Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

“Cute as a button.”

“Mexican.”

“I’d say so, but she talked funny, like you.”

“Bronx, New York.”

“Guess so.”

I slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Ted, you take it easy.”

I could see the Jaguar approaching through the heat haze along the road. Ted was staring at me, frowning. Dehan pulled up onto the dirt, and I walked over. As I opened the passenger door, he called out to me, “Say! How did you know all that?”

I waved, gave him the thumbs-up, and climbed into the car. And we took off back east.

Twenty-Three

New York felt cramped and overcrowded after the vast expanses of the Panhandle. The city contained a third of the entire population of the state of Texas, and right then, crawling down Simpson Street toward Dehan’s apartment, it felt like they were all there, on that street, at the same time.

She’d had the last shift driving, and I could see from her eyes that she was exhausted. So I dropped her off and told her I’d give her a call in the morning. She punched me gently on the shoulder and said, “It’s been fun. We should do it again.”

I felt pretty tired myself, but there were a couple of things I needed to take care of before I collapsed. So I threaded my way onto the Bruckner Expressway and headed for the precinct.

It was approaching midday as I climbed the stairs and stepped into the captain’s office. We stared at each other a moment without speaking. Then I closed the door and sat down. I didn’t like the woman, but that didn’t make what I had to do any easier.

“I’m sorry, Jennifer. We found Mick’s car and the remains of two bodies in it. The ME will confirm through dental records, but I don’t think there can be any doubt that these are the bodies of Mick Harragan and Maria Garcia.”

Her face clenched for a moment, and her eyes flooded. She sat looking out of the window, chewing her lip. I gave her a moment, then said, “The case will have to go to the Feds now. The sheriffs of Wheeler and Armstrong are both making reports, and I will have to do the same. This has to be a federal case now.”

I let that sink in, and after a moment, she nodded. “I have no axe to grind with you, Jennifer. I am not coming after you. As far as I am concerned, you are guilty of no more than an indiscretion and turning a blind eye. I think that disgraces you, and it makes you unfit for your office, but I will be satisfied if you resign, and what I know need go no further.”

She stared down at her hands. “I suppose I ought to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just level with me on one thing. You know me. You know I will get there in the end, and it’s better you are honest with me now.”

She finally met my eye and asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Did you replace Mick with the Mob? Are you feeding Morry Levy with information?”

She frowned and shook her head. “No, John. What I did with Mick ten years ago was wrong. But I am not a bent cop, and you are welcome to investigate me. I have nothing to hide.”

“Okay.” I stood. At the door, I said, “Jennifer, because you turned a blind eye, a lot of people suffered and died—people who shouldn’t have, people who didn’t deserve to. You have to go.”

I was about ready to go home and sleep for twelve hours, but there was one more thing I had to do. I went down, dropped into my chair, and pulled out the cold case archive, the two cardboard boxes that now lived under my desk. I searched through them until I found the Sam Bernstein case. It was a very thin file. I leafed through it and studied it for half an hour; then I clipped it as an annex to the Nelson Hernandez case.

After that I drove up to Morris Park, to the ME’s office. I found Lynda poring over the body of somebody who had stopped being anybody and was now a Caucasian male in his mid to late thirties. She glanced at me over her mask and said in a muffled voice, “John. You should have called.”

“I would’ve if I could’ve, but I couldn’t so I didn’t.”

She sighed and came over to where I was standing by the door. She removed her mask and revealed a smile. “You look terrible.”

“Too much steak and beer.”

“What can I do for you?”

I gave her my cell and said, “It’s urgent. In fact, it’s very urgent. Print the last six photographs and check them against Mick Harragan’s dental records. They’ll be in the NYPD database for the 43rd precinct. I know I’m asking a lot, but you need to give this top priority. I have maybe a few hours before I lose control of the case.” I made a face to show that I couldn’t say what I wanted to say, and added, “That would be a bad thing.”

She understood and took my phone over to the printer.

When she handed it back, I called José.

“What?”

“José, can you talk?”

“Yuh.”

“Did your sister have dental insurance?”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “Yeah, we all did. We used to go regular, man, every six months to have our teeth whitened in time for our Christmas and summer holidays in Miami. We kept the papers in the fockin’ oak dresser in the fockin’ library.”

“Shut the fuck up, José. So when you had dental work, how did you pay?”

“When we had it, like never, we paid cash.”

“Thanks.”

I hung up. I sat thinking for a long while. Eventually Lynda came back. She handed