Hooked (22 page)

“Maybe you
should
call Mario Russo,” Tawny said.

“Maybe Mario Russo doesn’t need to be called.” Everyone turned to the door of the bedroom, where Mario stood, wearing a gray silk suit, black turtleneck, and a lethal expression.

“I like your doorman, Benny. When I said my name he’d have given me the keys to Fort Knox, if he had them.”

“T
awny’s in trouble,” Linc said. “She cut me off before I could finish.”

“Maybe she
was
in the middle of something.”

“I don’t think so. The phone wasn’t next to her mouth. It was pulled away, I could tell. Someone was listening.”

“Call it in. The 19
th
will be there in a hurry.”

Should he? If he did and they killed her in a panic, he’d never forgive himself. If he didn’t, they might kill her anyway, and he’d never forgive himself.

Linc shifted his focus out the car window. “Traffic’s moving now. Once we’re off the bridge, we’ll be there within a few minutes.”

A tow truck had come from the other side and moved one of the wrecks from the far lane. Dennis put on his flashers, and cars shifted and repositioned until he could squeeze through. “This has to be the upside for all the shit cops take.”

Dennis’s words barely registered. Linc’s thoughts were on Tawny. Why hadn’t she called as soon as something went wrong? Maybe it was his overactive imagination. Maybe she
was
in the middle of something and she couldn’t talk. He checked his watch. It was after eleven. Her appointment was at ten. He opened his cell and dialed her again. The phone went to voicemail. She’d definitely answer if she could.

“Tawny’s in over her head,” Linc said. “She can identify this Reggie fellow as a
possible murder suspect. They won’t let her go.”

“We don’t have a warrant, but we have probable cause. And she’s a material witness.”

“Yes, she is. If I have to arrest her to get her out of there, I will. We’ll see how Cooper reacts.” Linc’s cell rang. It was Harry.

“Sorry, Linc. I couldn’t take your call earlier. This is the first chance I’ve had. Mario Russo tried to give my guys the slip tonight, but they had backup. Want to guess where he went?”

Linc’s gut twisted. “Shit.”

“Yup. Cooper’s.”

“We’re on our way.”

“Have you talked to the Dell woman?”

A stab of irritation hit Linc at Harry’s derogatory tone in reference to Tawny. He let it pass. “Briefly. She cut me off when I tried to warn her she might be in danger.”

“Does she know about Martell?”

“No.”

“I don’t like that Russo is there, but before you get all bent out of shape, he could
―” Harry paused.

“He could what?” Linc asked.

“Be her appointment.” Harry said it but sounded like he didn’t want to.

That was one of many thoughts about Tawny that Linc had put out of his mind. Thinking of her with Russo tonight turned his stomach. Reality was rearing its ugly head. Tawny had warned him, and he didn’t listen. And he wouldn’t listen now either.

“Was he alone, or did he have one of his goons with him?” Linc asked.

“He could have ordered someone to meet him there. I have two men there. One out
front, one out back,” Harry said. “They’ll keep me posted.”

“Where’s the guy out front parked?”

“He’s in a Ford Escape, parked a few doors east of Cooper’s place on the other side. Name’s Clauson. Russo’s car’s up the street. There’s an exit in back, but the only way in or out is an alley a few buildings down.”

Linc chastised himself for not knowing about the back exit. But how could he have known Martell would be murdered? Did Tawny even see Reggie Cart at the scene?

“What are you planning?” Harry asked.

Linc thought about the possibilities. “I can’t barrel in there as much as I’d like to. Not without a warrant. I need time to check it out.”

“Um, yeah, okay. Keep me informed. Be careful.”

“I’ll keep in touch.” Linc called another member of their division, Roland Steele, and gave him the address of Cooper’s place and how to access the back entrance. “Stop anyone suspicious from leaving. We’re on our way.” He sucked in a few deep breaths, avoiding eye contact with Dennis.

The traffic was steady on FDR Drive. Dennis took the 61
st
Street exit, and before Linc knew it, they were parked within spying distance of the townhouse nicknamed Upper Eighties. Heavy drapes covered the windows, leaving the place dark and ominous.

They saw the Escape and approached on the driver side. Clauson expected them and said he’d be ready if they needed him for backup, but his job was to stay on Russo. They traded cell numbers.

Linc and Dennis crossed the street. They climbed the steps and Linc rang the bell.

T
awny wasn’t sure what was happening. Mario leaned against the door, confident and relaxed.
Why is he here?

Mario shook his head in a dismissive gesture. “You people are the biggest group of fuck-ups I’ve ever come across, and I’ve dealt with some first-class morons.”

