Lisa Scottoline - Lady Killer

“How you been, Mary?” he asked, his voice deep and soft.

“Great, thanks. How about you?”

“Good. Fine.” Brinkley was handsome, with a long, slim face, a narrow nose, squinty, if benevolent, eyes, and a tight smile. He must have been in his forties and hadn’t added a wrinkle since she’d seen him last, though his short hair was a tangle of silver at the temples. “Got remarried and all.”

“That’s great, congrats.” Mary felt happy for him. He’d had a tough divorce, but he kept all of that to himself. They were friendly, but not that friendly. She introduced Giulia, who had been looking distractedly around the squad room.

“It’s sure ain’t like Cold Case,” Giulia said with a frown, and Brinkley half-smiled, leaning against his desk.

“No. They clean it up for TV.”

“They’d have to.” Mary smiled. A few detectives in shirtsleeves were talking in a group, near beat-up gray file cabinets of different sizes and colors. Messy metal desks were placed in the largish room in no particular order, and the chairs didn’t match the desks. The old-fashioned tile floor looked grimy, and dingy beige curtains that covered the expanse of curved window had brown stains on them and hung off the valance, letting bright sun into the room in odd places. It wasn’t a total dump, but it wasn’t ready for prime time.

Brinkley asked, “Mary, you at the same place, working for Rosato?”

“Yes.”

“She still tough as nails?”

“Nails have nothing on Bennie Rosato.”

Brinkley chuckled. “You got that right. How about Jack? You still seeing him?”

Mary hadn’t thought of Jack Newlin for a while. “Nah, didn’t work out. Or the guy after him, either. Any day now, I’m entering the convent. Does God take lawyers?”

Brinkley laughed softly. “If I got lucky, you will, too.” Then his relaxed manner faded, and he straightened up, folding his arms over a slight paunch. “So how can I help you? This about a case?”

“Kind of. Can we talk alone?”

“Sure. This way.” Brinkley gestured to his left, and they went inside a small greenish interview room that needed repainting. It contained a few odd wooden chairs and an old pine typing table with a few Miranda waiver forms. Brinkley closed the door. “Welcome to my summer office.”

Mary smiled, and after Brinkley and Giulia had taken their seats, she told him about her meeting with Trish, the Mob connection, the search of Trish’s house, and what Fung Lee saw. She knew that Brinkley was respected at the Roundhouse and if she could convince him, he would make things happen for Trish behind the scenes. She argued her case like a lawsuit, with all the facts supporting the proposition that Trish’s disappearance gave cause for real alarm.

Brinkley’s expression grew grave as she spoke, and Giulia stayed obediently silent, even when Mary produced Trish’s diary. The detective bent his neat head over the pages, and she pointed out the terrifying entries and photos, which Giulia craned her neck to see, shaken. He examined them in silence, then looked up when he was finished, his expression concerned.

“Okay, I hear you.” Brinkley closed the dairy. “It doesn’t sound like two lovebirds who decided to take a vacation.”

“No, it’s not,” Mary said, holding her breath for his decision.

“Hang on to this.” Brinkley handed Mary back the diary, then stood up, moving his sport jacket aside with both hands and hitching up his pants from the sides of a black belt. “Here’s the problem. To start with, you know this isn’t my bailiwick. This is a case for Missing Persons, not Homicide.”

Giulia exploded, jumping up. “When are you guys gonna wise up aroun’ here? Did you see those pictures? What more do you want? She could be dead, and all you guys worry about is whose job it is not to do!”

“Whoa, settle down.” Brinkley put up his hands, and Mary stepped between him and the crazed Goretti girl.

“Giulia, basta!” She shot her dagger-eyes and turned to Brinkley. “We know there are jurisdictional issues, but this really seems like a hybrid case, between Missing Persons and Homicide. We have proof-positive from the diary that Trish is in danger and that her boyfriend’s a mobster. He’s a man with the means and the wherewithal to kill.”

“I see that.”

“So if you spoke with Missing Persons, I’m sure they’d understand it’s not the typical situation. Maybe they’ll give Trish’s case some attention. Speed things up, or put out an APB or something.”

“You know they have their hands full with the Donchess case. Amber Alerts get priority, it’s state law.” Brinkley gestured toward the door. “You saw the press outside. It’s the Lindbergh baby.”

Giulia interjected, “There’s another baby, now? Those effin babies can just wait their turn.”

Mary hushed her again. “Reg, Trish can’t be far, and if we find her, maybe we can prevent her murder. Doesn’t an abused woman deserve an Amber Alert, too? Why are we making value judgments between victims, anyway? Besides, the press doesn’t run the police department, does it?”

“Don’t pull that on me, Mare.”

“But it’s right, isn’t it?” Mary felt desperate. Brinkley was her best and only chance. “I would never ask you for help if the case didn’t merit it. Trish was terrified in my office. He’s going to kill her, if he hasn’t already.”

“Come on, help us already!” Giulia held up her cell phone over Mary’s shoulder. “We have photos of her, right here!”

“The Mob angle makes this tougher for us, you know.” Brinkley puckered his lips, still deciding. “The feds won’t like us moving ahead without checking in. For all we know, they’re watching him already.”

Mary hadn’t thought of that, and Brinkley nodded.

“You know how it is when the feds get involved.”

“They make a federal case out of it,” Giulia blurted out, like a schoolgirl with the right answer. Brinkley wasn’t mean enough to make her feel dumb. Mary was, but she didn’t have the time right now.

“On the other hand,” she said, “if we find Trish alive, she’ll be inclined to turn state’s evidence against him. Wouldn’t the FBI like that? Wouldn’t that be a coup for them and the department?”

Brinkley thought a minute, looked from Mary to Giulia, and emitted a final sigh. “Tell you what, ladies. I’ll do my thing if you make me a deal.”

“What deal?” Mary asked, and Giulia came out from behind her.

“Anything.”

“No more searching houses or finding witnesses. No more playing cop, either of you. You’re out of your league.” Brinkley folded his arms. “What do you say?”

Mary felt her heart leap, with hope. “Point of clarification. I assume some self-help is okay, like we can send out flyers about her, can’t we?”

“Yeah, but keep it low-key. Don’t talk to the press until I get back to you.”

“Time matters, Reg.”

“I know that, having been in law enforcement longer than you.” Brinkley half-smiled. “Don’t push your luck. Gimme an hour. I’ll call you back. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal. Thank you.” Mary kept her reaction subdued. Brinkley wasn’t the effusive type, and if he’d said that much, she knew he’d give it his all. When you win, get out of the courtroom.

“I LOVE YOU!” Giulia shouted, throwing herself into the arms of a very startled Reg Brinkley.

After a minute, he didn’t look like he minded much.

Outside the Roundhouse, Mary stopped Giulia’s hand before it reached into her handbag. “Wait on the smoking, please. I need oxygen.”

“Okay, but only ’cause you did so good in there. I didn’t know you had it in you.” Giulia smiled with temporary admiration. “You really handled that detective, Mare.”