Page 31 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

“On the other hand,” Kylie said, “the fact that Curtis Hellman’s adoring wife didn’t file a police report or call for an investigation means she has something to hide.”

Cates already knew that. She also knew that if a serious probe into Brooke Hellman’s personal, professional, and financial life wentbelly-up, it could bring the wrath of Mayor Sykes down on the department, and she would be the first casualty. She was looking at a political Pandora’s box.

But that had never stopped her before. Delia Cates was a decorated marine and athird-generationNYPD cop. Politics didn’t dictate her life.

“Do it,” she said. “Under the radar. Submarine. Run silent; run deep.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Kylie said.

“One more thing, MacDonald,” Cates said. “I’m glad to hear your boyfriend is out of the woods.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You understand this is not a Red case.”

“Understood,” Kylie said.

“But since we have a vested interest in the outcome, I called Captain Graham at theFour-One, and he assured me that he’s put his best team on it.”

“He said that to me as well.”

“He didn’t tell me that the two of you had talked, but it doesn’t surprise me,” Cates said. “Let me guess. You volunteered to help.”

Kylie shrugged. “You know me, Captain.”

“All too well. Fill me in on the conversation.”

“I offered to work with his team. He said I was too close to the victim. I told him I didn’t agree with the department policy but that I would abide by the rules and stay out of it.”

“Can I personally have your word on that as well?” Cates said.

“Yes, ma’am. You have my solemn promise. But as I said to Captain Graham, if those boys from theFour-Oneever decide they need a fresh pair of eyes, I’ll be glad to pitch in on my own time. It won’t cost the department a dime.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Cates said. “But for now why don’t you focus on the double homicide that the department is paying you to solve.”

“Clearly nobody trusts me,” Kylie said once we were back in the car.

“It’s terrible,” I said, mustering up as much mock sympathy as I could. “I don’t understand why everyone thinks you’re an incorrigible chronic rule breaker willing to push the envelope whenever she feels justified. Oh, wait, I have a list right here in my pocket of transgressions you’ve committed over the past year.”

“You are such a fucking Boy Scout,” Kylie said. “But I’ll bet if you check that list, every one of those transgressions wound up with us collaring someone.”

“Possibly. But we’ve also made a lot of arrests just playing it by the book.”

“I know, Zach,” she said, flashing me a devilish grin, “but if you obey all the rules, you miss a lot of the fun.”

We crossed the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge into Long Island City and pulled into the parking lot at Silvercup Studios. We were there to talk to Shelley Trager. We had checked the IMDb website, and Shelley’s company, Noo Yawk Films, had never done a joint venture with the Hellmans. But in atight-knitcommunity like the television and film business, where the gossip mill cranks out the latest scandal, rumors, and bullshit around the clock, we figured Shelley might have picked up some dirt on them.

It was a long shot, a total fishing expedition, but we’ve learned that if you ask enough people enough questions, sooner or later you’re bound to get lucky and pick up that one little nugget of truth that helps you crack the case. And since he and Kylie were old friends, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell us.

“The Hellmans?” Shelley said when we told him why we’d stopped by. “They were total assholes.”

We were off to a good start.

“I mean, we’re all assholes,” Shelley said. “It’s the nature of the business. It can bring out the worst in people. But those two fuckers, they didn’t just screw someone out of money or backstab an old friend—they actuallymurderedpeople. I mean, I know what the courts said, but Curtis leaving that actress by the side of the road? Murder! And Warren shooting that cop inself-defense? Murder! But you hire a hotshot lawyer like Sonia Blakely, and she’s going to bamboozle a jury into an acquittal. Hey, can I get you some coffee? I’ve got a dark roast from Guatemala. It’s fantastic.”

“No thanks,” I said.

“So, I guess you caught the Hellman homicides,” Shelley said. “Who do you want to play you in the movie?”

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