SIX
GRASPING AT STRAWS
“Odd.” Donovan glanced at his watch. “Conrad’s late.”
He and Joann sat on a plush orange couch at one of the tables in the lounge of Daniel, the epitome of French restaurants in Manhattan. Donovan preferred the bar but had chosen a table in the lounge because he knew Conrad didn’t like barstools—they made his feet dangle like a child’s.
“That’s not like him, but traffic is ridiculous today, with the UN conference.”
“He needs a motorcycle.” Donovan sipped from his neat Bushmill’s. A mental picture of Conrad Clery on a bike made him smile. “I always imagined he’d wear a leather helmet and those really big goggles if he ever got one.” She smiled, distracted. He put his hand on hers. “Nervous?”
“About this? No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Something is coming down soon at work.” She sipped her Chopin martini and shook her head. “Sorry. I promise I won’t let it drag us down tonight.”
“What kind of thing? With Fullam?”
“Fullam?”
“The zodiac murders thing. He found Capricorn hanging in the Dinkins Shelter.” She stared, confused. “You didn’t—? I figured because it was in the Dinkins Shelter you would have heard.”
“No, I didn’t. How do you know about it?”
“Last night, he called Father Carroll to see it and asked him to bring me. Since I had been, ah, celebrating our engagement with some people from work I was not in the best shape, but I went.” He explained about the body, the vicuna noose, and the wax at both murder sites. “Fullam thinks he might be able to get DNA samples from it. I’m thinking if the wax isn’t from cheap card store candles, it might be mixed with something that will tell Father Carroll and me its ritual use.” He cocked his head. “What?”
“I’m trying to grasp that you went to a crime scene high.”
“Sort of. But, in fairness, I had no way of knowing I was going to end up there. And it didn’t stop me from helping, anyway.”
“No, I suppose not.” Joann regarded him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “If he calls you back with something…you know this is serious, right? I mean, you get that, don’t you?”
“What makes you think I don’t?”
“You went to a crime scene high. It suggests a certain lack of perspective.”
He conceded her point. “I’ll try to limit doing that to my off hours.”
“This man,” she persisted, “whoever he is, has murdered people with scorpions, arrows and a noose made of goat hair, in addition to whatever else he came up with for other zodiac signs. That’s pretty sick. He also has a giant assistant who tried to kill you once already. You might be working with the police, but they have training and weapons. You don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt, Donovan.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“In a bar fight, yes. But this is barely the same reality as a bar fight.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve studied alternate realities.”
“Clever.” She squeezed his hand. “Don’t make me a widow before we’re married.”
“I promise I won’t.” He held her eyes and felt the bond between them. She did, too, and they said nothing for a moment.
The waiter brought another round of drinks, breaking the spell. “Anyway,” she went on when he’d gone, “whatever the big thing coming on my case, it can’t be that. I’ve been getting signals something’s coming for a few days now.” She sipped fresh vodka. “Which is why I don’t want to think about it tonight. Telling Dad about us is as dramatic as I want to get.”
Since Conrad was the most accessible of their parents they’d decided to break the engagement to him in person. Daniel was not cheap; Joann knew her father appreciated the luxury of the restaurant, and since it was a little out of Donovan’s price range she’d already made arrangements with the maitre d’ to pay the check. The gesture touched Donovan even though it made him feel a little odd. He glanced about the lounge, at the people and wealth he knew primarily from the outside looking in.
“Joann, sweetie! Sorry I’m late.” Conrad’s voice returned him to the present. He rose to meet his father-in-law to be.
“Hi, Dad.” Joann also got to her feet. “Don’t worry, we just got here ourselves.”
“Ah.” He embraced her warmly while Donovan stood by. Donovan had learned to extend a hand only at the exact moment Conrad would have no choice but to follow social niceties and shake it. He waited until Joann broke from her father. “Well, it’s wonderful to see you. And hello, Donovan.” He shook Donovan’s hand briefly. His face grew serious as he turned back to her. “I’m glad you asked me to dinner. I’ve heard one or two things lately, and maybe I can give you a head’s-up.”
