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Chapter 57
There were littlethings about the Tahoe I should’ve detected before the door even opened. It had just a little too much wear and tear and mud splattered across the door. Very few command staff people would allow a vehicle to get that sloppy. That’s why they have assistants. That’s why there are rookies: to clean cars occasionally.
Instead, when the door opened, and the tall black man emerged, I recognized him. It was Paul Daggett, from the Special Investigations unit. I remembered him from when he and a couple of his friends had visited me at my hotel.
The first thing out of the DC detective’s mouth was “You don’t listen so well.”
I said, “It’s Daggett, right?”
“Good memory. Too bad you don’t have any common sense to go with it.”
“Last time we met, you had a couple of minions with you.”
Just then the doors to the Tahoe opened. I heard a woman’s voice say, “You mean us?” The physically fit woman, about thirty with long dark hair, stepped out onto the asphalt. She was dressed in a Nationals T-shirt and had a Glock model 19 in a holster on her hip.
The driver was the heavyset white man who’d been quick with the comebacks. He casually leaned on the hood and let the others do the talking. He didn’t look any better dressed today than he had a few days ago. Over stretch jeans, he wore an old light-blue sport coat that looked like it came from a leisure suit.
I looked at the three of them and said, “Now you’re complete. You look like a middle-aged Mod Squad.”
Only the chubby guy laughed.
I said, “What’s the matter with you two? You never watch any reruns?”
Daggett had a deep, resonant voice. He used it to good effect. “Fun and games are over, Detective Bennett.” The way he’d emphasized Detective told me he wasn’t trying to be respectful. “You just ruined a potential lead.”
“I just kept your detective from looking like an ass.”
“Why? Because you’re NYPD and so much smarter than the rest of us?”
“That’s part of it. Yeah. But your man in there is under too much pressure. He was considering charging the wrong person. A poor homeless dude who doesn’t sound like he’s all there. It would’ve looked bad for everyone.”
Daggett took a minute to consider that. Of the three partners, he was the only one wearing both a tie and a coat. He could’ve been a lawyer, with his neatly trimmed goatee and just a few specks of gray in his close-cropped hair.
I said, “I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
“I’m listening.”
“You go in and talk to the so-called suspect. Just for a minute or two. Then, if you think that I’m wrong and he’s good for Emily Parker’s murder, you come out here and tell me that with a straight face. If you honestly think he’s a good suspect, I’ll go home.”
I paused and appreciated the anticipation on the faces of the three DC cops. Daggett was smart enough not to say anything.
So I dropped in the second part of my proposal. “On the other hand, if you agree with me, if you talk to him and realize the only thing he might have to answer for is why he has Emily’s Fitbit, then you come out here and wish me a good day. I’ll go about my business and you go about yours. But maybe you could appreciate someone trying to look out for one of your detectives. And the reputation of your department.”
Daggett would’ve been a good poker player. His face gave nothing away. It felt like the city had gone silent. Bobby was off mingling with some new arrivals. They were all wearing suits, so I assumed they were Feds.
Finally, Daggett said, “You have yourself a deal, Detective Bennett.”
