East 126th Street
November 28, 11.15 p.m.
Tom Harper was cold and wet through. He had been on constant vigil on East 126th Street since the rest of the team had headed off at dusk, but no one fitting Redtop’s description had been by. It was their best chance of getting some leverage on the case, but Tom was beginning to think that this guy Redtop might have flown.
At quarter past eleven, Eddie arrived with a burger and fries. He handed the food to Harper. ‘Still here? You’re committed, we can say that at least.’
‘I’ve spent longer looking for a lifer.’
‘A what?’
‘A lifer — a bird I haven’t ever seen before.’
Eddie nodded, but he didn’t get it. ‘What’s the attraction of looking at birds, Harps? I never did get that.’
‘What’s the attraction of anything?’
‘Well, the attraction of a beautiful woman is that she makes me tingle with pleasure and if I’m lucky…’
‘Well, seeing a new bird makes me tingle just the same.’
‘That sounds like a medical condition, Harps. You told Denise you got a feather fetish?’
‘It’s not that kind of pleasure, Eddie, not that I’m expecting you to understand that.’
‘Damn right I don’t understand,’ said Eddie.
Harper ate hungrily. He chewed through the processed meat, which offered no resistance and dissolved in his mouth. His eyes continued to look up and down the street.
‘Any movement?’ said Eddie.
‘Nothing at all. I got a feeling Benny Marconi gave the game away.’
‘You want us to get a warrant and blow the place apart?’
‘Yeah, I think we should.’
‘I think so too. That’s why I brought you this.’ To Harper ’s amazement, he saw that Eddie was holding out an NYPD-issue Glock 19. Bemused, he took it.
‘How the hell-’
Eddie looked solemn. ‘Don’t ask, my friend. Just don’t let me down.’
They watched the street together in the damp air. Eddie’s cell went off. He pulled it out and listened for a full minute before he put it back in his pocket.
‘What you got?’ asked Harper.
‘We got a call. Someone telling us the name of the next victim.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Rose Stanhope.’
‘Was it the American Devil?’
‘No, an anonymous call from a psychologist. It’s a long story. Seems he was treating a guy who had pictures of Kitty on his phone the day before she died and today he showed up with pictures of Rose Stanhope.’
‘What are they doing about it?’
‘Getting the Feds involved, checking out the story. They’ll send someone over but they’ve had quite a few calls telling us who’s the next blonde to get it, so they’re sceptical. The guy wouldn’t give his name.’
‘Is she blonde?’
‘Yeah, she’s blonde, twentyish and get this — she’s the daughter of a senator.’
Harper felt the tension kick in. ‘That’s his kind of girl, Eddie. He’s been going higher and higher up the food chain since the beginning, hasn’t he?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘Come on, this would be his best yet.’
‘No one kills a senator’s daughter.’
‘Exactly. Let’s check it out. If it’s nothing, we lose nothing.’
‘You’re off the case. What do you want me to do?’
‘Fuck that. Give me the senator’s address, call his home, get a patrol on to it. If Sebastian’s there, we’ve got no time at all. You and me need to go now.’
‘You’re off the case, buddy,’ said Eddie again. Harper stared at him hard and held it. ‘Okay, Harps, I’ll go with it, but if you’re wrong, they’ll haul your ass out of the city. Listen, I’ll call Blue Team on the way. I hope to God you’re wrong, Harps.’
‘Yeah, but I know what it feels like when you’re close to a killer and it feels just like this.’