Page 9 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority
“She supports a number of feminist causes, and coming from a business that caters to men like Warren Hellman, I’m sure she’s fended off her fair share of creeps. I’m hoping if we tell her what he did to Vivian Belmont, she may open up.”
It was a good idea but it backfired. Kylie had underestimated her. Instead of sandbagging her meal ticket, Brooke saw right through thejust-between-us-girls ruse and told Kylie to get the fuck out.
Now we were back. The apartment was on Riverside Drive, less than a mile from where Curtis got his throat slit. We didn’t give our names to the doorman. We showed him our shields and told him to let Mrs. Hellman know that NYPD was on the way up.
We took the elevator to the penthouse and rang the doorbell.
“Oh, Christ,” she said when she opened the door. “You two again? You didn’t get to lock Warren up. Now he’s dead. I hope you’re happy.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
“Spare me your bullshit,” she said. “I’ve got nothing to say to you. If you’re here for my husband, he’s not home.”
“Where is he?” I said.
“Curtis is out running.”
“Whereabouts?”
“None of your fucking business. He doesn’t take his phone with him, just his music, so he doesn’t know about Warren yet. I don’t want you tracking him down and telling him. I’ll break the news. And I don’t need you here when I do it. Show a little respect, for God’s sake, and leave.”
“I’m afraid we can’t, Mrs. Hellman,” I said. “Can we all sit down, please? We need to talk to you.”
“Why?” she said, thetough-as-nailsveneer fading from her face. “What’s wrong?” She lowered her body to a sofa.
“I’m sorry, but we have some terrible news for you,” I said. “We responded to a person injured on the Greenway this morning. It was your husband.”
She bolted up. “Where is he? I want to see him.”
“Unfortunately, he’s deceased.”
She let out a wail and dropped back to the sofa. “No, no. He was just here. I just spoke to him. It can’t be Curtis. Are you sure it’s him?”
“We’ll need you to identify him, but yes. We’re sure.”
“What happened? Was it his heart? He’s got type two diabetes, so he’s a high risk for—”
“He was stabbed.”
She looked at me as if I were speaking in tongues. “Stabbed? Who would stab Curtis?”
“We were hoping you could help us. Did your husband have any enemies?”
She shook her head. “Competitors in business, but enemies? No.”
“Respectfully, ma’am, I know that in the past there was the incident with a woman in the desert.”
She stood up again. “Oh, you vultures. He’s not even cold, and you’re digging skeletons out of the closet? We’re done here. Where’s my husband? I want to see him.”
“Absolutely. But it will be a few hours,” I said. “Ma’am, I don’t want to alarm you, but your husband and yourbrother-in-lawwere both murdered. You may also be at risk. We can have a police officer stay with you and escort you to the morgue when the medical examiner is ready.”
“The morgue? Curtis and I are driving to the Hamptons in a few hours. He can’t be dead. It’s like the whole world has gone crazy. I can understand Warren. He was... he was... He got off on humiliating and degrading women. But Curtis was an angel. He helped so many people launch their careers. Everybody loved him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’m sure everybody did.”
Except for the guy who raked a knife across hisneck.
CHAPTER 7
Table of Contents
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- Page 2
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- Page 9 (reading here)
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