Page 97 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

Handguns, I thought. I looked at Kylie, knowing she was thinking the same thing.

CHAPTER 64

“A trackwalker,”Kylie said as soon as we got back to the car. “It looks like we owe X. L. Gaston an apology and anall-expense-paidtrip to Otisville. He said he tossed the gun out of a moving subway, and now we know who found it.”

“And what he’s been doing with it since then,” I added.

“Noah Hirschfield called me while I was chatting with Dr. Jeong,” Kylie said, “but I didn’t pick it up.”

“And bychatting with, you meanbrowbeating,” I said.

“Po-tay-to,po-tah-to, Zach. All I know is, I pumped Jeong long enough to get him to tell us that the brother of the woman who befriended the accountant who posted all those lies about my boyfriend is a trackwalker.”

“Your dogged police work pays off again,” I said. “Let’s get Noah on the phone and give him the good news.”

We called. Noah had some good news of his own. “Shane picked out Vincent Ackerman as the man who shot him. I gave him a photo array of six white males, late thirties tomid-forties, and he jumped on Ackerman in a heartbeat. No question. Add to that the fact that his sister had an online relationship with the woman Shane fired, and I think the DA has more than enough to prosecute the two of them.”

“Thanks for your help, Noah,” Kylie said. “We’ll keep you posted.”

We hung up, called Shane and Theo, let them know that we were closing in on the shooter, and arranged to get them both home safely. Then we called Edlund and McDaniel at theFour-Oneand gave them an update.

“Sounds like we have enough for a collar,” McDaniel said.

“We’d like to get them both together,” I said, “which means we have to wait until Vincent is home. Can you check with the MTA, get his work schedule, and even if we have to wait till Smitty’s closes, we’ll get a warrant and arrest them around two o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“We’re on it,” Edlund said.

Kylie and I were both starved. We drove back to the precinct, parked the car, and walked around the corner to Gerri’s Diner.

As soon as we walked in, the owner, Gerri Gomperts, stepped out from behind the counter and pounced.

“How’s Shane doing?” she said.

“He’s out of the hospital and on the mend,” Kylie said. “Thanks for asking.”

“I would have asked sooner,” Gerri said, “but you haven’t been here for close to a week. I thought you liked this joint.”

“We do,” Kylie said. “Mediocre food, rude service—it’s the total New York experience.”

“Oh my God,” Gerri said. “My marketing team had been looking for a new slogan. That’s perfect. I’m going to write it down and have them repaint the sign on the window. As long as you’re here, would you like to try today’s special? It’s calamari fra diavolo over linguine. It got two stars on Yelp, although it’s possible that the second star was a fly.”

“Hard to resist,” Kylie said, “but I’ll stick with thetried-and-true. Tuna and tomato onwhole-wheattoast.”

“Grilled cheese and bacon,” I said.

“You’re in luck,” Gerri said. “They both come with a side order of gossip. Grab a seat. I’ll be back in a couple.”

That’s one of the other reasons so many cops eat at Gerri’s. She has a gift for knowing everybody’s business, and if you’re lucky enough to be in her inner circle, she’s quick to share it with you.

She came back with our food and sat down in the booth with us.

“Your favorite girl reporter has been in here a couple of times this week,” she said. “Once with Buchanan, the community affairs officer, and once with Lieutenant Delmonico, thegood-lookingspecial-opsguy.”

“And?” I said.

“She was pumping them for leads on the Hellman shooting. I didn’t hear what was in it for them, but I think we all know how Megan Rollins takes care of her sources. I kept coming back to refill the coffee cups so I could pick up on what they were saying, and neither of those guys gave up a thing.”

“Thanks, Gerri,” Kylie said. “That’s a big help. Anything else?”

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