The only response was twin glares.
He looked at each of them. “Please tell me you’ve at least done that.”
“There seems to be a little electronic hiccup,” conceded Ekman.
Oh, it’s bigger than a little hiccup, Mr. Homicide Detective.
“Okay. And in case you talk to her again, Mrs. Ewes asked me to meet with them tonight. I already have. She told me about your finding the abortion clinic.” He glanced around, thinking. “But maybe you followed me here from Brooklyn.”
“She shouldn’t have told you anything.”
“Did you explicitly tell her not to? Because I think with that lady, you give her any wiggle room and it’s off to the races. Just my two cents.”
When they didn’t respond, he continued, “Now, here’s something really relevant to the investigation. Will there be any DNA left in Sara’s womb that you could match to whoever the father of her baby was?”
“Why?” asked Ekman.
“Because if you have any, I’ll volunteer my DNA to clear me from the pack.”
“You’re only offering because you know there’s nothing there.”
“Are you sure? She was pregnant.”
Ekman snapped, “And she aborted the fetus months ago. We’d get nothing admissible.”
Shoemaker was watching Devine through slitted eyes. “And why do I think Mrs. Ewes told you how far along Sara was, and you knew you were in the clear on the window, even though you’d slept with her?”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“And now you’re trying to play all innocent by offering up your DNA. You make me sick.”
“Well, that was clearly not my intent. But if there’s nothing else, I have a train to catch.”
Shoemaker put a hand on his shoulder. “Do not, I repeat, do not leave the area.”
“I already told you I wouldn’t. Since you guys can’t seem to catch Sara’s killer, I guess I’ll have to do the honors.”
“If you obstruct this investigation in any way—” began Ekman.
“I was thinking more along the lines of improving it.”
“You better watch yourself, Devine.”
“Right. I hope you guys have a productive rest of the night. In case you want to follow me, I’ll be on the Metro North out to Mount Kisco. If you could ever manage to find Karl Hancock, he could tell you all about that.”
CHAPTER
42
ON THE TRAIN HOME DEVINE looked out the window as they passed Cowl’s place. He knew Montgomery wouldn’t be there tonight, but he still found himself staring. Muscle memory, perhaps? Or something else? Part of him had wanted to sleep with her. He was a young, single guy after all, and she was beautiful and sexy and willing, and some things were just that simple. And it wasn’t like he had sworn off sex while he was searching for Sara Ewes’s killer.
I hopped right into bed with Helen Speers, didn’t I?
But that one had been a long time building and she had walked up to him on the front porch and shared his beer and words were also exchanged and things came to a head when she made her feelings clear.
But still, he felt guilty for enjoying himself with Speers while Ewes lay dead.
By the time he had left Montgomery’s place, the passion of the moment had passed and been replaced with something far more somber and intricate. They both had been lost in thought about their lives, past and future, as he took his leave.
Whoever said life wasn’t complicated had never really lived.
Later, he walked home from the station and there was Valentine on the couch.
Devine sat down next to him and said, “I want you to see what you can dig up on the Locust Group. There are a lot of them out there, but the one I’m interested in is tied to some specific properties.” He took out his phone and texted him the information.
“What is big deal about this Locust thing?” asked the Russian.
“I don’t know, but their name keeps showing up. I’d like to know if Brad Cowl has ties to them.”
“Okay. I get on it, dude. But at some point, you need to pay for this shit. I am not freebie, I am America capitalist.”
“What’s your rate?”
“Five hundred an hour. But for you, two-fifty.”
Devine gaped. “Shit, if you make five hundred an hour, why are you living in this dump?”
“Is much better than my flat in Vladivostok. That had no door and no windows. Just blanket hung in doorway.”
Devine walked upstairs, slipping off his tie and jacket as he did so. As he passed Speers’s door it opened and there she was. She was not dressed in an alluring transparent nighty but in an NYU Law T-shirt and sweatpants. Over the woman’s shoulder he saw a stack of legal tomes and bar study guides piled on her desk.