Thinking about her conjured her up because there was a knock on the door. Tam appeared as if I’d said “Abracadabra” and pulled her out of a hat. “Detective Green’s here.” She spoke as if we didn’t notice the guy already lumbering in behind her.
I took a breath, mentally reviewing the things I needed to ask. Why had she been up there? What had happened to the needle? When could we get her phone back?
I glanced at Detective Green’s hands first, hoping he’d be carrying her things. But they held nothing, not even his own cell. Shitnuts. I finally glanced at the rest of him.
He was at least six feet and looked over forty. I hadn’t expected him to be Black, but he was. He looked like he’d played college football before some ill-timed injury forced him into this plan B.
I had a love-hate relationship with cops. I knew they weren’t all bad, believed there were only a few bad apples in the bunch. But the problem was, you had to get up close to see which ones were rotten. You couldn’t always tell until it was too late.
Tam stopped by the door as Green kept walking toward us. Mel got up and met him halfway. Green stuck out his hand. Mel took it. Shook. Green was about to pull away when Mel tightened his grip. Then Mel leaned in. Green hesitated, shocked at the informality, then leaned in himself so their opposite shoulders touched and—finally—they patted each other swiftly on the back with their free hands. It was the automatic Black male greeting.
When they eventually pulled away, I noticed Mel’s smile. It was just an eighth of an inch, but it was enough. He’d done the routine on purpose, wanting Green to think they could be friends. I mentally shook my head as they both walked toward me. Mel thanked Tam over his shoulder, and just like that rabbit, she disappeared again. Back at his desk, Mel sat, not bothering to take off his sunglasses. “Have a seat. How’s Jim?”
There was a pause while Green and I tried to figure out who he was talking about. The light bulb went off over the detective’s head first. “I don’t talk to Commissioner O’Neill on a regular basis, but I’m sure he’s fine.”
“You’re not missing anything,” Mel said. The previous commissioner once had condemned Mel’s record label for encouraging violence against cops. Now Mel was on a first-name basis with his successor.
Mel motioned to me. “My oldest. Melina. Getting her master’s from Columbia. She’s moving to Harlem to be closer to school.”
Two truths and a lie.
“I taught her everything she knows,” Mel said.
Make that two lies.
“I love the shit out of her,” Mel said.
Possibly three.
Instead of correcting him, I shook Green’s hand and smiled. “Lena Scott.” I glanced at Mel from the corner of my eye to see if he’d react.
I’d changed my last name right after Desiree, Gram, and Aunt E were the only ones who’d come to my high school graduation. Ten years later, Mel still hadn’t mentioned it.
Green finally took a seat, pulling a notebook out of his back pocket. Very twentieth century. “Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice. Before we go too in-depth, I obviously want to extend my condolences.”
Mel nodded but didn’t say thank you. I followed suit.
Green continued. “I wanted to give you an update on our investigation and answer any questions. Although we’ll wait for the medical report for final confirmation, we don’t suspect foul play. We are looking into why your daughter would have been at that playground, and of course there is the matter of the car.”
I hadn’t thought much about how she would’ve gotten up there. It was bugging the hell out of me they hadn’t found a needle. But maybe she’d shot up in her Tesla and left the needle there.
“Did you find—” I began.
But Mel spoke at the same time. “I trust you’ll wrap this up as quickly as possible. Just like I trust everything will be confidential.”
Green smiled like he wasn’t offended. “With all due respect, Mr. Pierce, that’s how we always operate.”
I tried again. “Did—”
Mel beat me to it once more. “Then who called the News? They had their story up ten minutes after you guys called us. It’s bad enough they know about the drugs.”
“It wasn’t me or my partner.”
“I don’t know about that, but what I do know is that if I see one more word about my daughter printed anywhere, you and your partner won’t be saying another word about anything.”
They stared at each other. “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Pierce?”
Mel didn’t answer right away, continuing the pissing contest. Finally, he spoke. “I’m not implying anything. I’m saying that you both will be getting fired. And I’ll personally be there when Jim calls you into his office.”
“Understood.” Green spoke slowly, and Mel nodded. His dominance was firmly established.
Now that they were done, I spoke again. “So the car…”
Green smiled at me while avoiding Mel. “Yes. I’ll be happy to get to that in a second.”
I gave him a tight smile. Green glanced at his notebook like a cheat sheet. “As you both know, Desiree was out last night with three friends celebrating her birthday at the Omni hotel. We’re still looking for the third person present, an Erin Ambrose, but we’ve already spoken with Desiree’s boyfriend, Neil Marks, and a friend, Zarah Turner. Neither knows where Ms. Ambrose is, but we’re confident we’ll talk to her today. Mr. Marks left at about one a.m. to deejay a party in Jersey. Ms. Turner remembers last seeing Desiree about that time. She herself left around one fifteen for another engagement.”
I cleared my throat. Detective Green looked up, and Mel nodded for me to speak. “Did Zarah say Desiree was using?”
Green shook his head. “Just drinking heavily.”
That wasn’t the same. I didn’t say that, though, just listened as Green continued.
“Ms. Turner assumed Desiree had gone to her hotel room and passed out.”
Mel and Veronika lived in a fancy co-op on the Upper East Side. It didn’t make sense for Desiree to stay at a hotel unless she wanted to be as close to the rooftop bar as possible.
“We know that if she did go to her room, she didn’t stay long. The valet recalled getting Desiree her car at about two a.m.”
“Did he say she seemed high?”
“She did appear intoxicated, yes.”
So there was a chance Desiree had done something in her hotel room and then left. But why? “You think that’s when she went up to the Bronx?”
He nodded. “Yes, after speaking to her friends, we think she may have been going to see you.”
And there it was. “They mention why?” I said.
I thought of the last time I knew she’d driven intoxicated. Two years ago. She’d wrecked her car and gotten arrested. I’d gotten tired enough to finally walk away.
I held my breath as he consulted his notes before shaking his head. “No.”
Was it no because he didn’t know or because he hadn’t asked? The little faith I had in Green was disappearing quicker than bottled water before a natural disaster.