Tawny had never heard this coldness in Mario’s voice before. Rather than say anything, she slunk into the boudoir chair in the corner and crossed her legs, trying to appear as calm as the crime boss. She doubted she’d pulled it off, considering the twitches of fear rattling her insides. Her worst nightmare had come to pass. Every person in the room wanted to kill her, and she had no way out. Despite Linc’s assurances of her safety, who’d really care about another dead hooker?

“Tawny, Tawny,” Mario said in a tone that conveyed not only weariness but disappointment. “You retire and then you show up here with the almost believable story that the IRS discovered your off-shore account. Yeah, the IRS found out, but not until the feds clued them in. That’s over their heads these days. Even a man like me, captivated by your beautiful body, had to be a little suspicious.”

At that, Eileen snorted. Russo glared at her, obviously annoyed at being interrupted, and she slunk into the corner.

“So I put a man on you to be sure. And wouldn’t you know? Who comes calling at
your place? A good-looking NYPD cop by the name of Lincoln Walsh. Did a check on him too. Not the kind of cop who blackmails pros to sleep with him, though I’ve known a few of those. Then, as if he’s not enough, you have lunch today with a federal agent at a noodle shop in Lincoln Center. Your kind of woman isn’t his thing either. So I ask myself—what’s she up to? And I came up with one conclusion. You’re working undercover for the cops.”

“That’s not true, I—”

“I knew there was something hinky about that bitch,” Eileen interrupted. “Look at her, sitting there like she’s better than the rest of us.” A quick glance at Russo. “Not better than you, Mario. Everyone else, though.”

Now Benny snorted.

Mario ignored Eileen, his focus riveted on Tawny. The thumping in Tawny’s chest reminded her of the timpani at the end of a symphony. Ba-boom, ba-boom. She could scarcely think for all the noise. She had to make an effort to clear her name, or she’d die in this chair.

“It’s not what it seems, Mario.” She spoke with the calm assurance of someone who’d done nothing wrong. “They had me between a rock and a hard place. The IRS found an offshore account, like I told you. The girl they fished out of the harbor called Walsh and mentioned Benny’s name, but that was hardly proof she worked here or that Benny had anything to do with her death. They gave me a choice. Prison or come here to find out whether Cooper killed her or had her killed. That’s all. You were never in the picture.”

Mario looked weak and tired, his face expressionless. Tawny needed to convince him she hadn’t betrayed him, but more was going on here, and she couldn’t figure out what. Why would Mario care about Benny and a dead hooker?

“Wait, wait!” Benny cried, facing Tawny. He flailed his arms in all directions, settling an accusing finger
on her. “You came here to get proof I killed Serena? Why you…you Benedict Arnold. Traitor, that’s what you are. A goddamn traitor.” He spun around to Mario. “And I, the world’s biggest schmuck, thought I was giving you a present. The most beautiful woman in my establishment, and you knew each other all along.” He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Schmuck. That’s what I am. An A-number-one schmuck.”

No kidding, Tawny thought.

Eileen chimed in, directing her question to Mario. “You knew Tawny before Monday? Had a long-running affair with her?”

Mario shifted his gaze to Eileen. His eyes were cold and narrow. For the first time Tawny saw the side of him she’d only heard about.

“Did you think you were my one and only, Eileen? I hope I never gave you that impression. You were one of many. Only Tawny was special, which is why this is so…upsetting.”

Eileen huffed and puffed and executed a series of Miriam Makeba-like tongue clicks.

“Wait, wait!” Benny said again. “You fucked my wife? When was this, Eileen?”

“Before we were married, sweetheart. Before you chose me to be the mother of your children. Then I never saw Mario again, did I, Mario?”

“That’s right, Benny. She married you and took herself off the market. Now,” Mario said, turning his attention back to Tawny, “you were saying.”

Tawny was hoping Benny and Eileen would get into it, distract Mario from probing further. No such luck. There wasn’t a friendly face anywhere. Other than Colin reaching for his partner’s hand, the two men stood like mannequins. Eileen glowered at her, and
Benny coddled his dick, sneering whenever their eyes met. Mario, though looking more exhausted by the minute, remained as cool and composed as when he made his entrance. He waited.

Her fate depended on Mario’s goodwill, which was in short supply tonight. “I never told the police anything because I never found out anything until tonight. As far as I knew, the dead girl didn’t even work here.”

“What were you doing at Martell’s yesterday?” Mario persisted.

Mario knew she went to Martell’s, and the only way he could is if Reggie told him. Reggie or one of the others in the room. She couldn’t tell him the real reason because if she ever got out of there, everyone in the room would tell the police. “I met with him to find out what to do with the money Benny was paying me.”

