The Cold Moon
evidence right now.”
Sachs was silent. She looked flustered.
It’s hard when your lover is also your professional partner. But Lincoln Rhyme couldn’t hold back, even—especially—with Amelia Sachs. He said in a low, even voice, “This’s your case, Sachs. You’ve been living it. I haven’t. Where does it all point?”
“I don’t know.” She dug a thumbnail into her finger. Her mouth tight, she shook her head, staring at the evidence chart. Loose ends. “There’s not enough evidence.”
“There’s never enough evidence,” Rhyme reminded. “But that’s not an excuse. That’s what we’re here for, Sachs. We’re the ones who examine a few dirty bricks and figure out what the entire castle looked like.”
“I don’t know.”
“I can’t help you, Sachs. You’ve got to figure this one out on your own. Think about what you’ve got. Somebody with a connection to Maryland . . . somebody following you in a Mercedes . . . saltwater and seaweed . . . cash, a lot of cash. Crooked cops.”
“I don’t know ,” she repeated stridently.
But he wasn’t giving an inch. “That’s not an option. You have to know.”
She glared at him—and at the hard message beneath the words, which was: You can walk out that door tomorrow and throw away your career if you want. But for now you’re still a cop with a job to do.
Her fingernails worried her scalp.
“There’s something more, something you’re missing,” Rhyme muttered as he too gazed at the evidence charts.
“So, you’re saying we have to think outside the box,” said Ron Pulaski.
“Ah, clichés,” Rhyme snapped. “Well, okay, if you’re in a box, maybe you’re there for a reason. I say don’t think outside it; I say look more closely at what’s inside with you. . . . So, Sachs, what do you see in there?”
She stared at the charts for some moments.
Then she smiled and whispered, “Maryland.”
BENJAMIN CREELEY HOMICIDE
----
• 56-year-old Creeley, apparently suicide by hanging. Clothesline. But had broken thumb, couldn’t tie noose.
• Computer-written suicide note about depression. But appeared not to be suicidally depressed, no history of mental/emotional problems.
• Around Thanksgiving two men broke into his house and possibly burned evidence. White men, but faces not observed. One bigger than other. They were inside for about an hour.
• Evidence in Westchester house:
• Broke through lock; skillful job.
• Leather texture marks on fireplace tools and Creeley’s desk.
• Soil in front of fireplace has higher acid content than soil around house and contains pollutants. From industrial site?
• Traces of burned cocaine in fireplace.
• Ash in fireplace.
• Financial records, spreadsheet, references to millions of dollars.
• Checking logo on documents, sending entries to forensic accountant.
• Diary re: getting oil changed, haircut appointment and going to St. James Tavern.
• Analysis of ash from Queens CS lab:
• Logo of software used in corporate accounting.
• Forensic accountant: standard executive compensation figures.
• Burned because of what they revealed, or to lead investigators off?
• St. James Tavern
• Creeley came here several times.
• Apparently didn’t use drugs while here.
• Not sure whom he met with, but maybe cops from the nearby 118th Precinct of the NYPD.
• Last time he was here—just before his death—he got into an argument with persons unknown.
• Checked money from officers at St. James—serial numbers are clean, but found coke and heroin. Stolen from precinct?
• Not much drugs missing, only 6 or 7 oz. of pot, 4 of coke.
• Unusually few organized crime cases at the 118th Precinct but no evidence of intentional stalling by officers.
• Two gangs in the East Village possible but not likely suspects.
• Interview with Jordan Kessler, Creeley’s partner, and follow-up with wife.
• Confirmed no obvious drug use.
• Didn’t appear to associate with criminals.
• Drinking more than usual, taken up gambling; trips to Vegas and Atlantic City. Losses were large, but not significant to Creeley.
• Not clear why he was depressed.
• Kessler didn’t recognize burned records.
• Awaiting list of clients.
• Kessler doesn’t appear to gain
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