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Authors: Linda Fairstein
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would have liked me to have gotten married by the time I was
twenty and had six kids in pretty short order. Made her crazy that I
never learned her recipes for Finnish icebox pudding or blueberry pie."
I thought of the time I had almost made her happiest. In my
grandmother's last years, when she was living as an invalid in my
parents' home, I had come up from Virginia during my final semester of
law school to tell my family that I was going to marry Adam Nyman, a
young medical student with whom I had fallen in love. Although in her
nineties and quite infirm, Idie had insisted on coming to the Vineyard
to be with us at the wedding. I know it hastened her death and
literally broke her heart, as it did mine, when she learned that Adam
had been killed on the turnpike the night before the wedding.
"Wipe that frown off your puss and stay with me, Coop. My Granny
Annie wanted me to go back to the old sod as the ambassador to Ireland.
Live in Phoenix Park. Ride to the hounds. If she ever thought for a
minute I'd be sniffing around dead bodies like my pop, she'd have
locked up all the liquor and never let me watch
Dragnet
or
read Dick Tracy in the Sunday funnies. Ready for the latest?"
I sipped at my scotch and nodded my head.
Mike glanced at his steno pad to read the notes of his conversation.
"The ME spoke to Lieutenant Peterson an hour ago. Lola's death was
asphyxial. No question she was strangled, probably with a ligature.
Kestenbaum will do some more tests on the pattern of injury, but he
thinks the killer used her own woolen scarf. Thrown overboard just for
show. The elevator cab certainly crushed the body, which was designed
to disguise the homicide. But somebody made sure she took that header
without any air in her lungs."
"Any semen?"
"Nope. Not in the body. He hasn't checked the bed linens yet. That
takes more time. But there were two strands of hair—just loose, no
roots. Kestenbaum can't say for sure that they were in her hand, like
she'd grabbed at anybody. Could be they just transferred from someone's
clothing earlier in the day—or from the first cops who came to the
crime scene. They're not going to be of much value at the moment.
"The other news is from the building inspector, who was at Lola's
apartment with Lieutenant Peterson. He's confirmed that the elevator's
been out of whack for weeks. First of all, it was under repair, and
wasn't even supposed to be in operation yesterday. The out-of-order
sign that had been posted in the lobby had been taken down at some
point, which could easily lend itself to an accident theory. Besides,
people had complained that the cab was stopping between floors all the
time, so it wouldn't have been tough to catch it a foot off the ground
on the fifteenth floor and roll the body in."
Chapman glanced at his watch and walked into the den to click on the
television. A series of commercials preceded Alex Trebek's close-up,
announcing the subject of the
Final Jeopardy!
answer. Mike
and I had a long-standing habit of betting on the last question. The
rest of the show didn't interest us, but I had seen him ferret out a
television screen at crime scenes, sports bars, and the morgue. Once,
outside a concert at Madison Square Garden, he even commandeered Tina
Turner's chauffeur to let him watch the end of the show in the back of
her stretch limo while she was in her dressing room warming up for the
big performance.
"Tonight's category is Famous Quotes," Trebek said, pointing up at
the card displayed on the screen.
"Twenty bucks," Mike said, taking the bill out of his pocket and
dropping it on top of the coffee table. "I'm feeling lucky. Jake's out
of town, I've got a new murder on my hands, and there's no reason for
Santa to put coal in my stocking this year."
I laughed and told him to make it thirty, pulling the bills from my
wallet.
"Pretty cocky, blondie." He withdrew another ten and tossed it on
the pile. We knew each other's strengths and weaknesses inside out
after a decade of
twenty and had six kids in pretty short order. Made her crazy that I
never learned her recipes for Finnish icebox pudding or blueberry pie."
I thought of the time I had almost made her happiest. In my
grandmother's last years, when she was living as an invalid in my
parents' home, I had come up from Virginia during my final semester of
law school to tell my family that I was going to marry Adam Nyman, a
young medical student with whom I had fallen in love. Although in her
nineties and quite infirm, Idie had insisted on coming to the Vineyard
to be with us at the wedding. I know it hastened her death and
literally broke her heart, as it did mine, when she learned that Adam
had been killed on the turnpike the night before the wedding.
"Wipe that frown off your puss and stay with me, Coop. My Granny
Annie wanted me to go back to the old sod as the ambassador to Ireland.
Live in Phoenix Park. Ride to the hounds. If she ever thought for a
minute I'd be sniffing around dead bodies like my pop, she'd have
locked up all the liquor and never let me watch
Dragnet
or
read Dick Tracy in the Sunday funnies. Ready for the latest?"
I sipped at my scotch and nodded my head.
Mike glanced at his steno pad to read the notes of his conversation.
"The ME spoke to Lieutenant Peterson an hour ago. Lola's death was
asphyxial. No question she was strangled, probably with a ligature.
Kestenbaum will do some more tests on the pattern of injury, but he
thinks the killer used her own woolen scarf. Thrown overboard just for
show. The elevator cab certainly crushed the body, which was designed
to disguise the homicide. But somebody made sure she took that header
without any air in her lungs."
"Any semen?"
"Nope. Not in the body. He hasn't checked the bed linens yet. That
takes more time. But there were two strands of hair—just loose, no
roots. Kestenbaum can't say for sure that they were in her hand, like
she'd grabbed at anybody. Could be they just transferred from someone's
clothing earlier in the day—or from the first cops who came to the
crime scene. They're not going to be of much value at the moment.
"The other news is from the building inspector, who was at Lola's
apartment with Lieutenant Peterson. He's confirmed that the elevator's
been out of whack for weeks. First of all, it was under repair, and
wasn't even supposed to be in operation yesterday. The out-of-order
sign that had been posted in the lobby had been taken down at some
point, which could easily lend itself to an accident theory. Besides,
people had complained that the cab was stopping between floors all the
time, so it wouldn't have been tough to catch it a foot off the ground
on the fifteenth floor and roll the body in."
Chapman glanced at his watch and walked into the den to click on the
television. A series of commercials preceded Alex Trebek's close-up,
announcing the subject of the
Final Jeopardy!
answer. Mike
and I had a long-standing habit of betting on the last question. The
rest of the show didn't interest us, but I had seen him ferret out a
television screen at crime scenes, sports bars, and the morgue. Once,
outside a concert at Madison Square Garden, he even commandeered Tina
Turner's chauffeur to let him watch the end of the show in the back of
her stretch limo while she was in her dressing room warming up for the
big performance.
"Tonight's category is Famous Quotes," Trebek said, pointing up at
the card displayed on the screen.
"Twenty bucks," Mike said, taking the bill out of his pocket and
dropping it on top of the coffee table. "I'm feeling lucky. Jake's out
of town, I've got a new murder on my hands, and there's no reason for
Santa to put coal in my stocking this year."
I laughed and told him to make it thirty, pulling the bills from my
wallet.
"Pretty cocky, blondie." He withdrew another ten and tossed it on
the pile. We knew each other's strengths and weaknesses inside out
after a decade of
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