“About Dinkins?” Joann asked as they sat.
“As a matter of fact—” Conrad raised his arm for the waiter. “I have a friend at the Times. He was told the mayor is going to offer his perspective on the issue. He told me the mayor’s perspective will be that the Brooklyn DA ought to press forward with the prosecutions of the homeless people you’ve got now. He feels time is being wasted by searching for this ‘Charming Man,’ if he even exists.”
Donovan felt Joann tense at his side. “How does Raphael feel about that?” she asked.
Raphael, Donovan knew, was Raphael Suarez, the Brooklyn District Attorney, Joann’s boss.
“He won’t have a choice—this is the mayor of New York City making the call.”
“This is what happens when rich people get into political office,” Donovan said. “They think they can play king and rule by decree.”
Conrad gave him a sideways glance. “As I understand it, he’s planning to mention it in his press conference about the new crime bill, next Thursday or Friday.”
“How am I supposed to find Charming Man before then?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie, I don’t know.” Conrad looked past them and nodded. A waiter approached, carrying a silver ice bucket with a bottle of Veuve Cliquot Grand Dame inside. “But let’s set all that aside for tonight. I think a little celebration is in order, no?”
Donovan’s eyebrows rose. “You know?”
“I’ve been an attorney for longer than you’ve been alive, Donovan.” Genuine happiness—an emotion Donovan had rarely seen from the man—lit his face. “I know how to read signs.”
With an effort Donovan noted, Joann put the Dinkins Shelter away, smiled and held out her ring for inspection. “Isn’t it beautiful? Donovan designed it himself.”
Conrad glanced at him with mild surprise before leaning in and raising his glasses to see it up close. “Very nice.”
“I have a friend in the jewelry business.”
The hostess approached and told them their table was ready. “Have the champagne brought over,” Conrad directed Donovan, putting an arm around Joann to guide her away. With a smile, she stood her ground until Donovan took care of it. Conrad’s smile never left his face as he went a few steps ahead, waving to a crony. Donovan would have hated to play poker against him.
“He seems to be taking it well,” he murmured in Joann’s ear as they wove through the dinner crowd to their table. “Is there another shoe to drop?”
She kissed his cheek. “You can handle him.”
And, at least for dinner, he did.
***
The mayor’s impending involvement in the Dinkins Shelter case had Joann spooked, and over the next few days she put in long hours at the DA’s office. Donovan saw little of her. Although he was also working, he felt her absence acutely when he had to settle for brief, longing phone calls stolen from her job. He hated the helplessness he felt for her situation and wished he could offer some kind of assistance. The only way he could think that would allow him to help, though, would have to involve Fullam. He’d heard nothing from the sergeant since they’d parted, leaving him at a dead end. It was a frustrating situation, but at least he was consoled by the prospect of their weekly date.
***
“But it’s Wednesday,” Donovan said into his cell. “Dance House, remember? Practice for the wedding? You still have time to get home and change.”
“I know, baby, but I have to work. I’m sorry.”
Damn. “Don’t worry about it. I can reschedule the class.” Disappointed, he dropped down onto his couch. Wonder what time the Mets are on? “You sound exhausted.”
“You have no idea.”
“Maybe you could take a break? I could come by the office with some takeout.” He looked at the pile of menus near his door, menus he knew he’d better clean up soon if he didn’t want to see cockroaches. “I mean, you must get time for dinner, right?”
“No, I…” She sighed. “I’m not at the office.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t really talk about it. I’m sorry about Dance House. Whenever you reschedule will be fine. I’ll make sure I’m not working.”
“All right.” He idly reached for the remote. “Call me if you can. I’ll get some takeout and be here.”
“Okay, baby. I love you. I’m sorry. Have a good night.”
“I love you, too. Bye.” He closed his cell. “Damn. That sucks.”
