NYPD Red 4 Read Free Page A

you’re saying it’s all my fault?”
    Max came right back at him. “Jesus, Leo, how the hell did you manage to make this about you?”
    “Because I was the one who was supposed to go with her. If someone stuck a gun in my face, I’d have said, ‘Take the necklace, take my wallet, take what you want—just don’t hurt us.’ But I didn’t go, and now she’s dead.”
    “Why didn’t you go?” I asked.
    “It was a stupid accident,” Leo said. “I was—”
    “More like a stupid decision,” Max said. “He didn’t go because he got cocktail sauce on his jacket. Elena didn’t care. She asked him to go anyway. But he said no.”
    Leo stood up. “Thank you, Max. Because I didn’t feel bad enough as it is.” He turned to me. “I’m not feeling well. If you have any more questions for me, I’ll be happy to talk to you in the morning. Alone.”
    He didn’t wait for an answer. He just turned and walked out of the room.
    “There you have it, Detectives,” Max said. “My brother’s MO. Grand entrances and even grander exits. He’s a total drama queen even when the drama isn’t about him. This is a terrible tragedy. How can I help you find the people who killed Elena?”
    “Can you describe the necklace?” I said.
    “Seeing as I designed it, yes. There are twenty emeralds—absolutely superbly matched stones, four carats apiece. Each one is surrounded by a cluster of round and pear-shaped diamonds. They’re tiny, five points each, but the effect was dazzling. She looked gorgeous.”
    “Who knew she’d be wearing the necklace?” I asked.
    Max shook his head. “Everybody. It was one of Leo’s misguided publicity initiatives.”
    “It sounds like you don’t see eye to eye with your brother,” Kylie said.
    “Not remotely. Maybe once upon a time you could trot Marilyn Monroe or Elizabeth Taylor down the red carpet wearing an eight-million-dollar necklace and hope that the stunt would cast some kind of magic halo effect over the brand. But not anymore. I told Leo he was still living in the second half of the twentieth century. The hype would be all about Elena, and no one would even remember she was wearing an original Max Bassett. Well, I was wrong. Now everyone will remember me as the man who designed the necklace Elena Travers died for.”
    “Mr. Bassett, whoever took the necklace is going to try to sell it,” Kylie said. “We need to get pictures and laser inscriptions to the JSA and the FBI as soon as possible.”
    “Our publicist, Sonia Chen, will have it for you within the hour,” he said. “I’m impressed. Most cops aren’t familiar with the Jewelers’ Security Alliance.”
    “We’ve had a bit more experience in this area than most cops,” Kylie said. What she didn’t say was that when you’re assigned to Red, stolen jewelry is as common as shoplifting.

CHAPTER 4
    Under normal circumstances, getting home five hours after my shift ended wouldn’t be a problem, but for the past twenty-four days my life had been anything but normal. Cheryl and I were living together.
    Or at least we were trying to, but I was doing a lousy job of holding up my end of the living arrangement. This was the fifth night I’d come home late since she’d moved in, plus I’d been called into work two out of the past three weekends.
    I’d met Dr. Cheryl Robinson about four years ago. I was on the short list of candidates for NYPD Red, and she was the department shrink assigned to evaluate me. I know it’s what’s on the inside that counts, but it’s impossible to meet Cheryl and not be dazzled by the outside. Most of her family is Irish, but it’s the DNA of her Latina grandmother that gives her the dark brown eyes, jet-black hair, and glorious caramel skin that turn heads. I was instantly smitten.
    She had only one drawback: a husband. But good things come to those who wait, and about a year ago, Cheryl’s marriage to Fred Robinson crashed and burned, and we went from friends to lovers to whatever