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I told Hon what I knew about the dead poet at Walton Square, and about my own experience with Stevens and Moran at the Pier 45 and Geary Street murder scenes.
I said, “I accessed whatever information I could find, Lieutenant. I have Stevens’s report on the three crimes, all in progress. And I’ve also gathered up the reports I filed and an autopsy report on Laura Russell, the Pier 45 victim, from the ME.”
I reached across the desk and handed him a folder.
“So, what are you saying exactly, Sergeant? You think Stevens and Moran are goldbricking?”
“Something like that. Maybe they’re padding their over-time. I don’t know. But I do know that they don’t seem too eager to nail a serial killer who may be executing vagrants and planning to continue his spree.”
Hon nodded, said, “Do you have any evidence that Stevens and Moran are dragging their feet or scamming the system or committing a crime?”
“Lieutenant, what could be a legitimate motive for letting these homicides slide?”
“So, what I’m hearing is that you have nothing but unsubstantiated theory. They could be working feverishly behind the scenes and may even be following a suspect or a lead, and you wouldn’t know that, would you?”
I said, “They keep telling me to bug off. Why? I may have seen something. I may have a theory.”
“Could they suspect a political motive? That 850 Bryant is trying to put Central out of the homicide business?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But they’d be wrong. I care about the unworked homicides. I care about a killer who hasn’t been caught.”
“Okay. I’ll accept that. And how would you have reacted if Stevens and Moran had shown up at your crime scene?”
I thought about that. I didn’t like the image.
Hon said, “Sergeant Boxer, you’re taking this case to heart. I know a little about you, and what I know tells me that you’re a very good cop. So let’s just keep this quiet. Let it play out a little longer,” said the lieutenant. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground. If I decide to launch an investigation, I’ll let your lieutenant know. If you learn something I should know, call me.
“Now I have another meeting,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ll show you out.”
Feeling awkwardly dismissed, again, I thanked Hon, shook his hand, and took the fire stairs down to Homicide.
Conklin had left for the day.
I left, too, got into my car, and drove home.
I was still obsessing, having conversations in my head with Hon, Jacobi, and Brady, all at once and one at a time.
As in real life, the talking was getting me nowhere.
CHAPTER 54
YUKI HADN’T SPOKEN with Marc Christopher since Giftos’s scathing cross-examination of Paul Yates, and she was worried. How would Marc stand up under Giftos’s scorched-earth style?
She had called Marc and suggested that they meet once more before his upcoming testimony. He’d said, “Let me take you out to dinner. You deserve it, and I would rather have this chat over osso buco.”
Now she was waiting for him at Mancini’s, a popular after-work Italian restaurant in the Financial District. She hadn’t been here before and now took in the pleasant ambiance of the place, with its clean lines, brick walls, and cove lighting.
Marc had called to say that he was running late in traffic. Yuki sipped ice water and answered e-mail, and when she looked up, the maître d’ was leading Marc to the table. He apologized for his lateness, bent to kiss her cheek, and sat down beside her.
Marc had always appeared boyish, but he looked younger still this evening. He wore a baby-blue sweater under his blazer. His hair had recently been cut, and his long lashes and dimples completed the look of youthful innocence.
Over drinks and fritto misto Marc said, “I can’t quite believe this trial is for real. It’s like I’m watching a movie about someone else’s life. Online, on TV, everywhere, people are talking about me, what happened, what I said and did. This very personal thing that happened to me is both virtual and hyperreal.”
Yuki understood Marc’s inside and outside perspective. His future turned on a verdict by strangers. He would be vindicated. Or, if the jury went with the defense, Marc would be branded a liar for the rest of his life.
She said to Marc, “You read the transcript. What are your thoughts on Paul’s testimony and Giftos’s cross?”
“I found Paul completely credible,” Marc said. “I could see exactly how it happened. He was scared. He ran. I commend him for slapping the gun out of Briana’s hand. If I’d done that …”
