Gone Tomorrow

passengers.”
    “And the earth is flat and the moon is made of cheese.”
    “Did this alleged fifth passenger commit a crime somewhere between 30th Street and 45th?”
    “No,” I said.
    “Then the file stays closed.”
    Docherty put his phone down and glanced at his partner with an eloquent look on his face. I knew what the look meant. I had been a cop of sorts for thirteen years and had seen that kind of look many times before. It meant that someone else had caught a big case, and that Docherty was basically glad that he wasn’t involved, but a little wistful too, because even if being at the heart of the action was a pain in the neck bureaucratically, it was maybe a whole lot better than watching from the sidelines.
    I asked, “What happened?”
    Lee said, “Multiple homicide over in the 17th. A nasty one. Four guys under the FDR Drive, beaten and killed.”
    “With hammers,” Docherty said.
    I said, “Hammers?”
    “Carpentry tools. From the Home Depot on 23rd Street. Just purchased. They were found at the scene. The price tags are still on them, under the blood.”
    I asked, “Who were the four guys?”
    “No one knows,” Docherty said. “That seems to have been the point of the hammers. Their faces are pulped, their teeth are smashed out, and their fingertips are ruined.”
    “Old, young, black, white?”
    “White,” Docherty said. “Not old. In suits. Nothing to go on, except they had phony business cards in their pockets, with some corporate name that isn’t registered anywhere in New York State, and a phone number that is permanently disconnected because it belongs to a movie company.”

Chapter 41
    Docherty’s desk phone rang and he picked it up and started listening again. A friend in the 17th, presumably, with more details to share. I looked at Lee and said, “Now you’re going to have to reopen the file.”
    She asked, “Why?”
    “Because those guys were the local crew that Lila Hoth hired.”
    She looked at me and said, “What are you? Telepathic?”
    “I met with them twice.”
    “You met some crew twice. Nothing says these are the same guys.”
    “They gave me one of those phony business cards.”
    “All those crews use phony business cards.”
    “With the same kind of phone number?”
    “Movies and TV are the only places to get those numbers.”
    “They were ex–cops. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
    “I care about cops, not ex–cops.”
    “They said Lila Hoth’s name.”
    “No, some crew said her name. Doesn’t mean these dead guys did.”
    “You think this is a coincidence?”
    “They could be anybody’s crew.”
    “Like who else’s?”
    “Anybody in the whole wide world. This is New York. New York is full of private guys. They roam in packs. They all look the same and they all do the same stuff.”
    “They said John Sansom’s name, too.”
    “No, some crew said his name.”
    “In fact they were the first place I heard his name.”
    “Then maybe they were his crew, not Lila’s. Would he have been worried enough to have his own people up here?”
    “He had his chief of staff on the train. That’s who the fifth passenger was.”
    “There you go, then.”
    “You’re not going to do anything?”
    “I’ll inform the 17th, for background.”
    “You’re not going to reopen your file?”
    “Not until I hear about a crime my side of Park Avenue.”
    I said, “I’m going to the Four Seasons.”
    It was late and I was pretty far west and I didn’t find a cab until I hit Sixth Avenue. After that it was a fast trip to the hotel. The lobby was quiet. I walked in like I had a right to be there and rode the elevator to Lila Hoth’s floor. Walked the silent corridor and paused outside her suite.
    Her door was open an inch.
    The tongue of the security deadbolt was out and the spring closer had trapped it against the jamb. I paused another second and knocked.
    No response.
    I pushed the door and felt the mechanism push back. I held it open forty-five degrees against my spread fingers and listened.
    No sound inside.
    I opened the door all the way and stepped in. Ahead of me the living room was dim. The lights were off but the drapes were open and there was enough of a glow from the city outside to show me that the room was empty. Empty, as in no people in it. Also empty as in checked-out-of and abandoned. No shopping bags in the corners, no personal items stowed either carefully or carelessly, no coats over chairs, no shoes on the floor. No signs of