"They've already asked me," Jack said vaguely.
April studied him. He was hardly huge-a young man not filled in yet, but he was taller than Bernardino. Definitely taller than she was.
"I'm sure they did, and I'm sure they will again. Sometimes new things come out. Right now I'm asking for me," she added.
"I was wondering how you lost your shoes," he said suddenly.
April didn't like the question. She'd taken off her shoes not only to run after the killer, but also to fight him. Really nuts.
"Let's do you first," she said. "What time did you go out with the dog?"
"No one asked me about Sheba. I always take her out at eleven. We walk over to Washington Square and walk around the square a few times. She's a big girl. She needs her exercise." He patted the beast fondly.
April remembered hearing the sound of a chain leash when she exited the restaurant. She didn't think it was this dog but wanted to be sure. "What kind of leash do you use?"
Jack nodded at a doorknob across the room, which had a chain leash hanging on it. "She'd eat any other kind. Why do you ask?"
"The dining table is in use." Lisa returned with a large bowl of something that looked more like stew than soup. She put a spoon and paper napkin on the coffee table in front of April.
"Thanks, it looks great." April returned to her subject. "What route do you take?"
Jack looked surprised. "What route? We go downstairs and head straight to the square. We turn left and walk counterclockwise, north first, then east, then south."
"You did that Wednesday?"
"I always do it. I'm a creature of habit."
"You didn't walk down Thompson on Wednesday?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"Just trying to place everything. Did you see anything unusual?"
"Well, now that Giuliani is gone, the drug dealers are out again everywhere. Anything you want, and people are smoking right out in public."
April didn't tell him that the new mayor wasn't responsible for drugs being back on the streets. Priorities had changed after 9/11. Guarding against terrorists was number one now. She dipped her spoon in the soup and tasted it. Thicker than Chinese chicken soup, this version had rice and very thin spaghetti strings in it, carrot coins, celery chunks, chicken meat, and not even a hint of ginger.
Lisa sat down. "How do you like it?"
"It's really great," April told her. "Do you ever walk with anyone else?"
"I walk with him if I'm still awake," Lisa piped up.
"I mean other dog walkers."
"Oh, yeah. I know what you mean. Some people cruise with their dogs. They know each other and everything. I'm not part of that scene."
"You don't talk to anyone?"
"Just to say hello. The dogs know each other. I know some of the dog names, not the people."
April nodded. She didn't know the dog owners on their block because they always put Dim Sum out in the backyard. But Jack knew the local dogs. That was something. She took a moment to eat her soup and think about it.
"Do you know anybody with a mastiff?" she asked.
He rolled his eyes and didn't answer. "Who was the guy who died?" He couldn't balance the bowl with one hand but shook his head when Lisa tried to help him.
"He was a retired lieutenant from the Fifth Precinct. That's in Chinatown. My old boss," she added.
"Jesus. That's too bad… The story is all over the TV."
"And you're pretty famous yourself," she said.
Jack shook his head. "The whole thing is weird."
April was curious, but she didn't want to embarrass him by asking about his father. "New Yorkers are supposed to run away from trouble," she said instead.
"Oh, that. Well, I didn't realize you were in trouble at first. I didn't see it. The fog was something. Why didn't you yell?"
Good question. The answer was, she didn't yell because she was fighting. You don't yell when you're fighting, only when you're losing. Then when you're yoked, you can't yell. She burned with shame. No wonder Chief Avise was angry at her. She would fire any cop who'd done the stupid things she'd done.
"Do you know anything about martial arts?" she asked.
Jack shook his head. "Only that it can kill you."
"Well, it isn't so easy to kill someone," April murmured. "How did you get out of it?"
"He flipped me, but I was screaming from the get-go. And Sheba got pretty loud. I don't think she would have bitten him, though."
"Can you remember anything about the man? How tall he was, what he was wearing? His face or hair. Anything?"
"He was shorter than me. He had to reach up."
"Five-eight, five-nine, five-ten?"
He shook his head. "You wear tea-rose perfume, right?"
"Yes." She was surprised that he could pinpoint her fragrance.
"He smelled of Icy Hot."
"What's that?"
"It's like Vick's VapoRub for the muscles. I think it has eucalyptus in it."
April ate more of her soup, considering that.
"Do you know Lieutenant Sanchez?"
She nodded cautiously.
"He told me a plainclothes cop is watching us."
"You're a witness."
"So are you; is someone watching you?"
April smiled. "I have a gun. What's worrying you?"
"A lot of things. We're getting phone calls. Hangups. And someone keeps saying 'Don't forget your promise.' "
"What promise?"
"I don't know. I didn't make any promises."
"Male voice?"
"Yes."
"Is it on your voice mail?"
Lisa glanced at Jack, then shook her head. "He doesn't leave messages, just hangs up."
April pushed her bowl away. "Did you tell Lieutenant Sanchez about this?"
Jack locked eyes with Lisa. "We didn't think it was a big thing."
"Do you have caller ID?"
"Of course."
"I'd like a list of the numbers of your incoming calls."
She took down all hundred of them. A large number of them were private callers. She thanked Lisa for the excellent soup. Then it was time to go home. She didn't want to overstay her welcome.
"Oh, one thing before I go. The person you know with a mastiff. Who is it?" she asked.
Jack laughed. "Oh, God. I wouldn't know a mastiff from a sheepdog."
Twenty-one
April's car hadn't been towed away yet, but there was a parking ticket on the windshield. She didn't even register annoyance. She was looking for a plain-clothes cop who might be surveiling Jack and Lisa. She didn't see anyone wearing the color of the day, the sign the Department used for plainclothes cops to recognize and avoid hassling each other on the job. Undercover cops in the subways, in housing projects, and the DEA especially needed it. An uneasy feeling shot through her as she left her car where it was and took Jack's route to Washington Square, a straight shot east.
The sky was night-dark now, but lights were on everywhere, and the streets of Greenwich Village were full of people, many with dogs. April had her eye out for a mastiff, she thought, that wore a chain leash. Jack had told her that he'd come east from Sixth Avenue and turned left at the square. He'd walked north, then east, then south. It was on his southern route that he'd encountered April fighting with a five-tenish man who smelled like Icy Hot. She vaguely remembered that she'd met the black dog going north on Thompson before they hit the square. As she walked the area, she figured they could do a house-to-house canvass of the neighborhood, to find the mastiffs owner, who must have walked by-and possibly seen-Bernardino's killer. Dog walkers often had a regular routine. They'd find him. But tonight April didn't have time to stay out until eleven to look for him. She'd promised that she would be a team player. All she could do was make suggestions. They could check vets in the area. It shouldn't be too hard.