The baby had been healthy and well keptalso wearing clothing bought at the same bargain-priced chain. The blanket covering the baby, however, had been hand knit. The creator had not signed the work in any way. Still, it was one of a kind.
The knife found in the womans back was equally commonsold at outlets across the five boroughs, the state and the country. It was a hunting knife with a leather handle and six-inch blade.
The woman had been struck so hard that nearly four of those inches had gone into her back.
There were no fingerprints found on the knife.
The bystanders had been canvassed for information. No one remembered anyone suspicious in the crowd; no one had seen who had thrust the blade into the womans back.
It was impossibleabsolutely impossible, Craig thought. He tried to reimagine the crime, the woman hurrying away...
Someone must have seen something. They were afraid. Or it had been so swift an act that they hadnt even understood what they had seen. Maybe, when people thought about it...
He set the folder down, frustrated. There was a tap at his open door. He looked up. His partner, Mike Dalton, stood in the doorway.
So I come back from a glorious vacation to you and Kieran stirring up the neighborhood again, he said drily. You missed me, huh?
I did miss you, Mike. I always miss you when were apart, Craig said, grinning. Im sure you heard about the news-making events.
I did. Murder and mummies. Creepy!
Craig pressed his lips into a tight line and nodded. I worked the case with an old friend, guy named Micah Fox, and one of my cousinsmostly their case. A man they both admired had been killed in Egypta mentor. Weird case for sure, but...hey, yeah. Im glad youre back! Mike was a great partner. Ten years Craigs senior, hed been the one to really show Craig the ropes. They both had the same sense of moral duty, of right and wrong, and a way of thinking together that had gotten them through many a situation.
I read all about your mummies, Mike told him. He shuddered. And saw it all over the news. Mummies! Glad you did that one without me. Actually...well, hell, this one sounds pretty bad. A woman stabbed, during rush hour, in the street, and no one saw it, no one can say anything?
Craig pushed the folder toward him. This is what they have. Autopsy coming up in a few hours. I was trying to catch up on all the reading first.
Good, well share the reports.
Thanks for getting here on Saturdayand so damned early.
Hey, nothing like a good autopsy to get you right back into it all, right?
* * *
Mary Kathleen had been right about the people who arrived at Soup du Jour.
Most were clean and decently clad, and between them, they seemed to speak every language known to man, and yet they all seemed to get on with one another, as well.
The space where the multi-faith organization operated had once been a giant textile factory. The machinery was long gone. Big old windows covered half the wall spacea great early effort in solar power, using daylight to see and workand they still let in a glow of beautiful, natural light, though, of course, it was now enhanced by electrical power within. The rest of the walls were covered with posters, fliers and moreall to help men and women find apartments, jobs, day care and various other kinds of assistance.
The facility had a massive kitchen and a delivery area that was nearly as large. It had a massive dining hall with wood-plank tables, and on each side of the main room were large hallways that offered restrooms and showersalong with soap and razors and other basic toiletries, donated by various large corporations.
It was really a big enterpriseand it was astonishing the way that it was run.
People of every religion, ethnicity, color, creed, sexwhatever!seemed to get along and pull together, and do it well.
Those working the food bank seemed to come from all walks of life: there were businessmen and -women, nuns, fathers, rabbis and imams, young and old, every color of humanity.
Kieran had come to give herself something to do. She discovered, instead, that she was in awe of Mary Kathleen and all that the volunteers tried to do at Soup du Jour.
This is truly just incredible, she told Mary Kathleen. Youve been doing this and I didnt even know. Its wonderful.
Oh, I do a day a week. Thats the great power of the placethey literally have hundreds of people who can come a day or two a week and well do our best to cover for each other and that kind of thing, Mary Kathleen said. I was lucky. I had friends to help me when I arrived here in the city. My family in Ireland knew your family here. Im actually doing well. But I am an immigrant, and I was able to see how hard life could be for others who didnt have family and friends in the USespecially those fleeing poverty or war-torn countries. Anyway, Im glad you like it!
