Like a Sister(11)

I hadn’t thought much about how she would’ve gotten up there. It was bugging the hell out of me they hadn’t found a needle. But maybe she’d shot up in her Tesla and left the needle there.

“Did you find—” I began.

But Mel spoke at the same time. “I trust you’ll wrap this up as quickly as possible. Just like I trust everything will be confidential.”

Green smiled like he wasn’t offended. “With all due respect, Mr. Pierce, that’s how we always operate.”

I tried again. “Did—”

Mel beat me to it once more. “Then who called the News? They had their story up ten minutes after you guys called us. It’s bad enough they know about the drugs.”

“It wasn’t me or my partner.”

“I don’t know about that, but what I do know is that if I see one more word about my daughter printed anywhere, you and your partner won’t be saying another word about anything.”

They stared at each other. “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Pierce?”

Mel didn’t answer right away, continuing the pissing contest. Finally, he spoke. “I’m not implying anything. I’m saying that you both will be getting fired. And I’ll personally be there when Jim calls you into his office.”

“Understood.” Green spoke slowly, and Mel nodded. His dominance was firmly established.

Now that they were done, I spoke again. “So the car…”

Green smiled at me while avoiding Mel. “Yes. I’ll be happy to get to that in a second.”

I gave him a tight smile. Green glanced at his notebook like a cheat sheet. “As you both know, Desiree was out last night with three friends celebrating her birthday at the Omni hotel. We’re still looking for the third person present, an Erin Ambrose, but we’ve already spoken with Desiree’s boyfriend, Neil Marks, and a friend, Zarah Turner. Neither knows where Ms. Ambrose is, but we’re confident we’ll talk to her today. Mr. Marks left at about one a.m. to deejay a party in Jersey. Ms. Turner remembers last seeing Desiree about that time. She herself left around one fifteen for another engagement.”

I cleared my throat. Detective Green looked up, and Mel nodded for me to speak. “Did Zarah say Desiree was using?”

Green shook his head. “Just drinking heavily.”

That wasn’t the same. I didn’t say that, though, just listened as Green continued.

“Ms. Turner assumed Desiree had gone to her hotel room and passed out.”

Mel and Veronika lived in a fancy co-op on the Upper East Side. It didn’t make sense for Desiree to stay at a hotel unless she wanted to be as close to the rooftop bar as possible.

“We know that if she did go to her room, she didn’t stay long. The valet recalled getting Desiree her car at about two a.m.”

“Did he say she seemed high?”

“She did appear intoxicated, yes.”

So there was a chance Desiree had done something in her hotel room and then left. But why? “You think that’s when she went up to the Bronx?”

He nodded. “Yes, after speaking to her friends, we think she may have been going to see you.”

And there it was. “They mention why?” I said.

I thought of the last time I knew she’d driven intoxicated. Two years ago. She’d wrecked her car and gotten arrested. I’d gotten tired enough to finally walk away.

I held my breath as he consulted his notes before shaking his head. “No.”

Was it no because he didn’t know or because he hadn’t asked? The little faith I had in Green was disappearing quicker than bottled water before a natural disaster.

“I’d appreciate any insights you have into why.”

He glanced at Mel, and I did the same. But Mel said nothing, which wasn’t like him. Either he didn’t know or he didn’t think it was any of Green’s business.

Green turned back to me. I decided to stick with questions he should know the answers to. “And she went straight from the party to see me?”

“We can place her in the Bronx around four.”

I did some quick math. Desiree’s body was found at five. The Omni was in SoHo. Physically it was a dozen miles from where they had found her body. Socioeconomically, it might as well have been Tatooine. Even if you factor in Big Apple miles—which take five times longer to travel—it still didn’t add up. “She had to have stopped somewhere first,” I said. “It doesn’t take that long to get to my neighborhood. Not at that time of night.”

I glanced at Mel, to see if he was as concerned as I was, but he remained uncharacteristically silent. He leaned back as Green continued stating just the facts. “We spoke to a few residents. Someone on Woodycrest and 165th heard a woman yell ‘Hey’ around four, but they didn’t check to see what was going on.” Green glanced at his notes again. “We do know that’s about when someone stole her car.”

“A carjacking?”





Four



Did this mean Desiree’s death was just a case of wrong place, wrong time? Did someone see her, inebriated, sitting in her fancy car? Was that “Hey” Desiree yelling as they drove off?

I rubbed my wrist and glanced at Mel, but he might as well have been facing off with Medusa. His expression was stone.