B
ack in her Le Baron and on the road again, April started breathing easier. This time she didn't have to check her map for the way to Bernardino's house. As she drove through traffic, she imagined Bernardino taking this ride every day back and forth to the Fifth, going from one world to another. But no, he would not have traveled the Deegan. He'd have taken the Saw Mill on the West Side, then the Henry Hudson Parkway along the river. Nice drive. Nice life.
Forty minutes later she turned into Bernardino's heavily bowered suburban street and slowed down to a crawl. Circus time. Where yesterday the block had been quiet, today there were news vans, Westchester news, the city stations, too, and lots of cars, including Crown Victorias. One of them was Mike's. April's heart beat a rumba. She parked way back and walked slowly toward the crowd of reporters stalled in the front yard of Bernardino's house. How to hide?
The house next door had an arbor and a front gate. April opened it, sighed, and strode through it as if she belonged there. In the house a dog started barking; it sounded like a big dog. She ducked her head and skirted the house, not pausing to glance at the windows to see if anyone was watching.
In the backyard an in-ground pool was still covered for the winter that was over. She searched for a gap in the hedge, saw one at the end of the half acre, and plowed through. On Bernardino's side, the lawn was full of dandelions and needed mowing. She walked toward the house. Kathy was working in the kitchen. She looked up and locked eyes with April. They met at the storm door.
"What are you doing here? They tell me you're not on the case," she said worriedly, then opened up so April could come in. "Your husband's here," she added. "He's on the case."
Not her husband yet, but who was quibbling? Speak of the devil. Mike appeared with an empty glass in his hand.
"Mind if I help myself to some more water?" His bushy eyebrows shot up at the sight of his
novia,
not where he expected her to be. "Hello, what are you doing here?"
Caught, April gave him a weak little smile. Then he got it and turned to Kathy. "Oh, I see. Girls sticking together. Okay, let's go for a walk." He took April's upper arm and marched her outside. She didn't resist.
"April, you coming back?" Kathy asked at the door. She seemed alarmed by the brevity of the visit.
April nodded and let herself be taken away by the man of her dreams.
"You didn't come home last night. You had me worried. I don't want you in that house alone." Mike let the fire die from his eyes as they walked to the edge of the patio and turned their backs on the house so no one could read their lips.
Then what about her parents. Didn't he worry about them?
"You didn't call in. I missed you." He said this softly. Here was the truth, but he didn't give her a hug. He was working.
She touched her mouth, flipped up her hand.
I
wanted my mommy. What can you do?
"Yeah, I know. You didn't want to be alone, but you've got to be careful." He touched her arm and she nodded again. She was always careful. Well, nearly always careful. Then she glanced back at the house to get off the subject.
What's going on?
"You want to know what's going on?" he asked with a smile. "The autopsy came in. Bernie was yoked. I guess you knew that. But here's something you didn't know. About a month ago a check came in for his wife, Lorna, from the New York State Lottery. You know she hit the big one?"
Of course, who didn't? April nodded some more.
"Our Bernie deposited fifteen million in a new account at Fidelity. Lorna hadn't passed on yet. In an old will she left him everything and never changed it. But get this. As soon as she died, he withdrew four million, and no one admits to knowing where it went."
April registered shock, then turned around to catch Kathy's eye. She was working at the sink and didn't look up.
"Kathy says she doesn't know anything about it. We'll run a check on her accounts and of the banks out in her area, but the FBI does that routinely with their agents, so she would know not to hide any big money in plain sight. She might have used safety-deposit boxes. Other names. There are a lot of ways to hide money. She would know." He lifted a shoulder.
But why the need to hide it? It was their money. Oh, a tax reason? That would be so stupid and squirrelly. She frowned at Mike.
"Yeah, well, like I said, she claims Bernie told her he hadn't gotten the money yet."
That didn't make sense. Everybody knew the lottery paid off quickly. She tried to remember what Kathy had said about it yesterday.
"Maybe Bernie didn't want his kids to bug him. Maybe he had a different plan for it." Mike shrugged.