“You could have called him for the answer to that.”

“I had a few other questions too. I’d rather not say in front of these people.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Mario asked.

Mario’s grilling turned Tawny’s mouth into desert sand. “I didn’t want to bother you. You have enough on your plate right now.”

“Thoughtful.” His tone was anything but complimentary.

Harnessing her fear had become a losing struggle. When she brushed a strand of hair off her face, she realized her hand was shaking. She met Mario’s gaze.
Don’t flinch. Act like you have nothing to hide.
“I thought Monday night was…business. How could I know you were friends with—” Tawny flipped her hand dismissively in Eileen’s direction. “Them. They’re not in your league.”

“What?” Eileen popped a button on her blouse, and her left boob bounced half out. “That’s like saying we have no class. Why you’re nothing more than a little whore, sitting there like your shit doesn’t stink.”

Tawny drew a slow bead on Eileen. “It doesn’t.”

Mario blew out a giant guffaw and broke into laughter. “I love cat fights, and this could be entertaining if I were in a better mood.” The laugh vanished as quickly as it had materialized. “Unfortunately, I’m not.”

Charles knocked and stuck his head in the door. Had he been lingering outside getting an earful?

“Excuse me, Mr. Russo, I saw two men on the security camera. They identified themselves on the intercom as police officers. They want to see Mr. Cooper. Like right now.”

“Hold them off for a few minutes, will you?” Mario said calmly.

“Yes, sir.” Charles turned and hustled out.

“Mr. Russo?” Benny yelled after Charles. “Why were you telling him? Who the hell pays your salary? Whose place is this anyway?”

“Shut up, Cooper, and get dressed,” Mario said. “Everyone else, do what I tell you.”

L
inc tapped his foot impatiently at the long time it took between speaking into the intercom and someone opening the door. He pushed his way past the doorman. “Took you long enough,” he said.

“I had to reprogram the code. Sorry.”

Linc flashed his badge and absorbed the posh surroundings. “I’d like to see Mr. Cooper. Tell him Detectives Walsh and Hyde are here, please.”

“He has guests.”

Linc stepped forward. “Call him.”

The doorman nodded nervously and picked up the phone. He punched one number and told whoever answered that the police were there. He listened. “Yes, sir
,” he said, and hung up.”

“Mr. Cooper will be right out.”

Linc didn’t see anyone else in the place and wondered where Tawny was, whether she was still here. He couldn’t ask. Not yet.

Moments later, Benny strode down the hall with a slight hitch in his step, a pained expression, and an extended hand. “Detective Walsh. We spoke on the phone a couple of weeks ago, right?”

“Correct.” Linc took Benny’s hand. “About Sarah Marshall. My partner Dennis Hyde.”

Cooper nodded toward Dennis. Linc expected Cooper to give him a hard time—mention his lawyer, ask for a warrant, but instead Cooper said, “Yes, I remember. Awful about Sarah. Of course I knew her through my wife as Serena. Lovely girl.”

Linc searched the reception area, craning his head down the hall. “Nice place.”

“What can I do for you, Detective? I’m entertaining guests in my apartment.”

“You own this building, correct?”

“One of my corporations does, yes. Is that why you’re here? To find out if I own this building?”

Linc ignored the not-so-subtle jab. “Are these all apartments?”

“Yes.”

“You rent them?”

“Yes. I make them available for the night to visiting acquaintances.”

“Like a bed and breakfast,” Dennis said.

“Without the breakfast.” Benny clicked his tongue. “What’s this about?”

“You keep an apartment here when you live on the other side of the park. Why is that?”

“If you must know, I don’t like to stay in that big apartment in the summer when my wife and children are on the island. Now that’s the last question I’m answering until you tell me why you’re here asking them.”

“I’m looking for a young lady, Tawny Dell. I know she was here earlier this evening.”

Benny hesitated a beat too long. “How do you know that?”

Finally. He’d hit a nerve. “I know.”

Benny took his time. “Yes, Ms. Dell was here earlier. She occasionally rents one of
my apartments to…entertain. She usually stays for a couple of hours, then leaves.”

Denying Tawny had been there would be more suspicious than telling the truth, and except for the bullshit story that Tawny rented a room to entertain, that’s what Cooper did.

“What does she do when she’s here?”

“You’d have to ask her. I’m not her keeper. I just rent the rooms. In fact, I’ve only met her once. People come and people go. There’s no law against that, is there?”

Cooper was lying, but until Linc knew Tawny was safe, he would tread carefully. “She hasn’t left.”

