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“Clean as a whistle,” he said. “Not so much as a partial on any surface.”
“Then Foreman is Teddy,” Lance said. “Get a sketch artist up here and put him with the doorman and the super. Maybe well at least get a better sketch.”
“You know,” the agent said. “When we were canvassing realtors last week I interviewed the woman whose office is the rental agent for this building, and she denied having rented anything in any building to a single man during the past couple of months.” He handed Lance a rental agreement. “We found this in the desk drawer, wiped clean, of course. Her signature is on it. The woman lied to me.”
“Find out why,” Lance said. “Maybe she’s an old acquaintance of Teddy; maybe she knows something else that could help. Pick her up, scare the shit out of her and milk her dry. Print her and do a background check, too. See if her path has crossed Teddy’s at some time in the past.”
The man left.
“He’s not going to be at Kennedy,” Holly said.
“Maybe not,” Lance replied.
“Certainly not,” Holly said. “Teddy’s not going to tell a doorman where he’s going, then go there.”
“We checked the car service; it dropped Teddy at Kennedy fifteen minutes ago.”
“Then he’s not there anymore. My guess is, he’s on the way to LaGuardia-if he’s running-and he’s on the way back into the city, if he’s not.”
Lance called Kerry. “He may be headed to LaGuardia or back into the city,” he said. “Turn out as many people as you can at the other airport; I’ll deal with the rest.” He closed his phone and shouted, “Everybody listen up!”
Everybody stopped talking and moving around the apartment.
“Teddy may be headed back into the city,” Lance said. “I want you to divide into three groups and cover the Triborough Bridge, the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge and the Midtown Tunnel. Call the bridge and tunnel authority and have them squeeze traffic down to as many lanes as you can manage. Check the occupants of every cab that goes through.”
“Lance,” Holly said. “I know it’s a stretch, but shouldn’t we check the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges, too?”
“Oh, all right,” Lance said, and gave the instructions.
TEDDY’S CAB WAS on the Van Wyck Expressway now. “Tell you what,” he said to the driver. “Let’s go to Brooklyn on the way. I’ve never been over the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“Whatever you say, Mister,” the driver said. “It’s your meter. I’ll take you over the Verrazano Bridge, if you feel the urge to visit Staten Island.”
“Why not?” Teddy said. “We’ll take the ferry back. It’ll be fun.”
“Tourists,” the driver chuckled to himself, shaking his head.
BACK AT THE BARN, Lance, Holly and Kerry took the phone reports from the teams on the bridges and tunnel.
“Zip,” Kerry said. “We didn’t move fast enough.”
“Yes, we did,” Lance said.
“Maybe he did a costume change, and he’s still at Kennedy or LaGuardia, waiting for a plane.”
“Every gate agent was alerted,” Lance said. “Anyway, we have a confirmation from the cab starter at Kennedy; Teddy definitely got into a cab. He must have left his car and gone directly to the arrivals area.”
“Then where the hell is he?” Holly asked plaintively.
“I think you were right, Holly,” Lance said. “I think he’s back in the city. He’s not done yet; he’s going to kill somebody else.”
“But where is he?”
&n
bsp; “He’s got another place, a workshop; has to have. There was no sign that he’d done any work in the Park Avenue apartment. He didn’t move any equipment out when he left.”
“Then that workshop has got to be near the apartment,” Holly said. “You can’t have a workshop on Park, Madison or Fifth Avenues; that kind of industrial space just isn’t available.”
