The Finishing School Read Free Page A

struggling to keep her tone polite. “Spanish-speaking drug dealers typically use English brand names. They reach a larger customer base that way. To me the Spanish stamp means these drugs were intended for a Spanish-speaking market. That could help us narrow things down.”
    “We’ll get on it, run the stamp through the databases,” Ray Wong said.
    “What about fingerprinting the glassines?” Melanie asked.
    “We’re dusting everything. We’ll need to print the bodies for comparison, though,” Butch said.
    “No problem. The bodies are still fresh enough to get prints, especially with this cold air slowing decomp,” Shavonne said, gesturing toward the open windows.
    Bodies. Melanie hated the sound of that. They weren’t just bodies. They were human beings, young girls with names and personalities, somebody’s children. Or at least they
had
been.
    “How old were the victims?” Melanie asked.
    “High-school juniors, so you gotta figure sixteen, seventeen. Everything ahead of ’em,” Albano said, shaking his head.
    “
They
should be our focus,” Melanie said. “Who were they? Who were their friends? Where did they go in the past few days? We need to get to know them. That’s the way to solve this case.”
     
4
     
    THE OBVIOUS FIRST STEP in learning more about the victims was interviewing Whitney Seward’s stepfather, in whose apartment they’d drawn their last breaths, and who’d apparently discovered their bodies. Speaking to Seward’s wife, Charlotte, would have to wait, since she was under sedation and unable to talk.
    Melanie and Ray-Ray found James Seward seated at a marble-topped table in the lavish kitchen, speaking to his campaign manager on a cell phone. His gray-blond hair, lashless pale eyes, and aristocratic nose were familiar to anybody who watched the six o’clock news. Seward was now in the process of trying to buy himself a Senate seat, which was turning into an expensive and messy proposition. He was one of many candidates in a crowded primary field. Allegations swirled around him—from questionable trading practices on Wall Street to fund-raising scandals during his tenure as state party chairman—and he was trailing badly in the polls. Melanie recognized that she had a preexisting impression of this guy as slippery and dangerous, so she warned herself to keep an open mind.
    Seward ignored their presence for as long as he possibly could, then put his hand over the mouthpiece irritably. “
Yes
? What is it?”
    “Melanie Vargas from the U.S. Attorney’s Office and Special Agent Raymond Wong from DEA,” Melanie said as they both flashed their credentials. “We need to ask you some questions, sir.”
    “I’m busy right now. Phone my campaign headquarters in the morning,” he said.
    Melanie and Ray-Ray looked at each other. Was this guy kidding?
    “Sir, we’re investigating federal narcotics violations that resulted in two deaths. If you don’t cooperate voluntarily, we’ll subpoena you to the grand jury and place you under oath,” Melanie said.
    Seward’s pale eyes seemed to focus on her finally. Something in their expression changed subtly, and he got off his phone call.
    “Do forgive me, Miss—What did you say your name was?” he said after hanging up.
    “Vargas. Melanie Vargas from the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”
    “I’m under terrible stress tonight, as you can imagine. My stepdaughter is dead. My wife is devastated. And the press is all over me, screaming for blood.”
    “We’ll do our best to keep this brief.”
    “Thank you. I would very much appreciate that. It’s been a difficult night.”
    “You have my deepest sympathy. I’m a parent, too.” From what Melanie had observed so far, Seward wasn’t exactly overcome with emotion, but who knew? The guy was an uptight WASP. Maybe this
was
grief-stricken on him. He certainly looked haggard anyway.
    Seward took them to what he called his library to get away from the bustle of emergency personnel in the