Like it? Im amazed. We get so much bad newsthis is great!
People actually can get along working together, Mary Kathleen agreed. She laughed softly. Okay, so we have police officers among our friends here, too. If anything were to ever get rough or violent in any way, whoever caused trouble would be out on their ears in a flash! But Ive been at this about a year and a half. So far, nothing bad has ever happened. People are really just trying to help each other.
Within an hour, Kieran had come to know a ninety-six-year-old nun with a quick wit, salty tongue and empathy that brought people sweeping around her; a striking dancer from a Broadway playwho happened to know Kevin; a Wall Street broker; a stage designer; and a Penobscot Indigenous American girl with the most gentle voice shed ever heard.
Kieran completely forgot she was there merely to keep herself occupied. She felt honored to be helping out in such a tangible way, and she was fascinated with the people she met working the food bankand with those who came for food.
They were from the Middle East and the Far East, Russia, the Ukraine, Poland, England, France, Nigeria, Ethiopia, Argentina, Haiti and more. She realized that she was quickly learning a smattering of wordsmainly please and thank youin French, Creole, Spanish and what she was pretty sure was Russian.
People were gratefulso grateful. She was almost embarrassed; she had done so little.
The shepherds pie from Finnegans had disappeared in the first fifteen minutes, but many chefs and cooks volunteered their time, and there was a constant flow of food.
There were a few unwashed bodies, but Sister TeresaKierans newfound feisty friendwas quick to point out where showers and clothing couldand not should but mustbe found. Sister Teresa fed everyonethey could bathe after they ate, but if they expected to find friends with whom to dine in the future, they had best do so!
Kieran was on her way to the kitchen for a refill on the actual soup pot when she realized that a group of young women was watching her.
Talking about her? They definitely looked at herand went silentas she walked by.
They seemed to be of different nationalitiestwo of the women appeared to be East Indian, three were black, and two were blue-eyed blondes, possibly of Nordic descent. Or Russian. She was friends with some really beautiful light-haired and light-eyed Russian women. Then, of course, the world was a wonderfully mixed-up place, so anyone could be from just about anywhere and have any combination of features: light hair, dark hair, skin, and so on.
She walked by, and then became curious, hurrying back to find them.
At first, she couldnt see them at all. The group had dispersed.
And then she saw one woman moving through a crowd, but turning back now and then to see what was behind her.
Yes, it was one of the women who had been in the groupand now she was watching rather warily for just where Kieran might be.
Kieran was certain then that they had realized shed noticed them as they had been watching her.
The woman stood still for a moment; she was tall, ebony and regal in her bearing. She made eye contact with Kieran, and then turned away quickly.
Hey!
Kieran raced after her, but the woman slipped into the crowd. As Kieran made her way through people, excusing herself, she simply disappeared.
What the heck? she murmured.
Kieran!
She turned around quickly, aware that Mary Kathleen was calling to her.
The soupdid you get the soup?
No! Im so sorry. I
They call it a soup kitchen because we hand out soup. Rich, delicious soup, full of beef and vegetables and good things to help people make it through the day.
Yes, yes, I know! I will get it, right away. Honestly. Mary Kathleen, do you know that group of young women who were over there?
What group?
The group that was standing over there.
Where are they now? Mary Kathleen asked. And you didnt get the soup because a group of women was standing over there?
Mary Kathleen was looking at her with perplexity.
Sorry, sorry, I told you, I promiseIll get the soup. Mary Kathleen, I need to know who they were. They were staring at me.
Mary Kathleen looked at Kieran, and then looked down. She was silent for a minute before she met Kierans eyes again. Kieran, Im not meaning to be cruel or rude with these words, but...its just not always about you.
Kieran let out a sigh. No, no...they were really looking at me, talking about me.
But you dont know where they are now?
They scattered.
Maybe they just left, Mary Kathleen said softly. Maybe they actually managed to have some soupand then they left. Its what people do. We have showers here, but no beds. Its not a hostel. People come, dine, sometimes batheand then leave.
