Two NYPD homicide detectives stood in front of the Vent du Sol. Uniformed officers kept the curious behind the yellow tape. Dead men attract spectators. The rubberneckers weren't looking for the victim to come back to life, but waited to see if anything else out of the ordinary happened on this quiet Upper East Side street. An attractive blonde woman was crying at the restaurant doorway. An older man had his arm around her.
"Girlfriend and best friend," Lee Solent said, lifting his eyes from his notebook.
"No, girlfriend and maitre de. From what I heard the victim had no friends." Sam Chatham had been his partner for ten years. They had solved many murders. They hadn't solved many more.
"What we have so far?"
"The victim, Mark Bonsoul, came out to smoke a cigarette. He is one of the richest men in New York. The waiter who had been at the job since the end of the Co-vid closings came outside and for no reason came outside and pumped three shots. Twice in the chest and once in the head. He jumped into a car for parts unknown. License plate unseen. The bullet casings came from a .38. I questioned the maitre. He knows nothing and no one saw anything. I left the girlfriend for you. That's all so far."
"I'll talk to her now." He thought about the .38. No one used the revolver anymore, but it was a good gun to hit a target at close range and he bet himself that the rich guy had been shot from less than a distance from five feet.
Close.
"Try and be nice." Sam Chatham rarely got to play 'bad guy'.
I'm always nice."
"Yeah, right."
Detective Solent motioned for an patrolman to lift the tape. He walked over to the restaurant's entrance and introduced himself. The blonde woman had stopped crying and the detective put his notebook in inside his jacket, noting she wore no jewelry.
"Sorry about your friend. Miss...?"
"Kerry Mahony. This was our third date." Her eyes were as green as mowed grass.
"You're not leaving town, are you?"
"No, this is my home. Born and bred." Her accent said private West Side schools and an Ivy League college and her tone reveal her annoyance at this intrusion, as she said, "Why do you ask that?"
"I wanted to make sure I could question you tomorrow."
"I can't see why not, but I will have my lawyer there." A lawyer wasn't necessary, but people can say the wrong things after a murder and the police like fitting square blocks into round holes.
"My partner will take your information." He stared at the maitre de, as if he were hiding the murder weapon on his person and said, "He'll get yours too.
"Up to you." The maitre de was accustomed to big people and the police weren't big people in his mind. Detective Solent walked away. He knew all about people like the maitre de. Everyone was guilty of something.
Everyone.
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