The Doll Maker by Richard Montanari Read Free Book Online

for the cry she wasn’t going to have on the way in. She saw something underneath.
    ‘What’s this?’ she asked.
    Vincent said nothing.
    Jessica lifted the edge of the napkin. Underneath was a thin leather wallet. A five-year-old boy’s wallet. Her five-year-old son’s wallet. Jessica knew the precise contents. Four dollars and sixty-six cents.
    It was all the money Carlos had in the world.
    He was giving her his nest egg.
    Jessica’s heart broke into a thousand pieces.

    She stood in the front plaza of the Roundhouse, just as she knew she would on this day. She thought about the building’s legacy, its history. She thought about the nearly three-hundred officers who had given their lives to the city and the people of Philadelphia since the department was formed.
    She glanced up at the huge statue that looked out over Franklin Park, the police officer holding a young child. She’d seen the statue thousands of times, but mostly as she drove by it, not affording it any significance, any weight in her life.
    Until now.
    On this day, the sight of that anonymous officer suddenly meant everything.

4
    Twenty minutes later, having finished her meeting with Captain John Ross and her day work supervisor, Dana Westbrook, Jessica emerged from Ross’s office. She felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but at the same time she wanted to gather her belongings and walk out of the building. She’d never felt this way before.
    Jessica looked around for an open desk. Detectives in the homicide unit of the Philadelphia Police Department did not get their own desks. Each desk, and each computer terminal, were shared by the ninety detectives who worked seven days a week, all three tours. What you did get was a drawer in a file cabinet where you were supposed to put your service weapon while on the floor in the duty room. This made a great deal of sense, seeing as how many less than savory characters passed through the room, many of whom were not yet wearing handcuffs. Very few detectives adhered to the rule.
    When she turned the corner into the center of the room she knew immediately which desk was hers for the day. Attached to either side of the desk were two huge Mylar balloons. On the desk was a white paper plate bearing a Danish pastry with one small candle burning. Jessica looked at the sayings on the huge, bright red balloons:
    Break a leg!  
    Knock ‘em dead!  
    Behind the desk, with two large cups of coffee in his hands, stood her partner for these past eight years, Kevin Byrne.

    They found a quiet corner of the duty room, which was never easy, not the least of which was that the room – as was the design of almost every room in the Roundhouse – was semicircular. This had never struck anyone as a bright idea in a world of rectangular desks and square file cabinets.
    Jessica told Byrne about her decision to postpone taking the bar exam, happily keeping her emotions in check.
    ‘When did you decide this?’ Byrne asked.
    Jessica looked at her watch. ‘About a half-hour ago.’
    ‘You talked to the captain already?’
    Jessica nodded. ‘Everyone’s good with it.’
    Byrne looked out the window, at the bright autumn day, at the leaves changing in the park across the street. He looked back. ‘How come?’ he asked. ‘I thought it was all set.’
    So did I , Jessica thought. Just about everyone on day work was expecting her to come in today to gather her few belongings and say her goodbyes.
    As Jessica was about to explain all this to her partner, she saw Dana Westbrook crossing the duty room, a look of grim determination on her face, a document in hand. Both Jessica and Byrne knew what was coming.
    ‘We’ll talk,’ Jessica said.
    Westbrook handed Byrne the document.
    There was a fresh homicide in the city of Philadelphia, and Detectives Byrne and Balzano were up on the wheel.
    ‘This is a bad one,’ Westbrook said. ‘Grab a couple of warm bodies. I want a status report within the