But...
Kierans voice trailed. Mary Kathleen was staring at her sorrowfullyand worriedly.
Oh, Kieran! Mary Kathleen said softly. Aye, indeed, that woman last night came to youused your name. But that does not mean that the rest of the world is watching you or whispering about you. You have to know that, right?
Mary Kathleen was not going to believe herno matter what she said. And now her almost-sister-in-law was worried about her. And she would tell Declan that she was worried about her. Declan would tell Craig. Craig would try very hard to keep her out of everything.
She let out an inward growl of absolute aggravation.
But she smiled at Mary Kathleen.
Yeah, you must be right. Crazy, huh? Kieran assured her.
And maybe she had imagined that she was being watched. Maybe the women had just moved on.
Ill get the soup, she told Mary Kathleen.
She turned to head into the kitchen and almost plowed into a man.
He was about six foot two in height, sturdy in build. His eyes were almost like coal; his facial hair was dark, as well, though his head was shaved clean.
He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. She was certain that he would speak to her in a foreign language.
He did not. When he spoke, his English was perfect. Unaccented.
Im so sorry. I believe I nearly knocked you over.
No, my fault, she said quickly. Excuse me. I have to get more soup.
Of course, he said.
She hadnt seen him working the food bankbut neither did he seem like someone who would be in the food line.
But shed seen other people there today who had come to see about hiring help for restaurants or other venues. There was some job placement support through the organization, who vetted possible employers so that no one was hired illegally or put in a position where they might find themselves deported.
Maybe this guy had a swanky restaurant somewhere and was looking for servers, cooks, busboys or -girls, and dishwashers.
There were all kinds of agencies to check up on what people were really doing, and they were ready, willing and able to connect people. But at the soup kitchen they only stepped in if their help was requested, since if they asked questions about the hungry men and women who visited, they might be scared offand then not feel comfortable enough to come back.
Kieran headed into the kitchen, smiling at the mustached chef from a SoHo Italian restaurant, who offered her another big pot of the soup.
They chatted for a minute, then she turned to bring the soup out to be served.
The dark-haired man was watching her. He didnt look away. He smiled, and it wasnt an entirely nice smile. Then he headed out of the facility.
Kieran felt a shiver race through her.
Who the hell was that man? And who were the women? Had they really been whispering about her, watching her?
Should she trust her gut that something was not quite right? Or did she just need to get over herself?
CHAPTER FOUR
The Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, or OCME, for New York City handled thousands of cases a year. Between Manhattan and the other four boroughs of the city, the population was massive, sitting at about eight and a half million, and in a population that size, quite a lot of people died.
Bodies werent brought in just because of murder; anyone whod died alone was brought to the OCME, as were those who passed from accidental death or suicide. There were thirty-plus full-time medical examiners working for the OCME, along with another sixty-plus assistants and a multitude of support staff, such as forensic pathology, photography, criminology, lab work, tech, clerical and more.
With that kind of personnel, Craig hadnt been expecting that the ME working the case would be someone he knew well. To his surprise, Dr. Anthony Andrews walked into the reception area to meet with them.
He, Mike and Detective Larry McBride had recently worked together during the perfect killings that had gripped the city. Young, energetic, detailedDr. Andrews was damned good at his job. Though Craig didnt think there was much that the ME could say that would help catch the killer, he was still glad that this particular doctor was on the job.
No one saw anything? Andrews asked after greeting them. She was stabbed in broad daylightand no one saw anything?
The best I can figure it, Craig said, she was hurrying down the street. She was heading in an easterly direction. She had just shoved the baby into Kierans arms and fled the office. Kieran was running after her. She was, at tops, a block behind. Remember, it was rush hourand that can mean a gridlock of people.
Someone snuck up behind the victim, Mike said.
Someone who must have followed her to the offices of Fuller and Miro, Craig said. The killer moved fast. Partner, you mind? he asked Mike, taking him by the arm to move him around in front so that Craig could mimic the stabbing as he pictured it had to have happened.