Leslie Glass - A Killing Gift

April concentrated on her actions. She'd shortened the lead time. What was the fault in that?

"You've lost your perspective here. You're too personally involved. The chief was right."

April kept her mouth shut.

"You're acting out. You're acting as if you're alone in this. And you're wrong not to step back."

He was pushing all her buttons. Her face was shut down. She inhaled through her nose, exhaled through her nose, letting chi reinfuse her body with all the vitality Mike was trying to strip away.

"Oh, Jesus," he said. Not Chinese spirit breathing.

She breathed. He swore some more.

"You've had it," he said. "You're too personally involved. And you're my wife. You'll have to go home now. I can't put it any softer than that. We can't have it like this."

His wife! She was not his wife. She finished breathing and felt much better. "What's going on here? What's your real problem?"

"I told you. I wouldn't put up with this with anybody else."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You mishandled this from the beginning. You didn't go by the book. You almost got killed. After that, you disobeyed me. You wouldn't take no for an answer. You never back off. So stubborn. You had to be on the team. I trusted you, and now you've drawn attention to yourself. Again. You make me nervous, April. I don't like you out there on your own. And that thing you always said. You were right: Couples can't work together."

April's features unfroze. He got her where it hurt, and he was right. "You work too slow," she said meekly.

"It doesn't matter. In this I have to be the boss." He put his foot down.

"I can't make the arrest?"

"No."

"I can't even be there?"

He shook his head.

"Is this a punishment?"

"No, querida. This is right. You don't want to be in the paper. You don't want to stick out in any way. You'll have to testify in court. Okay, you're going home, right?"

April swallowed hard, then nodded. At least she'd get to testify in court.

"I'll have Woody take you home. If he doesn't take you there, he's fired, okay?"

April nodded again. She felt like a kid called on the carpet. Her cheeks were flaming. She was busted. "You have everything you need to know?" she asked.

"I think we're just fine. Thanks." His eyes softened, but only a little. "Ciao."

April trudged back downstairs and got into the car without looking at or saying anything to anyone-not to the uniforms enjoying a break in the sunshine in front of the precinct or the detectives heading in from lunch. She wasn't talking. Lucky for her no press was around to see her banished. Not that anyone would know, she told herself. No one on the task force, not even the primary, was allowed to comment on the case. So all the reporters were camped in the press room at headquarters, waiting for news. No one else knew she was out. It was her burden to carry. Shit. As far as she knew, the only good thing right now was that the crucial info she'd supplied about Frayme and Leaky was still secure. Politics was the only real constant in life. At that moment she wasn't looking around, wasn't vigilant, and didn't feel she needed to be. Who else was going to stab her in the back but her own people? She brooded as she waited for Woody to return from receiving his instructions from Mike. Son of a bitch. Everything she'd always warned him about couples working together-and that he'd always pooh poohed-was coming true. The female always got screwed in the end. It was a fact of life. Woody was her person, from her precinct, and Mike was giving him orders. She and Mike had driven in together this morning in his car. She didn't even have her own car to drive home. So many mistakes every step of the way.

Nothing about what was happening now felt right. The only really positive thing coming out of this was that nobody had even once hinted at the possibility of using Jack Devereaux as bait to catch Frayme. She had to hand it to Mike for that. Soon Jack would be safe on Martha's Vineyard, learning how to be a gracious prince.

Her head turned and her eyes scanned people walking on the sidewalk. Nobody but cops around. She was jiggy for no reason. A little paranoid. By then it was way past lunchtime, almost two p.m. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't a team player, so she hadn't been invited to lunch with the team. Pushed out of the action, she had no choice about being a good sport. Oh, she was feeling paranoid.

She shifted uncomfortably in the warming vehicle. The window was open, but it was hot in there anyway. And it was taking Woody way too long to come back. She felt like killing him for keeping her waiting. Angrily, she flipped open her cell to see what was going on there. She was surprised to find a bunch of new messages. Jason Frank. Oh, God, she felt bad about him, too. After putting him to work on the case, it was only fair that she call him right away to thank him and let him know they were both off it now. Kathy Bernardino had left two messages. What could she say to Kathy?

This is the story, Kathy. Al Frayme may have killed your father; just a little mission killing, nothing personal. But - either your brother stole your dad's money, Harry Weinstein stole it, or your dad hid it very well. April didn't think any of that would go down well. Another call she wasn't going to make.

She considered revisiting the missing-cash possibilities and decided that Harry most certainly knew where the money was. Getting him to give it up was another story. Maybe he was waiting for everything to blow over to retrieve it for himself. But how could she get to him now that surveillance on him had been lifted? She debated driving out to Westchester to check out that house again. Maybe she and Kathy could come up with something no one else had thought of. I'm smart, she thought. I cracked this case. I can crack that one. She pondered the number four million-minus a quarter. She didn't want to go home. She wanted to accomplish something.

She was feeling really whipped when Woody climbed in beside her. "Where to, boss?" he said.

She shook her head at herself. No, she was definitely not up to telling Kathy that she'd landed in the same boat as Bill. In exile, excluded. And four was a problem number, not a lucky number to the Chinese. Chinese lucky numbers were three, five, seven, uneven numbers. She wouldn't look at Woody. Her impulse was to smack him for following orders of the enemy, her former almost husband. The best she could do was ignore him for a moment longer. Oh, well, she decided she needed an ally. And what the hell, she was hungry. She'd go home and get some food. Skinny Dragon would be happy to see her. "Astoria," she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

For once Woody had the good sense not to share his feelings. He drove in silence without automatically cutting off all the other drivers on the road whose cars he didn't like. Or even a bus or two just for fun. He took First Avenue and cruised almost slowly up to the bridge. Then he took the upper level, which was flowing pretty freely outbound at this time of the day. Off the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge ramp, he followed the signs to Northern Boulevard. Nice and quiet and smooth as could be. April didn't feel any less jiggy out of Manhattan, though. In fact, she felt worse the farther away they got.

The Woo house was a few blocks south of Hoyt Avenue, the Queens-side exit of the Triborough Bridge. Woody turned into her block and everything was copacetic here, too. But why not-Queens didn't have a lot of crime, like sections of Brooklyn and the Bronx. There were plenty of stores and commercial enterprises in Queens and both airports, but essentially it was a residential area. April's qi was as low as it got. She'd done good, but Mike was angry at her. Her ego and dignity were wounded. She didn't know which was worse, hearing his disapproval for her taking independent action, or feeling hurt at being kicked out like a cowboy cop. Frankly, she wasn't sure how they could recover from this.