NYPD Red 4 by James Patterson Read Free Book Online Page A

much trouble breathing to waste his breath on Raymond.
    He lowered his body to the armchair he’d salvaged from a curb after he’d done his last stretch at Rikers. “So now what do we do?” he asked.
    “I’ve got it all worked out,” Raymond said. “Jeremy is coming over tonight. We pack up, give him the necklace, and leave for Mexico as soon as we get the money.”
    “I’m not going anywhere till I say good-bye to my mom,” Teddy said. “As soon as I get my share, I’m going to go over to her place, spend the night, and ask her to make me a stack of cottage cheese pancakes for breakfast.”
    “And how much will that cost you, Teddy boy? Five grand? Ten? How big a chunk will you be giving Mommy?”
    “What I give her is none of your business.”
    “It’s my business if we go to Mexico, and I’ve got forty-five thousand dollars, and all you’ve got is a belly full of cottage cheese pancakes. I’m not supporting you, Teddy. Or your mother.”
    “Don’t worry about me,” Teddy said. “What time did Jeremy say he’d be here?”
    Raymond shrugged. “He didn’t give me a time. He just said tonight. Wake me when he gets here. I’m going to take a nap.”

CHAPTER 13
     
    I WAS AT my computer when a message from Kylie popped up on the screen.
     
I have an update on the Happy Homemaker. Stop by my office if you want to hear more.
     
    Kylie loves to be right. She loves it even more when I’m wrong.
    Her
office
is the desk directly behind mine. I swiveled my chair. “It sounds like you have something to gloat about,” I said.
    “Me?” she asked, gloating. “I just thought you’d want to hear the latest on the hospital robberies. I did a little research, and it seems your favorite risotto lady volunteered at four of the nine hospitals that were robbed.”
    “Does she have a rap sheet?”
    “She’s clean as a whistle. In fact, three of the volunteer co-ordinators I spoke to said she was one of the best they’ve ever worked with, and they wished they had a dozen more like her.”
    I waited for the
but.
    “But,”
she said, “I did find something interesting. Her father was a petroleum engineer. As a kid she moved around the Middle East. After college, she went to India for three years and worked for a charity that provided medical treatment for street children.”
    “And that’s interesting because …?”
    “You heard what Gregg Hutchings said. Where do you think all this high-tech equipment is going to wind up? Lyon is a do-gooder, and she spent years surrounded by third world deprivation. My guess is she’s not even getting paid. She’s not only doing volunteer work for the hospitals; she’s doing volunteer work for the people who are ripping them off.”
    “That’s brilliant police work, Detective MacDonald. The woman has no criminal record, but she’s seen poverty, so she’s decided to do her part for the underprivileged by helping a bunch of black marketeers traffic stolen goods,” I said. “Why don’t you run that by Mick Wilson at the DA’s office and see how long it takes him to kick you out on your ass?”
    “That’s not the apology I was hoping for,” she said.
    “So she worked in four of the hospitals. If I were a lawyer, I’d call it more circumstantial evidence. But as a cop, I’m willing to admit there’s more to like about Ms. Lyon than her porcini-asparagus risotto.”
    “Are you willing to go back and bring her in for some serious questions?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I’d rather let her think we’ve lost interest, then put a tail on her and see if she can lead us to someone higher up the food chain.”
    “That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said since you were suckered in by that teary-eyed Martha Stewart act. There’s hope for you yet, Jordan.”
    My cell rang, and I picked it up. It was Cheryl.
    “Hey, what are you doing tonight?” she asked.
    “You tell me,” I said.
    “How do you feel about Italian