Free Blood on the Sun (CSI: NY) by Stuart M. Kaminsky Page B

here already. There’s something he has left to do.”
    When Danny left, Mac removed the leaf from the sealed see-through bag and twirled it by the stem.
    You have something important to tell me, Mac thought. But what?
     
    A second check of the Vorhees neighborhood turned up a single linden tree in the backyard of Bob and Shirley Straus.
    Mac found the Strauses, who were in their early sixties, wearing shorts, broad-brimmed hats and loose-fitting long-sleeved shirts as they worked in their garden. The Strauses knew the Vorhees family casually, but they had never visited each other’s homes or belonged to the same church or club. Bob Straus, who wiped his sweating neck with a red bandana, assumed the Vorhees’ were Republicans, but he didn’t know where he had gotten the idea. Had any of the Vorhees family been in the Straus backyard? Both Bob and Shirley said it was possible, but they didn’t think so. No reason for them to.
    Mac had walked over to the linden tree and picked a leaf up off the ground. It was a good match for the one he had taken from Jacob Vorhees’ bedroom.
    “We’re going to save that tree,” said Bob, pointing a trowel at the trunk.
    “Inchworm infestation,” Shirley said, pushing back the brim of her hat so she could get a better look at Mac. “Late in the year for it, too. Thank God it hasn’t gotten to this neighborhood, but if it does come, we’ll be ready for them.”
    To Mac she sounded like a feisty character from a horror movie saying she and Bob would be prepared when the zombies came ambling down the street.
    “Think the worms will miss us,” said Bob. “They only live a few weeks.”
    “And then there’s something else,” said Shirley.
    Bob nodded in agreement and said, “Mites. But we’ve kept them from touching our trees.
    “Trade-off,” Bob continued, returning the bandana to his pocket. “We use chemicals. Maybe add a little pollution into the ground and air, but if we didn’t, it would be the end of our trees.”
    When Mac turned to leave, Shirley Straus said, “Detective?”
    Mac turned back to look at her.
    “The boy,” she said. “Jacob. Is he…?”
    “We don’t know yet,” said Mac.
    “I can’t…” she began.
    Before she could cry, her husband was at her side, one arm around her shoulder.
    “We have two boys, men now,” said Bob Straus. “Can’t imagine what it would be like…I hope he’s alive.”
    His wife nodded in agreement, holding back tears.
    “We’ll find him,” said Mac.
    He didn’t say whether he expected to find the boy dead or alive. Mac thanked them and drove back to the lab.
     
    Arvin Bloom’s furniture shop on Eighty-second Street just off of Second Avenue was small, but in a good location near dozens of antique shops, many specializing in furniture.
    When Stella, Flack and Aiden entered, they could hear a soft buzzer sound in the rear of the shop and they could smell the mixture of new and old wood.
    The shop was packed with furniture, large armoires, dressing tables, desks, a few ornate lamps and four huge crystal chandeliers overhead.
    From an alcove a big balding man in his fifties with a paunch appeared, wearing a suit and carrying an apron, which he placed on a wooden armchair with a gold cushion. Stella was sure the cushion was both old and silk. The man walked slowly.
    “Looking for something in particular?” the man asked with a smile.
    Something about the smiling man irritated Flack, who took out his wallet, showed his shield and said, “Arvin Bloom? We’re looking for a murderer.”
    Bloom looked at the two women, puzzled.
    “I don’t understand,” he said.
    “Asher Glick was murdered yesterday,” said Flack.
    Bloom bowed his head. “I know. I was going to sit shiva, but, to tell the truth, I don’t know if I’d be welcome.”
    “Why not?” asked Stella.
    “I owe Asher a great deal of money,” he said.
    “Forty-two thousand dollars,” said Aiden. “We checked the business log on his