You Have the Right to Remain Silent by Barbara Paul

Foley,” Marian said. “Things to be done today.”
    â€œI can remember,” he said, mouth full.
    â€œWrite it down.”
    He glared at her and stuffed the rest of the doughnut in his mouth. He sat down at his desk and made a big show of picking up a pencil and pulling a note pad toward him. Satisfied ? his body language asked.
    â€œFirst, get a copy of the watchman’s records at Universal Laser Technologies,” Marian said. “We want to know everyone who went in on Saturday, day and night both. Second, as soon as the banks open, get a balance statement for all four of the victims—look for unusually large deposits or withdrawals, that sort of thing. Third, put a one-man stake-out on Mrs. Sherman Bigelow’s apartment. She’s got to come home sometime.”
    â€œ Maybe she does,” Foley mumbled.
    â€œFourth, contact the limousine services and see if Conrad Webb, Sherman Bigelow, or Herb Vickers ordered a private car anytime after three Saturday afternoon. Fifth, find out where Jason O’Neill kept his car. Look for a garage attendant who might tell us if O’Neill took his car out during that period—after three, Saturday.”
    â€œJesus, Larch, this’ll take forever!”
    â€œThen you’d better not waste any time. And there’s one more thing. We still haven’t pinned down whether any of the four victims had personal enemies. Real enemies, the kind that hate deeply enough to commit murder. We’ve got to go into that more thoroughly.”
    Foley threw down his pencil. “Shit. You sure don’t mind wasting other people’s time, do you? You know damn well it wasn’t a personal enemy that killed ’em.”
    â€œI know it and you know it,” Marian replied soberly, “but the Major Crimes Unit doesn’t know it. Or at least they’ll say they don’t.”
    â€œMajor Crimes? What the hell do they have to do with it?”
    â€œDiFalco told me the MCU wants to take over this case. The first sign of sloppy police work on our part, they’ll be all over us and it’s bye-bye to the East River Park murders. So we’re going to cover everything , and then we’re going to go back and cover it again.”
    Foley nodded slowly, understanding. “Jesus, they wouldn’t take it away from us now? Forget that, sure they would! Let us do all the legwork and then grab the collar for themselves.”
    â€œSo you see why we have to be doubly careful? Foley, I want you to make all these assignments yourself. Everyone is to report to you. Do whatever shifting or adjusting you think necessary. You’re in charge.” The one thing Marian had never tried in her dealings with her troublesome partner was giving him a little authority—for the simple reason that she didn’t trust him. But this time he wouldn’t be in a position to get someone killed by not being where he was supposed to be.
    Besides, she intended to check on him every step of the way.
    Foley was sitting up straighter. “And where will you be?” he asked importantly.
    â€œI have to check with DiFalco, and then I’m going to Universal Laser.”
    On her way to the captain’s office, Marian heard Foley yell, “Sanchez! Roberts! Get your asses over here! I’ve got a job for you.” A real take-charge kind of guy.
    She opened DiFalco’s door and saw the captain waving a large envelope at her. “Autopsy report—just in. They all died at the same time.”
    Marian slid the report out of the envelope and started reading. “Time of death between six and nine o’clock, estimation based on the stage of rigor mortis in the bodies of Webb, Bigelow, and O’Neill at time of examination.” Herb Vickers excluded; Marian looked up. “Dr. Whittaker told me some fat people don’t go through rigor at all.”
    â€œYah, I knew that,” DiFalco said.
    She read on.