Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(64)
We chatted about nothing for a few minutes. Then Mary Catherine ran through the kids and what they were doing. Most of the issues were school projects or interest in joining outside sports leagues. The usual. When you have ten kids, you tend to take most issues in stride. If you don’t, you’ll go crazy quite quickly.
A couple of things caught my attention as Mary Catherine was talking. Especially when she got to my oldest daughter, Juliana.
Mary Catherine said, “Juliana went on a date last night.”
“What did you think of her date?”
“Seems like a nice young man. He’s a sophomore at Manhattan College.”
I said, “Of course my next two questions are: How old is he? And what is he studying?”
“Don’t worry. He’s not an old man. He’s probably a year or two older than Juliana. And he’s studying creative writing.”
“Ugh.”
Mary Catherine said, “What’s wrong with studying creative writing?”
“Nothing if you want to live with your parents the rest your life. I’m more interested in her meeting engineers, medical personnel, or at the very least a law student.”
“You studied philosophy at Manhattan College.”
“And look where it got me.”
“In a beautiful apartment on the Upper West Side, with ten wonderful children and a wife who misses you.”
“When you put it that way, I think I might be crazy to stay in DC any longer.”
Mary Catherine laughed, then said, “What’s new on your case?”
I told her about the DNA and how I was able to get a sample without riling up a Supreme Court justice’s wife. I made it sound like I’d risked my life at a cave in Tora Bora. But that’s the nature of most police stories: they need to be exciting and interesting.
Mary Catherine said, “I don’t understand why a homicide in Baltimore is related to Emily’s murder.”
“I’m not sure it’s related. Maybe I’m getting a little desperate. But if the Baltimore homicide and Emily’s homicide are related, we might get lucky with this DNA angle.” After I thought about it for a moment I had to add, “Or they could be unrelated. If that’s the way it turns out, but we do get a DNA hit, at least I helped solve the Baltimore homicide. Even though I didn’t know the victim, I know there have to be family members and friends mourning her and hoping for justice.”
Silence lingered between us. Finally, Mary Catherine said, “What prompted you to call? Really?”
I told her about my conversation with the NYPD commissioner less than half an hour ago. This time I left it up to Mary Catherine to draw her own conclusions.
Mary Catherine said, “I think you should stay in DC. It doesn’t matter what the NYPD wants. You’ve given them plenty of your life. If you get fired, it won’t make one bit of difference to me. We’ll be destitute anyway once the IRS’s through with us. And with you out of a job, maybe I’ll finally see more of you.”
I chuckled and said, “I do love how you’re a glass-half-full kinda girl.”
Chapter 84
The next day I got a call from Bobby Patel. He wanted to talk in person. Right away. He swung by the hotel and met me in the lobby.
He had lost a lot of his nervousness at us meeting in public. He scanned the room only twice instead of once every thirty seconds. Though he was dressed in his usual suit, he resembled a kid bursting to tell someone big news. I guessed, in this circumstance, that was exactly what he was.
In jeans and a pullover, I felt underdressed sitting next to him at the small, round table. Our two cups of hotel coffee sat steaming in front of us.
I said, “What was so urgent? Do you have results from the DNA sample I submitted?”
“Why else would I insist we meet in person?”
“That was a really fast turnaround. I’m impressed.”
“The FBI has access to cutting-edge technology. I stressed to the forensic scientists the importance of this test, and they used a speedy new technique for ‘preliminary’ analysis. They’re working on a full profile now. But they’re confident that the DNA you submitted matches the DNA that came from the Baltimore homicide scene.”
“Good work.” Frankly, I was shocked that this long shot had actually resulted in a match.
I thought of ways to stall for time, but I didn’t have to. Bobby went on about the FBI lab. He bragged about their capability and training. I would too if I had FBI-level resources. I liked it when any cop was proud of their agency. No matter how I felt about the FBI, I had to admit they had moved things along quickly.
Bobby focused his intense eyes on me. “Okay, I came through for you. Now you’ve got to tell me who the sample came from. We can’t close out the case until we have all the information.”
Now I really had to stall. This was a tough one. I trusted Bobby. I didn’t necessarily trust the FBI. The Bureau had rarely done me any favors in the past. But I had a responsibility to the investigating detectives. I needed to tell them about the hit and let them decide how to handle it before I told Bobby.
I decided to take the quickest route. Sort of like ripping a Band-Aid off quickly instead of a little at a time. I looked at Bobby and said, “I can’t tell you who it’s from right now. I’m sure you’ll understand I have to talk to the Baltimore homicide detective first.”