“The white guy with the scarface was Pavel. Russian dude, I think. The black guy, no. Oh, and there’s another guy who works for Expo, named Bud. I never met him, but Whitney mentioned him, and Expo talked to him on the phone when I was at Screen that night.”
“Did Whitney say anything in particular about Bud? Any details?”
“He was a go-between. The one who’d call her when Expo wanted her to do something.”
“Trevor, let me ask you something,” Dan said. “Just hypothetical, now. Think you could get into Screen, maybe take Detective Mulqueen with you, introduce her around so she can make a controlled buy of heroin from Esposito or one of his employees?”
“Hey, wait a minute-” Patty Atkins began, but Trevor cut her off.
“Hey, it’s cool. Really, Patty, I’m not afraid of any of this. I’m pretty into it.”
“Trevor, Patty’s right to be concerned,” Melanie said. “I want to make sure myself that if you go to Screen, we have all the bases covered as far as your safety’s concerned.”
“Quite honestly, the last time I was there, I bought some X. The Russian bodyguard steered me to a house dealer who was operating out of the men’s room. So it’s cool, I’ve done it before. I’d recognize Expo’s people, and they’d do business with me.”
“And just so everybody’s extra comfortable,” Dan said, “Detective Mulqueen can do the actual buy. I’ll go, too, blend into the crowd, observe and jump in if anything starts looking hinky. We’ll be right on top of Trevor the whole time.”
“There’s just one problem,” Trevor said.
“What’s that?” Melanie asked.
“Screen moves around.”
“You mean, like, the floor moves?”
Trevor giggled. “The floor? What, like Saturday Night Fever? What century are you from? No, see, Expo’s regular clubs are strictly for the bridge-and-tunnel crew. Celebs and ‘it girls’ like Whitney Seward and their posses, they turn up their noses at those places. They only go to underground clubs, see?”
“Underground?”
“Secret. Not only do you have to know someone to get in, you have to know someone just to find the place. Screen changes locations every week, and people follow it around. It’s always in some totally bizarre place. The time I went, it was in this secret bunker beneath the Waldorf that was built for some, like, railroad tycoon or something,” Trevor said.
“So where is it now?” Dan asked.
“That, I wouldn’t know. You can’t just dial Information to find it, and I’m not hooked up. So like I said, there’s a problem.”
“No sweat,” Melanie said. “I’ll take care of getting that information. When it comes to New York City nightlife, I have the greatest source in the world.”
20
BY THE TIME Melanie finished debriefing Trevor Leonard, it was after six o’clock. She needed to get on the stick if she wanted to sneak her team into Screen that night to do a heroin buy from Esposito’s people.
Melanie whipped out her cell phone, where she had her sister on the speed dial.
“Dígame,” Linda answered.
“Hey, chica, where are you?”
“Getting a pedicure and a wax. I have a date later.”
“You and Josh sure are getting hot and heavy. When am I gonna meet him?”
“Josh who? We broke up.”
“You’re kidding! When?”
“Mmm, yesterday.”
“And you’re onto somebody new already?”
“Why sit home?”
“Fast work, even for you. I’m impressed.”
“Get with the program, bebé. You should take a page from my book.”
“Yeah, right, I’ll give it some thought. So, listen, what time are you going out?”
“Uh-oh. I feel a request to baby-sit coming on.”
“If you’re volunteering, I accept, but that’s not why I called.”
“So you’re not working late tonight?”
“Well, actually I am, but-”
“Again? Your bodacious ass should quit that job, chica.”
“Right. As long as Maya and I can live with you, because then we’ll be destitute.”
“I’m serious. That boss of yours is a rhymes-with-witch.”
“You’re not the only one who thinks so, but this isn’t on her.”
“For God’s sake, it’s almost Christmas, Mel.”
“Tell it to the bad guys. They’re the ones making me work late. Anyway, I need a favor, and it’s not baby-sitting. It’s more in your skill set, sis.”
JUST AS MELANIE was grabbing her coat to run home and steal some precious moments with Maya, the phone on her desk rang. The caller ID displayed Bernadette’s extension. Melanie did the calculation in her head-how fast she could sprint to the elevator versus how long it would take Bernadette to get out to the hall and catch her. Drat!
She reached for the receiver. “Yes, Bern.”
“Hey, girlfriend, I need an update on the Holbrooke ODs case.”
“Okay, sure, no problem. We-”
“Not now. I’m on a conference call. Six-thirty, my office.”
And Bernadette hung up. Melanie kicked her desk in frustration. Why the helldja call me if you were already on the phone? Now she was stuck waiting around, using up what was likely to be her only personal time for days to come. She tried not to feel sorry for herself, but really, she missed her daughter. Linda was right-it was holiday season, December 18 at 6:10 A.M, to be exact. Not many shopping days left till Christmas. Shouldn’t she be home? Everyone else in the world was partying or decorating the tree or spending time with family. Wait a minute, though, not everyone. Not Carmen Reyes. Or Brianna Meyers or Whitney Seward. Melanie reminded herself why she did this job.
The thought of Christmas shopping made her crazy, though. Between work and Maya’s being sick, she hadn’t had time to get anything for her poor little daughter. She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes until Bernadette wanted to see her. Hmm, the miracle of the Internet. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but…
Melanie went online, searching for toys for Maya. She wanted a doll with dark hair and pudgy cheeks, one that looked like Maya. The selection on Amazon was vast, but nothing seemed to fit the bill. Dolls with bottles. Dolls that wet and cried real tears. Dolls that smelled like baby powder. Dolls with removable clothes to teach zipping and buttoning skills. None of them had the right look. Finally, time running out, Melanie started looking at storybooks instead. She didn’t spend enough time reading with Maya. Heck, she didn’t spend enough time doing anything with Maya.
“Melanie Vargas, what do you think you’re up to?”
Melanie nearly fell out of her chair.
“Bernadette, I-”
“Your office Internet connection is reserved for official government business!” Bernadette snapped, looming over Melanie’s desk.
“Yes, I know. I-”
“Yeah, since when is Dora the Explorer official business?”
“I’m sorry. I had a few extra minutes while I waited for you to-”
“I never hold this single-motherhood thing against you, Melanie. I even assign you a high-profile case. In exchange, I expect to see some discipline.”
“Look, Bernadette, I apologize. It won’t happen again. And you don’t need to worry. Everything is under control on the Holbrooke case. We have a promising new angle, a cooperator-”
Melanie’s phone rang. Saved by the bell! It was her boss’s secretary, Shekeya Jenkins, calling to say Vito Albano was on the line for Bernadette.
“I’ll take it in my office,” Bernadette said. “You, come with me. I swear, I have to watch you every second.”
Melanie’s face went hot with indignation, but she held her tongue and followed Bernadette down the hall to her corner suite, which sat at the intersection of the two corridors housing the Major Crimes Unit. BERNADETTE DEFELICE, CHIEF, screamed the brass nameplate, all in caps. Why did it seem like every time she walked into her boss’s office, Melanie’s stomach was upset for one reason or another? She wasn’t alone in this: Everyone else’s relationship with Bernadette was the same way. Yet as much as she resented her boss, she admired her, too. Bernadette was exciting, dynamic, and good at her job. She got things done. She had the best Rolodex in the business and therefore brought in the best cases. She recruited talented prosecutors and demanded the best work from them. Too bad she accomplished all that by wielding a stick instead of a carrot, but still, Melanie wouldn’t trade the experience for anything less dramatic or interesting.