Maher switched the microphone off and quickly sewed up the now hollow places with coarse stitches. His assistant, a morose Puerto Rican, helped him move the body to a gurney, which he then wheeled away to the cold room.
“Ten hits, I counted,” said Maher, “of which we have four. I presume the others are in the keeping of either the police or the Department of Sanitation. Funny thing, bullets: when I was in the E.R. during my residency, we had a lad who had thirteen bullet wounds in him, and not a one in a vital spot. He walked out in a week. Then we get them done in by a single.22. It’s luck or artistry. This was not an artistic killing, Roland.”
Hrcany grunted. He already knew the killers were amateurs; he was at the autopsy to see it established that the shots had killed the vic, which was perfectly obvious in the first place.
“Care for a drop, Roland?” asked Maher brightly. “It would help to underscore the gulf between good Christian men like ourselves and followers of the deplorable Mahound. Sad, that is: his immaculate liver didn’t do him a hair of good, and he’s dead as Murphy’s cat in the prime of life.”
“You still drinking lab alcohol, Denny?”
“Of course. It’s nature’s pure stuff, without all those confusing esters and adulterants.”
Roland shook his head and, while Maher decanted a slug of ethanol into a small beaker, glanced over at another gurney. There was something odd about the shape under its cloth. “What’s that? Another bag of parts?” he asked.
“No, not at all. But you might be interested in her, Roland, you being a connoisseur of the girls. That’s what you might call an extremely flat-chested woman.”
He drew the sheet off with a flourish.
Roland’s teeth clamped down hard on the wooden bit of his Tampa Nugget. “Fascinating, Denny. What the fuck happened to her?”
“Took a swan dive off a six-story building and landed facedown. Interesting the way the internal organs have jetted out of the body orifices. It’s going to be a messy one to do. The teeth are all over the place, assuming that they’re not still back at the scene. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if I found some lodged in the brain. And of course we’ll need them for an ID. The high school graduation picture won’t do it for this girlie.”
“A Jane Doe, huh? What, a suicide?”
“It appears so right now. No sign of foul play is obvious, but of course, the amazing Dr. Maher has not worked his forensic miracles yet.”
Roland chuckled. “I guess this’ll be one of the ones that doesn’t get fucked by the staff.”
“Well, as to that,” Maher replied, “there are all sorts of tastes in the profession. I, of course, have never indulged; one imagines it’s much like it is with an Irishwoman, but a bit warmer and without the crying and jabber afterward. Good day to you, Roland.”
Hrcany left, laughing his booming laugh. Maher’s assistant came in and asked hopefully, “You wanna knock it off for today, Doc?”
“No, Carlos,” said Maher, “I want to work on our little pancake here. Hose down the table and help me get her on. You can take off at five.”
At six, Roland Hrcany knocked on the door of Karp’s office and walked in.
“Well,” Karp said, looking up and rubbing his eyes, “were you on TV? Did they love your golden curls?”
“I was and they did. Bloom asked where you were.”
“I bet. He likes to have me where he can see me. How’d it go?”
“Great, great,” said Hrcany noncommittally. “The usual horseshit. Tomasian’s been booked. We’ll arraign him tonight. I’ll probably want to go to the grand jury early next week.”
“That fast?”
“Yeah, why not? We got plenty-or am I missing something?” Hrcany’s bright little blue eyes narrowed.
Karp took a breath and threw down his pencil. “Roland, what do you say I buy you a drink? You deserve it.”
Hrcany’s tight expression turned instantly to amazement. “You want to buy me a drink? Butch, we’ve been working together for twelve years. You never bought me a drink before. Come to that, you don’t even drink.”
Karp rose to his feet and shoveled some folders into a large, ragged cardboard folder that served as his briefcase. “Well, maybe it’s time I started,” he said. He put on his suit jacket and a tan raincoat.
“She’s giving you a hard time and you want to get your load on before going home, right?”
“It makes you happy to believe that,” answered Karp mildly, “but really, I figured, you cracked a big case, we’ll sit down, have a beer and talk about it, like regular people.”
Hrcany had to be satisfied by that explanation. They did, in fact, go to a bar, one in a Chinese restaurant on Bayard Street, a favorite of bail bondsmen, cheap lawyers, and other Criminal Courts habituees. The place was full of these, enjoying after-work drinks, or pre-work drinks, if they were about to handle the late work of the courts, and practicing venality. Karp felt right at home.
The room was smoky and painted glossy red, with the usual character scrolls, misty paintings on silk, dying snake plants, and very old, thin Chinese men arranged in appropriate places. Karp and Roland settled themselves in a red leatherette booth. A blank-faced Chinese woman appeared instantly and took their order.
“Roland, I’ve always wanted to know: how come every Chinese restaurant in the world, no matter how crummy, has a fully stocked cocktail lounge?”
Roland shrugged. “They use them to launder money from Hong Kong and import illegals? I don’t know. It’s part of their plan for world domination.”
“I thought that was the Jews.”
“You guys missed your chance,” said Roland. “Too much assimilation. The Chinese don’t make that mistake.” The waitress brought their drinks, a beer for Karp and a Dewars rocks for Hrcany. Karp put some bills out.
“You see that money?” Roland asked as the waitress swept it up. “Those bills will never touch white skin again. Once it’s in the Chinese community, the money never leaves.”
Karp grinned. “You’re an engaging bigot, Roland. Okay, forget the yellow peril. What’s your take on this Armenian and Turkish business?”
Hrcany drank half his scotch. Offhandedly he replied, “My take? A bunch of nuts, they got out of hand. They were writing letters about something that happened a million years ago, letters to the Turks, I mean. And somebody must have figured, the letters aren’t doing much good, let’s pop one of them, see what happens. They should’ve hired a pro. And for the cherry on top, look at this …”
Roland reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. He handed Karp two pages. “This one’s the transcript of the tape of the call-in of the assassination. The other’s a Xerox of a carbon we lifted from Tomasian’s file cabinet. There’s a typewriter there, and I guarantee you we’ll show it was typed on that machine. Notice any similarities?”
Karp read the two texts. “I see what you mean. This part about ‘thousands and thousands of the sons and daughters of the Armenian nation, cruelly butchered, cry out for recognition and recompense. If they do not receive their due, then the fighters of the Armenian Secret Army will extract vengeance instead.’ It’s word for word the same in both places. Pretty impressive, Roland. It’ll play great in court.” He handed the papers back and took another sip of beer. “I guess there’s no question that we’re going to have to try this one.”
“For sure-there’s no hint of a deal. He says he didn’t do it and doesn’t know who did, and I gotta say, he’s a cool little fucker. Compared to the people I usually have up on murder, it’s a pleasure doing business with him. His lawyer’s also right by the book too. Another Armenian, Hagopian his name is. Nice guy, looks like that guy used to do Perry Mason on TV.”
“Raymond Burr,” said Karp. “You’re in trouble, Roland.”
Hrcany laughed, “Yeah, right. No, we’ll take him down. And I’ll make another bet: in a little while we’ll pick up the other guy too. Either Tomasian will rat him out, or he’ll do something dumb. Yeah, I know I said he was being cool, but it hasn’t sunk in yet. He hasn’t thought about what it’s going to be like for a nice middle-class boy looking at twenty-five to life with the smokes upstate. Plus, the momma and the daddy and the sisters and whatever haven’t been to work on him yet. He’ll deal. And if not, fuck him, we’ll try and we’ll convict. What’s wrong, you don’t think so?”