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Mrs. Abreu spoke with a thick Spanish accent. “My Estella was not just pretty, she wasbeautiful. Since the day she came into this world. Smart as a whip too. She was also nearsighted, and she started wearing glasses at six. She always chose stylish frames, but she tried to not wear them for pictures. Without them she was almost blind. She could wear contacts for a short while.”
Mr. Abreu kept nodding. “Estella is sweet too.” He froze. Then eked out, “I mean shewas.” Then he started to cry.
We went back to short questions about friends, interests, and relationships.
After a few minutes of simple questions, Terri Hernandez asked Mrs. Abreu, “Do you have any idea where Estella was going last night? She was dressed up like she was going out on the town.”
The grieving woman shook her head. After blowing her nose into the handkerchief, she looked up and said, “When Estella went out yesterday evening, she was dressed in casual clothes. I don’t know anything about being dressed up.”
Terri politely asked if she could see Estella’s bedroom and closet. I followed along as Mrs. Abreu led us to the third bedroom. All eyes followed us as we walked through the crowded living room. There was no question who we were or why we were here. These people expected results.
I watched silently as Mrs. Abreu showed Terri Hernandez her daughter’s room and closet.
After rooting around for a minute, Terri pulled a shopping bag out of the closet. She looked to Mrs. Abreu for approval. The middle-aged woman nodded, and Terri opened the bag. Inside was another bag, which held a long, flowing designer gown. She stood up and held the dress almost to her chin so it just barely cleared the floor. It was a dark green and looked like what someone would wear on a red carpet at the Oscars. It would make anyone look elegant. Especially someone like Estella.
Terri said, “When did Estella wear this?”
Mrs. Abreu took a tentative step forward. She reached out and felt the material between her thumb and forefinger. She focused on the dress for several seconds, then turned to Terri. “I have never seen this.”
Terri took some photos of the dress, then carefully folded it and put it back in the bag. She left it in the corner of the closet.
Estella’s mother had a vacant stare. It was like we weren’t even in the room with her. Without hesitation, Terri wrapped her arms around Mrs. Abreu. The woman started to sob.
We stood in silence for minutes while Mrs. Abreu let out the emotion of the worst day she was ever going to have. Terri continued to hug her. When Mrs. Abreu recovered, we headed back into the main room, where her family had gathered. Everyone looked at us to make an announcement. Instead, I awkwardly eased toward the front door. Mr. Abreu acted as my escort as people parted to let us exit.
I left my card and told them we might have more questions and let them know it was okay to call me anytime.
Mr. Abreu stepped out, grabbed my arm. He said in a low, shaky voice, “Tell me, Detective. Who could do something like this to a beautiful girl like Estella?”
“I don’t know, sir. But you can bet I’ll do my best to find out.”
Chapter8
IT HAD BEENa long day, and I was still going. I threw down two Butterfinger Minis just to give me some energy. The quart of coffee I’d downed since midafternoon sloshed around in my belly as I pulled my city-issued Chevy into an official parking spot in front of the NYC Health Department building on the corner of First Avenue and 30th Street, a block from the East River. This was one of three forensic pathology centers run by the New York City medical examiner. The other two were in Queens and Brooklyn.
No one is ever happy to go to the medical examiner’s office. But we’d caught a break. The assistant medical examiner on duty, Aurora Jones, could turn around a long, shitty day. With her charming Jamaican accent and sparkling smile, Aurora always lifted spirits, especially if people were looking tired or depressed. Maybe it was her job. Maybe she was around those kinds of people too often. Whatever the reason, I was looking forward to seeing her.
I met Aurora at her office on the third floor. I always smiled at her sense of humor, like how she decorated the cluttered cave with posters ofNight of the Living DeadandThe Walking Deadopposite one forShaun of the Dead.
At just over five feet tall, she sprang from her chair and hugged me. It felt like I was hugging one of my kids.
Aurora stepped back. “You look like shit, Bennett.”
“Wish I didn’t feel like it too.”
She poured a cup of the harsh Dominican coffee she liked. It felt a little like drinking Drano with some coffee flavor. But it revived me. At least for a moment.
As we walked down the hall at Aurora’s blistering pace, I said, “Terri Hernandez said she’d wait for us at the examination room.”
Aurora let out a quick laugh. “She’s probably looking for Jeff Alter. He’s a tech. If I was fifteen years younger, I’d hang out near there too.”
I never thought about Terri’s dating life. Maybe because we got along like old buddies. As Aurora and I continued our fast trot downstairs, we caught up with each other about our families. Especially her son, who was in his second year at UMass. He was a backup player on their basketball team but still earned a full scholarship.
I said, “I’m going to need more than a few scholarships to get all my kids through college.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and only a few of them will get into college.” She cackled.
“I can’t keep up with their homework now. The twins’ math is almost incomprehensible to me. I remember when I was in school, I once asked my teacher, Sister Sheilah, when I would ever need to really use algebra.”
