“I know,” I said. “When Warren was shot, we started looking for a Son of Sam–type killer. Now it looks like Sam’s part of a sorority, and he’s got four sisters and a mother that we have to chase
down.”
“You realize what this means, don’t you?” she said. “If we’re dealing with a network of professional killers with atwenty-yearhistory of murders around the world, I’m going to have to alert the feds.”
“Can you stall?” Kylie said. “Zach and I just learned about this, and we haven’t had time to check it out.”
“I don’t have to stall,” Cates said. “All I have to do is talk to Liz Foster, my contact at the Joint Terrorist Task Force. She’ll call the FBI. With any luck, they’ll waste a day or two playing phone tag. Eventually, they’ll connect, and Liz will say a couple of NYPD detectives may have a lead on some of your open cases. And you both know how much they love it when we try to play in their sandbox.”
“Usually, their eyes glaze over as soon as they hear the lettersN,Y,P, andD,” Kylie said. “They think we’re about as sharp as a snow globe and half as useful.”
“Exactly,” Cates said. “But Liz will press on, and she’ll tell them that you have testimony from a teenage boy, who is reporting a bunch of stories he heard from an Alzheimer’s patient in a nursing home.”
“Assisted living,” Kylie said.
“Whatever,” Cates said. “Bottom line: they’ll say thanks for calling, have a good laugh, and then they’ll bury it. But our asses will be covered if anything ever comes of this. What are the next steps?”
“We’re going to Golden Grove tomorrow morning,” I said. “Theo recognized the sketch of our suspect in the Curtis Hellman murder as a friend of Martin Sheffield. We’re hoping they keep a record of visitors, and someone can ID him.”
“And last but not least,” I said, “in a heroic act of futility, we’re also going to interview Sheffield.”
“The old man may be delusional,” Kylie said, “but the crimes he talked about actually happened. It’s a long shot, but we’re going try to find out if he knows any details that aren’t on the Internet.”
“Good luck,” Cates snorted. “I can’t wait to tell the PC that my two best detectives are going to attempt to pry some reality out of an old man with dementia.”
“Considering how much bullshit the commissioner has to wade through in his daily dealings with the mayor, the City Council, and dozens ofself-servingcommunity boards, I’m sure he’ll be sympathetic to our folly,” Kylie said.
Cates laughed. “Thanks, he’ll appreciate that. One last question. What’s the latest on Shane?”
“We haven’t heard anything, so no news is good news,” Kylie said. “We were going to call as soon as we finished giving you aheads-upon the Hellman investigation.”
“In that case, thanks for the update,” Cates said. “Tell him I asked for him.” She hung up.
Kylie tapped a button on her cell phone.
“Put him on speaker,” I said. “I have a vested interest.”
She did, and Shane answered. “Hey, babe, how are you?”
“Don’t say anything personal,” Kylie said. “Zach is listening.”
“Good,” he said. “Hey, Zach, I need a favor.”
“Name it,” I said.
“Break me out of this fucking place, will you?”
“I don’t know, Shane. My gunshot victims usually give Lincoln afive-starreview. What’s wrong with it?”
“For starters, the food is atrocious.”
“Have you talked to the executive chef ?”
“I’m serious, Zach. Everything they put on that tray wasin-fucking-edible.”
“You’re right. I think they put far too much emphasis on saving lives and not enough on haute cuisine,” I said. “But still, it’s a small price to pay considering the fact that Dr. Lu snatched you from the jaws of death.”
“I know, I know, and trust me, I thanked her. I told her she could eat at my restaurant every night till the end of time, and it’s all on the house. But I’m fine now, and I’d like to go home.”