The Silent Bride (22 page)

"Spoiled, silly Prudence."

"Oh, for God's sake! Prudence is a lovely girl... . What's that face supposed to mean?"

"The police were here again."

Wendy's stomach heaved. "Which one?"

"The one with the mustache," he said, rolling his eyes.

"They all have mustaches," she said, impadently.

"This one was in cowboy boots, quite attractive but a terrible dresser."

"Oh, the Spanish one. What did he want?"

"He had his Chinese sidekick with him," Louis added.

"Oh, Jesus." Wendy didn't like this. She needed a little drink to give her a lift, wished Lori were around to take over.

"They wanted to know who went up to the Bronx with me and how long we were there and what time I left. Same things they asked before. I told them what they asked."

"They haven't a clue," Wendy said angrily. "Everyone is freaking out."

"And now Jama is out there somewhere. He hasn't turned up since Sunday. My nerves are shot. I could just jump out of my skin."

"Well, tell the police about him. Let them deal with it," Wendy told him.

"I did." Louis groaned. "I told them where he lives. I hope they get him fast, so I can calm down and do St. Pat's. Now I'm down one helper. I should have six people working for me."
Pat pat
to the pompadour.

Wendy snorted. It was Louis's own fault that he didn't hire regular people to work for him instead of his pretty boys, all those runaways from civil war in those oh-so-faraway countries. The drama of the misplaced and traumatized every single day—that was Louis's thing. Who could even think of having people like that in their lives? Who needed it? Louis was a one-man social work agency. He had no fear.

And every boy Louis "helped" with work was a beautiful, troubled specimen. Only six months ago one of them had stolen fifty thousand dollars worth of art glass. Louis didn't know which boy was the thief, so he'd fired them both. Now he had Jama, an African near mute who'd never seen a town, much less a city, before he'd arrived in New York. Tito was an Argentinean whose family were among the disappeared. And Jorge, the Argentinean hair colorist, was another one. Who even knew his story? Louis could read her mind.

"Jorge wants to make a permanent spot for himself in the shop. Is the place big enough for two of us? Is it? I don't know. Tito is threatening to quit because there's too much work." Louis was frantic. "I don't know how I bear it."

Wendy changed the subject back to Pru's wedding. "How are the Sunset cats doing?"

He didn't answer. The orchids had a color palette of rust, lavender, white, and purple and were supposed to bloom in large seashells. But they were fragile and had a bloom dme of exactly two and a half days. Only a lot of luck would make them absolutely perfect for the wedding luncheon on Saturday.

"How are your fifteen minutes of fame going? You selling your story to the
National Enquirer
?" Louis asked instead.

"Not yet. They haven't come up with enough to get me." Wendy smiled. Fifty thousand dollars to tell about the secret rituals of matchmaking among Orthodox Jews in America?
Please.
It was tempting, but not anywhere near enough. She wanted a quarter of a million for her story, an escalating story for sure. Wendy's hands were trembling. She needed a drink.

"Be nice to Prudence, will you? She's having a hard time," was her parting remark.

Twenty-five

A
fter a second night sleeping apart, April and Mike worked separately on Wednesday morning. Mike and a detective from Homicide interviewed Louis's helper Tito for many hours. Tito stuck to the same story as Louis. Either they were both telling the truth or both of them were lying. April drove up to Riverdale to the Five-oh to talk with one of the detectives who'd visited Kim and his wife out in Queens on Sunday night.

"Kim is a real cutie, and his wife gives him a solid alibi," he said confidently. Detective Calvin Hill was maybe twelve and a half years old and newly promoted to the bureau. He held a copy of his DD-5, but April shook her head.

"I want to hear it from you. What do you mean, cutie?" she said.

He flapped his wrist. "The wife, Clio, definitely wears the pants in the family. Much older than he. Kim doesn't speak English. I think he speaks Philippine. Wife wouldn't let him talk. She says she drove him and the dress out to Riverdale in their car on Sunday afternoon."

April frowned. "He brought the wedding gown to his home? When and how did he get it there?"

Calvin shook his head. He hadn't asked that quesdon.

"Why did he deliver the dress so late?" she asked.

"Kim's wife said the gown needed last-minute alterations. She says Mrs. Schoenfeld asked him to deliver the gown and help Tovah get dressed."

"Where did he do these alterations?"

Calvin shook his head again. He hadn't been interested in the movements of the dress, only the fitter.

April had the case file on the desk in front of her. It was already stuffed with hundreds of statements and interviews, but there were gaps everywhere. And the information they had didn't add up. The story of the gown didn't play to April at all.

"So Kim's wife drove him to Riverdale. Where did she park the car?" she said, back on Calvin's report.

"Down the block. There was no room in front of the synagogue. And Clio said she didn't want to get stuck in the lot because so many cars were moving in."

"Which way?" April asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Which way down the block?" she said impatiently.

"She didn't know," he said.

April blinked.

"I asked her, but she didn't know the area. She said she moved the car down the block, waited an hour for him to come out."

"I want to know where the car was parked. What time was that?" She moved on to the next question.

"Two P.M.," he said.

