Forty-four

April left Mike with the suspect and went downstairs to make some calls. Woody Baum showed up in the unmarked unit she'd requested and waited in the car. Two good-looking uniforms borrowed from the Sixth idled by the front door of the building. Three bigger ones guarded the room where Mike was showing muscle while getting educated by a nut. April was on the phone for close to an hour. She called Hagedorn at Midtown North to check on his progress with the Bassett heirs. He'd done his homework.

"Wednesday evening Brenda walked her dog at nine-thirty and didn't leave the apartment the rest of the night. Confirmed by her doorman. She would have to pass him, and he would have to unlock the front door for her to get out," he said. "She's been married twice. Two nasty divorces, came out pretty well. She owes two million on her apartment, but pays off her credit card debt monthly. She has nearly eight figures in a brokerage account. A standard credit check comes up with no financial difficulties, no other debt. She winters in Santa Fe, votes Republican, plays golf at two private clubs where she's a full member. She likes to go on cruises. Crystal Line. Two or three a year. She's clean, no arrests, no troubles in the past. I've just started, though."

"What about the brother?"

"He bought land outside of Denver for development twelve years back. Turned out there was no water there, and the zoning changed. Lost his shirt. He's down to a couple of mil, drinks like a college freshman, golfs at a club in Connecticut where he has a restricted membership. Votes Republican, had a couple of DUIs in the past. No driver's license at the moment. That's it."

"And he has an alibi for Wednesday."

"Yes. In plain sight at a bar at the time of the murder. But he could have hired someone. We need to subpoena bank records to get more. Cherry Packer is a small-time horse breeder and trainer, nee Olivia Brancusi. Not even a parking ticket on her. Lot of financial problems, though. She's had to refinance the stables several times. The property is maxed out, so are her credit cards, and she owed almost nine months on her mortgage until a month ago. She does have a three-year-old called Warlord, but it's never run any race.

"Pretty horse, but probably a hacker. She's had a longtime association with Harry Weinstein. They talk on the phone every day, traveled to Florida twice together last winter. She still has two hundred twenty-five thousand in her account-didn't pay off the credit cards yet, nor has she gone on any spending sprees since the money came in. She's acting as if this is all she's getting. Do you want me to work on Weinstein?"

"That's terrific. Thanks, Charlie. I owe you. But that's a no on Harry. Mike's people are on it."

"Give me a few days and I'll come up with more," he said hopefully.

"I've got a bigger fish for you. I want you to work on a guy called Albert Delano Frayme. He's in the alumni office at York U. He's a karate freak. Hands like sledgehammers. He might have been a competitor. See what comes up on him."

"How are you spelling that?"

"Sorry. Frank, Robert, Allen, Yankees, mother, Ellen."

"That's frame with a Y?"

"You got it."

"How are you feeling?" he queried before she hung up.

"Better, thanks for asking. I didn't know you cared," she said.

"See ya."

She dialed Kathy Bernardino's number at one p.m. "What are you up to?"

"I'm going through the shit, cleaning up. No one else will," Kathy replied.

"Looking for the money?" April couldn't resist saying.

"Maybe. Your people didn't help in the mess department, and I'm sure Bill tossed the place, too. I miss Weenie, but the kids want to keep him. Dad and Mom left me the house; did you know that? It was in the will from years ago after they helped Bill buy his house."

"It must be nice to know your parents were thinking of you. The place will be great once you get it cleaned up. Are you going to live there?"

"No, I'm selling it."

April had no comment for that. Too bad. "What do you think is the significance of the number four?" she asked after a pause.

"As in million? I have no idea." Kathy's voice sounded weary. "No idea at all. Does it tie into the murder?"

"Still working on it. Have you heard of a guy called Al Frayme?"

"No, the name doesn't ring a bell. Who is he?"

"He's a fund-raiser in the alumni office at York U. He knew your dad from way back. Our guess is he started putting the arm on him for a contribution as soon as the lottery money came in."

"Him and everyone else."

"Yes, but he knew Birdie, too. Neither one gave him any money."

Kathy whooped. "I knew it wasn't Bill!" Then she was quiet for a moment. "What's the motive? He killed them because they didn't give money to a school!"

"This is very early days. We think he didn't want them to have a guilty conscience."

"What?"

"It's a little unclear why, Kathy. But he knew their movements well, and he had opportunity."

"Do you have anything else on him?"

"Not yet. We're still in the process of subpoenaing the wills and financial records of Birdie and your dad. The paper is coming in. In the Bassett case we don't know yet who stands to gain."

"What can I do?"

"It's Frayme I'm interested in at the moment. If you see anything with his name on it, any notes your father may have made, anything to connect the two recently, that would help. I don't want to jump the gun, but at the moment he's looking good."

"I'm sorry I haven't been more help," Kathy said after a pause.

"No problem. I'm still on your side. We'll find that money. Give me a call on my cell." April hung up. She didn't have anything else to add.

Al Frayme's name wasn't on April's list of black belts at the nearest tae kwon do studio on Twelfth Street. That didn't surprise her. She called Marcus Beame to alert Fred and Frank.

"Hey, April. I'm going nuts here with no news. What's going on?" He sounded more than glad to hear from her.

"I have a question for Frank and Fred on the karate angle."

"Shoot."

"We have a suspect. His name is Albert Frayme, with a Y. He lives in the area, East Eighth Street." She gave the building number.

"That's Frayme with a Y," Beame confirmed.

"Yes. Mixed-fight expert. He has the hands. I don't know about the feet."

"Is he the one? You'd know, you fought him, right?"

The question made her uncomfortable. Mike had given her the look in Al's office. Before that, she and Jack Devereaux had given each other the look in his apartment. Jack couldn't be sure; her memory was faulty. It was pitiful. She just didn't know.

"We're just fishing at the moment, Marcus. Just ask them if the name has come up."

"Will do. Anything else?"

"You know, yes. I'm getting a funny feeling about a guy seen walking a dog near both homicides. We've been thinking of him as a witness, but maybe he was a lookout."

"How would that play, April?"

"I'm getting some expert help on this. But I'm guessing it might be someone who was on the scene but didn't actively participate-like someone riding shotgun in a car. Frayme may be one of those guys who wouldn't kill without a friend to egg him on. Check the name Frayme, his known associates and sparring partners. If we're real lucky, one of them has a dog."

"Yeah, I got it," Marcus said excitedly.

"Call me back right away." April was sweating with excitement. That dog piece of the puzzle had been driving her nuts. Now it was beginning to play.

She caught Marty Baldwin coming in the front door of the administration building. "Mr. Baldwin. I'm Sergeant Woo from the police. I'd like to ask you a few questions." She showed him her ID.

Marty Baldwin glanced back at the two uniformed officers and nodded. He was a short, round-faced cherub with a balding head and a bulging muscle in his neck that masqueraded as a double chin. He wore a yellow-and-blue tattersall shirt and a brown suit with a red silk handkerchief in the breast pocket. "Okay. Let's go to my office," he said.