But it didn't sound like the Bernie April knew. She considered the time frame in light of yesterday's conversation with Kathy. Kathy had been out of town since her mother died. If Bernie had wanted to give his daughter a bunch of tax-free money, could he have gotten it out to Seattle without taking it there himself? Did he plan a trip later on? If he'd given a bunch of tax-free cash to Bill, would Bill have sent it on to his sister? If it went to the kids, it had to be about taxes, right? What else was there?
Possibly a whole lot of things. A woman none of them knew about? An illegitimate child. Through the window April could see Kathy washing dishes at the kitchen sink, carefully not watching them. Her hair was no different from yesterday, unwashed and un-brushed. Today she was wearing an old gray sweatshirt and jeans and had circles under her eyes that were visible from a mile away. She certainly didn't have the burnished look of a grieving millionaire.
One thing Kathy had told April was that her father used to discuss everything with them. If he hadn't told her about the money, maybe he'd told Bill and the two men were in some kind of scheme to avoid taxes. April shivered. Now she knew what had bothered her yesterday about the mess Bernardino had left. Bernie was a tidy guy who'd wreaked havoc on his house, so he must have had a reason. April hoped that the money was right there, somewhere under their noses in the house, and had nothing at all to do with his murder. She didn't want to suspect his son of killing him. That was too terrible to imagine.
The press outside the front door didn't know about the missing money, and no one would tell them anytime soon, but the detectives inside were looking for it, guessing that maybe something had gone wrong between Bernie and Bill, and the son had murdered his own father. No one was hoping for that. But they were praying for something simple; anything was better than a mystery.
Mike interrupted April's speculation on the missing money. "And what are you really doing here,
querida?"
She considered her options. If she played the cripple, he'd send her home. If he thought she could be useful, he might let her in. It was a small chance that she decided to take. So much for her carefully thought-out plan to remain silent for at least a week. She cleared her sore throat and tried vocalizing for the first time since Wednesday night.
"Kathy wanted to talk." Her voice was a gravelly whisper that sounded like something a whole lot worse than Marlon Brando playing the Godfather, but at least it was audible. Score one for the Dragon.
"Did she tell you anything?" Mike showed no surprise that her voice was back.
"Not yet. Her mom is dead, her dad was murdered, and her brother is a suspect. I'd say she's scared."
Mike squeezed her arm. "You thought you could handle this on your own? Pretending you couldn't speak? How long did you think you could pull that off?"
April shook her head. "I was just helping out an old friend."
"That's what you always say. You have no idea what's going on here." He glanced back toward the house.
No, she didn't know what was going on. She changed the subject. "Why isn't Bernardino getting a full police funeral?"
"He isn't?" At this Mike registered surprise.
"Kathy's pretty upset about it. I would be, too. Thirty-eight years on the job. Lieutenant murdered on a city street…" April shook her head. "What's the reasoning behind it?"
"I don't know. This is the first I've heard about it."
"Well, I'm going in to talk to her."
Mike glanced at his watch. "I thought we settled this already."
"It's not a problem. I'm taking sick leave." She gave him a mischievous smile, feeling better in his presence.
"Oh, please." He snorted through his mustache.
"I am."
"Fine, if you're taking sick leave, you've got to stay out of sight. Get in bed. Don't attend the funeral. These are the conditions."
" 'Oh, please' yourself. The picture's changed. You need me."
"We got a lot of people on this case. What's so special about you?" But he said this with a smile, already opening the door a crack.
April walked through it and felt the fog of Wednesday roll back in on her. "What's special about me,
chico
,"
she said in her chalk-on-the-board voice, "is that I don't make the answers up."
He laughed. Like he made them up. "Well, I guess you're feeling better."
"Look, Bernardino has to have a full department funeral. Bagpipes and everything. Tell Avise it would be a scandal not to. He has the muscle to get it done."
"I don't know what's up with that," Mike murmured, checking his back.
