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Cool air and the scent of flowers greeted them. A counter held the flowers and a compact data-and-communications unit. On a table glossy brochures fanned out. A couple of cozy scoop chairs ranged beside it while a gold sofa and a couple more chairs formed a conference area.
“Can I get you something cold to drink?”
“No, thanks. Mr. Chin, I’m Lieutenant Dallas, and this is Detective Peabody. We’re with the NYPSD.”
“Oh.” His smile remained pleasant, but edged toward puzzled. “Is there a problem?”
“I regret to inform you your partner, Jamal Houston, was found dead this morning.”
He face went blank, like a switch turned off. “I’m sorry, what?”
“He was found in one of the vehicles registered to this company.”
“An accident.” He took a step back, bumped into one of the chairs. “An accident? Jamal had an accident?”
“No, Mr. Chin. We believe Mr. Houston was murdered at approximately ten-twenty-five last night.”
“But no, no. Oh, I see. I see, there’s been a mistake. I spoke with Jamal myself shortly before that time. Minutes before that time. He was at the airport, at LaGuardia, driving a client, and picking up the client’s wife.”
“There’s no mistake. We’ve identified Mr. Houston. He was found in the limo, parked at LaGuardia, early this morning.”
“Wait.” This time Chin gripped the back of the chair, swayed a little. “You’re telling me Jamal is dead? Murdered? But how, how? Why?”
“Mr. Chin, why don’t you sit down?” Peabody eased him into the chair. “Can I get you some water?”
He shook his head, kept shaking it as his eyes, a brilliant green behind a forest of black lashes, filled. “Someone killed Jamal. My God, my sweet God. They tried to steal the car? Was that it? We’re supposed to cooperate in a jacking. It’s firm company policy. No car is worth a life. Jamal.”
“I know this is a shock,” Eve began, “and it’s very difficult, but we need to ask you some questions.”
“We’re having dinner tonight. We’re all having dinner tonight. A cookout.”
“You were here last night. You were running dispatch?”
“Yes. No. Oh, God.” He pressed the heels of his hands to those wet, brilliant eyes. “I was home, running dispatch from home. He had this late run, you see. He took it because Kimmy had two night runs in a row, and West was on an early one this morning, and it was Peter’s son’s birthday, and . . . it doesn’t matter. We flipped a coin, winner chooses dispatch or the run. He took the run.”
“When was it booked?”
“Just that afternoon.”
“Who was the client?”
“I . . . I’ll look it up. I don’t remember. I can’t think.” He dropped his head into his hands, then jerked it up again. “Mamie, the children. Oh, God, oh, God. I have to go. I have to get my wife. We have to go to Mamie.”
“Soon. The most important thing you can do for Jamal right now is give us information. We believe whoever was in the car with him killed him or knows who did. Who was in the car, Mr. Chin?”
“Wait.” He rose, went to the unit on the counter. “It doesn’t make sense. I know it was a new client, but he just wanted to surprise his wife by picking her up in style at the airport, then taking her out to a late supper. I remember that. Here, here it is. Augustus Sweet. The pickup was in front of the Chrysler Building. He was going to work late, and wanted to be picked up at his office. I have his credit card information. We always take that information in advance. I have everything here.”
“Can you make me a copy?”
“Yes, yes. But he was going to pick up his wife at the airport. He did request our best driver, but he didn’t even know Jamal, so I don’t understand. I could have been driving. Any of us could have. It was just . . .”
The flip of a coin, Eve thought.
He fell apart when Eve allowed him to call his wife in. Sobbed in her arms. She was six inches taller with flaming red hair, and was hugely pregnant.
Eve watched tears run down her cheeks, but she held together.
“We need to go with you,” she said to Eve. “She shouldn’t hear this from strangers. I’m sorry, that’s what you are. She needs family with her. We’re family.”