“And you know this how?” Benny said.

“She’s a friend.”

Benny smirked.

Linc figured what he was thinking.
Not quite, Cooper. Not even close.

“Amazing to think Ms. Dell has a…
friend
in the police department.” Benny turned to Charles. “Ms. Dell left, didn’t she, Charles?”

Leading the witness, Cooper.
Naturally, Charles said she left right after eleven. If Tawny left, it wasn’t on her own steam.

“I’d like to check the building, starting with your apartment,” Linc said.

“Don’t you believe me?”

Linc didn’t respond.

“Do you have a warrant?”

There it was. “No, but I can get one.” Talk about bullshit. At this hour of the night, getting a warrant would take long enough for Cooper to sanitize his apartment and wipe all traces of Tawny from the building. But if he had to, Linc’d wake up every judge in the city.

“You know, my first inclination is to say go ahead, get one. But why go to all the trouble? I have nothing to hide.” He smiled at Linc, then at Dennis. “Follow me.”

The two men followed Benny down the hall, passing the open door of the empty office. Desk neat, computer closed. Point made. Tawny wasn’t hiding in there.

Benny slipped a key card into a hidden slot and what looked like a panel sprang open. No knob. The lacquered crimson walls and carved mahogany furniture gleamed in the dimly lit apartment, giving the place a warm, cozy ambience. Flowery perfume wafted in the air. If Tawny was right about Cooper’s penchant for trying out his girls, this small suite struck the right tone.

Mario Russo had entered the building and never left, but seeing him sitting at the table having a drink with a sexy blonde took Linc by surprise. The three seemed chummy, like old friends.

Linc had seen the crime boss on television many times, though never in person. He couldn’t believe this was the same man. In person, Russo’s shrunken appearance visually verified what everyone said about his numbered days. Linc could almost smell his decay.

Benny grinned at Linc’s surprised reaction to Russo’s presence. “My wife, Eileen, and Mario Russo,” he said, introducing them. “We were having a drink. I’d ask you to join us, but I know you guys are forbidden to drink on duty.”

Linc never wanted a drink as much as he did now. He ran his tongue across his dry bottom lip. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Look around,” Benny said. “It’s a small place. You can see no one’s here. If you’d like to check the rest of the building, I’ll have Charles show you around.”

Linc’s heart skipped a beat. Tawny wasn’t here or Cooper wouldn’t offer a tour. Of course, he could be calling his bluff, but Linc doubted it. Had Harry’s man in back of the building caught her leaving? If so, with whom? Surely Clauson would have sounded the alarm. “I’d like to see the room Ms. Dell
rented
this evening.” He didn’t mean to put so much sarcasm into his request, but that’s the way it came out.

Benny was about to answer when Mario Russo stood. “If you don’t mind the interruption, Benny, I think you should have a lawyer and they should have a warrant. There’s no reason for them to come into your home at this hour and search it.” Russo turned to confront Linc straight on, steady and unflinching. “Nothing this gentleman mentioned suggests probable cause, does it,
Officer
Walsh?” His mouth curled into a lopsided grin.

Russo meant to demean Linc. He ignored the slight. “We have Ms. Dell’s prints at the scene of a murder.” There hadn’t been time to corroborate Tawny’s prints or anyone else’s, but they didn’t know that. “
Reason enough?”

“Whose murder?” Benny asked.

Linc matched Russo’s stare. “In case you haven’t heard, Mr. Russo, the victim was in your employ. Richard Martell.”

Russo didn’t break eye contact. “Of course I heard. Rick’s wife called me as soon as she found out. Besides working for me, he was related by marriage. I’m still in shock.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Linc said with forced politeness. One less crook in the city was nothing to be sorry for. Russo acknowledged the words of sympathy with a nod.

“We also have witnesses who saw a man who fits the description of your employee’s friend, Mr. Cooper, a—” Linc pulled out a notebook to feign checking the name, though he knew it by heart―“Reginald Cart. We found his prints in Mr. Martell’s office also.”

Russo snorted. Linc found the reaction interesting. Had Russo insisted Cart wear gloves? If so, Cart’s prints wouldn’t be in the office, and Russo knew it. “He’s the roommate of Cooper’s office manager, I believe.”

“Why would Reggie have anything to do with this Martell man?” Benny asked.

“I have the answer to that, Benny,” Russo said, without skipping a beat. “Mr. Cart sometimes makes deliveries for me. He picked up some papers from Rick today.” Turning to Linc, he said, “Could be when your witnesses saw him.” Russo lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply.

