The 17th Suspect (Women's Murder Club #17)(35)

“Please stay,” I said. “I want to talk with you both.”

Jacobi sat back down. I was washed over with love for him, for all the years on stakeouts together, the night when we’d both almost died of gunshot wounds in an alley, the days when he’d reported to me and we’d exchanged offices and I’d reported to him. I remembered a perfectly beachy day when he’d stood in for my father and given me away to Joe.

My feelings for Brady were also strong. We’d stood shoulder to shoulder under fire, and I’d witnessed his remarkable bravery and strong leadership many times. When we weren’t on duty, he was Yuki’s husband and my good friend.

But in this situation that I’d created there was a chain of command. And between the three of us, I was the lowest link.

I took the chair closest to the door and said, “Sorry to crash your meeting, but there was another homeless killing last night.”

“That woman on Geary,” said Jacobi. “What do you know about it?”

Brady sighed, leaned back in his chair.

“Go ahead, Boxer. Tell him.”

I said, “Let me back up a little ways, Jacobi. Chief.”

I started with Millie Cushing, the woman who had tagged me outside the Hall a few weeks ago to tell me about the murder of a homeless man near Walton Square. I followed that up with a brief rundown of the shooting of another vagrant on Pier 45.

“It took Central’s investigators, Stevens and Moran, nearly two hours to arrive. During that time the scene was corrupted by passersby and witnesses evaporated. I’ve checked. There are no suspects on either the Walton Square or the Pier 45 killing. My CI believes that there is a serial killer putting down the homeless. I agree with her.”

Jacobi said, “She’s homeless, too?”

I said, “That’s right,” and went on.

“Conklin and I went to the Geary Street scene, and as before we had to take charge.

“It’s a pattern, Chief. This is the third homeless killing that we know about, and my CI says there are more. She says that cops stroll in after the scene degrades, and witnesses and suspects have taken off without a trace. I say it looks like this killer is on a roll.”

I took a breath. Jacobi was looking at me fondly, but Brady was annoyed and he showed it.

“Boxer. Are you done?”

“That was the short version,” I said.

“I’m not going to Lieutenant Levant to complain that it took his guys two hours to arrive at a crime scene,” Brady said. “No good will come of it, I promise you that.”

Jacobi said, “Is that what you want to do, Boxer, go to Levant? How about if Levant complains to Brady that you’re interfering in his crime scenes? How would that play out?”

“We have to do something,” I said, louder than I intended.

Brady said, “Jesus Christ.”

“Drop it, Lindsay,” Jacobi said. “I know that that’s not what you want to hear, but listen to yourself. Levant is going to call this politics, and it will sure look like it.”

“Are you kidding, Jacobi? You think I’m political? Me?”

“No. I said how it’s going to look.”

I couldn’t stop myself now. “So you’re saying I should drop this and mind my own business?”

Jacobi said, “I’m sorry to come down on you like this, but we’re your friends. Think what Levant is going to say and do.”

Then he stood up and said to Brady, “This is Lindsay when she gets her stubborn on.” He turned to me. “Not to pile on, Boxer, but you look pale. Are you okay?”

I glared at him. “I feel fucking wonderful. Can’t you tell?” I took a deep breath. “I’m going to file a report with Internal Affairs.”

Brenda Fregosi, our squad’s assistant, was outside Brady’s door, either to see what the hell was going on or to bring news to Brady. Either way I was blocking Jacobi’s exit. I left the office. Nobody tried to stop me.





CHAPTER 51


HOURS AFTER MY dustup with Brady and Jacobi, Conklin and I huddled with Millie Cushing inside Interview 2. She was our only key to the murders of three people. Conklin was meeting her for the first time, and he made the right impression. He found a blueberry donut in the break room, fixed her coffee the way she liked it, and adjusted the thermostat to her preferred temperature.

Millie beamed at him, enjoying the attention, then she answered his questions.

“I have two grown-up kids. My life didn’t turn out exactly as planned, but I have no complaints. I help out at some of the shelters, and they help me out, too. I met Lou at the Columbus Avenue shelter.”

Millie looked good. Her blondish-grayish hair was fluffed, and her turtleneck and sweater and trousers all looked laundered.

I told our CI that this meeting was being taped for the record, and that Conklin and I were fighting to insert ourselves into a case that was out of our jurisdiction.

Conklin said, “It would help if we knew more about Lou, like what her movements were the night she was killed. First thing we’ve got to know is if someone had a beef against her or if she witnessed a crime.”

“You know I want to help. But if I start asking too many questions …”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence.

“Got it,” said Conklin. “We don’t want you to put yourself in danger.”