Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(61)

My plan was simple. Watch Beth Banks until she did something that left a DNA sample. It could be sweat on a door handle if I got there fast enough. It could be a strand of hair, blood, a fingernail. It didn’t matter. And I didn’t care. I was determined to stay with Ms. Banks until I accomplished my goal.

I pulled into a parking space one building away and across the street. I had a perfect view of the Gold’s Gym’s entrance. Generally, a surveillance is conducted with a number of unmarked police vehicles. Follow a suspect in the same car all the time and they will probably notice. Depending on which direction your suspect turns, you have to have a car ready to make that turn.

Beth Banks zipped out of the gym to her BMW. Soon she pulled out onto the street and drove past me. I fell in behind her, leaving a vehicle between us.

She headed back toward the Supreme Court Building. Her route was uneventful until a block before she might normally veer left toward the office, where Ms. Banks turned right instead—abruptly. She surprised me, making me worry she was doing countersurveillance. I thought she’d noticed my car and was trying a technique common among drug dealers looking to shake surveillance, making a quick turn to see if I followed.

I had no choice. I took the turn. Maybe not as dramatically as Ms. Banks in the BMW had, but I could feel a hint of centrifugal force as I kept my foot on the gas and turned hard to the right.

My concerns about countersurveillance were for nothing. In another half a mile the BMW zipped into a spot in front of a Dunkin’ Donuts about ten blocks from the Supreme Court Building. I was able to park on an adjoining street that gave me a full view of the inside of the small, drab donut shop. Only two of the six tables were occupied.

I turned my attention back to the BMW. As soon as she was out of the car, Beth Banks gave someone inside the shop a halfhearted wave. I looked back into the shop and saw her recipient. A smile spread over my face. Sometimes luck favors the simple.

Beth Banks slipped through the Dunkin’ Donuts doors and met her sister-in-law, Rhea Wellmy-Steinberg, sitting at a table next to the window. These relatives by marriage were both about the same age and well educated. They probably had a lot in common.

Personality-wise, they didn’t seem to be particularly similar. From everything I’d heard and my limited personal experience, Rhea Wellmy-Steinberg was a little self-absorbed and entitled. Whereas Beth Banks was just a badass. I knew her family had money, but I didn’t get the idea that it mattered much to Beth.

I noticed Rhea already had a coffee for Beth sitting on the table. This might be a rare opportunity to get samples from two of my suspects at the same time.





Chapter 80



I couldn’t believe how clearly I could see both women through the main window of the Dunkin’ Donuts. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could see the animated expression of Rhea Wellmy-Steinberg. If they weren’t arguing, it was a deep, earnest discussion.

All I needed was for them to talk long enough to finish their coffees and leave the cups on the table. I still hadn’t worked out exactly how I’d recover the right cups if they threw them in the trash. Sometimes you have to improvise.

Surveillance is a tough gig. It tends to be more of a narcotics activity. Following people around. Trying to catch them in the tiny window when they actually commit a crime.

There’s not too much surveillance when you work homicide. Narcotics cops at the NYPD call it “the unparallel universe,” because they are always amazed at how no one ever notices surveillance teams. While half a dozen cops might be focusing on one criminal as he sits at a café, everyone around that criminal has no idea about the surveillance. I used to think it was because people are not particularly observant. Now I prefer to think of it as the cops doing surveillance are particularly effective.

By most standards, this was not much of a surveillance. Clearly, seeing two women talking in a nearly empty Dunkin’ Donuts is not that big of a challenge. I leaned back in the front seat of the Prius and made a few notes about the time and place. If I did recover DNA and it proved useful, I’d have to be able to explain exactly when and where I had retrieved the sample.

I watched the subtle signs of their discussion. It seemed that Rhea was doing most of the talking. She was also more upset than Ms. Banks. Rhea scooted her chair a little closer during the discussion.

I took a quick look around the rest of the Dunkin’ Donuts. There were two bored baristas, absently wiping down the counter to fill time. Another couple who had been sitting a table away were just throwing their trash in the garbage can on their way out the front door.

That left two other people in the Dunkin’ Donuts. I wouldn’t be going inside until after my two suspects left, but I still wanted to know who or what might be waiting for me. It never paid to be surprised while working on an investigation.

It looked like the conversation was wrapping up. I pulled my seat back to a completely upright position. Both the women were standing now, and Ms. Banks kept shaking her head.

I watched with interest as Ms. Banks took a sip of her coffee, then turned on her heel and marched out of the Dunkin’ Donuts. Unfortunately, she took her coffee with her.

I sat in my little car and watched in complete disappointment as Beth Banks raced away in her BMW.

I looked back toward the Dunkin’ Donuts just as Rhea Wellmy-Steinberg was opening the front door. Dammit, I could be distracted too easily. My eyes darted back to the table that she had been sitting at with her sister-in-law. Her cup was still sitting on the table in front of the chair she’d used.