Page 95 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

“Do you want anything from the vending machine?” Kylie asked.

He swiveled his massive body around. “Do I look like I’d want anything from the vending machine?”

We gave him fifteen minutes and returned with an assortment of snacks and drinks.

“Did you find anything?” Kylie asked.

Noah popped the top on a can of Coke. “Did Hamlet kill Polonius and drive Ophelia mad with grief ?”

He opened a pack ofDay-Glocheese-and-peanut-butter crackers and made two of them disappear in a flash.

“Her name is Priscilla Ackerman. She lives in an apartment onThirty-FirstAvenue in Astoria. I’ll get you the details, but here’s the good news. She’s got HHNF message chains about your two prior victims, the dentist and the radiotalk-showhost, plus two more that are either operations in the works, or murders that we haven’t yet connected to this case.”

“Anything on the accomplice?” I asked.

“The bread crumbs lead to an older brother, Vincent, but right now that’s only an educated guess.”

“Does she have any photos of the brother?”

“More than I have of my kids.”

“Can you do us a favor, please? Shane is upstairs working with a sketch artist as we speak. Can you pull a picture of the brother, put it in a photo array, and see if Shane picks him out as the shooter?”

“Sure thing.”

“Even if we don’t get a hit, do we at least have enough to bring in the sister?” Kylie asked.

“Not really. She’s written a lot of incriminating shit, but asecond-yearlaw student would know enough to say that all her rantings are flights of fancy—one unhappy woman’s imagination doingpush-ups.”

He polished off the rest of the crackers and opened a bag of potato chips. “Priscilla is your perp. I have no doubt. But I also have no proof. If you go to the DA now, you’d get shut down in a heartbeat,” he said. “It’s not my place to tell you two rock stars how to do your job, but if I were you, I wouldn’t go near her yet. If she knows she’s on your radar, she and brother Vincent will start covering their tracks. We need more on her. I’ve got a couple of hundred more gigs to wade through. While I’m doing that, you guys might want to have aface-to-facewith someone who doesn’t seem to be a big fan of Ms. Ackerman.”

“And who would that be?” Kylie asked.

“Alvin Jeong. He’s a tenant in her building. Called the cops on her three times in the past year. The first time was for vandalizing his property, but there was no proof it was her. The second time, he claimed she yelled racial slurs at him, so he accused her of a hate crime, but that didn’t fly either. Finally, she tossed a flowerpot out of her window, which almost hit him on the head and killed him. That got a detective to pay her a visit, but nothing came of it. I think if a couple of sympathetic cops went to see Jeong, he might have some dirt on her, and he wouldn’t tip her off that you’re planning to nail her raggedy ass and put her in prison with a bunch of horny psycho bitches.”

“You’ve immortalized my words,” Kylie said. “I’m flattered.”

“I also quote Shakespeare and Louis C.K. My repertoire has no boundaries.”

“And you got all that intel in fifteen minutes?” Kylie said.

“Ten. But I didn’t want to interrupt your trip to the vending machine.”

“Do you have a phone number for Mr. Jeong?”

“It’sDoctorJeong. Hold on.” He tapped on his keyboard, and Kylie’s phone beeped. “And now you have his entire file. Does that help?”

“Does that help?” she said, giving him her best killer smile. “Did Norman Bates have mommy issues?”

CHAPTER 63

Dr. Alvin Jeongturned out to be a veterinarian. His practice was on Steinway Street, three blocks from his apartment. Kylie and I walked in unannounced, and in less than a minute we were escorted inside, leaving the owners of an overweight beagle and a hyperactive Yorkie wondering how two petless latecomers got bumped to the head of the line.

Dr. Jeong was sitting behind his desk, waiting for us in his office. I carry two different business cards. The one that sayshomicidetends to intimidate people. I gave him the more benign version that simply saysNYPD.

“Detectives,” he said, wasting no time. “I cannot for the life of me imagine what this is about. What’s going on?”

“There’s been an increase in racially motivated crimes in the area,” I said, “and the department is taking a closer look at a number of grievances that were filed in the past. We know you’ve called with complaints about one of your neighbors, and we’d appreciate it if you could take us through some of the issues one more time.”

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