Leslie Glass - Tracking Time

Leonore glowed with the attention. "Yeah, Sam's still defending the bad guys. We try not to talk about it over dinner. He thinks he'll flip me one day." She smiled at Mike, radiant. "You've been reading about those death row cases in Illinois?"

"Uh-uh.Tell me about it."

"This is no joke. They've started testing the DNA of convicted rape/murders on death row. Turns out more than one in ten is innocent in Illinois. They had to stop executing there. I wouldn't want to get arrested in a state like Texas. Makes you wonder, don't it?" Another big smile at Mike.

"Hey, the meter's running," April murmured.

Leonore turned to her. Smooth. "Thank God we know what we're doing here in New York. Maybe some day we'll have an accredited lab. What do you have, Mike?"

"Not a lot. Two kids who like dogs and play hooky. What do you have, April?"

April made a face and glanced at her pages of notes. "I've got a mess. A real weird puzzle. I talked to Grace Rodriguez for almost two hours. She works for Atkins's father and has been his girlfriend for twenty-three years. Same old same old. She loved the guy, thought he would leave the wife he hates and marry her. She's a very attractive woman, didn't you think, Mike?" she glanced at him.

"Not my type. I never liked blonds."

April smiled. "I'm not touching that. So two decades pass, and no wedding bells. That would be enough to make any mother crazy."

"Eh, lot of people don't get married anymore. Who needs it?" Leonore cracked.

"Some of us are still traditional, Leo," Mike replied, looking at April and liking her smile.

Leonore snickered. "God, if you're talking this way, the world must be coming to an end."

April was smooth, too. She went right on. "Well, apparently being illegitimate bothered Dylan pretty bad. Grace said she's been worried about her daughter's mental health for some time. Atkins hates psychiatrists and didn't want her to go to anyone. Grace was torn between the two of them, wanted to be a good mother, wanted to protect her boyfriend. I felt sorry for her."

Mike shifted in his chair. He still didn't understand how this all fit together. If Dylan was the center of the case, where did Brandy and David fit in?

"What?" April responded to the unasked question.

"Nothing. Go on with your story."

"Dylan applied to the analytic institute where Maslow was a candidate, gave a false name and identity, and for about four months her own brother was her analyst. A first. Relatives aren't supposed to treat each other, you know. According to Jason Frank, who's Maslow's supervisor on the case, Maslow was anxious about it from day one. Something must have tipped him off on Tuesday. That night he wanted to see Jason, but he disappeared." April sat back. "She could be some kind of psycho."

Leonore chewed on her fingers. Mike reached into his pocket for a breath mint. "Miss lunch again?"

"Thanks." She took one and handed the tin across the desk to April.

"Is it lunch time already?" April looked surprised.

"It's dinnertime," Leonore said. "Do we have a hypothesis?"

April sighed. Mike knew she was thinking that twenty-four hours ago Pee Wee James had been alive. And Pee Wee had known something. And it was his fault for not listening to her. He shook his head. Burro.

April chewed on a mint. "When I talked to Dylan yesterday, she maintained her identity as his patient, Allegra Caldera. Maybe she took off. Maybe she's a killer."

Woody knocked on the door. "Coffee, two lights, Sweet'n Low, one tea?"

"Thanks, Woody," April said.

"Hey, Mike," Woody greeted him.

"Pull up a pew," Mike said. There was no chair, but then he didn't like Woody much.

"Yeah, sure. Where are we?" He leaned against the wall, sipping his light coffee as April dipped a Lipton's tea bag into her Styrofoam cup of hot water.

"Pathological sibling rivalry. Maybe Dylan killed her brother to be her dad's only child and heir," Mike said.

"Nice," Woody said. "But I don't think so. That girl was a doll, don't you think?" He held up a flier with her picture on it. Have you seen this girl? And the number to call. The phones were ringing off the hook. The manpower to answer them was a major problem. Culling through each tip took forever.

April gave Woody some credit. "Good touch, the camera, Woody. And you noticed how freaky she got when you took her picture?"

Woody gazed at the photo. "It's quite a story," he murmured.

"Look, I've got to get going." Leonore slapped her hands on her knees and stood. "I'll talk to my boss about this. Whatever it is-kidnapping, murder. Get a warrant to search the girl's place. Maybe something there can shed light on all this." She gave April a conspiratorial smile. "What about you, Mike?"

"Well, April's friend John Zumech thinks this is a Vietnam thing."

"No kidding, why?"

"They trained the dog trackers there with human body parts so they could find the Vietcong hiding in the tunnels."

Leonore threw up her hands. Where was this going?

"The vic was a Vietnam vet," April said.

"I don't know anything about any tunnels in Vietnam. Are you suggesting we have tunnels in Central Park?" Leonore asked impatiently.

"He's referring to the soft tissue finds," April translated.

Mike nodded. "Zumech's theory is the tissue was a plant, you know, maybe as a hoax or a message of some kind about Vietnam."

"What kind of message, and why does it have to be something to do with Vietnam? Why not something else?" Leonore gathered up her stuff She didn't like this angle.

"Like what?"

"Like a medical student hoax?" April threw in. "Maslow is a doctor. Maybe he was treating a doctor nut. Are there other possibilities?"

"I'm just quoting John. He's convinced this tissue thing has something to do with Vietnam. Pee Wee was a vet."

"I'm not following you on this one," Leonore said.

"The tissue samples turned up the day after Slocum's search with his dog," Mike went on.

"You're suggesting that someone saw the rescue dog on the news, then came out and planted the tissue samples later? Why?" April demanded.

"It wasn't my hypothesis. It was John's," Mike replied.

"What about the killing of Pee Wee? Who would kill him?" Leonore drew blood on a cuticle, checked her watch. She wasn't interested in this. Too far-fetched.

"Maybe Pee Wee really did see Maslow out there. Maybe someone didn't want him sobering up enough to tell what happened," April said.

"I don't see what this has to do with the tissue finds. It wouldn't have taken a dog to find them. Look, I've got to run."

"Maybe they were planted to cover Maslow's scent. Yesterday we were searching for Maslow. Maybe we would have found him today. We didn't even have time to get Peachy on the trail. The dog was distracted from the word go." April looked unhappy. "Mike, how did your interview go with those two kids? Did you meet their parents?"

Mike paused. "The boy, David Owen, looks like something of a nerd. His mother is a big shot at the bank where she works. Public relations, and Dios, did she work a public relations number for the kid. I get the feeling he's a major disappointment. Right in front of me she says he has ADD. I didn't see any signs of hy-peractivity. He didn't act aggressive or even angry. He was very polite to me. But what do I know? I'm a cop." Mike shrugged modestly.

Leonore was interested. "Medication?" she asked.

"Maybe, for ADD. I'd call the kid a loser. But we'll have to dig a little more. A few weeks ago we had a case of a kid freaking out in school, burning people with cigarettes. He put out someone's eye. When we asked why he did it, he said it seemed like a good idea at the time. He didn't even know the kid he injured."

Leonore shook her head. "I'll never have children. So, where was David Owen last night?"