“No femurs or clavicles?”
“Say what?” Brady answered.
“Take a look, Coop. Not every day you get a graveyard lost and found.”
Brady trudged up the steps and we went along with him. The cop on duty handed him the box when he asked for it. He untied the string that latched it and opened it up.
“I threw out all the garbage, of course. Food and soda cans and such.”
He scrambled around and came out with a small plastic freezer bag. I could see that it held three black plastic pieces-a compact, lipstick, and a mascara applicator.
“It’s actually the brand I use,” I said, studying the damp baggie. “Do you mind?”
I reached for the corner of the bag. “You found this around the side of the building, where I fell?”
Brady turned to his men. “That where it was?”
“No, not the makeup,” the taller man answered. “I got some other things out of that hole. This was right here in the trench at the bottom of the steps.”
Mike pulled back the lid of the box and poked around inside.
“Not my shades, but it’s all Chanel,” I said. “What are you looking for in there?”
“A smoking gun. A straw, so I can grab at it.”
“I may have the straw after all,” I said. “Look at this, Mike.” I held up the bag between my fingertips.
“What?”
“These three makeup cases. It’s the same brand Salma used. We can check the colors against others in her bathroom. It’s too expensive for most of the women who work in City Hall.”
“Long shot but I’m with you.”
“It gets better. See those nubby little things that are caught in the zipper of the baggie? Sort of off-white wooly threads.”
“Yeah?”
“They look like the same color wool as the blanket that was covering Salma’s body when she was thrown in the well.”
“I suppose the lab could give us an answer on that for certain,” Mike said. “Now just find me the perp. I’ve always wanted to put lipstick on a pig.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
“What do you mean who’s been here lately?” I said, tossing a glance back at the burial ground as we walked out of City Hall Park.
“Like Donny Baynes,” Mike asked. We were crossing Chambers Street at five o’clock for the short walk to the entrance of the U.S. Attorney’s Office, practically on the doorstep of One Police Plaza. “I wonder if he’s done any business at City Hall this week.”
“We’re about to find that out,” I said. “Think of it. The mayor goes up those steps every day, along with his bodyguards. Kendall Reid’s office is here. Ethan Leighton came by to see him-against Lem’s orders yesterday-which is really interesting.”
“And you know what, Coop? After the news story about the burial-ground ditches the other night, it would be the perfect place for someone out to nail Statler-like old man Moses-to have evidence planted, if that’s what your little baggie actually is. But don’t get too bent out of shape yet. Maybe the Avon lady dropped her stash.”
We passed through another security post and took the elevators to the task force quarters on the sixth floor. Most of the doors were closed and the corridor was quiet. The federal prosecutors’ offices were much newer and cleaner than our distressed old surroundings. We reached Baynes’s room and I knocked before trying the knob, but it was locked.
“Go around the corner,” I said to Mike. “He’s got a small conference room.”
As we made the turn I could hear voices. One man was shouting at another who kept talking over him-it sounded like Ukrainian to me-and again I knocked.
The shouting ceased. Someone called out, “Yeah?”
I waited for the door to be opened. Seconds later, I was rewarded by the sight of one of the federal agents, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, who begrudgingly cracked it a hair.
“Who you looking for?” he asked as he eyed us.
“Donovan Baynes,” I said.
Chairs scraped the surface of the floor and I heard Donny’s voice calling my name. “Alex? I’ll be out.”
The agent stepped away and Donny emerged from the room. He, too, had removed his suit jacket and tie, and appeared to be as exhausted as I felt.
“Sorry to interrupt you.”
“Everything all right?”
“Yes. We’ve had an interesting day.”
“What are you up to?” Mike asked.
“The agents started with some of the boat crew yesterday, trying to reconstruct all the events. Find out what they know.”
“Who you got in there?”
“A couple of my guys, one of the young task-force prosecutors, an interpreter-and that’s one of the engineers from the boat.”
“He doesn’t sound happy.”
“If his happiness were my goal, Mike, I would have gone to clown school, you know?”
The shouting had begun again in earnest, voices overlaying each other, punctuated by the sound of a fist banging on the table.
“You waterboarding in there or just surfing?”
Donny smiled. “This is either the dumbest bunch of seamen who ever crossed the Atlantic, or the crew’s been paid a king’s ransom to take one for the team.”
“Can we talk to you for a couple of minutes?” I asked.
“What’s up?”
“In your office.” I gestured at the sterile corridor.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”
He took us back, unlocked the door, and invited us in. It was already beginning to look like the war room of a major investigation. New file cabinets were standing catty-corner to old ones, drawers open, and boxes of documents-just the tip of the iceberg of those that would be collected in the coming months-sat waiting to be organized and filed.
“You look so serious, Alex. Everything okay with the two young women you spirited out of my custody?” He was adjusting the blinds as we lost the day’s light.
“We made some progress with the first interview. Nan and I are both optimistic that we’ll get these girls to open up. And from what we hear they had a great first night in the shelter. Nothing wrong on that front.”
“What, then?” Donny asked, checking his answering machine for messages.
“I think we need to spend some time talking about your relationship with Ethan Leighton,” I said.
“He’s been a friend since law school. A good one. I don’t have to tell you how shocked I am by all this.” Now he was sorting the markers in the front of his desk drawer.
“You do, actually,” Mike said. “That’s just what you have to tell me. How shocked are you? I recall sitting with you Thursday night while Coop charted all the connections between people in this case on her blackboard. I just can’t remember seeing a line that stretched from Salma Zunega directly over to you.”