[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

The press all over it. This was Greenwich. Behind those high
stone gates and redbrick office complexes, the cogs of influ-
ence were turning. The governor himself had probably already
called in.
 All we re suggesting, Lieutenant, Agent Sculley said,  is
that we have a Gang Violence Task Force, C-12, a phone call
away. Our lab guys could be all over that pickup within the
day . . .
 So far, what we have is a homicide, Hauck said, his tone
declining.
 In which the victim was a government prosecutor, Stan
Taylor chimed in.
 No worries, Lieutenant. AC Sculley smiled at him, rub-
bing his sore.  It s your case.
 This thing has everyone pretty well riled up, Ty, Fitzpat-
Don t Look Twice 85
rick said.  All I promised was that you were the type of guy
who would do whatever he could to see this solved.
 We can probably use all the help we can get, Hauck said,
meeting their eyes.
There was a rap against the door. Freddy Munoz stuck in
his head.
 Sorry to interrupt, Chief . . . Lieutenant . . . His gaze fell
on Hauck.  When you re done there s someone you need to
speak with downstairs. Something s come up.
 We were just finishing, Hauck said. He stood up, said to
Taylor,  You ll let me know whatever you need. I m sure we ll
be in touch.
 I ll be sure to do that, Lieutenant.
In the hallway, he patted Munoz on the back.  Thanks for
bailing me out. I owe you one, Freddy.
 Hey, I wasn t kidding, Lieutenant, his detective said.
 There s someone down there you need to talk to now.
CHAPTER TWENTY- TWO
She was sitting on the bench outside the squad room, a gray
cowl-neck sweater underneath a short leather jacket over jeans,
her hands cupping a mug of coffee.
 This is Lieutenant Hauck, Munoz said.  This is Ms.
Fletcher. I want you to tell him just what you told me.
 Annie . . . She nodded, standing up. Hauck shook her
hand. She was pretty, maybe around five-four, with dark, round
eyes. Her black hair was clipped up in a barrette, loose strands
curling along the sides.
Hauck led her back into his office.  Why don t we talk in
here?
He cleared a spot on his long Formica desk, which was piled
with papers, a photo of Jessie and Norah, and his yawl. A large
glass window partitioned them off from the busy squad room.
Hauck pulled out a chair.  You want some more coffee?
She shook her head.  I m fine. I ve never been inside an im-
portant police detective s office before.
Hauck smiled.  Neither have I.
Munoz leaned against the glass.  Just tell the lieutenant
what you told me . . .
 I have a restaurant. Annie Fletcher hesitated slightly. She
Don t Look Twice 87
pushed the hair out of her eyes.  In Stamford. Just off I-95,
near exit eight. Annie s Backstreet. We ve been open about a
year . . .
 Tell the lieutenant about last night, Munoz redirected
her.
 Sorry . . . Annie smiled, contrite.  Don t ever ask me to
tell a joke. I never get to the punch line . . .
Hauck smiled too.
 It was a little after eleven. We d just finished up. I let my
dishwasher go home and I was just taking out the last of the
trash. I think I saw them, Lieutenant . . .
 Saw who?
 The ones who did that awful thing yesterday. Who shot up
that place . . . I saw the piece on what happened. Everyone did.
I saw you on the news. I know you re looking for whoever did
this . . .
Hauck pulled a chair around and sat across from her.  What
exactly did you see?
 A car pulled up in back of my place where the Dumpster s
located when I went to take out the trash . . .
 Go on . . .
 I saw these two guys. Heard them talking. One was behind
the wheel and the other was outside and had tossed something
into the Dumpster a black plastic trash bag . . .
 Did you get a look at them?
Annie Fletcher nodded.  Hispanic, sort of young, maybe
early twenties . . . The one who tossed something in the
Dumpster might even have been in his teens. It was dark. But
not so dark that I didn t see just how he looked at me, Lieuten-
ant. Sent chills up my spine. He wore something around his
head. Saw the news. That s what made me think at first. A red
bandana . . .
88 Andrew Gross
Hauck gave Munoz a look, a surge of optimism jolting
through him.  You said you overheard them talking?
 Sort of. The guy driving just said to the kid,  Let s get out
of here, now . . . The car was a tricked-out old Jetta or some-
thing. Sort of rust colored. My ex-husband was deep into cars.
It was parked directly in the light. I wished I could ve picked
up the plates I mean, I wasn t really looking at them. It was
dark; I was a little scared. I was pissed off at myself that I had
let everyone else go home. I didn t put it all together right
then . . .
 I understand, Hauck said.
 But there was something about the car I do recall. Some
kind of marking on the trunk in back. A kind of cross . . .
 Cross?
 Not a religious cross. Sort of blue and red slashes . . . She
held her hands apart.  Maybe six inches . . .
 That s DR- 17, Lieutenant. Munoz met Hauck s eyes.
 Dominican colors.
 DR-17?
 It s nothing. Hauck tried to put her at ease.  Just some-
thing that fits into the case . . .
 It s some kind of street gang, isn t it? Annie Fletcher [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]