New York Dead Read Free Page A

terrace.
    “Nothing,” Dino said, when they were through.
    “Maybe everything,” Stone said. “We’ve got the diary, her address book, and a stack of change-of-address cards, already addressed. Those are the important people, I reckon. I’ll bet the perp is in that stack.” He took out his notebook and began jotting down names and addresses. Apart from the department stores and credit card companies, there were fewer than a dozen. Had she had so few friends, or had she just not gotten through the list before she died? He looked over the names: alphabetical. She had made it through the W’s.
    They heard the elevator doors open, and two detectives walked in, followed by a one-man video crew. He was small, skinny, and he looked overburdened by the camera, battery belt, sound pack, and glaring lights.
    “You, out,” Dino said. “This is a crime scene.”
    “Why do you think I’m here?” the cameraman said. He produced a press card. “Scoop Berman,” he said. “Scoop Video.”
    “The man said this is a crime scene, Scoop,” Stone said, propelling the little man toward the door.
    “Hey, what crime?” Scoop said, digging in his heels.
    “Possible homicide,” Stone replied, still pushing.
    “There’s no homicide,” Scoop said.
    “Yeah? How do
you
know?”
    “Because she ain’t dead,” Scoop said.
    Stone stopped pushing. “What are you talking about? She fell twelve stories.”
    “Hang on a minute, guys,” Scoop said. He rewound the tape in his camera and flipped down a tiny viewing screen. “Watch this,” he said.
    Stone and Dino elbowed the other two cops out of the way and focused on the screen. An image came up; the camera was running toward the Con Ed site downstairs. It pushed past an ambulance man and zoomed in on the form of Sasha Nijinsky. She was wearing a nightgown under a green silk robe.
    “Easy, now, lady,” someone was saying on the soundtrack. “Don’t try to move; let us do the moving.”
    A white-clad back filled the screen, and the camera moved to one side, then zoomed in tight on her face. She blinked twice, and her lips moved.
    “Okay, here we go,” the voice said, and the ambulance men lifted her onto a stretcher. The camera followed as they loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. One man got in with her and pulled the door shut. The ambulance drove away, its lights flashing and its whooper sounding.
    “I had to make a choice then,” Scoop said. “I called in the incident, and then I went for the apartment.”
    “It’s impossible,” Dino said.
    “You saw her move, saw her blink,” Scoop said.
    “Holy shit,” Dino said.
    “Okay,” Stone said to the two cops. “You work the scene with the technical guys, and then knock on every door in the building. I want to know if anybody saw anybody come into the building after nine o’clock tonight.” He grabbed Dino’s elbow. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter
3

    Stone hung up the car phone. “The company dispatcher says the wagon is going to Lenox Hill Hospital, but the driver hasn’t radioed in to confirm the delivery yet.”
    “Seventy-seventh and Park,” Dino said, hanging a right.
    Dino always drove as if he’d just stolen the car. Being Italian didn’t hurt either.
    The two had been partners for nearly four years when Stone had got his knee shot up. It hadn’t even been their business, that call, but everybody responded to “officer needs assistance.” The officer had needed assistance half a minute before Stone and Dino arrived on the scene; the officer was dead, and the man who had shot him was trying to start his patrol car. He’d fired one wild shot before Dino killed him, and it had found its way unerringly to Stone’s knee. It had been nothing but a run-of-the-mill domestic disturbance, until the moment the officer had died and the bullet had changed Stone’s life.
    Dino had won an automatic commendation for killing a perp who had killed a cop. Stone had won four hours in