Alex Barclay - The Caller

They took the elevator down to the first floor. Cliff sat, pale and sweating on an orange and grey sofa in front of them. ‘I didn’t see anyone come in,’ he said. He held his right hand over his left arm. ‘I’m sorry. I got heart problems.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Joe. ‘Take it easy. You need a glass of water?’

‘No thanks. I’m good.’

‘You were here all evening,’ said Joe.

‘Yes,’ said Cliff. ‘I’m always here when I’m supposed to be here.’

‘That’s good. And no-one came to see Mr Valtry?’

‘No-one came through the front door.’

‘OK.’

‘But we have a back entrance here. We got a lot of personalities living here, entertainment industry, models, business people and they like their privacy.’

‘There’s no security detail back there?’ said Joe.

‘No and that’s the way they like it.’

‘So if I had a visitor, I can tell them where that door is and they walk right in.’

‘Well, they would need your private code, each apartment has one, but sure, they can come in, we’re not gonna know. A car could pull right up to that back door and anyone who’s been given the code can come in.’

‘Do you have a code?’

‘I have a code. Residents set and reset their own codes. Your neighbor won’t know your code unless you want him to, but there’s no reason you would need to give him that. If something bad happens, whoever’s code was entered can be traced back to them. But that hasn’t happened yet… until now… and unfortunately the guy whose code was used isn’t around to tell us about it.’

‘But Valtry had to have known who he was letting in.’

‘Yeah, obviously not well enough. Valtry was one of the good guys, would have trusted anyone. We’re all really sorry this happened.’

‘So are we, Cliff.’

‘So what’s up?’ said Danny as they walked to the car.

‘What do you mean what’s up?’ said Joe.

‘You’re acting weird.’

‘What’s up,’ said Joe, ‘is that my wife is pregnant.’

Danny stopped. ‘Jesus. Well, congratulations. That’s… great news. Is it?’

Joe sighed. ‘If I was a better person, yeah, maybe.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I guess it’s good news. Least we made Shaun think it was.’

‘Chicks dig guys with babies.’

Joe laughed, then quickly put a hand to his jaw. ‘Shit.’

‘I’ll take the kid to the park for you,’ said Danny. ‘I got no problem with that. I’ll tell him quietly, but loud enough for the hot chicks – Mommy is with the angels.’

Joe laughed again, despite his jaw. ‘You’re a sick fuck.’

Bobby Nicotero walked into the office at Manhattan North and went straight for Joe’s desk.

‘Can I have a word please, Joe?’

‘Sure,’ said Joe. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Maybe out in the hallway,’ said Bobby.

‘You can talk to me here.’

Bobby jabbed a finger towards him, his eyes blazing. ‘The hallway,’ he said, turning around and walking out.

Joe got up slowly and followed him.

‘Would you like to tell me,’ shouted Bobby, ‘what the hell is going on between you and my father?’

‘What?’ said Joe, closing the door behind him.

‘I know you’re up to something. He’s doing something for you, I know he is. And-’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ said Joe.

‘He’s acting all secretive…’ He trailed off. ‘I guess I was wrong about him cheating on my mom-’

‘Of course you were wrong,’ said Joe. ‘I could have told you that.’

‘Oh, sure you could, all-fucking-seeing-all-knowing-Joe-Lu-fucking-cchesi.’

‘Are you ever going to fucking grow up?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

Joe let out a breath. ‘Bobby, like it or not, I care a lot about Old Nic. Your father’s bored, he misses the job-’

‘I could care less about my father,’ said Bobby. ‘I’m looking out for my ma. She’s worried sick about him. She’s just glad she got him to retirement in one piece. She doesn’t want him involved in your bullshit.’

‘Whatever is between me and your father is between me and your father,’ said Joe.

‘Yeah, just the two of you,’ said Bobby. ‘Nice and tight. But he’s got a wife, all right?’

‘Jesus Christ, listen to yourself, you fucking freak. I’m helping your father with his book, OK? That’s it. Cover blown. Big deal.’

‘You’re full of shit, Lucchesi.’

‘That’s what I’m doing, Bobby. Ask your father.’

‘I’m not asking him shit.’

‘No shit.’

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

‘You said it yourself – you could care less about your father. He wants to do something with his time. I help-’

‘What do you know about what my father wants? Nothing-’

‘Bullshit, I’ve known him for years, we-’

‘Look,’ said Bobby, ‘we’re stuck working together on this case, that’s fine with me. I can walk right back into that office and everything will be on the level. But stay the fuck away from my family.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ said Joe. ‘Get the fuck out of my face.’ He walked back into the office.

Rufo was standing at his desk holding an untouched Starbucks Grande Banana Coconut Frappuccino with whipped cream. Joe looked from the drink to his boss, but said nothing.

‘Everything all right?’ said Rufo.

‘Yeah,’ said Joe, fixing his jacket, sitting down at his desk.

‘So the plan is…’ said Rufo.

‘Well, we traced the last number called from Dean Valtry’s house to a Marjorie Ruehling, lives in the Bronx. Danny and I’ll go check it out this morning, then we got Valtry’s autopsy in the afternoon.’

‘Five hundred and fifty calories in this baby,’ said Rufo sadly.

Danny walked over and took the drink out of his hand. ‘Want me to put this out of your misery? Or your eye line, even?’

Rufo nodded sadly.

‘A moment on the lips…’ said Danny. He sucked up a mouthful. ‘Like drinking a vacation.’

Joe shook his head. ‘Come on. Boss, we’ll see you later.’

‘Wave bye-bye to Daddy,’ said Danny to the cup. Rufo had already turned away.

Marjorie Ruehling lived off Southern Boulevard in the Bronx in the only apartment block on the street that wasn’t newly renovated, for sale or about to be torn down. Joe rang the bell for 6E. An elderly voice crackled through the intercom.

‘Yes?’

‘Marjorie Ruehling?’ said Joe.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Who is this?’

‘My name is Detective Joe Lucchesi with my partner, Detective Danny Markey from the NYPD. We’d just like to come in and talk to you about something.’

‘What?’

Joe shook his head at Danny. ‘Are you acquainted with a Mr Dean Valtry?’

‘I’m going to come down now,’ she said. ‘And you can show me your nice badges.’

‘OK, ma’am.’

Five minutes later, a skinny woman in her sixties with a huge caramel-coloured bouffant and a peach velour tracksuit opened the door and studied the two badges. She opened the door wider and led Joe and Danny into a small, square, grey lobby lined with mailboxes, most of them overflowing.

‘That man you mentioned – Valtry,’ she said. ‘He called here last night.’

‘So you know him?’

‘Not really. He was a friend of my daughter, Sonja, from way back. You’ll need to talk to her. She’ll know more. He was calling to speak with her.’

‘Did you pass on the message to her?’

‘There was no point,’ said Mrs Ruehling. ‘I knew she was out with her husband. And Valtry didn’t want to leave a number.’

‘Could we get a cell phone and address for Sonja?’