Page 19 of Paranoia

“No, no.” I realized it was a losing battle. Some people can never be satisfied. I just waved to her and headed to the stairs.

As soon as we were out of earshot, Trilling looked at me and said, “What’s her story?”

“We used to date.”

Trilling stopped on the staircase halfway between the first and second floor. Finally, he said, “Are you kidding?”

“Yes, Rob, I’m kidding. She’s got something against cops. Someone told me it has to do with an encounter in Minsk. Today was actually about the nicest she’s ever spoken to me.”

“Why do you put up with that?”

“I don’t want to make her distrust the police any worse. And if you listen to what she says, she has an excellent eye for details. She also overhears patrol officers’ gossip and often tells me if they’ve disturbed anything. You just have to get past the surly exterior.” I let out a laugh.

Trilling said, “What’s so funny?”

“That’s pretty much how I describe you to people too.”

CHAPTER 29

A UNIFORMED PATROL officer stood by the open apartment door. The young officer was making some notes just inside. She looked almost as young as Trilling. When she turned and saw the badge around my neck, she nodded. When she noticed Trilling, a smile spread across her face.

The patrol officer gave me basically the same rundown Alina had, with less sarcasm. We walked through the apartment. I saw the suicide note on the nightstand. I noticed the glass with the cloudy water. And I saw Roger Dzoriack looking like he was taking a nap on top of the covers of his bed. I said a quick prayer over his body. It’s something I always do when I come across the dead, as a show of respect.

Trilling and I looked through the apartment, but the only thing we found of interest was another Post-it note in the garbage with a longer message. It said, “You can all kiss my ass and I don’tcare if anyone comes to my funeral.” I guessed he had a change of heart right at the end, left a slightly less aggressive note.

Trilling and I stood in the cramped kitchen and looked around at the apartment. Over the years, I have found this to be a good way to get an overview and maybe pick up some detail I missed initially.

Alina and another technician came through the apartment with the gurney. I stepped into the bedroom and watched her methodically prepare to move Roger Dzoriack’s body onto the gurney. Alina might have been a little crude and abusive, but she was a professional. She snapped orders at her young assistant and was ready to move the covered body in about half the time it took most M.E. techs.

When they faltered at the top of the stairs, Trilling didn’t hesitate to rush out and help them. Maybe it was my joke comparing him to Alina. To be fair, my new partner genuinely tried to help people. All people. I appreciated that and hoped it wouldn’t wear off after a few years on the job.

A pudgy man in his fifties wearing a blue shirt with the name “Mario” embroidered on the chest peeked around the corner from the end of the hallway. I motioned him over and he identified himself as the building’s superintendent, the one who’d found the body. He told me he’d been trying to locate a leak on a lower floor and had knocked on Roger Dzoriack’s door. He hadn’t had to force the door to get into the apartment; the door was locked but neither of the dead bolts had been thrown, so he’d been able to use a master key.

The super told me he’d been hesitant to use his key. “Mr. Dzoriack once told me he’d cut my dick off if I ever walked into his apartment unannounced.”

I tried to hide my smile. That certainly seemed in keeping with Roger Dzoriack’s personality.

Mario answered a few more questions for me. I asked him if Dzoriack was friendly with anyone in the building.

“Elaine, next door, tried to check on him a few times a week. The woman at the end of the hallway, Lesa, she’s a retired librarian, and she’d bring him books. Mr. Dzoriack wasn’t the friendliest guy in the world. Those two women should be considered saints.”

The heavyset man looked nervous, but that’s common when someone is talking to the police. He fidgeted and moved from foot to foot.

I finally asked if he was okay.

“It’s not you. I like cops. My brother’s on the force out in Nassau County. Thing is, I got a urinary tract infection and I gotta keep moving so as not to think about it.”

I didn’t respond. I was afraid he might really open up to me.

I stepped back into the apartment. I made sure the patrol officers in from the local precinct packaged the glass and note for evidence. I picked out a few other things to take into evidence. A death like this didn’t warrant a crime-scene tech. The patrol officer looked like she knew what she was doing. The last thing I pointed out was the other suicide note we had taken from the garbage and laid on the kitchen counter.

The super had been helpful but really hadn’t given me much information I could use. I had to admit, on the surface, this did look like a suicide. And frankly, Roger Dzoriack looked like exactly how I would picture someone who committed suicide. But it was one more retired cop added to the list that seemed to be growing.

CHAPTER 30

I LET ROB TRILLING catch a ride back to Manhattan with a patrol officer headed to One Police Plaza. He needed to do some more work on his case with Terri Hernandez.

I decided to talk to a couple of Roger Dzoriack’s neighbors but waited for the medical examiners to leave with the body before I knocked on any doors. I started with the woman the super had pointed out to me, the retired librarian named Lesa Holstine, who used to leave books for Roger Dzoriack to read.

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