He put the phone on the table and went to see what takeout menus had been jammed under his door that day. On the coffee table, his phone buzzed. He took a pile of menus and went to get it, saw it was Joann’s cell and paused. She changed her mind, I hope…?
“Mister Graham?” Fullam’s voice surprised him. “I understand you’re free tonight?”
***
The setting sun washed the sky red and purple, pollution from the rush-hour exodus making the colors extra vibrant. Donovan’s favorite thing about summer in New York was the sunsets. The gorgeous colors almost made up for the humidity that turned the city to soup until October.
Beneath this picturesque canopy he guided his Vulcan down the West Side Highway, through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and along the edge of Bay Ridge on the Belt Parkway. He was headed out to Coney Island, to the New York Aquarium, to join the lieutenant and Joann. As he rode, he thought about what Fullam had told him.
A man found drowned out in the swamps near JFK missing his lower legs—definitely Aquarius. Makes sense to look for Pisces out at the aquarium.
A tiny thrill tightened his stomach.
He called me to get involved. He must think I can do more. Or, he’s desperate. But why is Joann there? What does she know?
To avoid tipping their presence, Fullam asked that he not bring his bike near the aquarium. Instead, Donovan took the Stillwell exit to Neptune Avenue and parked on West 8th Street opposite the 60th Precinct. In the near-distance KeySpan Park, stadium of the Brooklyn Cyclones, shone as a beacon of minor league baseball. Down the block and across Surf Avenue, crowds had shifted from the beach to the rides and eclectic attractions of Coney Island’s boardwalk. Donovan watched them and again felt the thrill, the secret thrill of having knowledge others didn’t. Tonight at the aquarium, he was looking for a murderer.
Beats the hell out of pouring mojitos in midtown.
Joann met him at the rear service gate, near the Seaside Pavilion. She was dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, with a rough plastic pistol on her belt. Donovan recognized it as a taser. “Hey, babe,” he said, embracing her. “Are you okay? You look really fried.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
She nodded. “Dad was right—the mayor is going to make his opinion about Dinkins known tomorrow. It’ll force Raphael to take me off the case and give it to Jessie Parker.”
Jessie Parker, Donovan knew, was another rising attorney at the DA’s office. “Ow.”
“Yeah. So this is, I think, my last shot at Charming Man.”
“Charming Man here? How? Why?”
“After you told me about the Capricorn victim being found in the Dinkins Shelter, I started thinking. I talked to Frank, and we agreed it was possible the location was chosen because the killer was familiar with it, which meant Charming Man and Mister X could be the same person. He agreed to let me speak with Mabel Muglia at the Church of the Transfiguration. I showed her the pictures we got of Charming Man off the shelter camera, and she said it could be him.”
“That’s a lot of ‘could.’”
“It’s all I have. Frank is still scrambling around trying to get help for this, so he has no problem with me being here. He found the Aquarius victim two days ago, and we’ve been staking out this place since. We’ve had his partner, Josh Braithwaite, with us up to now, but he couldn’t make it tonight.”
“So he asked me.”
“You and Father Carroll.”
Donovan blinked. “Father Carroll is here?”
“They’re both in the security office. Are you ready for this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, this isn’t a crime scene that you go to even though you’re high. This is serious. Are you ready?”
Donovan examined her face and body language. The stress he saw made him more determined to help. “Absolutely.”
***
Not as big or elaborate as a Sea World, the New York Aquarium is part of a chain of parks run by the New York Zoological Society. Although Donovan hadn’t been here in years—the Aquatheater and the Alien Stingers buildings were both new to him—he had fond memories from when he was younger. The first motorcycle ride he’d taken on the back of his uncle’s Harley-Davidson had been to Coney Island; they’d come here to see the sharks.
Joann led him through the aquarium to the entrance hall. Inside, the lighting was low and the air cool. Tanks set into the walls glowed with artificial illumination and natural colors. To their left, a series of large windows revealed a lively collection of reef fish darting about the coral. Ahead was the security office door and the public entrance to the grounds.
