23

There was no love lostbetween Buck the bureaucrat and me, and tragedy did not bring us closer together. He was as obnoxious as ever, wearing a black turtleneck and jeans. His hands fluttered as he growled out the words.

“We’re rather busy, Officer. Our secretary is out, and we’ve had some bad news.”

“Do tell.”

“Then perhaps you can come back tomorrow with your pesky little questions.”

As he started to close the door on me, I pushed my way in. “Please get Mr. Klinghoffner for me, Buck.”

Having lost that battle, he sat down at his desk and glared at me. “You’ll have to wait! I’m elbow deep in paperwork.”

I went over to his desk. In a single sudden motion of my arm, I cleared his desktop. “Well, now you’re not. Go get him.”

“I could have you reported!” Buck was fuming.

“Last I checked, the phone lines were open. So if you don’t have the balls to do it, go get Klinghoffner.”

Slowly, slowly, he got up. “Typical heavy-handed cop. What is it, Officer? Are you jealous because most women still prefer me to big, strong you?”

I ignored him and checked my watch. I had only an hour before Sarah Sanders was coming in to make a statement. I set my angry eyes on him and waited. He tried out a glare, but it was more like a sneer. In the end, he picked up the phone and punched in some numbers. He turned his back to me and spoke quietly. After he hung up the receiver, he told me that Klinghoffner would be down in five minutes.

I told him thank you.

His eyes went from my face to the mess on the floor. I bent down to pick up the papers.

“Don’t touch anything!” he blurted out. “I… Let me handle it. Please.”

I stood up. “Sorry.”

He squatted down, scanned the mess, then began by picking up a pile of papers. “You’re not forgiven.”

I surveyed the room. I found what I was looking for-the requisite coffeemaker. “Can I make it up by fetching you a cup of home brew?”

He was still sitting on his haunches. “My mug is the blue one. One packet of creamer, one packet sugar.”

I went over to the stand and filled his order with the efficiency of the neighborhood Star$s. “Mind if I help myself?”

“That’s why the Styrofoam cups are there.”

I poured myself a half cup, then placed his mug on his desk.

Buck said, “You were there when it happened?”

“Yes.”

He turned some pages over in his hands, then placed them down on the floor. He began to collate the piles. “It must have been awful.”

“Yes.”

“What exactly happened?”

“Some other time, Buck.”

“Did you at least find the idiot?”

“It’s coming,” I fibbed.

“That means no.”

“No, it means it’s coming.”

He huffed disdain.

“It’s good to see you obnoxious again. I was getting worried.”

He started to talk but changed his mind. Instead, he stood up and shuffled the pages.

“Are your papers in order?” I asked him.

“For the most part, yes.”

“Want me to mess them up again?”

“I want you to go away. But since that’s not going to happen, at least don’t talk.” He sat back down at his desk, straightened a pile of papers, then sipped coffee.

“Did you know the girl, Buck?”

“I know everyone here.” He looked up at me. “Are you going to ask me more questions? Because if it’s yes, I won’t even start to concentrate.”

“Know anyone who’d want to hurt her?”

“Of course not. That would imply that someonecaresenough about them to kill them.” He bit his lip. “These are the discards of humanity. If it weren’t for Mr. Klinghoffner’s dedication, the city would have closed us down many moons ago.”

“Her brother said that someone from the center had called her, offering to take her back to Fordham.”

“Who?”

“We’re in the process of checking phone records. Any ideas?”

“No. I’m not here on weekends. I have an administrative job. But of course, someone was here. Check with them.”

I eyed him. “Where were you Sunday night?”

Buck broke into a savage smile. “Oh my!” He brought his hands to his chest. “Am I under suspicion?”

“Can you answer the question?”

“Let’s see.” He cleared his throat. “What time are we talking about?”

“Three in the morning. Monday morning.”

“At threeA.M.? I was sleeping.”

“Do you have a roommate?”

“My dog.”

“What’d you do last Sunday?”

“Hmmm. I went out to brunch with a good friend… Café Romano. That was until… hmmm… three, three-thirty. Do you want her name?”

Hername. “Girlfriend?”

“On good days.” He sneered at me. “Jealous?”

“Green with envy. Go on.”

“Hmmm… I went home. I read. Watched TV. Played with my computer… Oh, I went to a video store. I rentedIn the Bedroom… something light and breezy.” He rolled his eyes.

I smiled.

Buck pointed to the stairwell. “Your interviewee awaits.”

I looked in the direction of his pointed finger. Klinghoffner was coming down the steps.

“Anything else?” Buck asked me.

I stood up. “Not at the moment.”

“Does this mean you’re going to pester me again?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh goody!” He graced me with a sour smile. “I’m rather enjoying thisbad-boyimage.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I whispered as I passed his desk.

?

We went into a private office, away from Buck’s prying eyes and ears, and away from distractions. Klinghoffner was wearing a rumpled brown jacket, a wrinkled white shirt, and creased brown cords. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for days. His eyes were sunken and his skin had a sick pallor that usually accompanied bad news. He mirrored my own internal turmoil.

“They’re children,” he told me. “Little kids, Officer Decker. That’s all Belinda was… just a little kid.” He sank into a chair, motioning for me to sit as well. “I just can’t believe the bastard didn’t stop!”

“It was terrible.”

He regarded me with sympathetic eyes. “Did you get his license plate?”

“There’s an ongoing investigation. But actually that’s not why I’m here.”

“No?” He sounded surprised.

Before I started to explain myself, I said, “Have the police contacted you in regard to Belinda’s death?”

“No. Frankly, that’s what I thought this call was all about.”

I had no business asking about Belinda, no business investigating the hit-and-run. Not only would it have been unprofessional, it might mess something up in the future. And to that, I said to myself:So what?I said, “Her brother told me that someone had phoned her, offering to take her back to the center. Know anything about that?”

“No.” He thought a moment. “How odd. I have no idea who that could have possibly been. We’re on a skeleton staff over the weekend, just a couple of our teachers, sleep-in caretakers, and the janitor.”

“We’re in the process of checking phone records from her brother’s house. We’d like to look over your phone records as well.”

“Of course. Anything to find this monster.”

“Her brother said that she was boy crazy. Maybe she was on a secret tryst. Could she have been seeing someone without you knowing about it?”

“Like a boyfriend?”

“Yes, Mr. Klinghoffner, like a boyfriend.”

“It couldn’t have been anyone from here. None of our students have driver’s licenses.”

“And since when has that ever stopped a determined teenager from getting behind the wheel?”

Klinghoffner said, “It doesn’t, but these kids don’t have access to a car.”

“She was hit about five miles away from here. She could have taken a bus.”

He was straining with thought. “I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you,” I told him. “As I said before, I’m also here for another reason.”

Klinghoffner waited.

“I’m interested in Sarah Sanders… her baby’s father, actually. I think he might have been a student here. She mentioned a boy named David. Probably black. Possibly Down’s syndrome… or maybe mosaic. That’s when-”