April scratched her head some more. "Two P.M.

they arrived? Two P.M. they parked? I need a more precise time frame here."

"I think they arrived at two P.M."

April was silent.
He thought
was not good enough.

Cavin consulted his notes. "She waited for him for an hour. He came out and the two of them drove home to Queens."

"That put the time at... ?"

"She said they left just after three. The shooting occurred twenty-five minutes later." " "What make of car? Did you take a look at the car?" April snapped.

Calvin shook his head.

"Find out what make of car. Where the two drove from. I want to know what time that couple arrived and where the car was parked. Every single thing about that car. And the gown. I want to know where it was. Who handled it, what time ..." April couldn't contain her annoyance at the incomplete interview.

"Right here you had two people, husband and wife, who had the opportunity to get close to Tovah and the means to get away. I want to know everything about them." Her voice was hard. "Today."

Calvin gave her a stunned look. "Yes, ma'am."

A little while later she got a call from Lieutenant Iriarte on her cell phone.

"What do you have on Wendy Lotte?" he said.

Across the room April could see Hollis talking on the phone.

"You got something." She knew her boss, could hear excitement in his voice.

"Oh, yeah. We got a lot. She's a sport shooter, almost went to the Olympics. And she has a sheet."

"No kidding!"

"She was arrested for shoplifting three times in college, then shot her fiance up on Martha's Vineyard. All these incidents occurred in Massachusetts. The family is prominent there. She was not charged in the shooting, got suspended sentences on the thefts. In the shooting incident, the young man was treated and released. They broke up. That was seventeen years ago. Funny thing, she's been clean as a whistle since."

April stared at Sergeant Hollis, knowing he'd held out on her. "Lieutenant, could you put that in written form and fax it to Inspector Bellaqua?"

"Uh-huh, already working on it. You owe me big." He hung up before she could ask him about Tang. Okay, looked like Wendy was it again.

April got Bellaqua on the line in her office at One PP.

"Hey, April, what's up?" she asked.

"Turns out Wendy Lotte is a sport shooter and she has priors. Shoplifting in college. Shot her boyfriend. No charges were pressed. Nothing for seventeen years. At the time of Tovah's shoobng, she was out of sight for twenty minutes."

"Yeah, I know. What's her story?"

"She says she was outside having a cigarette. Then she went inside arid was in the ladies' room when she heard the screams."

"Motive?"

"I don't know, jealousy? She's an unmarried woman. Apparently she shot her own fiance. I don't have the full story on that. It occurred in Massachusetts. I have the feeling she gets squirmy watching brides walk down the aisle."

"Yeah, well, a lot of us get squirmy watching brides walk down the aisle, doesn't mean we shoot them." Bellaqua snorted. "Have you spoken to the DA about this?"

"Not yet. You're my first call. What about you, Inspector? Anything on the bias angle?" April asked, switching gears for a moment.

"Nothing. The Schoenfelds are highly respected, have no known enemies. Everyone loves them. Same with the synagogue. The Ribikoffs have an ongoing investigation on some of their relatives, but they weren't at the wedding, and there seems to be no connection to this. Same with the real estate issue. Both families are in real estate, but in different areas. That's about it."

"Has the Riverdale canvass come up with anything?"

"One lady reported a flasher walking on Palisades Avenue. Could have been Saturday, could have been Sunday. She's not sure. According to her, he waved it at her as she drove by. She says she swerved and almost went off the road, down the bluff, and into the river. Mike is chasing down the missing African who works for Louis. I heard from him an hour ago."

"Me, too. Anything else from Riverdale?"

"A number of people reported a parade of strange cars in the area that day. But there's always a lot of activity around the synagogue. Saturdays, people walk. But Sunday is wedding time. A lot of people from out of the area drive in. We do have the plates of every car in the lot. But the killer could have parked on the street, even down on Palisades Avenue."

April flashed to Kim and his wife. They took off in a car; Louis had a truck. Wendy had a car, too. Lots of possibilities.

"Do you have anything on the weapon?" she asked.

"We're still looking for it."

"What about a computer check on the shell casings?"

"They're working on it. Look, I'll get with the DA about Wendy."

"Inspector, does anything strike you about this?"

"A lot of things. What's on your mind?"

"Psychologically, I mean. What's the message of the crime?"

"Strikes me as impersonal," Bellaqua said promptly.

"Yeah, I didn't think so at first, but now it has the feel of a public execution. I don't know. Maybe I'm dreaming here."

"Go on. You got a theory?"

"If it was a rage thing, wouldn't the killer have gotten up-close and personal? Done the thing in private so the victim could look in his face and know her killer? And they've been planning this wedding for, what—only two months? Isn't that kind of rushing things?" April mused. Matthew and Ching had been planning their wedding for eight months.

"So?"

"There were a hundred ways to do Tovah with a lot less risk. Where she lives is a cul de sac in a quiet neighborhood. She was a solitary girl, liked to sit on the back porch out of sight of the rest of her family and listen to her Walkman. Anybody who knew her knew that and could have picked her off anytime in her own backyard. We wouldn't have had a clue. What does that tell us about our killer?"