"Well, find out what's up with it. You're one of them now. The whole city is watching here. Don't let them act like asses just because they don't know the whole story. Okay?"
He didn't say anything, but she could read agreement in his eyes.
"I'll see you later, boss." She took his hand and shook it, rubbing his palm briefly with her thumb. "Nice working with you. By the way, where are you keeping the file, the Sixth?"
"Anybody ever tell you you're a piece of work?" Mike said.
"Nope." She let go of the hand and picked her way across the patio to the kitchen door.
Kathy was sitting at the counter. Mike followed April in, got the water he'd come in for, and disappeared without a word. Okay, it was up to her to get a few things clarified. April filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil.
"I hope you have tea. I need it," she said.
"Oh, Jesus, what a voice," Kathy remarked.
"At least I have one." April sat on the other stool.
"Thanks for coming." Kathy looked pretty dispirited.
"No problem. I'm not officially on the case."
"Can you stop them from tearing up the place? Baboons."
"Nope. I warned you. Look, Kathy, when we talked yesterday you didn't really answer my questions about your dad's lottery money."
Kathy brushed her hair away from her face, looking fifteen years older than yesterday. "Is this an interview?"
"Very informal. No tape recorders, no cameras, no lie detectors at this time. As I said, I'm not officially on the case. We're just talking, okay? I want to help you."
"Jesus, don't creep me out. No one ever helps anyone."
"Try me. What about the money?"
"Dad said he'd let me know when he got it. As far as I knew, he hadn't gotten it yet. What happens now?"
"Oh, come on, Kathy, you expect me to believe that a dad who told you everything didn't tell you that he got a check for fifteen million dollars before your mother even passed on and he cashed some of it in even before the funeral?"
"What?" Kathy's whole body jolted with shock. It didn't look like an act.
"We have the time frames on his deposits and withdrawals. You didn't go through his files and find them?" April studied her. She must be a pretty lousy special agent.
"I did check," Kathy said slowly. "The recent statements aren't here." She passed a hand over her brow. "And the house was a mess. It looked to me like he was falling apart. That's how I saw it."
"You didn't have any suspicions that all was not right here?"
"I don't know what you mean." Kathy looked out the window.
"That something was out of whack. That nobody was talking about the elephant in the living room."
"I told you. Dad wasn't interested in money. He didn't like people chasing him around the block trying to get it. He wanted to run away from that."
"And he was a brick wall when he wanted to be," April added.
"Yeah," Kathy admitted. "He was a brick wall on certain subjects."
"Is that the reason you didn't come to his retirement party? Because he was holding out on you?" April rasped out.
"No! I was working a case. My supervisor wouldn't give me any more time off. I'll give you his number. You can ask the bastard yourself."
The front doorbell and telephone rang at the same time. They rang and rang. Nobody made a move to answer them.
"So, did you talk to Bill about the money?" April asked.
The wall phone had no caller ID. Kathy waited for it to stop ringing before she responded. "When?"
"Before Wednesday." April's face was empty of emotion. She didn't want to say "before the murder."
Then the kettle began to sing. This got Kathy up. Miss Hospitality. "What kind of tea do you want?"
"Whatever you have is fine."
"Mom liked chamomile." Kathy searched around in a cupboard for it.
"Chamomile is good."
Kathy fussed with a mug and tea bag. "Sorry, I don't have any cookies."
"Tea is fine." April took the mug and put her nose into the steam. Hot was best, but she'd wait this time.
Outside the kitchen, they could hear the noise of men going through the house, talking to each other from different rooms, not making any effort to be quiet or show respect. April guessed there were three or four of them, and Mike was one of them. They were still working the upstairs, hadn't gotten to the basement yet. The doorbell rang again. Nobody answered it.
"Let's get back to the money. How were you and Bill handling it between the two of you?"
Kathy pressed her lips into a thin line. "We didn't talk about it."
"Gee, Kathy, this is hard to believe. If my dad got fifteen million dollars, I'd have an interest in it."
"I never said I wasn't interested. I said we didn't talk about it. You don't get it, do you?"