Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [17]
“Well, who knows?” said the young cop. “A heart attack can be a scary thing, even if it’s not too severe. My dad took early retirement after he had his. So maybe Mr. Nolan will decide to slow down after this. Give up acting. Quit the show. And without its star, maybe The Dirty Thirty will be canceled.”
“Wishful thinking,” Lopez said morosely.
“God, I hate that show,” said Thompson.
“Did you guys know that was the show that was filming around here tonight?” Lopez asked casually, as if commiserating.
I recalled his theory that I’d been the victim of an elaborate prank.
“Sure, we knew. They don’t go to the Three-Oh anymore, but they still come here.” Thompson snorted. “Television people.” He blinked and added, “But I swear, detective, we didn’t think your girlfriend was one of them. We all thought she was just a crazy hooker. God’s honest truth.”
“Of course,” Lopez said wearily.
I said, “I’d like to leave now.”
“My partner and I will take you home, Miss Diamond,” Thompson said.
“No, not home,” I said.
Lopez gave me a suspicious look. “Where are you going?”
“I have to go look for . . . for someone.”
Lopez’s gaze locked with mine. I could see him trying to decide whether it was even worth arguing with me, and whether he could trust me if I gave in and agreed to go straight home and stay there. He came to the inevitable conclusion, sighed, and said, “All right. Fine. I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“It’s the middle of the night, Esther.” He shoved me none too gently into the back of the squad car and got in beside me. “And you’ve already been arrested once in that outfit. As well as attacked.”
“Darius was the one who was attacked. I just—”
“Whatever.”
As Officer Thompson and his partner—a slightly chubby white man whose name I didn’t catch—got into the front of the car, Lopez motioned for me to tell them where to take us.
When I did, though, the two cops in the front seat balked.
“Miss Diamond, we’re the ones who searched that area after you were picked up. Your friend isn’t there.”
“He’s not my friend,” I said. “And I need to see for myself.”
“But, ma’am, there’s no—”
“Let’s go,” Lopez said firmly.
He was wearing shorts and flip- flops, and he was from outside the precinct, but he outranked them, and he spoke with authority. The cops shut up, and the squad car pulled away from the curb.
“Thank you,” I said quietly to Lopez.
I heard him mutter, “I don’t even get sex for this.”
“You’d have to date me for that,” I snapped.
“Huh?” He looked at me in surprise. “Oh. Sorry. Tired. Didn’t realize I was talking out loud.”
“Hmph.”
I folded my arms and stared out the window while we rode the few blocks between the station house and the dark sidewalk where I had last seen Darius, not far from Mount Morris Park. Since the streets were practically empty, it took almost no time to get there. As we approached, I recognized the spot and said, “This is it! I’ll get out here.”
“We’ll get out here,” Lopez said.
“We’ll all get out here,” Officer Thompson said, bringing the car to a halt. “My orders were clear, detective. I am to make sure Miss Diamond departs this precinct. So I can’t leave her here.”
“Great,” Lopez said to me as he nudged me out of the car. “Now there’s a whole precinct that doesn’t want you.”
Ignoring him, I exited the car, frowning as I examined the site. “These garbage cans were all tumbled over when I left here.”
Thompson’s plump partner said, “We straightened them when we were looking for the dead guy.” When we all looked at him, he added, “Darius Phelps.”
While the cops hung around the squad car looking bored, I showed Lopez where Darius had been lying when I went to get help.
“You’re sure this was the spot?” he said.
“Positive.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the cops, then said quietly to me, “Then you didn’t see a severed hand.”
“I did,” I insisted.
“Not a real one.” Still keeping his voice low, he said, “It was only a few hours ago. If you saw a real dismemberment here, there would still be blood all over the sidewalk. It would be dry by now, but there