Michael Baden - Skeleton justice

"She said the side door would be open. She must know the staff. It's Franklin Street. I'll see you there at eleven."

Deciding that the Lincoln Tunnel would be suicide at this time of day, Manny headed uptown, cruising across the GW Bridge to make her way south to Hoboken on the Jersey side of the Hudson.

The sky was a rare blue, marred by neither clouds nor haze, and Manny took her eyes off the road ahead a few times to steal glimpses of the city skyline out the driver's side window. Impossible to worry on a day like today!

She had been too busy and preoccupied to check in with Sam on the Boo Hravek angle of the case, but clearly he'd been working on it. Maybe this was the missing piece that would make the other disjointed pieces of the puzzle form into a recognizable picture. Trust Sam to produce it.

Manny stopped at a traffic light. She hadn't driven south along the river from Fort Lee in a long time. Traffic was worse than she remembered. Luxury condominiums with river views were sprouting up everywhere, replacing the old warehouses and factories that used to jam the industrial waterfront. But a few old relics still remained, waiting for developers to pounce.

Manny glanced at her watch. She thought she would have been in Hoboken by now, but she was still one town away, in West New York. Her view of the river appeared and disappeared as she wound through the town's congested streets. West New York was what Hoboken had been twenty years ago-just on the cusp of trendy, still loaded with plenty of grit. A shadow fell over the car, cast by a large abandoned building with the ghostly letters FIREPROOF APPAREL still visible on the side. That would probably be the next factory to be converted into loft apartments. She could get a place five times the size of her Manhattan studio for the same price.

Finally, Manny saw a WELCOME TO HOBOKEN sign. Club Epoch was located close by, on the northern edge of town, and Manny pulled into a parking spot just as the clock in her car hit 11:00. She got out and looked around for Sam. The street was deserted. She dialed Sam's phone, which rolled immediately to voice mail.

The only activity on the street centered on a minimart on the corner. Maybe someone in there had noticed Sam out on the sidewalk in front of the club. The smell of scorched coffee kept hot 24/7 clobbered Manny as soon as she entered. The bleached blonde behind the counter labored over the lottery ticket machine while two shabbily dressed men waited impatiently to lose their money. No use trying to get in the middle of that transaction even to ask a simple question. Manny occupied herself by reading the headlines of the newspapers arrayed in front of the counter. From the New York Times's discreet POLICE

PROBE LATEST TWIST IN VAMPIRE CASE to the New York Post's VAMP

TO PREP: COME INTO MY LAIR, all three New York papers and the Newark Star-Ledger featured the Vampire case on the front page.

A large woman with a head full of braids grabbed the Post and struck up a conversation. "Uhm, uhm," she said. "That's one nasty dude. Goin' round stickin' needles in people." She closed her eyes and shuddered.

Manny nodded vaguely, preoccupied with getting the clerk's attention so she could ask if she'd seen Sam strolling the area or entering the club.

"Why can't the cops catch him?" the lady continued. "All that DNA stuff they got nowadays still don't do them no good. 'Member the Son of Sam? They caught that guy 'cause of a parking ticket. I bet this be the same."

Another man joined the line and the conversation, relieving Manny of the obligation to chat. "They better catch him soon, because this shit is freakin' me out. Man, there's nothing I hate worse than needles. Guns I can deal with, but not this."

Manny glanced up. The man who spoke had hands the size of grizzly paws and a sumo-wrestler-thick neck. Yet she could see from the revulsion on his face that the Vampire really did scare him.

"And what about the guy he killed with the rat bites," the first woman reminded the man.

"Ah, Jesus, don't even go there! What they really oughta do to catch him is-"

The two of them continued in a weird one-upmanship of fear and advice. Manny eavesdropped, amazed by their extensive knowledge of the case. She was sure if she asked either of them to name their congressman or to say what was going on between the Israelis and the Palestinians at the moment, they'd be flummoxed, but on the subject of the Vampire, they were experts. The total media saturation had produced millions of people who saw themselves as prospective victims, prospective detectives, or both.

Finally, Manny reached the head of the line and plunked a pack of gum on the counter. "Have you seen a tall, thin man with a ponytail in the area around here in the past half hour? He may have been headed to Club Epoch," she said to the clerk as she paid.

The woman shook her head. "It's been quiet all morning, till now."

Manny went back outside and looked across the street at the warehouse-shaped building painted black, with a large silver E on the door. That had to be it. She wrinkled her nose-not her idea of a hot nightspot. Was Deanie waiting all alone in there? Manny's sunshine-induced optimism began to ebb away. Why had Deanie suddenly called Sam? She had to realize he was a suspect in Boo's murder. Was this some kind of setup?

She dialed Sam again, and again got voice mail. Then she dialed Jake. "I think Sam's in some kind of trouble," Manny said, not bothering with a greeting. "I'm not sure what to do."

Quickly, Manny explained the situation.

"I'll be right there," Jake said. "Do not go into that place alone, understand me?"

"I won't. Not after yesterday. But, Jake, it'll take you over an hour to get across town and over to Hoboken."

"You're in luck. I'm not in my office. I got called to a suspicious death on Forty-fourth and Ninth. I just finished up, and there's a department car here."

"Right around the corner from the Lincoln Tunnel. There is a God!" "How many laws did you break to get here so fast?" Manny asked as Jake pulled up twenty minutes later.

"I had to pass on the right, but that was only because I got stuck behind some guy who kept stopping at yellow lights. Iowa plates. Guess he didn't know that in a blue state, yellow means accelerate."

"The Turnpike Authority ought to post those rules." Manny took Jake's elbow and guided him to the right. "See that black warehouse? That's Club E. Sam said Deanie called him this morning, sounding very nervous. Told him she had some information on what went down with Boo, but she didn't want to talk about it on the phone."

"Any clue why she had a sudden change of heart?" Jake asked.

Manny shook her head. "That's what's worrying me. What if it's a trap?"

"You stay here and I'll go in and check it out," Jake said.

"No way!"

"Manny, it's safer that way. If I don't come out, you can call the police."

"What if it's the police who've set the trap? They're looking for Boo's killer. There could be incriminating evidence in there waiting for you. If the police happen to show up two minutes after you get in there, you'll need a witness to corroborate your story."

Jake glared at her for a moment, then turned to cross the street. "Come on, Manny. Let's get this over with."

Jake tugged on the unmarked black door on the side of the building. It opened, releasing a gust of cold, rancid air. The air-conditioning kept the temperature low, but it didn't do much to eradicate the aftermath of Club E's nightly hordes of sweating, drink-spilling, puking customers.

Jake gestured Manny to the side and peered into the dimly lighted interior. A long hallway, illuminated only by the emergency exit sign, extended to the right. Looking straight ahead, he could see the cavernous dance floor and the outline of one of the three long bars. From his breast pocket Jake pulled a small, bright flashlight. Its beam extended only a few feet, but it was better than walking into the abyss.