Murder in Alphabet City (13 page)

“We're meeting at six-thirty. I should be home by nine at the latest.”

“Don't eat dessert.”

She felt the flicker of lusty unrest at the prospect of seeing him. It had been a few weeks, sometime before New Year's, since she had last seen him. She wondered if they would move into old age still feeling a youthful passion for each other. She hoped so. In retirement, they would buy a shack on a beach on some Pacific island and walk on the sand till the tug of their bodies for each other was too much to bear and they would lie down, the ocean lapping at their feet, and satisfy their mutual lust.

Grow up, Janey, her internal adult admonished her. His wife will outlive him and you'll outlive them both. You'll be old and alone for years. Just get what you can now so you have something to remember. If your mind doesn't fail at the other end.

She read the pages Defino had copied for her, trying to make sense out of them. If Vale had acquired the drugs and sold them to Rinzler, his connections were long gone, maybe dead by now if they were users. If Rinzler was selling to friends, it wouldn't be easy to find them eight years later. Where would they start? With Mimi, who went to the theater with Erica? MacHovec hadn't gotten a response from any of the numbers he'd tried that afternoon. This case was as cold as the Stratton one. It hadn't even been a case until last weekend. It was all surmise and hypothesis, assumption and hope.

But something had gone on between Vale and Rinzler—of that she was sure. And somehow poor Anderson Stratton had gotten in the middle of it or facilitated it by being in that apartment. And maybe he had died for it.

16

“Y
OU GET ANYTHING
out of that notebook?” Defino asked Wednesday morning.

“Nothing more than what we talked about.”

“You want to go down and talk to Vale?”

“I don't know, Gordon. I hate to show him our hand. He'll get a lawyer and clam up. I have a feeling, whatever was going on, Vale knew about it. He knew everything. He never told us about Rinzler but he knew her. He never told Shreiber either. Irma Bender may have seen her, but she was just one of the people she saw through the crack, like the pizza man.”

“Let's go see the pizza man,” Defino said. “I feel restless.”

You should know what I feel, Jane thought. Flora for dinner and Hack for dessert. “Fine. Let's do it.”

They took the subway up to Fourteenth Street, then walked to the pizza place on the east side of the park. The address had been in Shreiber's file as well as the official Stratton file. As they turned the corner, Jane hoped they were still in business.

A hairy young man wearing two coats walked toward them eating a slice and Jane relaxed. With that kind of clientele, they'd be in business forever. Perhaps a dozen Formica-topped tables, most with four chairs, were arranged in the small restaurant. Behind the counter at the back were two pizza ovens. A man in his twenties stood behind the high counter, a newspaper open in front of him. He looked up at the prospective customers.

“Help ya?”

They showed their IDs.

“Morning, officers. Anything wrong?”

“Just some questions about a customer you had a few years ago, guy used to call for a delivery,” Defino said.

“Who's that?”

“Stratton.” Defino gave the address.

“A few years ago? That's the guy who died, right? That was more than a few years ago.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah. I used to do the deliveries. That was before my father retired. What about him?”

“You ever see him? Talk to him?”

“Not at his apartment, but he used to come in, you know. He'd get a hero, sit at a table, sometimes with a friend.”

“What friend?” Jane asked.

“The guy who was the super over where he lived. Sometimes a woman.”

Defino put the sketch of Rinzler on top of the
Daily News.
He didn't say anything.

“Could have been her. It was a long time ago, not just a few years.”

“She and Stratton seem like an item?”

“You're asking me to remember something that happened when I was nineteen? I don't know. He was a messed-up guy. I don't know what went on with him.”

“When you delivered,” Jane said, “what happened?”

“The first time was crazy. I went up the stairs, rang the bell, nothing happened. I knocked. He said ‘Go away.' I said ‘I can't go away, I've got your pizza. You have to pay me.' I waited a long time. Finally he opened the door a crack. He had a handful of bills. He almost threw them at me. Then he said, ‘Look, next time you come I'll leave you an envelope. You leave the pizza, you take the envelope and go.' So that's what I did. Once in a while, there wouldn't be an envelope and he'd open the door and stick his hand out with the money. But most of the time I didn't see him. Sometimes I would go halfway down the stairs and wait to see if he opened the door. Then I'd go.”

