Page 45 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

“It’s Theo,” she said, putting him on speaker. “What’s up, kid?”

“It’s Mr. Sheffield,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “He’s dead.”

“Where are you?” she demanded.

“I’m at Golden Grove,” he said, “I think he was murdered.”

“Young man!” a female voice shouted. “How dare you!”

The car surged forward as Kylie hit the accelerator. “Who is that?” she said.

“Mrs. Millstein. She’s the director. I’m in her office.”

“Don’t say another word,” Kylie barked. “Get out of her office now and meet us in the parking lot.”

“Are you there now?” Theo asked, totally shaken, all of last night’s confidence and bravado gone.

“We’ll be there in five minutes,” Kylie said, flipping on the lights and siren. The needle on the speedometer was atseventy-fiveand climbing. “Get your ass to the parking lot. Now!”

Theo hung up, and Kylie let out a salvo ofF-bombs. “That makes three murder victims in less thanforty-eighthours,” she said.

“Take it easy,” I said, this time remembering that she’d spent the night thinking about how close Shane came to dying. “We have two people murdered, one old man who was suffering from a terminal disease, and a teenage boy with a vivid imagination. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“Zach, if the stories Martin Sheffield told Theo are true, then there are four professional killers out there who would want to shut him up quickly and permanently. I’m not jumping to conclusions. I’m jumping to assumptions.”

“Good point,” I said. “In that case, let’s not jump to assumptions.”

If it were any other time, she wouldn’t have let me have the last word, but she was too focused on changing lanes at ninety miles an hour to argue. Three minutes later, she pulled off the parkway, ran the lights on West 254th, turned onto Palisade Avenue, and a quarter of a mile later took a hard left into the parking lot at Golden Grove.

Theo, wearing his biker leathers, was standing next to his motorcycle. We got out of the car, and he walked straight toward Kylie. He reached out for a hug, and she wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“Do you think it’s true?” he said, stepping away from the hug. “All the stuff about the Sorority? Because if it is, then it makes sense that they’d kill him for telling me. I never should have made friends with him. He’d be alive today.”

I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. “Theo,” I said, “don’t do that to yourself. You did not in any way contribute to Mr. Sheffield’s death. If anything, your presence in his life probably made him happier than he’s been in a long time.”

He nodded his head. “Thanks,” he said. “But I still think somebody could have killed him. The place is wide open. Anybody could walk in.”

“What about security?” I said.

“You mean Larry?” he said, pointing to a man in a blazer who was standing near a clump of bushes about thirty feet from the building with a cigarette in one hand, his phone to his ear, and his back to the main entrance.

“Guys, there is no security,” Theo said. “They hire a bunch of losers for minimum wage, give them jackets with the patches on the pocket, so that if a family comes around to talk about putting Grandma in here, they see someone checking IDs. It’s all part of Mrs. Millstein’s bullshit to help the people who are writing the checks feel less guilty. And it works.”

Kylie rubbed her hands together. “Let’s see if her bullshit works on us.”

Just as the three of us got to the front door, Kylie called out to the security guard. “Hey, Larry!”

He turned around, and Kylie gave him a big happy wave.

Larry smiled, returned the wave, and went back to his phone call.

“Who’s the rest of the security team?” she asked Theo. “Curly and Moe?”

CHAPTER 30

“Anything you wantto tell us about Mrs. Millstein before we go in?” I said to Theo.