Page 31 of The Writer
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DECLAN CAN’T HEAR Saffi’s voice—the bar’s gotten too noisy—but he does see Cordova’s face tighten as he listens to whatever ADA Saffi has to tell him. When Cordova hangs up, he holds two fingers in the air and tells Maddie, “Another round.”
A moment later, she sets two more shots and another grasshopper down in front of them, eyeing Declan. “You best keep this one off my wall.” She reaches under the bar, produces a rag, and sets that down too. “And I expect you to clean up after yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When she heads to the opposite end of the bar, Declan tosses the rag to a rookie standing near the bathrooms and says, “Bodie, clean that up for me and I’ll let you off the hook for the twenty you owe me from that Knicks shitshow last week.”
The kid shrugs and goes to work wiping the wall down.
“You’re an ass.” Cordova doesn’t bother with another toast. He swallows the shot and stares at the bar top.
“You gonna tell me what she said?” Declan asks.
Without looking up, Cordova says, “I tell you, you gotta promise me you won’t overreact.”
“Scout’s honor.”
When Cordova still doesn’t say anything, Declan picks up the grasshopper and drinks nearly half. It’s not bad. Tastes like mint. Low on alcohol, though. He drinks the rest, follows that with the shot, then slides his half-finished beer and empty glasses aside and places his hands on the bar. “I promise, I’m good.”
Cordova glances at their reflection in the mirror behind the bar, then looks back down. “Remember when I said Hoffman would use the alley murder to try and create smoke?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s smoke, but not the kind we thought,” he tells him. “We got DNA back for the blood found on Denise Morrow’s clothing. It’s a match for the woman we pulled from the dumpster on Eighty-Third, Mia Gomez. ME says the knife found at Morrow’s apartment is a match for the knife that killed Gomez. He’s sure.”
Declan tries to wrap his head around this. “Denise Morrow killed Mia Gomez?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“How do they even connect?”
Cordova looks like he wants another shot, and Declan sure as shit does, but instead of signaling Maddie, Cordova retrieves a pen from the breast pocket of his jacket. He takes two napkins from the stack behind the bar, writes David Morrow at the top of one and Mia Gomez at the top of the other. Working from memory, he writes down what they know about each case—evidence, timelines, facts—turning the napkins into makeshift murder boards.
DAVID MORROW
· Murdered 11/10/2023 (Friday)
· Had arrived home at 4:40 p.m. (confirmed w/ doorman, video footage)
· Denise left for bookstore talk 7:15 p.m. (confirmed w/ doorman, video footage)
· TOD between 8:30 and 9:30 p.m. (confirmed by ME w/ body temp)
· Killed with 1-inch-wide, 5-inch-long serrated-edge blade (found hidden above Geller Hoffman’s car)
· Denise Morrow home at 9:20 p.m. (confirmed w/ cab receipt, doorman, video footage)
· Denise Morrow called 911 at 9:31 p.m.
MIA GOMEZ
· Murdered 11/10/2023 (Friday)
· TOD 8:30 p.m. (approximate, based on time video showed her entering alley)
· Killed with a chef’s knife (8 inches long, 2 inches wide, smooth edge), found in Morrow’s apartment
· Blood from Gomez found on Denise Morrow’s clothing
“The dumpster is less than two blocks from Morrow’s apartment,” Declan points out. “Right around the corner.”
“Video puts Mia Gomez walking into that alley at eight thirty p.m.,” Cordova tells him. “Denise Morrow was in the middle of her bookstore talk at eight thirty. Sign-in sheet has sixty people there as witnesses.” He quickly rattles off the timeline, pointing at both napkins as he goes. “Her talk started at eight. Gomez walks into the alley and is killed around eight thirty. Morrow doesn’t leave the bookstore until a few minutes after nine. Cab drops her at her building at nine twenty. She calls 911 at nine thirty-one. First responders arrive in under six minutes. There’s zero chance she killed Mia Gomez, and, let’s be honest, she couldn’t have killed her husband either. If the blood on her clothes had been his, sure, but not if it belonged to Gomez. She didn’t have a drop of the husband’s blood on her. We would have found it. CSU processed her clothing multiple times and found no trace on her clothes or her person. Shower was dry as a bone. Nothing in the sinks. We even pulled the traps. You can’t kill someone like that and vanish every sign in under eleven minutes. No way.” Cordova goes silent for a moment, then looks Declan in the eye. “Have you considered she might be telling the truth? She found him dead, just like she said? Hell, maybe somebody else killed them both.”
Declan’s shaking his head. “You didn’t see her face when I got there. She killed him. I have no doubt.” He waves at the TV. “She knows I know, and that’s why she’s spinning all this bullshit.”
“The facts don’t get you there,” Cordova states flatly. “No way she killed him, and no way she could have killed Mia Gomez either.”
Declan takes a sip of his beer. “So how did Gomez’s blood get on her? How did Gomez’s murder weapon get into the apartment? Security in that building is tight. Nobody else went up there. You confirmed that.”
Cordova shakes his head. “I have no idea.” Driving his point home, he repeats, “She couldn’t have killed her husband, timeline doesn’t support it. And she was across town when Mia Gomez was killed. Evidence makes no sense. The whole mess makes my head hurt.”
Maddie fires up a blender, mixing some frozen concoction. Declan jumps at the sudden noise, then watches as she stops it, adds some fruit, a little tequila, and starts the blender again. An idea hits him, and he sways a little under the weight of its landing. “It’s a fucking three-card monte,” he says softly.
“Huh?”
Declan reaches for the napkins, tears them up, and shuffles the pieces around the bar top. “Morrow was somehow in on both murders and mixed up the evidence. On purpose. She confused everything so it wouldn’t make sense.”
“Not unless she was in two places at the same time,” Cordova replies. “She couldn’t have killed her husband—the window is too small to pull it off—and she couldn’t have killed Gomez; she’s got sixty witnesses placing her in the bookstore when that woman was killed.”
It’s clear what Cordova is thinking because it’s impossible not to go there—Denise Morrow had an accomplice, and it might be Declan. Declan knows that’s what Cordova is thinking because of the way his partner keeps looking at him while simultaneously trying not to look at him. He’s thinking the knife that killed David Morrow came from Declan’s kitchen. He’s thinking about Declan’s blood at the scene. He’s thinking about Declan’s whereabouts when both people were killed. Whether he wants to or not, he’s trying to connect Declan to Denise Morrow. He’s thinking all these things because he’s a good cop and that’s where the evidence points. Sometimes a frame-up isn’t a frame-up—it’s fact.
Declan finishes his beer and stands. “Where’s the bookstore?”
“Tribeca. The Mysterious Bookshop.”
“You know, I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. I think I’ll pick up a book, maybe try reading.”
“LT said you’re off the case, Dec. You wanna get suspended? Worse?”
“He said I was off the Morrow case. I’m working the Gomez murder. Try to keep up.”
Cordova eyes him, attempts to read him, can’t. Finally, he throws some cash on the bar and starts for the door. “Who needs a pension.”