Angel's Tip by Alafair Burke Page B

that the photograph was too good—too posed, too pretty—to have originated with any DMV.
    The girl’s credit card had been in yet another name, and the thought had crossed his mind it might have been stolen. He’d tossed it in a garbage can along the FDR, along with the tarp and the girl’s pants.
    The picture on the license was definitely his Jennifer, though. Those were undeniably the same girl’s bright blue eyes, round cheeks, and square jaw. That sexy smile, turned up on one side like she had a secret she might just be willing to share under the right circumstances. And, whether it was real or not, the card had belonged to her. She had carried it, touched it, used it. Those were the things that mattered—not the name or address.
    He looked at his watch. He was running on empty but had a meeting at three. He held the ID carefully between his left index finger and thumb. He unbuttoned his pants with his right hand. For the next three minutes, his eyes remained fixed on the other plastic bag—still sealed, its contents still safe and contained. All of that beautiful wavy blond hair worn by Jennifer Green in her fake Indiana driver’s license belonged to him now.

CHAPTER 9
    BY ELLIE’S ESTIMATE, the drive from East River Park to the medical examiner’s office up by Bellevue would take at least eight minutes, even with the help of police lights on the FDR. Eight minutes wasn’t a lot, but it was too long to ride in total silence, and just about the right amount of time to ask Rogan the question that was on her mind.
    “So I noticed Mariah Florkoski said you were lucky not to get paired up with Larry Winslow.” She had seen Winslow around the squad room. As far as she could tell, he worked on his own, and only on desk jobs.
    “You got Florkoski’s name after just one meet? I thought I was good with names.”
    “I think the name I was more interested in was Larry Winslow.”
    “The guy’s the next to retire. And he’s lazy. Now Casey, my old partner, he did it right. Everyone knew he wanted to ride out the end in Arizona, but he worked the job a hundred percent every day. Everyone was surprised when he took off right at twenty years. But Winslow’s just counting down the hours. No one in the house wants to work with that. Lucky for me you came along.”
    “But you never would have gotten partnered with him after you’djust had one partner retire on you. Eckels made it sound like I was the one who was supposed to inherit Winslow. In fact, he said I had you to thank for sparing me.”
    Rogan reached for the radio, hit the power button, and began scanning for a song that met his approval. He settled on Hot 97, a mainstream hip-hop station. He turned up the volume on a Kanye West tune, and Ellie reached over and turned it down a notch.
    “Sorry, but if we’re going to be partners, you need to know now I like dealing with things head-on. If I’m out of line, bringing up something I shouldn’t, just tell me. I’ll back off. But drowning me out with the radio?”
    “Don’t read into it. It’s just, this is my joint, y’know?” Rogan moved his head back and forth with the beat.
    “Yeah, I know. And I also know there’s some story behind how you and I became partners. And if everyone else in the house knows about it, I thought maybe I should, too.”
    “See? This right here? That’s what the issue was.” Rogan turned the radio off.
    “What do you mean, ‘This right here’?”
    “This whole dialogue.” Rogan moved his right hand back and forth between them. “It’s like fighting with your girl or something. Like, ‘C’mon baby, we just need to talk.’”
    “Uh, except I’m not your girl, and I didn’t call you ‘baby.’”
    “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, partners need to get each other, you know? And, well, some of the guys weren’t so sure you’d ever be able to get them, and vice versa.”
    “Because of the whole not-having-boy-parts thing? Because that’s not really