“So you didn't become friendly with him,” Jane said.

“Friendly? I wouldn't call it friendly. It was strictly business. He tipped a lot, I can tell you. He never wanted change. He was a guy wanted to be alone. Hey, that was his business.”

“That woman ever come in here by herself or with someone else?” Defino asked.

“Maybe. It's a long time ago. My father might remember. You want me to ask him?” He looked toward the kitchen.

“I thought you said he retired.”

“He did. He just can't stay home and do nothing.” He moved toward the kitchen. “Pop? You wanna come out here for a minute?” He looked at Defino. “You tell him this is a police case, you'll make his day.”

An older man came to the counter, smiled, and said hello. Jane explained why they were there.

“Yes,” he said nodding his head. “I remember him. My boy wouldn't remember. He was just learning the business, but I knew my customers. That man who died—they said he starved to death—he used to come in here sometimes and then he stopped. Then he only ordered by phone and my son would deliver, or maybe my nephew. I felt very bad when I heard the news.”

Defino put the sketch back on the counter. “Do you recognize her, sir?”

“Could be the lady he came in with sometimes. This was seven, maybe eight years ago, right?”

“Right.”

“So you'll forgive an old man if he doesn't recognize a picture of a woman he saw maybe two, three times a long time ago.”

“Your son said Mr. Stratton may have come in with the super at the building he lived in. You remember that?”

“Larry, sure. We know Larry a long time, don't we?” He looked at his son, who said, “Sure, Pop.”

“He still a customer of yours?”

“Now and then. He orders a pizza on the phone maybe once a week, maybe not so often. He comes in once in a while, sometimes with friends. They order dinner.”

Defino turned to the son. “Did you deliver to Larry too?”

“Yeah.”

“How did he pay you?”

“He opened the door. He always had the money counted. I never had to make change. He's kind of a gruff guy, you know? Doesn't make small talk.”

Jane turned to the father. “Did anything happen to make Mr. Stratton stop calling?”

“Maybe he wasn't hungry no more. How should I know?” He shrugged. “You know, after that poor guy died, maybe a while after, a private detective came in here, talked to me and my son.”

“Mr. Shreiber,” Jane said.

“Shreiber, that was the name.” He nodded. “I remember him. Asked the kind of questions you folks are asking. But I'll tell you what he didn't ask. He didn't ask about Larry, the super. He asked about Andy Stratton. And he didn't have a picture of no woman with him.”

“The woman,” Jane said. “She ever come in by herself? With anyone else?”

The old man scratched his head as he looked at the picture. “She wore beads, right?”

“Right,” Defino said.

“She came in with Larry sometimes. I remember now.”

“Thank you, sir. We appreciate your good memory.”

“Me too. It's all I got left now.”

Out on the street Defino folded the sketch and put it in his jacket pocket. “Son of a bitch. I knew that guy Vale was hiding something. Let's go put it to him. He knew Rinzler.”

“OK. Maybe we can scare something out of him.”

Vale was coming out of the door to the first floor as they reached the outside stairs. “You again,” he said.

“Yeah, us again,” Defino said. “We need to talk to you.”

“You're getting to be a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Watch your mouth.”

Vale led the way to his door and used a key on two locks. “Sit wherever.” He sounded as annoyed with Defino as Defino was with him.

Defino reached into his jacket pocket, took out the sketch, and unfolded it. Then he handed it to Vale. “Take a good look at her. You looked at her once and it didn't register in your brain, just on your face.”

Vale was under control this time. “I'm looking.”

“We know you knew her. Erica Rinzler. Don't fuck around with me, Vale. What was your relationship with her?”

“It's so long ago,” Vale said. “She came to see Andy a couple of times and I must have run into her. Said hello. Shot the breeze. That was it.”

“Maybe you went out together? Maybe you went in together, like to your bed.”

“And if I did, what business is it of the police?”

