of that unit, and now one of your guys is a stiff? What kind of manager are you? This officer meets her new boss, then goes home and blows her brains out?”
“That’s just the thing, Starkie. There are signs of a scuffle. I don’t think she committed suicide.”
“Already heard about your little conspiracy theory, Bennett. You’re thinking maybe she was shot from a black helicopter, huh? Or the president put her on the drone kill list? Or maybe it had a teensie weensie bit to do with the fact that several of her prior assignment evaluations rated her as excessively emotional?
“She was unstable, Bennett, and you pushed her right over the edge. So if I were you, I’d get my think box humming to deal with that, because don’t be surprised if that’s the media narrative coming your way. Because if you think I’m taking the heat on this from the mayor or the press or anyone else, you’re crazier than I thought!”
There was a tiny crackling plastic sound as I gripped my phone savagely in rage. I literally could not believe the bullshit I was hearing. A cop had just been killed, and already Starkie’s primary concern was how inconvenient it was for his ambitious career?
“That’s funny. I have a message for you, too, Starkie. Go—” I managed to get in before I heard his click.
“Who was that?” Doyle said as he came up the stairs carrying a cardboard tray of coffee.
“Nobody in particular,” I said, putting my phone carefully away as I motioned to Doyle to follow me down the stairs.
A hundred different emotions and thoughts swirled through me as I descended. I was revolted, of course, and sad and angry and keyed up, but mostly I was disappointed in myself.
Starkie was right about one thing. I’d majorly screwed up. I should never have allowed Naomi to go off and start an investigation on her own. I should have forced a partner on her.
No one had been watching her back, and that was definitely on me.
As I made the ground floor, I looked down at my vibrating phone and saw that Chief Starkie was trying to contact me again. Instead of answering, I turned off my phone as I motioned to Doyle to follow me toward the super’s ground-floor apartment.
“What are we doing, Mike? I thought the DT wanted us to wait to be questioned?”
“Change of plans, Doyle,” I said as I knocked on the super’s door.
“Oh, that poor girl,” said Meg Hambrecht as she answered, in jeans and a sweatshirt now. “I remember the day she moved in, how concerned she was about her movers hogging the elevator. Not wanting to inconvenience everybody. She seemed so together. Now something like this. It’s just—”
“Thanks, Ms. Hambrecht,” I said, interrupting, “but I noticed you have a security camera by
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