“The photos, Judge. What would you like me to do with them?”
She was pretty close to snapping. “Do you have any idea of the kind of pressure I’m under? Do you know that I have been threatened and harassed and stalked, and I have been trying to get your goddamn office to take me seriously?”
“And you thought that a house call to me would accomplish that?”
“It’s not about you. There-there’s someone else who lives in your building.”
“You just told me you didn’t know where I live.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the judge said, unable to control the pitch of her voice. “You’re the one who’s responsible for putting my life in danger, Ms. Cooper. It was you who pulled the detail off me, even before the death threats landed on my desk.”
“I had nothing to do with whoever was guarding you, for whatever reason. So you made up some bullshit story to tell Paul Battaglia because Detective Chapman came to his senses and got out of bed with you?” I asked.
“None of your business, you jealous bitch,” Pell said.
“Jealous of what? I’ve never slept with Mike Chapman.” Last night’s kiss had given urgency to my idea to confront Jessica Pell while I could still speak the truth.
“That’s a lie.”
Not yet it isn’t. “So you told the district attorney that you blamed the security lapse on me, right, with absolutely no regard for the truth of the situation?”
“Our conversation is none of your business, Ms. Cooper.”
“You are going to be so screwed, Judge, when the results of the handwriting analysis and the DNA on the envelopes in which your so-called death threats arrived are released to the New York Post.”
“Why-?”
Her anger was changing to fear as I started to talk about the evidence. “I’ve talked to Commissioner Scully about this.”
“What I reported to Chapman’s supervisor was in full confidence. If I had gone to Commissioner Scully directly, Mike Chapman would be looking for work by now.”
“He is too well respected in the department for anyone to take you seriously for very long,” I said. “Scully gets-we all get-that you are completely strung out, Judge Pell. That having been dumped by the deputy mayor was a-”
“You’re outrageous, Ms. Cooper. I-”
“Was a form of public humiliation you might not have deserved. But Mike Chapman doesn’t deserve anything like it either, nor do I. So I happened to stop by the lab this morning, and I can promise you that finding your DNA in the mixture of the fingerprints on your so-called death threats will undercut anyone’s belief in the crap you’re trying to sell and may-most thankfully-get you bounced right off the bench.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Most of the time I actually do, Judge. And I’m presenting witnesses at a hearing in ten days in front of your colleague, Judge Heller, about the admissibility of FST-fragmentary mixtures of DNA. So I’m pretty much up to speed on the science of it, and that-along with the comic book antics of your imaginary hit men-well, I’d say the likelihood of your reappointment to the court is about as promising as an encore hookup with Detective Chapman.”
“You’re going to pay for this, Alexandra Cooper.”
“Threaten me again, Your Honor, why don’t you? I have a fierce loyalty to my friends and to the colleagues I respect, and I’m not about to let you bring one of the best detectives in the city down because you think you’ve been seduced and abandoned.”
“Even if my DNA is on that stationery, I can explain that to Scully and the analysts. My relationship with Chapman has nothing to do with the legitimacy of the threats I’ve received.” Jessica Pell looked like a caged animal now.
“Legitimate, my ass. Which headline will come first, do you think? JILTED JUDGE FEIGNS FEAR?” I asked. “Or PELL PENS POISON EPISTLES?”
Jessica Pell was ready to bring our conversation to an end. She came out from behind the desk and started to walk past me to the door.
“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, Ms. Cooper.”
“Just warming up, Judge.” I took a step back to get out of her way. “I think the ultimatum you gave to Sergeant Chirico was that he find some way to discipline Mike Chapman by the end of this week or you’d go to the commissioner. So I guess if you haven’t withdrawn your complaint by noon tomorrow, we get to take our gloves off and get down and dirty.”
Jessica Pell stopped in her tracks. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“I’ve asked the lab to rush the results of the analysis of your letters. And I hate when law enforcement officers leak information, Your Honor, but they’d make such a great story for the Sunday papers-along with the photo of your car parked in front of my building last night. It will be hard to find someone to believe you after that.”
The judge pivoted to face me, lifting her right arm to take a swipe at my face. I turned my head to try to avoid the slap, but two of her nails caught the edge of my cheek.
“They won’t believe this either,” she said. “But you deserve it, and a kick in the gut to go with it. I suggest, Ms. Cooper, that the prosecution rests.”
My face stung, and I could feel a trickle of blood run down the side of it. Before I wiped it away, I reached for the battery pack on my waistband and held it in front of Pell’s nose.
“I have the feeling the sound of you hitting me will come through loud and clear, Your Honor,” I said. “And actually, I’m very well rested.”
TWENTY-ONE
“Did that snow monkey get a piece of your cheek, or did you cut yourself shaving this morning?” Mike asked.
It was 1:30 in the afternoon, and for the first time in days, clouds were moving in over the Park. We were standing at the foot of the Bow Bridge, where Angel’s body had been found.
“Must have been a cat,” I said.
“Want to tell me about it?” he asked, hands on hips as he kept up the usual tone of our patter in front of the group of cops standing behind him.
“Nothing to tell. I just scraped it on the edge of the kitchen cabinet when I reached for a coffee mug.”
“I know you can’t cook, Coop, but not even a safe cup of brew?”
“Danger everywhere,” I said. There was no point telling him about my tête-à-tête with Jessica Pell unless my efforts failed. “What’s here?”
“I checked in with Hal Sherman this morning, to see the Panoscan.”
“They filmed it right from this spot, didn’t they?”
“Exactly. It’s interesting, but I don’t know that it gives us much.”
Mike was looking due north, and I took my place next to him. We were even with East 73rd Street, though much closer to Central Park West.
“To the north,” he said, “all you can see is the Ramble. It’s tree covered and so steep that anything-or anyone-up there would be obscured from viewing this place or being in sight range. There could be a connection, of course, or it could be where the killer came from-”
“And the body, too.”
“Yes, and the body. But the foliage is too dense to see through.”
He turned to his right and I did the same. Above the tree line, the upper floors and rooftops of the prestigious addresses of Fifth Avenue-the Gold Coast, as it has often been called-dominated the view.
“See how many of them have the little eyelid windows you were talking about?” Mike said.
“All the old buildings do.”
“The staff sure had the best views, if nothing else.”
Then we took in the southern perimeter, just as we had from the Arsenal roof the night before. Finally we were facing west, staring directly at the façade and roof of the Dakota, with a completely unobstructed view.
“I froze the Panoscan right there,” Mike said, “and zoomed it in. You can see everything so clearly from this point.”