Idyll Threats by Stephanie Gayle Read Free Book Online

patrol car. In New York, I'd never owned a car. Never needed one. But here? Without a car, I'd starve. I'd protested. The mayor had gone to bat for me. He'd said it wasn't very neighborly to lure me from the city and then strand me without transport. His backing came at a price. Damn politicians.
    In the detectives’ pen, I asked if they'd seen our statie visitor. “Detective Revere?” Finnegan's tone, all innocence, made me suspect its opposite. “He called earlier, for directions. Should be here any minute.”
    â€œWhen did he call?”
    Chins propped on fists. They thought, hard. “Twenty minutes ago?” Wright said. “Dunno. We've been busy.” He waved his arm over piles of paper like a game-show hostess.
    â€œDon't tell me.” They'd fucked with him.
    â€œMaybe he stopped off on the road,” Finnegan said.
    I raised my brow.
    â€œFor a date.”
    Wright laughed. “I hear the rest area by Exit 14 serves all kinds.”
    Finnegan nodded, face solemn. “I too have heard such rumors.”
    They didn't have to say more. I got it.
    Gay jokes were a staple of police stations. At my old precinct, they were tossed about, fast and furious. But so too were racial epithets and ethnic slurs. Everything and everyone was fair game. And in the melting pot of New York, there was plenty of diversity. Here, diversity was Wright, our only black cop, and Yankowitz, an overweight Pole whose people had probably arrived three boats after the Mayflower . Here, gay jokes weren't casual. They were knives flung with malicious intent.
    â€œYou two go there a lot?” I asked, my voice cool.
    Wright pointed at Finnegan. “I think he's earned some kind of frequent-visitor stamp. Right, Finny?” Finnegan tossed a pencil, missing Wright's eye by inches. Close, but no cigar. Too bad. I left them to their fun.
    In my office were several folders marked Urgent. Mrs. Dunsmore's handiwork. I knew what they contained. Requests for vacation time, work roster sheets, equipment inventory forms, résumés for patrol supervisor, budgets. Mind-numbing paperwork. Sure was a good thing I had all that detecting experience.
    A knock at the door. “Who is it?”
    â€œBilly, sir.”
    â€œCome in.”
    The heat had curled the hair about his ears. “I've returned from talking to Cecilia's friends. Should I share my notes with you or give them to Detective Wright?”
    â€œSum it up for me first.”
    â€œI spoke to Susan Hill and Deidre Lipschitz. Can you imagine a more terrible name?” He pursed his lips. “Susan was Cecilia's college roommate. Deidre was a friend. Neither girl could think of anyone who had a grudge against her. Last year, Cecilia signed a PETA petition protestingthe fur industry, but so did a hundred other students. Not a likely lead, is it?” He looked up from his notes.
    â€œNo. Anything else?”
    â€œI made a list of ex-boyfriends, and I looked ’em up.”
    I hadn't told him to do the second part. “How far back did you go?” I asked.
    â€œThird grade, John Ward. Only two have records. Josh Kelly had a DUI two years back. Michael Schwartz was a surprise. Arrested for public indecency.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œSix months ago. But it seemed like he just got really drunk and started flashing people.” I didn't see how Michael Schwartz's willy-waving was related to our murder. “I have a copy of the report.” He handed it to me.
    â€œDid Susan or Deidre mention a man in Cecilia's life? A new boyfriend?”
    â€œNo.”
    Damn. Cecilia must have kept it mum. Billy was good-looking. Ladies responded. They'd have told him, if they'd known.
    â€œLet Wright know what you got. Tell him I told you to check the ex-boyfriends.” Wright wouldn't like Billy checking records. “Next time, ask before you run reports.”
    â€œYes, sir.” I returned his file to him. He paused at the door.