boundary began, and the stunning city skyline spread out on the southern horizon. They were looking for signs of a disturbance, but they didn't see any.
They were silent as they retraced their steps to the place near Seventy-seventh Street, where they'd entered the park last night. The tire prints of the 4x4 and hoofprints of the mounted officer's horse were still there, embedded in the grass, telling the story of their convocation. April slid down the bank to the water's edge, wetting her feet in the marshy ground.
"Damn."
"Something?" Woody asked, sticking to dry ground.
Stuck on a branch, the tail of a condom snaked gently with the current. Next to it, nestled in the mud, was a brown beer bottle bottom, showing the jagged edges of a broken neck. Half the label turned out giving the name, New Amsterdam. At a couple of dollars a bottle, it would hardly be the first choice of a vagrant.
"Just my new shoes."
"Whatchu looking for, Detective Woo?"
April was startled by the sound of a gravelly voice. "Who's there?" she called.
A balding man dressed in khaki pants and a blue parka who smelled of human waste crawled out of a space between two boulders. April recognized him immediately from the old days when she'd worked the Two-O.
"Pee Wee, what are you doing here? I thought you'd cleaned up your act and joined the Doe people."
"I tried it, didn't like them blue suits. All those rules."
He looked drunk and dazed, not fit for any kind of structure, certainly not the Doe Fund that put homeless men to work cleaning the streets, gave them food, a salary, and a place to live, but also required them to wear bright blue jumpsuits, not so different from the ones worn by prison inmates.
"And my people out here missed me too much. I help out here, keep the peace, you know that, Detective." Pee Wee tried to focus his swimming eyes. "Ain't seen you around for a while. You been on vacation or something?"
"I've been promoted. I'm a sergeant now, and I don't work in this area."
"Whatchu doin' here, then?"
"Got a 911 call last night, Pee Wee; know anything about it?"
"Yeah, I saw you," he said, nodding.
"You saw me?" She gave him a surprised look.
"Yeah and him, and 'nother cop on a horse, and two in a jeep."
"No kidding." Now Woody was interested.
"Yeah. A guy got whacked. Too bad." Pee Wee shook his head. "One of those running guys. You here about that?"
"Where?" The news was like a punch in the belly. April's blood beat in her temple.
Pee Wee scratched his whiskers. "I'm real hungry," he said.
"I'll get you some breakfast. Where's the dead guy?"
Pee Wee looked down at them from where he stood higher up on the lake bank. He scratched his beard some more. "I don't know. Dincha see him?"
"Where?" Woody demanded. "Where?"
"Right here, I don't know." Pee Wee's voice slurred.
"What kind of bullshit is this?" Woody barked.
Pee Wee looked hurt. "Do I do bullshit, Detective? The detective here knows me. I keep the peace, I'm the one stops the fights, don't I? I tell you what's up, don't I?"
"It's sergeant now," April said automatically. "Why didn't you say something when you saw us here last night?"
He stood there, shaking his head as if he had a palsy.
"Looks like you're an accessory."
"No way." Pee Wee a.k.a. John Jasper James, an ex-sergeant in the U.S. Army and a Vietnam veteran, protested. "I didn't have nothing to do with it. I thought I saw a guy go down. Maybe I'm wrong. Who's gonna believe an old drunk's story anyway?"
April could have called the detective squad commander of the Park Precinct to come and get Pee Wee James and take him in for questioning. She might have been instantly off the hook in the case and gone quietly on with her day. Any sane detective would have done that. But April wanted to clear up the mystery herself. Whatever mishap to Maslow Atkins occurred, it happened on her watch. And the missing man was Jason's student.
This time April swerved off the straight and narrow and sealed her fate in
They were silent as they retraced their steps to the place near Seventy-seventh Street, where they'd entered the park last night. The tire prints of the 4x4 and hoofprints of the mounted officer's horse were still there, embedded in the grass, telling the story of their convocation. April slid down the bank to the water's edge, wetting her feet in the marshy ground.
"Damn."
"Something?" Woody asked, sticking to dry ground.
Stuck on a branch, the tail of a condom snaked gently with the current. Next to it, nestled in the mud, was a brown beer bottle bottom, showing the jagged edges of a broken neck. Half the label turned out giving the name, New Amsterdam. At a couple of dollars a bottle, it would hardly be the first choice of a vagrant.
"Just my new shoes."
"Whatchu looking for, Detective Woo?"
April was startled by the sound of a gravelly voice. "Who's there?" she called.
A balding man dressed in khaki pants and a blue parka who smelled of human waste crawled out of a space between two boulders. April recognized him immediately from the old days when she'd worked the Two-O.
"Pee Wee, what are you doing here? I thought you'd cleaned up your act and joined the Doe people."
"I tried it, didn't like them blue suits. All those rules."
He looked drunk and dazed, not fit for any kind of structure, certainly not the Doe Fund that put homeless men to work cleaning the streets, gave them food, a salary, and a place to live, but also required them to wear bright blue jumpsuits, not so different from the ones worn by prison inmates.
"And my people out here missed me too much. I help out here, keep the peace, you know that, Detective." Pee Wee tried to focus his swimming eyes. "Ain't seen you around for a while. You been on vacation or something?"
"I've been promoted. I'm a sergeant now, and I don't work in this area."
"Whatchu doin' here, then?"
"Got a 911 call last night, Pee Wee; know anything about it?"
"Yeah, I saw you," he said, nodding.
"You saw me?" She gave him a surprised look.
"Yeah and him, and 'nother cop on a horse, and two in a jeep."
"No kidding." Now Woody was interested.
"Yeah. A guy got whacked. Too bad." Pee Wee shook his head. "One of those running guys. You here about that?"
"Where?" The news was like a punch in the belly. April's blood beat in her temple.
Pee Wee scratched his whiskers. "I'm real hungry," he said.
"I'll get you some breakfast. Where's the dead guy?"
Pee Wee looked down at them from where he stood higher up on the lake bank. He scratched his beard some more. "I don't know. Dincha see him?"
"Where?" Woody demanded. "Where?"
"Right here, I don't know." Pee Wee's voice slurred.
"What kind of bullshit is this?" Woody barked.
Pee Wee looked hurt. "Do I do bullshit, Detective? The detective here knows me. I keep the peace, I'm the one stops the fights, don't I? I tell you what's up, don't I?"
"It's sergeant now," April said automatically. "Why didn't you say something when you saw us here last night?"
He stood there, shaking his head as if he had a palsy.
"Looks like you're an accessory."
"No way." Pee Wee a.k.a. John Jasper James, an ex-sergeant in the U.S. Army and a Vietnam veteran, protested. "I didn't have nothing to do with it. I thought I saw a guy go down. Maybe I'm wrong. Who's gonna believe an old drunk's story anyway?"
April could have called the detective squad commander of the Park Precinct to come and get Pee Wee James and take him in for questioning. She might have been instantly off the hook in the case and gone quietly on with her day. Any sane detective would have done that. But April wanted to clear up the mystery herself. Whatever mishap to Maslow Atkins occurred, it happened on her watch. And the missing man was Jason's student.
This time April swerved off the straight and narrow and sealed her fate in
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