Page 70 of Kill For Me Kill For You
The nightstand had a single drawer, quite deep. When she opened it, she found a metal lockbox inside. It was small, the kind of box an office might use to keep petty cash or important documents inside. It was painted gray, and the lock and construction of the box looked sturdy.
She picked up the keys on the nightstand, flicked through them until she found a small key that looked as though it might fit into the box. Amanda slotted the key into the lock . . . and then she heard a bang.
Something heavy, slamming. Then there were voices. And footsteps in the hallway.
The bang had come from the front door banging shut.
There were people downstairs in the house. She killed the flashlight.
Amanda held her breath, looked around the room. Under the bed. The only place she could hide. She got down on her knees, slowly, careful not to make any sound, and crawled beneath the bed, taking the lockbox with her.
34
Farrow
‘What are we doing here? I thought we agreed this wasn’t Mr. Blue-eyes,’ said Hernandez, closing the front door to Quinn’s property.
Farrow had gotten the keys from Statler and Waldorf. They didn’t mind him taking another look around. Especially as the victim had yet to wake from the coma and identify a perp. Statler had told him he could even take the case for all they cared – one less unsolved on their pile was as good as a win.
‘I know it’s not our guy. But it’s not a domestic, either,’ said Farrow.
‘Okay, since when is that our problem? Statler and Waldorf unloading a shitshow on us?’
‘No, I haven’t agreed to take it. Not yet.’
‘Why would we take it? It’s not like we don’t have a full roster of cases. The lieutenant’s not going to like this.’
‘You leave her to me. Look, you know me by now.’
‘That’s exactly why we’re having this conversation. We don’tneedanother case.’
‘If you were a relative of Quinn’s, would you want the Muppets investigating this case?’
‘That’s the department’s problem. Not ours,Saint Jude.’
Farrow leaned against the wall for a moment, found the light switch and flicked it on. For a second, both of them were blinded. In the Catholic Church Saint Jude was the patron saint of hopeless cases, and that’s how Farrow earned his name, and a considerable reputation, because he closed cases that nobody else could, no matter how long it took. He took on cases from other cops when they’d hit a wall, and he cleared them.
‘I’m not saying we take on every unsolved in Manhattan. You know that. But there are aspects of this case that don’t make sense. Come on, admit it. And Statler and Waldorf don’t care.’
‘Not our problem, not our case,’ she said.
‘Come on, the locks are broken on the tool shed and the back gate. That’s an intruder, not a domestic. This is the kind of shit—’
‘That will keep me up at night,’ said Hernandez, mimicking Farrow’s voice.
Farrow stood, stretched his back, said, ‘Am I that predictable?’
‘I’ve heard that line before. Last year, in fact, with the ATM murder, and six months before that with the shooting in Central Park, and the year before that—’
‘I get it. But we closed those cases, didn’t we?’
‘Okay, anything to help you get some shuteye,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Let’s look around. But leave the case with Statler and Waldorf for now. Give them your notes. Maybe they’ll change their approach?’
‘And if they don’t?’
‘Then we’ll work it. They’ll be only too happy to hand it over.’
Together they went through the hallway to the living room, switched on the lights as they went. Farrow had at least been given a name for the victim – Frank Quinn. He was listed as the owner. There was a large flatscreen TV in the corner, some books arranged on a shelf and a single couch. Farrow followed Hernandez to the study, looked more closely at the bookcase as Hernandez went through the desk drawers.
