Red Alert(NYPD Red #5)(17)

I shrugged off the comment, but it turned out to be an understatement. Arnie Zimmer gave us more problems than anyone ever anticipated.





CHAPTER 15



I was ready to leave, but Kylie, who hadn’t said a word since we got there, wasn’t. “One question before we go,” she said to Wells. “Which one of you knew the real Del Fairfax? You or Mr. Zimmer?”

Wells looked confused. “I’m sorry, Detective. The four of us have been friends since high school. I don’t understand the question.”

“Last night we told you that the blast analysis indicated that Mr. Fairfax was the primary target, and we asked you if he had any enemies. Do you remember what you said?”

“Not word for word, but the answer is no. People liked him.”

“I took notes. Last night you said, ‘Everybody loved him. Hell, they love the four of us.’ Then you suggested that the bomb was intended for the mayor. Now, this morning, Mr. Zimmer has a different perspective. He’s saying it’s a disgruntled contractor out to settle a score, but he stormed off before we could ask him if there were any specific contractors he might point us to. So let me repeat what I asked you last night. Can you think of anyone—especially in the building trades—who didn’t love Mr. Fairfax and would want to see him dead?”

“All right, I get it,” Wells said. “I painted a pretty rosy picture last night. But you’re right. We give away a lot of money, but we can’t give it to everybody. We can’t support every cause. We can’t award jobs to everybody who bids on one. We make some people incredibly happy, and we can disappoint the shit out of others. That’s life. That’s business. It’s not a motive for murder.”

Kylie turned to Hirsch. “Counselor, we need all the help we can get. Do you have anything you can add?”

If he did, he didn’t look anxious to share it, but Kylie hadn’t made it easy for him to say no.

“Arnie means well, but I think he’s…wrong,” Hirsch said, choosing his words carefully. “Last night’s insanity wasn’t payback for some kind of a business grudge. I want you to solve Del’s murder as much as anybody, but please don’t waste your time looking for vindictive contractors.”

“Who should we look for? According to Mr. Wells, everybody loves the four of you.”

Hirsch forced a smile. “Detective, I’m a lot more cynical than Princeton. We live in a city of haves and have-nots. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who were happy to hear that somebody blew up a roomful of rich white do-gooders. I hope that helps.”

It helped more than he realized. We thanked the two of them and didn’t say a word till we were back in the car.

“Nicely done, partner,” I said. “Did you suspect Hirsch had something to hide, or did you just go fishing and get lucky?”

“A little of both. Did you notice where he was sitting last night?”

“Yeah. He was at a table close to the front, slightly off to the left.”

“And did you notice what he did when Princeton Wells introduced his girlfriend to the crowd?”

“No, but I imagine he was doing what most men in the room were doing: admiring Ms. Whithouse and thanking the cleavage gods.”

“He wasn’t. And while your eyes were honed in on Kenda’s boobs, I watched Nathan Hirsch quietly get up from the table and leave the room.”

My cell phone rang. I was about to let it go to voice mail when I saw who was calling. I picked up. “This is Detective Jordan.”

“Detective, this is Dr. Langford. I’m returning your call. I’m…I was Aubrey Davenport’s psychiatrist. I’m in shock over her death. The reports on the internet say it was homicide. Is that true?”

“Yes, sir. My partner and I would like to talk to you. We could come to your office immediately.”

“That’s impossible,” he said, and I braced myself for the usual doctor-patient confidentiality resistance. “I’m at a medical conference in Albany. I couldn’t possibly get back to the city till tomorrow morning. I realize time is of the essence, but we can’t do this over the phone. Most of my notes are in my office.”

“But you’ll help us?” I said.

“Of course I’ll help you. The law forbids me to share information about my living patients, but Aubrey’s death frees me to help you in any way I can. I’ll gather her files, and we can meet in my office tomorrow at ten a.m.”

He gave me the address and we hung up. “Good news on the Davenport case,” I told Kylie. “Now where were we on Fairfax?”

“You were ogling Kenda Whithouse’s tits, and I was wondering why Nathan Hirsch would go to the men’s room instead of waiting a few more minutes until the mayor got up and said her piece. But now I’m thinking, What a lucky coincidence—Nathan left the room right before the bomb went off.” She smiled. “And you know how cops feel about luck or coincidence.”





CHAPTER 16



It was time to dig deeper into the lives of Del Fairfax’s surviving partners. Fortunately, there was no shortage of material.

“These guys generate a lot of ink,” Kylie said.

“People with no money love to read about people who have mountains of it,” I said. “The world is full of hermits, loners, and recluses, but Howard Hughes was a billionaire, so the press made him famous for it.”