Survivor in Death (In Death 20)
The skinniest of the lot, a mixed-race stick with a pitted complexion, grinned—illustrating that his dental care was slightly below the standard of his skin care—and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
“Detective Peabody.” Eve spoke in mild tones, her eyes cold as a shark’s. “In your professional opinion, did this individual, who has possibly witnessed a crime, just solicit a member of the NYPSD for a bribe in exchange for information regarding that crime?”
“That does appear to be the case, Lieutenant.”
“Me and my ’sociates need some jack. You give, you gets.”
“And, Detective, what would be my most usual response to such a solicitation?”
“Your response, Lieutenant, would be to haul said individual, and possibly his associates, into Central, possibly charged with obstruction of justice and impeding a police investigation. You would also determine if subject and/or his associates had sheets. If so, you would then spend considerable time ruining their day and potentially making their lives, for the short-term at least, a stinking hell.”
“That’s exactly correct, Detective. Thank you. You catch any of that, asshole?”
He actually looked hurt. “No jack?”
“That is also exactly correct. Now I’ll repeat: What did you see, what do you know?”
“You gonna take me in I don’t say?”
“Two correct answers in a row. Want to try for three?”
“Well, shit. I seen the big nose sluffling along, coming along looking like she smell something she don’t like. Ain’t worth two looks, but we just hanging, so I start to give her a blow. Then the van thing, it flies up. Fast! And the two dudes, they pop out the back. Got one on each sida her. Lifts her up, toss her in, slam, bam, gone. We and my ’sociates, we’da taken them on but they was rat fast, man. You gets?”
“Yeah, I get. What did they look like? The men who popped out the back?”
“Like ninjas, man.” He looked at each of his pals for nods of agreement. “Like a coupla kick-face ninja dudes in black threads with the mask thing.”
“How about the van?”
“Black, too.”
“Make, model, plate?”
“Hell, what I know? I don’t drive no van. Big and black, and moved slick as goose shit. Musta been a dude in the front, but I didn’t see nothing. Wasn’t lookin’. And the big nose? She don’t even squeak. Got her grabbed and stashed so fast, she don’t even squeak. We chill now?”
“Yeah, we’re chill now. Name?”
“Man.” He shuffled his feet. “Ramon. Ramon Pasquell. I got legitimate parole, man. I be looking for a job now, but I’m standing here jawing you.”
“Right. Ramon, if you or your associates remember anything else, you can contact me at Central.” She handed him a card and a twenty.
“Hey!” No amount of joy lighting his face could make it any less ugly. “You fridge for a big nose.”
“Sweet talker,” she said and walked into the building.
“You don’t have a big nose,” Peabody pointed out. “In fact, it could be called narrow and elegant.”
“Big nose—nosey—cops, CPS, probation officers, and so on. We’re all big noses to mopes like Ramon.”
“Ah, I gets. Report has the witness on the third floor. Cable, Minnie.”
It only took one glance at the grimy, dented door of the single skinny elevator to have Eve taking the grimy stairs instead. She had a moment to wonder why the stench of urine and puke always seemed to permeate the walls in such places when a uniform stepped out of a door on the third floor.
She noted he made them as cops even before he eyed the badge she’d hooked in her belt. “Lieutenant, you’re quick. I just called for detectives.”
“Belay that, Officer. This incident may be related to one of our cases. She going to give me anything worthwhile?”
“Saw the whole thing. She’s excitable, but she saw the grab, recognized the victim. Meredith Newman. Child Protection. I contacted CPS, and it checks. Newman was due here for a home check.”