The security office was a videogamer’s dream—small, with everything reachable while sitting at the monitor console. The console monitored a half-dozen television screens that showed the park’s attractions and various sites. Gray carpet lined the walls as it had in the entry hall.
Fullam turned from the monitors and extended his hand as they entered. “Mister Graham. Glad you could make it.”
“Sergeant. Call me Donovan.” Donovan noted that, instead of his black priest attire, Father Carroll wore a dark blue chamois shirt and dark blue slacks, but no collar. “Working undercover, I see.” The priest smiled tightly and also shook his hand. Donovan looked at Fullam. “We’re it?”
“My partner couldn’t make it tonight so, yeah, just us four. You’ve been capable so far. Can you handle it?”
Donovan glanced at Joann. “Yeah, I can.”
“Good.” Fullam gestured to a map of the aquarium on one wall. “Without manpower we can’t watch every access point into the aquarium, so you, Maurice and I will be staked out at various points inside the grounds, the most likely sites for the murder. Joann will be Big Sister in here, keeping an overview. We, the curator and the cleaning crew are the only ones who are on the grounds right now. Once they’re gone, we wait.”
Donovan looked at the office wall, at a list of hazardous fish and the immediate medical treatment for each. “He’s got a hell of a choice, but why here? Why tonight?”
“We don’t have many options.” Fullam eyed him. “I mean, you could be right. He could just stab someone with a plastic fish in the toy department of Macy’s, or in a back alley somewhere.”
“Suffering seems to be a key in these murders, as does a certain sense of the theatrical,” the priest added. “Stabbing someone with a toy lacks the dramatic flair of, say, attacking piranha.”
“Not perfect circumstances,” Joann said, her eyes going hopefully to the monitor screens, “but at least straws to grasp.”
***
The curator, Dick Katz, left first, and the cleaning crew finished at nine o’clock. Donovan and Father Carroll stayed out of sight in the aquarium entrance hall while Fullam escorted everyone out.
“You seem pretty calm,” Donovan observed, idly tapping on the glass of a tank. “Don’t you think anything’s going to happen?”
“It may or may not. The Lord has a plan which we don’t always understand.”
“So if a murder happens tonight, it’s God’s will?” Donovan frowned. “God sanctions murder? That sounds kind of harsh.”
“Allow me to re-phrase: I think people act in ways that don’t honor God, but may be necessary to His plan. Since we can’t know all the designs of that plan, all we can do is follow our faith and believe we are doing right.”
“Hmm. Sounds like a bit of a cop-out.”
“Cop-out assumes there is a knowable answer. There is not, not in this lifetime.” Father Carroll smiled. “We do the best we can. The rest is in God’s hands. Once you accept that, life loses much of its anxiety.”
“If you say so. I’d rather keep things in my hands, and not bother Him.”
Fullam appeared and motioned them to follow him. “There are pretty much three places to commit the Pisces murder in here,” he said. “The Shark Tank, Alien Stingers, and the blue-ringed octopus. If we focus our efforts there, maybe we can let him in, but not out.”
He led them through the plaza, past the penguins and the sea otters, and descended stone steps that led into the “underwater viewing” section of the Sea Cliffs. Inside, the exhibit wound beneath and behind the outside cliffs in a high, wide tunnel. To their right the walls were dominated by thick slabs of glass that served as viewing windows into enclosures of the penguins, sea otters, fur seals, sea lions and walruses.
Cute, Donovan thought, watching small furry animals swim and frolic.
The left side had dozens of pictures of animals, fish and seabirds as well as maps and a few interactive exhibits. A life-size replica of a walrus sat in the middle of one section—Donovan was surprised how big it was—while another section had a model of a killer whale’s head rising from the floor.
