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Two trips to One Police Plaza in one day was very unusual. I hoped to keep it that way. I marched into the public outreach office about thirty minutes after I got the call. I kept thinking about Estella Abreu’s family and if they’d seen the social media post. I would’ve liked to have given them a heads-up before it came out.
The office was empty. For a moment I thought I’d walked into the wrong place. To be honest, I’d never been in the public outreach office. I knew they existed and occasionally interacted with the people who worked in the unit. Most of them were marketing and technical people. Their job was to get out the word about what the NYPD was doing and how the public could help.
I stood by the door to the office and called out, “Hello?”
A young woman stepped out from one of the rear cubicles. “Detective Bennett, right? I’m Persephone Garland.”
Persephone was a very attractive Black woman in a professional blouse and skirt, but she looked impossibly young. Young enough to easily pass for one of my teen daughters.
As soon as she saw me, Persephone smiled and started walking toward me. But she must’ve seen the look on my face because she stopped, folded her arms, and said, “No, I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-four years old and a University of Maryland graduate.”
“I’m not questioning your qualifications.”
“I’m not offended at all, Detective. In fact, I’m an army brat. I’m not offended by anything. Except maybe extreme stupidity.”
I laughed. She may have looked like a Girl Scout, but she talked more like a marine. I liked that.
“I know I look like I’m only twelve. I’ll tell you what I tell every other detective I work with: Get over it. This is the best result I’ve gotten in my five months working for the NYPD. And I think it’s something that could be useful.”
Persephone led me back to a computer in another room. She brought up a simple Facebook post that had a picture of Estella Abreu and the facts surrounding her death. Any cop will tell you that if you open up a tip line, you’ll get a lot of tips. Many will be from well-meaning citizens who have no relation to your case. Some of the tips come from people bent on disrupting the police department. They are tips designed to waste time. And some tips just come from crackpots who believe every conspiracy theory that floats down the internet.
The biggest thing I look for is someone willing to put their name to a tip. Anonymous tips are generally bullshit.
Persephone didn’t disappoint me. She pulled out a single sheet of paper with two photographs printed on it and some biographical info.
I studied the upper photograph for a moment. “Is that Estella at a bar?”
Persephone nodded. “Almost three weeks before she was murdered. And the man to her left was her date.”
The photo wasn’t the highest definition. I wouldn’t have been able to positively identify the man in court. But I could tell he was young and looked athletic. He was wearing a nice suit, and his hair was cut short.
Persephone kept going. “The name in the text box is the man who gave us the tip. He’s willing to talk to a detective, and I have his contact information.”
Today seemed to be the day for NYPD personnel to be at the top of their game. This was the second well-thought-out and well-presented lead I’d gotten from someone at One Police Plaza today.
Persephone leveled a stare at me. “Now you want to make any cracks about my age or experience?”
“Persephone, I believe you just made it into my investigative plans on every case I ever get.”
“Then can you do me a favor?”
“Anything you want.”
“Will you keep me in the loop? This is the most exciting this job has ever been. I was already looking on LinkedIn to see if there were any public relations jobs on Wall Street. Now I feel like I have to stay here to do my part.”
“Spoken like the daughter of an army vet. Your dad should be proud of you.”
“Mom.”
“Excuse me.”
“My dad is a deadbeat living somewhere in Los Angeles. My mom was a medic in the army.”
“Your mom must be proud.”
Persephone beamed. “She is.”
Chapter28
