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Terri said, “I’d beat his ass if he raised a hand to me.”
I laughed. “I hope you’d stop at just an ass whipping.”
She gave me an evil grin.
“I’d like to keep this low-key. At least at first. You know, not overwhelm him or anything. Just ask a few questions.”
Terri said, “I feel like you’re trying to tell me something.”
“Don’t threaten or intimidate him.”
“Until you need me to?”
I gave her a smile and said, “Yeah. Exactly.”
We finished our coffees and started to walk the two blocks to the veterinary clinic.
Chapter76
THE VETERINARY CLINICwas in the corner of an office building. The small white sign with faded blue letters was nondescript and had seen better days. It didn’t look like Sloan had much room at all in the corner of the building.
I took a moment to scan the block. Nothing unusual for the Upper West Side. I took a deep breath. I didn’t want comfortable, familiar surroundings to make me less vigilant. Technically, we were interviewing a potential homicide suspect.
Terri’s phone rang. She looked at the screen, then cut her eyes up to me. She took the call with a curt, “Detective Hernandez.” Then she started to speak Spanish. I heard the“Sí, sí, sí”and realized someone was speaking rapidly on the other end of the phone line.
Terri lowered the phone, looked at me, and said, “This is important. It’ll take a few minutes.”
I waved her off and said in a low voice, “I’ll just go in and introduce myself. Come in when you’re ready.”
Terri nodded, pulled a small pad and pen out of her purse, and turned to write something, propping the pad on top of a box holding discount coupons bolted to the side of the building.
As soon as I stepped in the front door, I could hear adingin the back of the office. The place was open with two chairs facing a reception area without a receptionist.
I waited about ten seconds. Then I knocked on the counter in front of the reception area and called out, “Hello, Dr. Sloan?”
I heard someone say, “Back here. I’ll be a couple of minutes.”
I decided to surprise him. I pushed through the swinging door into the polished tile hallway, past a minuscule office with only room for a desk and small chair. Then I saw a fit man of about forty holding a French bulldog on an examination table.
I pulled an old trick out of my back pocket and said, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t understand you from up front.”
Thomas Sloan looked up from the French bulldog. He was annoyed, but he swallowed it. He said, “My assistant called in sick today.”
It was at that moment I realized the bulldog was here for some sort of bowel issue. The stench was overwhelming. I tried to hide it but waved my notebook in front of my face and took a step back.
Sloan chuckled and said, “Pierre here ate something that disagreed with him. He’s been here since last night.” Then the vet straightened, looked at me, and said, “What can I do for you?” He left his hand on the bulldog to keep the dog calm, slowly stroking the dog’s back.
I pulled out my ID. “Michael Bennett, NYPD.”
“Look, Officer, I support the PBA. But right now is not a particularly good time.”
This time I heard the dog actually pass gas. It sounded like a tiny trumpet. The smell was hardly as cute as the image.
“I’m actually here on an investigation.”
“How couldIhelp you on an investigation?”
“You called a phone number connected to a business called The Girlfriend Experience.” I held my smile as I saw the color drain from his face.
