I waited until the interpreter led Olena and Lydia away before I spoke. “I’m not sure what I saw. Did you get the make of the car?”
“Get what about it? It was a station wagon, I think.”
“I could swear it was a minivan. Did you see a plate?”
“Alex, I wasn’t even aware of the thing. Why are you so freaked out?”
“In the first place, no one’s supposed to know that we’re here.”
“True. But nobody was following you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they’d be dizzy from the ride you took to get here. C’mon, you would have noticed. Whoever it is would have rear-ended you each time you stopped to point out a famous site. What do you think, they wanted some snaps of us for Cosmo for Prosecutors ’cause we look so hot at the end of a long week like this?”
I laughed. “Imagine, I almost had an entire day without a Chapman dose of reality, and here you are, doing it for him. So it wasn’t a glamour shot?”
“Lights and sirens coming your way. Pull yourself together, my dear friend.”
“Seriously, Nan. The bigger issue is whether some other lowlife is looking for his ex and figured out this is the spot. The cops just need to know about it. So does the executive director of the agency.”
The buzzer rang and I looked through the peephole to see a young uniformed cop standing outside before I opened the door.
“Hi, I’m Alex Cooper. This is Nan Toth. We’re with the DA’s Office.”
“Nice. I’m DeCicco,” he said, pointing to the name tag on his chest. “What’s up?”
“Nan and I are just bringing two of the victims from the shipwreck-you know the boat that was grounded in Queens early Wednesday morning?”
“Victims? Victims of what? They’re all illegals, right? Somebody on board killed somebody else, right?”
I was looking for a guy with some concern and empathy, but clearly drew the short straw.
“Two of these young ladies who I’m willing to vouch for aren’t murderers, okay? Can we start with that? And they’re not going to take your job away from you anytime soon. Commissioner Scully thinks they’ll be safe here.”
“Guess he knows. Somebody bothering them?”
“Not exactly. Nan and I drove them up here, and of course, no one’s supposed to know the address of this safe house, and as we were coming up the steps this car stopped and-”
“What car?”
“A black minivan, I think it was.”
The cop was looking at the expression on Nan’s face. “Not what you think, is it?”
“I mean, Alex really saw it. Might have been dark gray or green. I didn’t actually-”
“But you don’t think it was a minivan, do you?” DeCicco asked.
“Look, I don’t want to disagree with Alex because she’s the one-”
“What is she, the boss of you or something?” He looked at me again. “Where did it stop?”
“It didn’t exactly stop. I think the driver kind of braked and slowed down.”
“You’re beginning to sound like one of your own witnesses,” Nan said. “You would be coming down on the poor thing so hard right now.”
“Was he taking pictures or not, Nan?” I asked.
“He. You’re sure it’s a guy, right?” DeCicco asked.
“I didn’t see him. I’m assuming it was a guy, okay? The windows were very darkly tinted.”
“He-maybe she-was photographing you or the Russian broads?”
No point stopping for a geography lesson.
“I don’t know. It seemed like the flash went off four or five times.”
“You sure he wasn’t photographing the church across the street? People come here all the time to take pictures of it. Must be one of the oldest churches in the city.”
I looked across the street at the building, which had no remarkable architectural features.
“Understand me? I mean, can you say the camera was pointed at all of you and not across the street?” DeCicco asked.
“The windows were so dark I can’t honestly say where the camera was pointed. I just saw flashes of light.”
“Passenger window open facing you?”
I shook my head from side to side.
“So you couldn’t see if the driver’s window was open?”
“No.”
“Sort of makes more sense he’d be shooting at the church through an open window on his side and not through the tint at you, right? Don’t make sense.”
“Can you just take a report of this-this-?”
“It’s not a crime.”
“Okay, the incident, then. Just a record of the time and a description-well, a sort of description of the car.”
“Sure, miss. Sure, I’ll do that,” DeCicco said.
I’d been blown off more diplomatically in my life. “Thanks.”
“It wasn’t a department car, was it?” he asked.
“You’ve got minivans out here-unmarked vans?”
“We’ve got some wagons,” he said, nodding to Nan.
“Not all shiny-?”
“Sometimes we even wash ’em, you know?” DeCicco said, on his way down the steps. “Not to worry. They call us if there’s even the smell of trouble here. You take care, girls. See you in court.”
“Don’t say it, Nan. I lost that round.”
“Now, there’s a guy who could give Lem Howell a run for his money. Let me see-a cross that was rapier sharp-”
“Risible and rude. There’s your triplicate.”
We waited until Olena and Lydia had toured the facility, seen their first large-screen high-def television mounted in the lounge, greeted some of the other residents, and cried with joy when they were taken into their own little apartment.
At four thirty, Nan and I said good-bye to them and walked out to my SUV.
“Perfect timing,” I said, checking my watch. “I promised Vickee I’d be at the house before six.”
“I’ll hop on the train.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll drop you at Fifty-ninth Street and get on the bridge there.”
Mercer and Vickee lived in a gracious house in Douglaston, one of the most attractive neighborhoods in Queens. It borders on Nassau County and has a suburban feel. Blessed with excellent public schools, it’s a great neighborhood in which to raise kids.
“Still seeing ghosts around here?” Nan asked as I got in the car.
“All clear. Thanks for your trust,” I said. “You stood your ground with DeCicco. Remind me, am I the boss of you or what? It’s so refreshing to be humiliated every now and then.”
“I’m really much more worried about what you’re going to cook for Logan’s dinner. You know Vickee doesn’t let him have junk food.”