“The octopus tanks are over here,” Fullam said, leading them past glass tanks filled with colorful sea horses. Donovan paused to look at them and felt an odd sensation. He shook it off and followed the others to stand in front of two windows that revealed a large rock wall. Plaques in front of the tanks identified the species of octopi, but the one that interested them was hapalochlaena maculosa, the lesser blue-ringed octopus.
“This may be our murder weapon,” the sergeant said.
The creature was small, its body about three inches long with an arm span twice that. Donovan skimmed the information and learned that the blue-ringed octopus is reported to be the most poisonous of the cephalopods. Normally grayish-beige, the octopus has light brown patches that darken and show bright blue rings when it’s irritated or threatened. It secretes two poisons, the more dangerous being a neuromuscular venom that paralyzes all the muscles of the body, including the lungs and heart.
“Maurice, why don’t you stay here?” Fullam asked. “If our man is going to use this thing, he’ll have to get inside the staff area, which is only accessible over there.” He nodded at a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” “Are you okay with that?”
“Of course.” A seal torpedoed at one of the glass walls, only to turn away at the last instant with a blink of his huge black eyes and a flick of his flippers. “At least I have interesting company.”
“Can I make a suggestion?” The sergeant indicated at a recessed corner. “Pick a spot where no one can see you on first entrance. We have no real certainty how, when or if this will happen, so…”
“Best to be cautious. I understand. God watch over you, gentlemen.”
“You, too.”
Donovan followed Fullam out.
***
“You ever been on stakeout before?”
Donovan shook his head.
“You want Alien Stingers or the Shark Tank?”
“Makes no difference to me. Wherever I’ll do the most good.”
“Take Alien Stingers,” Fullam suggested. “It might keep you awake. Could be a long night.”
“You don’t think anything is going to happen?”
“It could happen here, it could happen tonight, it could happen tomorrow or somewhere else. This is a pretty good guess for my case. Your fiancée probably has the right expression for hers: ‘grasping at straws.’”
“She told you we’re engaged?”
“I’m a detective. I figured it out when I saw the ring.” Fullam looked at him, cop eyes tempered with amusement. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. You don’t think Mister X and Charming Man are the same person?”
“I don’t know enough to make a guess, so I won’t.” Fullam scratched his neck. “It seems like a long shot to me.”
Donovan gestured around them. “What do you think the odds are of something happening tonight?”
“No idea. Frankly—and no offense to your fiancée, I understand she’s got a lot riding on the Dinkins Shelter case—I hope nothing does happen tonight. Tomorrow I’ll have Josh and maybe one or two other detectives to help. I’ll feel a lot better with them having my back rather than two civilians and an ADA. Again, no offense.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m not high tonight.”
Fullam grunted.
“Seriously,” Donovan went on, “I had no idea I was going to go to a crime scene that night. Believe me, I never would have smoked or had anything to drink if I’d known.”
“Well, that’s why you have to be ready all the time in this work: you never know when you’re in for a surprise.”
Before Donovan could answer him, Fullam’s radio beeped.
“Frank, I’ve got Mister Katz on the line,” Joann said. “Apparently one of the cleaning crew left some keys here. Mister Alcantarilla was able to get Katz before he got too far and asked if they could come back.”
“Case in point.” Fullam shook his head and lifted the radio to his mouth. “All right, I’ll go let him in. Tell him to meet me at the back gate.”
“Check. Also, before we get started, I want to hit the ladies’ room.”
“Fine. Let me know when you’re back.” He clipped the radio to his belt and turned to Donovan. “Anything else?”
“Do you want me to come with?”
Fullam shook his head. “This will go faster if I do it alone—I’ll get them in and out. Take the Alien Stingers building—the Sea Wasp set-up is a lot like the octopus one. After I let Katz and Alcantarilla out I’ll take a spot by the Aquatheater and watch the Shark Tank.”
“Got it.”
“If you see anything, let me or Joann know immediately. I appreciate your help, but this is something for professionals to handle.”
“I understand.”
“Okay. Stay in touch. Like I said, this could be a long night.”