around here?”
She shrugged. “Uptown a ways, I think.”
“Anywhere near where our friend Watisi keeps his office?”
“Not too far, I suppose.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, where’s he live, by the way?”
“Watisi? He’s got a mansion up in Westchester, but you’ll never get near the place.”
“High security?”
“Like Fort Knox. I checked it out before I went looking for him at his office.”
“What do you think these two dead gangsters were doing way down here in the park?” Nicole asked.
“Drug deal of some sort would be my guess,” Darla said. “What else?”
“Marbush going to give it priority?” I asked.
“Sounds like it. But you know how it goes, Frank. What are the numbers now? Something like ninety percent of all murders in the city are drug or gang related, mostly black on black.”
“Most unsolved.”
She nodded sadly.
“That lure might throw a different wrinkle into the picture though,” I said.
“Maybe.”
“It’s got to have something to do with our case,” Nicole said. “They can’t cover the whole park, can they? We could get in there and take a look around, see if we can help find out what’s going on. Maybe our guy with the owl is still around.”
I looked at Darla who looked back at me with a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Going to have to leave it for tonight, Nicky. If he’s still in there, they’ll find him.”
Darla put her arm around my daughter’s shoulder. “There’s a time and a place for everything, honey. The last thing we need right now is to be pissing off a police lieutenant. You people just got here. We need the cops now a lot more than they need us.”
“You want us to talk to Lonigan about what’s happening?” I said.
“No. I’ll call her from the car and bring her up to speed.”
“I’d still like to have another look at that lure,” she said. “In a few hours it’ll be the Fourth of July.”
“Happy Independence Day,” Darla said.
We walked on for another half a block without speaking. The noise from the city seemed to swell from the dark and the heat. Somewhere a few buildings away an illegal firecracker went off, its streamer whistling into the night.
12
Marcia called me later that night. In addition to its other accoutrements, our apartment was outfitted with its own mini-gym, a room equipped with a treadmill and weight bench, TV and a big picture window that looked out on the park. I was winding down on the treadmill when my cell phone rang.
“You sound out of breath.”
I told her what I was doing.
“Sounds more like a vacation than work.”
“I wish.”
“How was your day?”
“You first,” I said, slowing to a walk. She told me about a volunteer picnic she’d attended on the grounds at the university and a movie she’d gone to see with a couple of her girlfriends.
“Your turn,” she said.
I stepped off the treadmill, wiped my forehead with a towel, and sat down on the weight bench and gave her most of the blow by blow details.
“Wow,” she said when I finished. “You think your wealthy developer might be in bed with a street gang?”
“I don’t know, but stranger things have happened. Which reminds me, you have your local telephone directory handy?”
“Sure, right here in the drawer.”
“Can you look up Jackson Miller’s home number for me?”
“Jackson Miller? The bookstore owner?”
“Yeah. I’ve bought a few books from him in the past. A big portion of his business is dealing with collectibles. He might know someone up here in New York he can put me in touch with about this long lost Book of the Mews.”
“Okay.”
I waited while she looked up the number and gave it to me.
“I wouldn’t mind finding out more information about that book myself,” she said. “Sounds fascinating, and it could be related to my own work.”
Marcia’s specialty was the role of women in the civil war.
“I’ll let you know if anything pans out,” I said.
“What’s
She shrugged. “Uptown a ways, I think.”
“Anywhere near where our friend Watisi keeps his office?”
“Not too far, I suppose.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, where’s he live, by the way?”
“Watisi? He’s got a mansion up in Westchester, but you’ll never get near the place.”
“High security?”
“Like Fort Knox. I checked it out before I went looking for him at his office.”
“What do you think these two dead gangsters were doing way down here in the park?” Nicole asked.
“Drug deal of some sort would be my guess,” Darla said. “What else?”
“Marbush going to give it priority?” I asked.
“Sounds like it. But you know how it goes, Frank. What are the numbers now? Something like ninety percent of all murders in the city are drug or gang related, mostly black on black.”
“Most unsolved.”
She nodded sadly.
“That lure might throw a different wrinkle into the picture though,” I said.
“Maybe.”
“It’s got to have something to do with our case,” Nicole said. “They can’t cover the whole park, can they? We could get in there and take a look around, see if we can help find out what’s going on. Maybe our guy with the owl is still around.”
I looked at Darla who looked back at me with a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Going to have to leave it for tonight, Nicky. If he’s still in there, they’ll find him.”
Darla put her arm around my daughter’s shoulder. “There’s a time and a place for everything, honey. The last thing we need right now is to be pissing off a police lieutenant. You people just got here. We need the cops now a lot more than they need us.”
“You want us to talk to Lonigan about what’s happening?” I said.
“No. I’ll call her from the car and bring her up to speed.”
“I’d still like to have another look at that lure,” she said. “In a few hours it’ll be the Fourth of July.”
“Happy Independence Day,” Darla said.
We walked on for another half a block without speaking. The noise from the city seemed to swell from the dark and the heat. Somewhere a few buildings away an illegal firecracker went off, its streamer whistling into the night.
12
Marcia called me later that night. In addition to its other accoutrements, our apartment was outfitted with its own mini-gym, a room equipped with a treadmill and weight bench, TV and a big picture window that looked out on the park. I was winding down on the treadmill when my cell phone rang.
“You sound out of breath.”
I told her what I was doing.
“Sounds more like a vacation than work.”
“I wish.”
“How was your day?”
“You first,” I said, slowing to a walk. She told me about a volunteer picnic she’d attended on the grounds at the university and a movie she’d gone to see with a couple of her girlfriends.
“Your turn,” she said.
I stepped off the treadmill, wiped my forehead with a towel, and sat down on the weight bench and gave her most of the blow by blow details.
“Wow,” she said when I finished. “You think your wealthy developer might be in bed with a street gang?”
“I don’t know, but stranger things have happened. Which reminds me, you have your local telephone directory handy?”
“Sure, right here in the drawer.”
“Can you look up Jackson Miller’s home number for me?”
“Jackson Miller? The bookstore owner?”
“Yeah. I’ve bought a few books from him in the past. A big portion of his business is dealing with collectibles. He might know someone up here in New York he can put me in touch with about this long lost Book of the Mews.”
“Okay.”
I waited while she looked up the number and gave it to me.
“I wouldn’t mind finding out more information about that book myself,” she said. “Sounds fascinating, and it could be related to my own work.”
Marcia’s specialty was the role of women in the civil war.
“I’ll let you know if anything pans out,” I said.
“What’s
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