Manhattan Is My Beat

something slick and phony about him. He didn’t even seem dead: he just seemed odd.
    There was something far more real about Mr. Kelly. He wasn’t a sculpture, he wasn’t unreal at all. And death was staring right back at her. She felt the room tilting and had to concentrate on breathing. The tears tickled her cheeks with a painful irritation.
    The Lord be with you and with thy spirit blessed be the name of the Lord
….
    One of the men near the body noticed her. A short man in a suit, mustachioed. Trimmed black hair flowing away from his center part, held close to his head with spray. His eyes were close together and that made Rune think he was stupid.
    “You’re one of the witnesses? You’re the one called nine one one?”
    She nodded.
    The man noticed where her eyes were aimed. He stepped between her and Mr. Kelly’s body.
    “I’m Detective Manelli. You know the deceased?”
    “What happened?” Her mouth was dry and the words vanished in her throat. She repeated the question.
    The detective, watching her face, probably trying to figure out where she fit on the spectrum of relationships, said, “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Did you know him?”
    She nodded. She couldn’t see the body; her eyes fell to a small metal suitcase stenciled with the words CRIME SCENE UNIT. They fixed on the case, wouldn’t let go.
    “The tape. I was supposed to pick up the tape. For my job.”
    “Tape? What tape?”
    She pointed to a plastic bag with blue letters, WSV, printed on it. “That’s my store. He rented a movie yesterday. I was supposed to pick it up.”
    “You have some ID?”
    She handed Manelli her real driver’s license and her employee discount card. He jotted down some information. “You have a New York address?”
    She gave it to him. This he wrote down too. Handed back the cards. He didn’t seem to think she was involved. Maybe in his line of work you got a feel for who was a real killer.
    In a soft voice Rune said, “I was the one who rented the tape to him. It was me. Yesterday.” She whispered manically, “I just saw him yesterday. I … He was fine then. I talked to him just a few minutes ago.”
    “You talked to him?”
    “I just called on the intercom.”
    “You’re sure it was him?” the detective asked.
    She felt a thud in her chest. Recalling that the voice sounded different. Maybe it was the killer she’d talked to. Her legs went weak. “No, I’m not.”
    “Did you recognize the voice?”
    “No. But … it didn’t sound like Mr. Kelly. I didn’t think anything about it. I don’t know—I thought maybe I woke him up or something.”
    “The voice? Young, old, black, Hispanic?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell.”
    “You were outside? Did you see anything?”
    “I was in the alley. This green car tried to run us down.”
    “Us?” Manelli repeated. “You and the woman from next door?”
    “Right.”
    “What kind of car was it?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Dark green or light?”
    “Dark.”
    “Tags?”
    “What?” Rune asked.
    “The license plate number. You notice it?”
    “He was trying to run me down, the driver.”
    “You didn’t see the number, you mean?”
    “That’s what I mean. I didn’t see it.”
    “How ‘bout the state?” the detective asked.
    “No.”
    He sighed. “You see the driver?”
    “No. There was too much glare.”
    Another man in a suit came up to them. He smelled of bitter cigarettes. “Whatta we got?”
    Manelli said to him, “Here’s what it looks like, Captain. This lady comes to pick up a videotape. She calls on the intercom and we think the perp answers. Probably after he does the vic.”
    Does
the vic. Rune stared at the detective, furious at the callousness.
    “Pops him three in the chest. No defensive wounds, so it happened fast. He never even tried to dodge. And one in the TV.”
    “The TV?”
    Rune followed their eyes. The killer had shot out the TV set. A spidery fracture surrounded a small black hole in the upper right. It was, she noticed, a very old, cheap set.
    Manelli continued. “Then this neighbor up the hall—” He looked at his notebook. “Amanda LeClerc. She comes upstairs and finds him dead.”
    “Nobody hears anything?” the captain asked.
    “No. Not even the shots … Okay, then the killer or his backup’s in a car in the alley. He bolts and takes out one witness.”
    And nearly me too, Rune thought. As if they care.
    Manelli consulted his notebook again.