“What business did you and she have together?”

“What kind of business are you talking about?” He still held the sketch in his hand but he looked as though he wanted to get rid of it. Defino made no move to retrieve it.

“Any business. Anything having to do with money.”

Vale shook his head. “I don't think any money passed between us.”

“What did pass between you?”

“Nothing, Detective.” Vale leaned forward and handed Defino the sketch. “I met Ms. Rinzler a couple of times. Then she stopped coming. I think Andy was her only client in the building. When he died, no one from Social Services came.”

“Did you go to her funeral, Mr. Vale?” Jane asked.

“Her what?” He paled. He seemed unable to control the blood flow to his face.

“Her funeral. Surely you know she died.”

“How would I know that? I barely knew the woman.”

“Why did Rinzler stop coming to see Andy Stratton weeks before he died? If she'd shown up, she might have been able to save his life.”

“I don't understand why you're asking me these questions. I had nothing to do with her visits to Andy. I'm the super here, not a security guard. I don't make people go through a metal detector or sign in and out. You're harassing me, you know that?”

“You'll know when we start harassing,” Defino said. “You know what?” He looked at Jane. “We should get those phone records from the year that Stratton died, find out if Mr. Vale called Ms. Rinzler at her home or office, or vice versa.” He stood up, preparing to leave. “Let's do that.”

“Good thought.” She knew he was just needling Vale, but the idea was a good one. “Let's get back to the office.”

“Thanks, Larry,” Defino said as they filed out the door.

“Can I laugh now?” Jane asked. They were halfway down the block.

“Boy, I'd like to sock that guy in his gorgeous nose. Yeah, you can laugh. I'm hungry. It must be noon.”

“Close to it. Let's eat and get back. I think MacHovec should check those phone records.”

“Phone records'll take a while,” MacHovec said. “We're talking eight, nine years ago. My friend at the phone company'll have to dig them out. But we'll get them. Meanwhile, I got an answer on one of the names in Rinzler's address book, Patricia Washington.”

“Jesus,” Defino said, “you didn't get an answer till the
W
's?”

“I got some others, but this one's the most promising. She worked at Social Services with Rinzler. Give her a try. She's on vacation this week so she's home.” He handed the information to Jane. Defino turned to his typewriter; there were Fives to type and he could take out his aggressive feelings toward Vale by banging on the keys.

Jane dialed the number and a soft-spoken woman answered.

“Oh yes, Detective MacHovec called. I knew Erica for a long time. What can I tell you?”

Jane looked at her watch. “Suppose we meet tomorrow morning, if that's all right with you. Anywhere you want is fine.”

“How's ten? I live in Brooklyn, just over the bridge. Can you come here?”

“Sure.” She got the address and walking directions from the subway. Even if the wind was strong, it wouldn't be a long walk.

Defino said they could meet here at Centre Street and go over together.

MacHovec cleared his throat. “Your boy Vale. I called the Nine. There's a little something here. He got hauled in way back, about ten years ago. Suspicion of using drugs. No charges ever filed. He's clear.”

“They didn't find it is all. He laid off after that and when he went back in, he was more careful. Son of a bitch. We'll get him this time. Just wait.”

The surprise of the afternoon was a call from the man himself. It came in on Jane's phone about four o'clock.

“Detective Bauer, this is Larry Vale from Andy Stratton's building.” He sounded as though he'd had some acting lessons since they'd seen him at noon. His voice was friendly and engaging.

“Yes, Mr. Vale,” Jane replied in a similar voice. She looked over at a surprised Defino and grinned.

“I wonder if you and I could get together and talk. I'd prefer it if Detective Defino weren't present. I'm afraid he sets my teeth on edge.”

And I'm a pushover, she thought. “I think we could manage that. Tomorrow afternoon?”

He paused for a moment and Jane remembered that the afternoon was when he preferred not to be disturbed. “Yes, afternoon will be fine. Come at your convenience. I'll be here from noon on.”

“I'll see you about one. Anything special you want to discuss?”

“Yes. I've decided I want to tell you the truth.”