She thought about it for a few seconds. “Y’know,” she said, “you’re pretty smart for a pack mule.”
“We still have to nail both of them,” I said, “but we have a better shot at finding Teddy. Any word from NCIC on Annie Ryder?”
“As of an hour ago, they haven’t yet come up with a viable hit on her. She has a three-year-old Maryland license with a Baltimore address, but she hasn’t lived there in more than two years. Since then, she got a speeding ticket in Nashville and another one on the Jersey Turnpike. She’s not easy to pin down.”
“For all we know she got those tickets on purpose, just to throw the bloodhounds off the scent,” I said. “Q was right. She doesn’t want to be found.”
“Oh, we’ll find her,” Kylie said. “In the meantime, let’s go see if Leo Bassett has had the cocktail sauce removed from his jacket and the broom removed from his ass.”
Chapter 29
On the way downtown, I got a text from Chuck Dryden.
“Good news,” I said to Kylie. “We’ve got ballistics back on Raymond Davis’s Walther. It’s a 100 percent match with the gun that killed Elena. Of course, there’s no way we can prove that Raymond was the shooter.”
“No, but on the plus side,” Kylie said, “we don’t have to bring him to trial.”
West 21st Street was back to normal. The media vans and the paparazzi were gone, most likely in hot pursuit of the crime du jour.
Leo buzzed us in and was anxiously waiting for us when the elevator doors opened. “Detectives,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re back. I must apologize for my little hissy fit the other night, but I was beyond distraught about Elena.”
“We understand perfectly,” Kylie said. “There have been some developments in the case, and we have some pictures we’d like to show you.”
“What kind of developments?”
“First, we’d like you and your brother to look at some photos.”
“Suspects?” he said, tapping his fingertips together as if he were applauding.
“Persons of interest,” I said.
“Oh, I love that term,” he said. “Let’s do it. I’ll get Max.”
We sat down at the dining room table with both of them and laid out six mug shots, two of which were Teddy and Raymond.
“I’ve never seen any of them in my life,” Max said immediately.
Leo took his time. He picked up one of the pictures and stared at it. “Oh, of course,” he said.
“You recognize him?” I asked.
“I thought I did, and then I finally figured it out. He looks like a young Richard Widmark.”
“The actor?” I said.
“Yes, but the early years. Like when he played Tommy Udo in Kiss of Death,” he said. “I’m sure this is absolutely no help at all, but at least I’m taking a few minutes to put a name to the face.”
“I didn’t need a few minutes,” Max said, looking directly at me, although the dig was clearly aimed at his brother. “I’ve never seen any of them. Leo said you had some developments in the case. What are they?”
“There was a shooting on the Lower East Side last night. This man is dead, and this one is wounded and on the run.” I pointed to Raymond’s mug shot, then to Teddy’s. “We have good reason to believe they stopped the limo and killed Elena Travers.”
“Who are they?” Max said.
“Raymond Davis and Teddy Ryder. Do either of those names ring a bell?”
They both shook their heads.
“They’re career felons, but this crime is way above their pay grade,” I said. “They may have been turning over the necklace to the person who hired them when the shooting went down.”
“Did you recover the necklace?” Max said.
“No, but we were hoping you might be able to identify the probable shooter.”
I handed Max the fuzzy surveillance screenshot we pulled out of Elliott Moritz’s security video.
He studied it. “The lighting is terrible. It could be anybody. It’s certainly nobody I recognize... from life or the movies,” he added as he handed the screenshot to Leo.
Leo looked at it and shook his head. “Can you get us a better picture? A different angle? Or maybe do some of those crazy computer tricks to make it less blurry, like they do on the TV shows?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bassett,” I said. “It is what it is. We knew it was a long shot, but we had to ask.”
“What do we do now?” Leo asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “We just wanted to touch base with you and let you know we’re making progress. We’ll get back to you soon.”
Leo escorted us to the elevator, and Kylie and I rode down without saying a word. Only when we were back in the car and out of range of their security cameras did Kylie break the silence.
“What’s your take on those two?” she said.
“Max is a coldhearted bastard who cares more about the missing necklace than about the dead woman who was wearing it. And Leo, who doesn’t understand the difference between the movies and real life, acts like he’s starring in a jewelry heist film, and the two of us are extras who play cops. What’s your take?”
“You know me, Zach. I suspect everybody of everything. The problem is, Max seems too smart to hire a couple of bozos like Teddy and Raymond, and Leo seems too dumb to put an operation like this together. So based on what we know about them, it’s hard to connect them to the crime.”
“Then maybe the real problem is, we don’t know enough about them,” I said, taking out my phone. “Yet.”
Chapter 30
Leo Bassett stood behind the drapes, peeked out the window at West 21st Street, and watched as Detectives Jordan and MacDonald drove off.
“They’re gone,” he said.
“They’ll be back,” his brother said.
“Two or three more times, maybe,” Leo said with a toss of his hand. “The last time around the cops barely bothered to talk to us. Don’t worry. These two will give up soon enough. They always do.”
They always do. Max closed his eyes and marveled at how blissfully ignorant his brother could be.
Over the past twenty-two years, the Bassetts had been the victims of three previous robberies. Each one had been flawlessly planned by Max and executed by professionals. None of the cases had been solved, and the claims, each one filed with a different insurance company, were paid in full — a total of nineteen million dollars. Max then recut the stolen gems and sold them as loose stones.
“Leo,” Max said patiently, “these two cops will not give up. They will be back again, and again, and again. You want to know why?”
Leo shrugged.
Max exploded. “Because they’ve got a dead fucking movie star on their plate. I told you this was a bad idea from the get-go. Banta and Burkhardt are in prison for the next thirty years, and what did I say to you? I said let’s not press our luck. Let’s not try this with somebody new. But no: you swore that Jeremy could pull it off, and he’d bring in two top-notch replacements. Top-notch? One is dead, the other is on the run, and the cops have a surveillance picture of your boy toy. You better find Jeremy and our necklace before they do, or we’re in deep shit. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”
“Talk you into it? Don’t lay this on me. What choice did we have? We’re hemorrhaging money. Do you know how much you’ve spent on your over-the-top African safaris and your insane deep-sea expeditions?” Leo demanded. “And God knows how many millions you’ve poured into the lake house.”
“While you, on the other hand, are as frugal as a church mouse on a pension.”
“I’ve worked hard all my life, Max. I’ve earned my little taste of la dolce vita.”