Woody looked as if he might pass out with delight over this account. His humor was a little off as always. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Allegra Caldera," she said easily.
April couldn't believe her ears.
"Hi, Allegra, I'm Detective Baum. This is Sergeant Woo," Woody introduced them, clearly smitten again.
"Police?" the girl said excitedly.
"Yes. We're from the police." April showed off her gold shield, guessing this was the girl they were looking for.
"Police?" Allegra said again, puzzled this time, as if the word had a funny taste. April noticed that her fingernails were badly bitten, and her sharp collarbone showed clearly through the thin fabric of her white blouse. She was a schoolgirl, pretty, starving, and not very old. Her eyes showed alarm, but she didn't seem to be afraid of them.
"Yes, we're looking for Dr. Atkins."
"He didn't do anything wrong, did he?" This appeared to be the girl's worry. She jumped off the sofa.
"No, of course not. But he's missing." April noted the flushed face and girl's puzzlement. She, at least, did not appear to be stoned.
"He is?"
"Didn't you see all the activity? This section of Central Park has been closed all afternoon. It made a mess of the whole West Side." This from Woody, suddenly a conversationalist.
Allegra shook her head. "No, I got off the subway at Ninety-sixth Street and walked over."
"Where were you coming from?" Woody's voice was funny. The idiot had the dazed look of someone who'd fallen down a flight of stairs. He was talking, but he wasn't all there. Pretty girls had a devastating effect on him.
Allegra saw it, too. "The Bronx. I live in Riverdale. Why are you asking me these questions?"
"We're tracing Dr. Atkins's actions yesterday to see if we can figure out where he might be."
"Well, he must be here." Allegra ran over to one of the three doors off the waiting room and knocked. "Dr. Atkins," she cried. "Dr. Atkins! Open the door!"
April gave Woody a look as he pulled out his camera. They had a situation. The girl thought Maslow was inside the office, and they hadn't searched here first. Were they both out of their minds? How could they have missed this? If Maslow was inside the office, he was probably dead. Maybe he was a suicide. Maybe he'd had a heart attack. It happened. Sweat rolled down her sides. Or he could have been murdered here. Jesus, if she'd called out the whole city on this, and the man was dead in his office, her entire career, indeed her whole life, was over. She was an idiot, an unbelievable idiot.
The girl was weeping. "Oh God, I'm really sorry."
Another click in April's mind. This was the voice on Maslow's answering machine.
"Listen, Allegra, calm down. Tell me what you know about this," she said.
"I will, I will, but please, check in there first. I'm so scared."
"Sure." Good plan. April snapped her fingers at Woody. Get a grip.
"Boss?" he said blankly.
"Take Allegra out in the hall."
"Are you going to break into his office?" she cried, blocking the door.
"No. I'm just going to open the door."
"That's breaking in. Isn't that against the law?" Allegra demanded.
"We're the law," April told her. "This is what we do. Go out in the hall."
"Oh my God, don't touch anything. He's a doctor. Everything in there is confidential."
The hair rose on April's neck. What was she seeing? What was coming out of this kid? What was going on here? "Sit down," she ordered Allegra. "And don't move."
"Boss?" Woody queried, eager to do the break-in.
"I'll do it." April would have used her precious MasterCard, on which there was a balance due of eight hundred and thirty-two dollars because of two pairs of really pretty shoes, a suit for herself, and the recent colorful shirts and ties she'd bought her lover. But using the card would not have negated the debt.
Instead, from her purse she pulled the thin, flexible strip locksmiths use when people lock themselves out. It was one of the necessities she kept with her at all times.
Both Woody and the girl watched as she slid the strip between the door and the lock and popped the door open. They all held their breath as April went into the still, empty room. Then her phone rang and she answered it.
Twenty-three
Lieutenant Mike Sanchez was having a bad day. He had a hangover and the guilts on two fronts about the love of his life, April Woo. First thing was April had messed up big time on this Maslow Atkins case and wasn't backing off to save her ass as she should. Out of kindness and concern for her future, he felt he had to be straight with her.
On another front, he wasn't looking so good himself. He'd made his own little blunder and had to confess, because keeping secrets from the girl he intended to marry was not his style. It all started last night when he went up to the Bronx to have dinner with his mother, Maria. She still lived on Broadway and 236th Street in the Bronx in the apartment where he'd grown up. After dinner, he'd gone down to the Van Cortlandt Bar and Grill to meet up with his old partner, Devon, for a few beers. Tuesday had been a hot and steamy night, the air conditioner was working overtime, and he hadn't been there for thirty seconds when Carla Diverso came over.
"Where have you been hiding yourself?" she asked. "I was about to give up on you."
"No kidding. What's up?" He didn't want to get involved with her, but he didn't want to be mean either. The kid's life was nothing but trouble.
"You never talk to me on the phone anymore. I've been hanging around for weeks, hoping you'd stop by," she complained, then gave him a big smile to soften him up.
"Okay, so talk."
While he waited for Devon to show up he'd let Carla tell him her troubles, which turned out to be legion. She wanted him to be her "friend." Of course he knew what that meant. It got later and later, and Devon never showed up at all. Mike had a few too many beers and explained that he couldn't be anybody's friend, he was going to marry April.
"That's great. I'll help you choose a ring," Carla told him excitedly. "I'll go with you tomorrow."
He had no idea why, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Carla ended up spending the night at his place, but all they'd done was talk about April the whole time. Now he felt like a great jackass for letting Carla worm into his life, even for ten minutes, let alone a whole night. He'd intended to tell April the whole story this morning. Then the jogger thing came up.
April was in trouble with everyone. She was late. And he was getting impatient. He rang her on the cell phone to see what was keeping her. She picked up right away.
"Querida, where the hell are you?" he demanded.
"Uh, Maslow's office. Any news?"
"No. What about you?"
"I'm just finishing up."
"Well, finish fast. I need to talk to you," he said.
"I'm on my way," she said.
He felt a little better. If he got her a really nice ring, maybe she wouldn't be so upset about losing the case.
Twenty-four
Armed with Allegra's address, phone number, and a promise to talk again tomorrow, April and Woody made a big mistake. They believed it would be a piece of cake to call her in again for further questioning tomorrow, and they let her go. Then, they collected Maslow's appointment book, patient lists, and speckled patient notebooks, and drove to Jason Frank's Riverside Drive building. She'd promised Mike she was on her way and left Woody downstairs in the car.
"I'll just be five minutes," she told him.
Upstairs in Jason's apartment, Emma opened the door with baby April in her arms. Before April had a chance to say hello or admire the baby, the phone rang.
"Excuse me." Without warning, Emma handed over the baby and went to answer it. April had s6en babies in her time. At family gatherings they were always the center of attention. For a decade Skinny Dragon had been using other people's adorable babies to beat April over the head with the lack of her own. April had come to look on them as triple trouble because of the woes they brought her.