“The victims. You said the victims’ parents. Are you saying they were sisters?”
“No, sorry. At least, I don’t think so. The one victim’s parents—the one who died—”
“She have a name?”
“Um, yeah.” He stole a glance at his notebook and then tucked it back into his chest pocket. “Megan Gunther, according to the super. Anyway, that vic’s parents were trying to call her, and she wasn’t answering the phone. They got the brush-off from the dispatcher, so then they called the condo’s super. He used the building’s keys to enter and found…well, you can get the picture. Turns out the other vic had crawled her way to the phone to call 911 after the bad guy left, and paramedics showed up right behind him. Me and my partner responded, too.”
Ellie jumped in before Rogan could correct Colombo’s grammar. “Your partner’s posted downstairs?”
Rogan wasn’t usually so critical. Either this officer had done something to earn a place on Rogan’s shit list, or something else was bothering her partner. She had a bad feeling his mood might be related to his trip to the courthouse that morning to brief Judge Bandon on the Mancini case.
“Yeah. Making sure no one’s coming up except authorized personnel.”
“And you’re keeping a log of who’s going in and out of here?” she verified.
He patted the pocket that held his notebook. “Just need to add the two of you.”
“Good man,” she said. “Got to keep track of the crime scene.”
“Hey, you look pretty young. How long’d it take you to make it to Homicide? Cuz, you know, that’s basically my dream. I mean, with a name like Colombo, you just got to go for it. I’d get the tan trench coat and everything.”
“Just keep the log. Detectives Hatcher and Rogan. Manhattan South Homicide. In at eleven-oh-two a.m. Write it down.”
Maintaining the crime scene log was not the only thing that Officer Colombo had done right that morning. He had also instructed the building’s superintendent to return to his office on the building’s second floor.
Ellie knocked on the office door. She detected a European accent in the voice that instructed her to come in.
“You’re Gorsky?”
“Yes. People around here call me Andrei.” The man’s eyes were red-rimmed.
“Ellie Hatcher. I’m a detective with the NYPD’s homicide unit. It’s not easy walking into a scene like that upstairs.”
“No. It was not easy.”
“My understanding is that one of the girls’ parents asked you to check up on her? Megan Gunther?”
“Yes, that is right. The tenant’s name was Megan. My phone was already ringing when I walked into the office this morning. It was Megan’s mother saying her daughter was not answering her telephone. She wanted me to check on her.”
Ellie glanced at her watch. “So this was what time?”
Gorsky stared at the black cordless phone on his desk. “The first time, it was probably just before nine o’clock in the a.m.”
Ellie let silence fill the room, knowing that the superintendent would eventually explain what he meant by the first time.
“I try to tell her that it is not up to me to check on the residents. This is not a college dormitory, you know. If they want someone to be the guardian to their children, they shouldn’t buy them their own apartments.”
“All right, Mr. Gorsky. I think I understand. But you went upstairs to check on Megan?”
“Eventually, yes, I said I would do it. But I have workers here this morning to install a new cooling system. I have another resident locked out of her storage unit crying in the lobby that she will lose her job if she doesn’t get it open and find a very important file of some kind that she is missing. I have to find another resident’s keys for a realtor who is coming but I cannot find them. And at first, you know, Mrs. Gunther wanting me to check on her daughter did not seem so important.”
“So she called more than once.”
“Four times she called me in twenty minutes before I went upstairs. We are not even supposed to go in. The parents, they pay for the apartment. But the legal resident is the daughter. I am not even supposed to go—”
She knew where the man’s thoughts were taking him. Police and paramedics had shown up right after he entered the apartment. The phone call from the parents had given him a twenty-minute head start. Twenty minutes might have made the difference.
“You couldn’t have saved them, Mr. Gorsky.” She wasn’t convinced, but said it anyway, for his sake. “And it’s possible you could have gotten yourself hurt instead.”
His eyes remained fixed on his telephone, but she assumed all he was seeing was a replay of the scene he had encountered when he opened the apartment door. He’d see it tonight in bed before he slept, and again in his dreams. He’d continue to see it forever. It was just a question of how frequently and how vividly.
“She was a good girl, Megan was. We have more young people in this building than you would think. The parents, they buy, like an investment. Then the kids live on their own. Megan was a good girl, not spoiled like a lot of them. She always said hello. She used my name to talk to me like a human being, not a servant. She would even bring fresh coffee sometimes if she saw me working in the lobby.”
“There was a second girl in the apartment.”
“She was the roommate. Just moved in a few months ago.”
“Was she the same kind of ‘good girl’ as Megan?”
The cordless phone on Gorsky’s desk broke out into a loud chirp. Even though he’d been staring at the phone, the noise clearly startled the man, but after a quick flinch, he jumped back into the conversation.
“She seemed like a nice girl. Quieter than Megan. Not as outgoing.”
“Do you need to get that?” she asked, looking at the ringing phone.
He shook his head just as the phone finally silenced.
“And what was the roommate’s name?”
“Heather. I’m not sure if I ever knew her last name.”
“Don’t you need a name for her to live in the building?”
Again, the phone began to ring. And again, Gorsky ignored it and continued to speak.
“As a matter of technicalities. But the Gunthers were responsible financially for the apartment, and I trusted Megan. She told me she was getting a roommate, and that was the end of the conversation. Some of these other people, I would’ve wanted credit checks, a deposit…don’t get me started.” He waved a hand at the thought.
“Do you know if either of the girls had any problems recently? Boyfriends? Drugs? Money?”
“Megan would come in and out of the building with the same boy for a very long time, but he has not been here since, well, since around the time the roommate came.”
“A breakup?”
Gorsky smiled and nodded his head. “I don’t keep this job with the same management company for so long by talking to residents about their romances. Could be breakup. Could be he doesn’t get along with the new girl. I have no idea.”
“You know anything about him? Name? Address?”
He shrugged. “I wish now I had asked. Tall, skinny. Had these things, you know, through his—” Gorsky pulled at his lower lip.
“A pierced lip.”
“Yeah, but in two places. On both sides. Now that—that I noticed.”
“Anything else? Hair color? Eyes?”
“Dark brown hair. Probably brown eyes, I guess. I don’t know, kind of like mixed looking. Maybe he was part ethnic of some kind. He hasn’t been around.”
The phone was ringing once again.
“I’m sorry, sir, but if you’re not going to answer that, I’d appreciate it if you could turn off the ringer. It’s a little distracting.”
He fumbled with a button on the phone, and the chirping quieted to a subtle jingle. “I do not know how to turn it off.”