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* Carpeting fibers from Explorer.
* Fiber that matched the rope used in Creeley's death.
* Ash found at Baker's same as ash in Creeley's fireplace.
* Presently taking soil samples from site where Sarkowski was murdered.
* Sand and seaweed. Oceanfront Maryland connection?
Other:
* Gerald Duncan set up entire scheme to implicate Dennis Baker and others who killed Duncan's friend. Eight or ten other officers from the 118th are involved, not sure who. Someone else, other than cops from the 118th, is involved. Duncan no longer homicide suspect.
Chapter 33
Amelia Sachs walked into a tiny, deserted grocery store in Little Italy, south of Greenwich Village. The windows were painted over and a single bare bulb burned inside. The door to the darkened back room was ajar, revealing a large heap of trash, old shelves and dusty cans of tomato sauce.
The place resembled a former social club of a smalltime organized crime crew, which in fact it had been until it was raided and closed up a year ago. The landlord was temporarily the city, which was trying to dump the place, but so far, no takers. Sellitto had said it'd be a good, secure place for a sensitive meeting of this sort.
Seated at a rickety table were Deputy Mayor Robert Wallace and a clean-cut young cop, an Internal Affairs detective. The IAD officer, Toby Henson, greeted Sachs with a firm handshake and a look in his eyes that suggested if she offered any positive response to an invitation to go out with him, he'd give her the evening of her life.
She nodded grimly, focused only on doing the hard job that lay ahead. Her rethinking of the facts, looking within the box, as Rhyme urged, had produced results, which turned out to be extremely unpleasant.
"You said there was a situation?" Wallace asked. "You didn't want to talk about it over the phone."
She briefed the men about Gerald Duncan and Dennis Baker. Wallace had heard the basics but Henson laughed in surprise. "This Duncan, he was just a citizen? And he wanted to bring down a crooked cop? That's why he did this?"
"Yep."
"He have names?"
"Only Baker's. There're about eight or ten others from the One One Eight but there's someone else, a main player."
"Someone else?" Wallace asked.
"Yep. All along we were looking for somebody with a connection to Maryland. . . . Did we get that one wrong."
"Maryland?" the IAD man asked.
Sachs gave a grim laugh. "You know that game of Telephone?"
"You mean at a kids' party? You whisper something to the person next to you and by the time it goes around, it's all different?"
"Yep. My source heard 'Maryland.' I think it was 'Marilyn.'"
"A person's name?" When she nodded, Wallace's eyes narrowed. "Wait, you don't mean. . . . ?"
"Inspector Marilyn Flaherty."
"Impossible."
Detective Henson shook his head. "No way."
"I wish I was wrong. But we've got some evidence. We found sand and saltwater trace in Baker's car. She's got a house in Connecticut, near the beach. And I've been followed by somebody in a Mercedes AMG. At first I thought it was a crew from Jersey or Baltimore. But it turns out that that's what Flaherty owns."
"A cop owns an AMG?" the Internal Affairs officer asked in disbelief.
"Don't forget Flaherty's a cop making a couple hundred thousand a year illegally," Sachs said stiffly. "And we found a black-and-gray hair about the length of hers in the Explorer that Baker had stolen from the pound. Oh, and remember: She definitely didn't want IAD to handle the case."
