Free The Guilty Plea by Robert Rotenberg

borders. Daniel Kennicott’s working with me on this case. He swore out a warrant, so we’ll monitor her phone, e-mails, et cetera.”
    This was smart. If Greene rushed into an arrest, it would leave things open for the defense to accuse him of tunnel vision. Failure to eliminate other suspects. Besides, once she was arrested, Samantha would effectively be silenced. This way they could watch and listen to her.
    “Terrance have any known enemies?”
    “No. No criminal record. No police contacts. Sounds like everyone loved him.”
    “Except his wife. Other suspects?”
    “April Goodling, the movie-star girlfriend, seems to have an alibi. In her hotel room all night. Cutter and Gild are her lawyers.”
    “That figures,” Raglan said. There was no love lost between Phil Cutter and Jennifer Raglan.
    “The oldest brother works early mornings at the food terminal. Kennicott did the notification.”
    Raglan knew why Greene had done this. The Michael Kennicott case was Greene’s only unsolved homicide. It would be tough for Daniel to tell someone his brother was dead. Greene was testing him.
    “The rest of the family live up north, parents and a disabled brother. We’re meeting them early tomorrow morning. Right now we’re going door-to-door on Wyler’s street. Most of the people are away.”
    “Up north at their cottages, no doubt,” Raglan said.
    “I’m trying to trace Samantha Wyler’s movements for the last twenty-four hours. We checked the video in the lobby of her apartment. She left at nine forty-one on Sunday night and never returned. Doesn’t have a license. The nanny says she never learned to drive. We’re checking the cab companies, the videos at the subway. We’ll interview the late-night bus drivers when they come back on shift. Nothing so far.”
    “Where do you think she went?”
    “I have a hunch. We’re going door-to-door in Yorkville, where her family lawyer, a guy named Feindel, has his office. DiPaulo got that knife from her somehow. Makes sense to me she gave it to Feindel.”
    Many homicide detectives took pride in making speedy arrests, but Greene had a way of seeing another angle to even the most straightforward set of facts. This time, though, Raglan wondered if he weren’t being too conservative. “She has motive and opportunity. You’ve got her e-mailing him that she’s coming over, the knife, her son saying she was in the house. Then she disappears. What else do you need?”
    Greene stood up. His eyes were a mesmerizing gray-blue. Easy to stare at. “The boy’s already lost his father,” he said. “Last thing I want to do is make a mistake. Then he’ll lose his mother. Let’s see if she comes up with an alibi.”
    That was so like him, Raglan thought. Any other detective would arrest her right now. But Greene didn’t see Samantha Wyler only as a suspect, but as the boy’s mother.
    “What are you doing next?”
    Greene looked at his watch. “Going back to Wyler’s house. The forensic officer is ready to walk me through the scene. Kennicott’s meeting me there in half an hour.”
    “Has the child been told?”
    “The family’s going to speak to him tonight.” Greene clenched hisjaw. “Before he’s been told, I’m going to try to get him to tell me on tape what he said this morning. That his mother came into his room last night. If I can do that, the case is almost over.”
    “Oh, Ari,” she said.
    He looked away. “I’m picking him up at four. We have a special room for kids at police headquarters.”
    The Old City Hall clock, which was in a spiked stone tower almost above their heads, rang through the four parts of its hourly chime and started to dong twelve times. It was noon. She had to hurry or be late to pick up her daughter.
    Ari Greene, Ari Greene. Every time she thought she could reach him, he slipped away. Like a shadow over a cliff.
    That night in her office, she hadn’t been sure if he’d let her kiss him. Raglan had heard women’s washroom