Benny’s eyes zeroed in on the cigarette, and he started to say something. Instead, he sighed and kept his mouth shut. Linc bet smoking was prohibited at Upper Eighties.

“Small world, isn’t it?” Smoke spiraled from Russo’s mouth as he spoke.

“Getting smaller all the time,” Dennis said.

After squinting at Dennis as if he were a lower life form, Russo carried on, zeroing in on Linc. “From what my niece told me, her husband took his own life. Strange, I never imagined Rick to be the type.”

“Mr. Martell’s death was a homicide,” Linc said. “The note he left claimed Martell killed Sarah Marshall and a young prostitute by the name of Cindi Tyson.” Linc turned to Benny. “Did you know either of those women, Mr. Cooper?”

Blood rushed to Benny’s face. “You know I knew Sarah, but I’ve never heard of the Dyson girl.”

“Oh, is it Dyson?” Linc asked, checking his notebook again. “Hmm, so it is. Thank you for correcting me.” He stared at Benny, whose face now glistened with sweat.

“I must have misheard.”

“Must have. I have it on good authority she
rented
a room here occasionally. Like Ms. Dell. Am I mistaken?”

“She…she may have. Colin would have that information. I’m not always here, so I don’t know everyone who rents a room when she or he is in town.” Benny cleared his
throat. “Anything’s possible.”

Linc wanted to pursue this line of questioning, but Cooper would call his lawyer and the conversation would be over. Besides, it wouldn’t help find Tawny.

Russo stopped further discussion anyway, referring back to Martell’s murder. “Rick’s note might be right, however,” he said. “He suffered an unfortunate incident when he was a boy. He accidentally killed his sister. He’s been seeing therapists for years, but I’m not sure they helped him deal with the guilt. I’m no psychologist, but an incident like that could have devastating effects. In fact, Rick had been rather distracted lately. Maybe he took the only way he knew to stop the pain.”

“Maybe,” Linc said. “I’ve heard worse theories, and you’ve explained why Cart was at Martell’s office, but I’d still like to talk to him. Maybe Martell hinted at what he was going to do. Do you have Cart’s contact information, Mr. Cooper?”

Russo interrupted before Benny could respond. “Come on, Walsh. You can get Reggie’s address with one phone call.”

Though not physically imposing, Russo exuded awesome power. He spoke in the voice of a stage actor, clear and resonant, with no hint of his Sicilian roots or Brooklyn accent.

“This visit reeks of harassment,” Russo continued. “I know all about that. For some reason, the police in this city think I’m the cause of everything bad that happens. Now someone has murdered the accountant my sons and I employed for our construction business. As for Ms. Dell, I doubt it would take much checking to find out Mr. Martell managed her money and did her taxes, which is why her prints were identified in Rick’s office. I’m sure you already knew that,
and
that she and I have known each other for many years.”

The two men stared at each other in a room as quiet as church during Sunday
sermon. His comment twisted the knife in Linc’s back. Was he that obvious, or did Russo know something he shouldn’t? Had he seen Linc at Tawny’s apartment? If so, she was as good as dead.

Eileen Cooper shifted in her chair but one look from Russo and she remained quiet. Linc summoned his professional reserve from a place deep down, seething with hate. “For the record, Mr. Russo, where were you this morning?” Linc checked his watch. “Yesterday morning now?”

Russo smiled, as if he’d anticipated the question. “SUNY Downstate, enduring a chemo treatment. Twenty people can verify that. Besides, why would I want to murder Rick? That’s not the way I do business, contrary to what people think.”

“No, you get others to do your dirty work,” Dennis said.

Russo scowled at the detective. “You’d have to prove that, and you can’t.”

Linc couldn’t waste any more time. Maybe Tawny had managed to leave the building before anyone arrived on the scene and was on her way home. But even as the thought flittered through his mind, he knew she would have answered her phone when he called. No, she was in serious trouble. Maybe fatal trouble. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Cooper. I might want to talk to you again.” He forced an impatient smile at Eileen and nodded at Russo.

“Next time,” Benny said, “I think I’ll take Mario’s advice and have a lawyer present.”

“Your call,” Linc said, heading for the door.

Benny walked alongside him. “I’ll show you out.”

In the lobby, Linc asked, “Was Martell a customer here?”

“What do you mean, customer?” Benny said. “Customer for what?”

Linc got right in his face, his patience exhausted. “You can bullshit all you want,
Benny, but you run a whorehouse. I can have this place closed down in fifteen minutes. So don’t play stupid. Truth is I don’t much care about your business. I don’t care who comes here to get laid, who services them, or how much they pay. Places like this have been around since the beginning of time, and they’ll be here long after you and I have returned to dust.