Forgotten in Death(13)

He rolled his eyes toward Bolton, who let out a sudden laugh. “You’ll get through it, Paulie. Stay strong.”

“Been married going on thirty years,” he told Eve and Peabody, “raised up three good kids. Got two sweet-faced grandkids so far. I make a good living, got a good, responsible job and respect on it. But I’m never going to be good enough for their girl. They don’t say it right out loud so much anymore. But they think it, and always will.”

He huffed out another breath. “Anyway, I was home, had dinner with my wife, the in-laws, my youngest boy, who came by with his new girlfriend. Medical student, pretty thing, speaks French like a native. And believe me, she’ll never be good enough for their grandbaby. Anyway,” he said again. “I was home from five-thirty, hit the sack about ten because my day starts early.”

“Okay. Mr. Singer?”

“My wife and I had dinner with friends, and I’d say we got home about the time Paulie hit the sack. My day doesn’t start so early. I checked on some work—habit—we watched the first part of Knight at Night, then settled in. Or my wife did. Our youngest is home from college. When he—or any of them—are away, I sleep like a rock. But when they’re home, I can’t drop off all the way until I hear them come in. Which he did at twelve-forty-eight—because I looked at the clock.”

“Thank you. If you could ask your admin to generate those lists?”

“Yes, of course.”

“My partner can go with you while it’s set up. If we could have a space to conduct interviews with anyone in the building at this time, that would also help.”

“Absolutely.” He rose. “This shouldn’t take long, and I’ll have you set up in the small conference room on this floor. Detective?”

When Peabody went out with him, Eve turned back to Geraldi. “You’ve worked for the Singers for a long time.”

“Longer than I’ve been married. Longer than Bolton, come to that. Turned me around as I was heading in the wrong direction. Nothing big, but not doing anything with my life. I got a job with Singer, and it helped turn me around.”

“You’d have worked for them when some of the buildings you’re taking down first went up.”

“Yeah, just a laborer back then. I had a lot to learn. Learned pretty quick I like demo. I thought it was so I could just bust things up, but I learned more. How to take something down, when, when to save and salvage. What’s safe, what’s not. What you can repurpose or donate. You don’t just tear something down and throw it away.”

His eyebrows drew hard together as he stared down at his hands. “That’s what someone did to her. They just threw her away.

“It’s not right. It’s not right.”

“No, it’s not. Have you had any trouble on the job site? Pilfering, sabotage? Anything?”

“Nothing like that. We had some trouble when we started with sidewalk sleepers and squatters trying to get back in those buildings—the old ones. That’s why we added security fences around the buildings in addition. They weren’t safe, Lieutenant. I swear to you, they weren’t safe, and if we weren’t taking them down, they’d sure as hell start falling on somebody’s head in another five, six years.”

He leaned forward again. “They weren’t built to last, see? It’s not on the Singers, it’s the system. Or what was. You’re too young to know, but people were desperate for a place to live back then. So many buildings down or bombed out, torn up. It was get something up fast, get people off the streets. Or get people coming back into the city again. Get things going again.”

“I know. A lot of the projects in Hudson Yards—just like elsewhere—ended up with that sort of construction. The Singer Family sold off a larger chunk of it.”

“Couldn’t do it all, not efficiently, not timely, and you know, you’ve only got so many resources, right? As I recall, the old man—that’s Bolt’s father—had partners, and when Bolt was coming up in the business, he wanted to focus in more. His old man had already sold most of the second site, I think, by then anyhow. That’s awhile back.”

“Did you work on both construction sites back then? Right after the Urbans?”

“They bounced me around plenty.” Nostalgia put a wistful smile on his face. “Like I said, I was green labor. Young, strong back, so I’m hauling trash, mixing cement, carting materials. Crap stuff, like I said. I didn’t know better then.”

He looked up as Bolton came back in.

“The detective’s getting things set up with Zelda. It won’t be long.”

“I appreciate that. If I could have a few more minutes of your time, Mr. Singer. We’re done here, Mr. Geraldi.”

“Go home, Paulie. We’ll shift over to the Houston site tomorrow, get a jump on it. I’ll meet you there at seven-thirty. How’s that?”

“Can do.” He rose. “I’d sure like you to let me know when you find the person who did that to her. Alva, you said. It’s a nice name, and it suits her. I’d like to know when you get them.”

“All right.”

Bolton sat down again as Geraldi left. “He’s taking it hard. It’s that personal connection. It makes it even harder. He’s a good man.”