Flawless (New York Confidential #1)(49)

“New gun. The others were killed with a .45,” Mike commented.

“Different shooter?” Craig suggested.

“Please tell me you don’t think we have another copycat group.”

Craig shook his head. “No, I don’t think you’d get another group together like this—organized and cold as ice, and all willing to kill hostages who pose no threat. It’s true, I don’t want to admit the possibility. But also, logic backs me up.”

He nodded at the medical examiner, who assured him that Maria Antonescu would be a priority case.

“Anybody find her cell phone?” Craig called.

Someone called out, “No cell.”

“Let’s take a walk through the store again,” Craig said to Mike, and headed to the still-open back door.

The display windows were still blocked by the heavy shutters that were pulled down every night, and the front doors were locked.

The showroom was filled with glass cases. Two rooms stood off to the side, private spaces where special clients could be taken, and past them, a hall with three offices. The safe was set into the wall between two of the offices.

In the back was the diamond cutters studio, behind that a storage area, and a small room with a few chairs, a microwave and a small refrigerator—and the door to the alley.

Like the other stores that had been held up by the copycats, the rear exit led to a small alley that was open at both ends but was too narrow for vehicle traffic. This particular building dated from the end of the nineteenth century, but even then, no carriage would have been able to navigate the alley.

“These thieves definitely know the layouts of the neighborhoods they hit,” Craig said to Mike.

Detective Peter Mayo had overheard their conversation and walked over to join them. “You think?” he asked.

Craig liked Mayo, who was with the major crimes unit. The years he had spent in the unit showed on his deeply creased face. He was nearing sixty, probably nearing retirement. Craig was going to be sad to see the day Mayo left the force.

Mayo was a true old-style detective. He was grateful for any help received from computers and technicians, but he always said that people perpetrated crimes and people had to solve them.

He hadn’t been sarcastic when he spoke, and now he was looking at Craig thoughtfully.

“The original group wasn’t as careful about alleys. There weren’t any at the first two stores they hit. Each time the killers have struck, there’s been an exit onto an alley,” Craig said.

“We’re sure we know who did which stores?” Mayo asked.

Craig nodded. “We can see differences in height and build on the surveillance tapes.”

“Yeah, I read that in the reports,” Mayo said. “Just wanted to make sure you agreed with it. I’ve been assigned lead on this now that the killers have hit the city, along with my new partner, Joey. Not sure you know Joey. I was working with Liz Grable, but she decided to take early retirement and live out her golden years sailing the world with her husband. Can’t blame her. Joey’s a little wet behind the ears, but he’s a good kid. Still, gotta train him before I retire myself.”

Mike laughed. “I know the feeling.”

“You’re just a kid yourself,” Mayo said lightly, though his face was so creased, it was hard to tell a smile from a frown.

“So what are you seeing?” Mayo asked, returning to business.

Craig and Mike went over their earlier conversation. Crime-scene techs were everywhere, looking for prints, for fibers—for anything. The NYPD had cordoned off the street. Neighboring business owners were out on the sidewalk, simultaneously complaining that they were losing business for the day and thanking God that it hadn’t been them.

“This place is owned by a Harry Belvedere,” Craig said. “I’m going to have a conversation with him now.” He hesitated. “My gut says this has to be an inside job.”

Mayo nodded. “Because the safe wasn’t hacked? Yeah, someone knew something. You take Belvedere. I’ll take Joey and start with the employees. Five of them, not counting any other cleaning crew who’ve been here recently. The dead girl...that look in her eyes. Can’t believe she was in on it, but who knows.”

Mayo went off, leaving Mike and Craig to head into Harry Belvedere’s office.

Craig almost wondered if you had to be a distinguished-looking older man to own a diamond store.

Belvedere was wearing a pin-striped suit, pink shirt and gray vest. He had steel-gray hair cut short and combed back.

He was sitting at his desk doing nothing, just staring ahead into space. The uniformed cop who had been watching over him nodded briefly to Mike and Craig, then left them alone with the owner.

“Mr. Belvedere,” Craig said quietly.

The man didn’t respond.

Craig said his name again, louder this time.

Belvedere winced and looked at him at last. He seemed pained to have been brought back from wherever his mind had taken him.

“That girl... I only saw her once or twice. She started late, but sometimes I was still here. She had another job in the afternoon. Wanted to make enough to stay in school,” he said.

“She knew the code for the alarm system?” Mike asked.

Belvedere nodded. “I’ve used Clean Cut Office Services for twenty-five years. Their people are bonded.” He hesitated. “And there’s nothing out at night. The stones are all moved into the safe. I change the combination frequently.”