Free Twice Cursed by Marianne Morea Page A

largest
police departments in the country, but also the polished face of
the NYPD. The people who walked its halls possessed the same hard
edges screenwriters try to give their actors, but here those
characteristics were hard earned. The grit may have been
spit-polished till it shined, but it was still there
underneath.
    As she got into the elevator, the
underlying unease she’d noticed at security ratcheted up a notch.
She knew the feeling wasn’t hers, and as the elevator climbed, the
uneasiness grew until it practically jumped out at her when the
doors slid open on the seventh floor.
    She stumbled out of the elevator and
dropped her purse, the sense of foreboding gripping her full
force.
    An overweight man in an ugly brown
suit looked up from behind half-moon glasses, as he sat at his desk
off to the side of the elevators. “May I help you?”
    People milling around turned in her
direction, and three sets of eyes, each one more quizzical than the
last, inspected Lily as she steadied herself. “Yes,” she said,
straightening her jacket. She bent to retrieve her purse. “I’m here
to see Chief Phillips. He’s expecting me.”
    The man checked her I.D. and her
building pass, then hefted himself out of his seat. “This way,
please.”
    He led her down the corridor to an
office in the back, sweating and red-faced from the exertion. He
knocked on the door, and a muffled, “come in” echoed from the other
side of the door.
    “ He’s all
yours.”
    “ Thank you,” Lily said,
watching him trundle back to his desk.
    She’d worked many cases for the Chief
of Detectives, but had never actually been to his office. So why
the invitation now? Her guess, the brass had insisted on it. They
wanted to see her to pull something out of her hat.
    Without hesitation, she turned the
knob and opened the door. The room was large, with black leather
and chrome furniture, and a wall of frameless glass windows
overlooking the grounds.
    Besides the Chief of Detectives, there
were two other men in the room. Talk about home court advantage.
She took a deep breath and steeled herself. Bring on the rabbits,
baby.
    “ Lily. Good. Glad you could
make it,” Mark Phillips said, coming around the end of his desk to
take her hand. “It’s good to see you. I hope you got my note about
Terry…I’m so sorry.”
    She shook his hand. “Yes…thanks. It’s
good to see you too, Mark.” The minute her fingers clasped his, she
knew his words were genuine, and she gave his hand a little
squeeze. “So, what’s so important you couldn’t bring me up to speed
on the phone?”
    “ Please, sit down. Let me
introduce you to Detective Sergeant, Michael Shaw and Detective
Ryan Martinez. They’ll be working closely with you on this case,
should you choose to take it.”
    Lily nodded to each. “Pleased to meet
you.”
    Phillips leaned on the front edge of
his desk and exhaled. “I’m not really sure where to begin.” He
gestured futilely. “We’ve had three separate, multiple homicides in
the past month. That’s a lot, even for a city this size. But what’s
worse, each one a veritable bloodbath. The first took place about a
month ago near the Roosevelt Island Bridge, the next, in Hell’s
Kitchen a couple of weeks later, and the latest down on Ninth
Avenue in the East Village. All less than savory locations, if you
know what I mean. We’re really up against it this time
Lily…”
    “ What Chief Phillips means,
is we are at a dead end.” Detective Sergeant Shaw interrupted. “In
each case, we found only D.O.A.s, and the crime scenes didn’t
provide much in terms of leads or evidence.”
    Lily didn’t miss the look that passed
between Shaw and Martinez. Shaw was a skeptic, and probably had
balked at the idea of having to work with her. Well, what else was
new?
    That one look told her both detectives
had more up their sleeves than they were willing to share. It was
rabbit-pulling time, and her magic hat was primed and
ready.
    She leaned back