Sins of the Past Page 5

  “But I wasn’t wrong about one thing,” Joanna said, giving her friend a mysterious little smile.

  Kate covered her mouth and managed to ask, “What’s that?”

  “He loves you. He probably always did and never stopped, which is partly why he’s so eager to help you get through your grief. It’s obvious when he talks to you. He can’t stop staring at you. It’s like I’m not even there.”

  Trevor had come by with groceries for Kate earlier in the evening, right after Joanna had arrived at the apartment. The three of them had spoken for a few minutes, and Kate had invited Trevor to join them for dinner, but he had declined, citing other plans. Besides, he would get to enjoy Kate’s company the following day, he’d added and smiled shyly. They had decided to have dinner at a restaurant just the two of them instead of at home with the kids.

  Kate waved a dismissive hand. “He only loves me as a friend.” But part of her felt a small thrill running up her spine at the thought of Trev loving her. Loving her as a woman. Was Joanna right? She liked the idea of that, at the same time as it made her experience that deep sense of guilt for even entertaining the thought of being romantic with another man so soon.

  Joanna chuckled and flipped her dark locks over her shoulder. “You’re so modest, Kate! Even you must get that he’s head over heels for you, and that’s why he’s going out of his way to support you. He wants you to be his finally.”

  “Did you forget that he’s engaged to be married?” Kate countered. Or maybe that had changed. Now that she thought about it, he hadn’t brought up Clementina a single time since Diego was killed. She had been too caught up in her grief to notice. The last time he had spoken of his fiancée was around the time when his father had passed when she had been on that long business trip, which was why he had been forced to turn to Kate for comfort.

  “Is he?” Joanna said, narrowing her golden brown almond-shaped eyes at Kate over the rim of the wineglass. “If I were his fiancée, I would not be happy about him calling you every night and going out for dinner on a Friday night. I’m just sayin’.”

  Kate sucked in her lips as she pondered what Joanna had just said. She wouldn’t be happy, either, if she were in Clementina’s shoes.

  “I’m thinking it’s over between them,” Joanna said and drank some more wine.

  “Yeah, maybe.” Kate sighed and rested her forehead in her hand. She wasn’t at all surprised by Joanna’s statement; she was getting increasingly sure things were over between him and Clementina, but she hadn’t admitted it to herself until now. Deep inside she had hoped that Trevor would leave his fiancée so that it could become the two of them again. That he was in love with her. Kate had never done well on her own and now, a widow with two small kids and few great job prospects, she desperately needed a man in her life. A good man like Trevor. She knew she was weak, but she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to be alone. It was just too hard right now. Who would be better than Trevor to alleviate her loneliness—handsome, sweet, financially stable Trevor? For all Kate knew, she had made a huge mistake in leaving him for Diego. Maybe she had been meant to be with Trevor all along. Guilt crashed inside her as she entertained all these thoughts. She was a terrible, terrible person to think of being with another man when her husband had just been murdered.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay, Kate?”

  Reluctantly, she straightened and met Joanna’s gaze. “Not really. I do think that it’s possible things are over between Trevor and his fiancée. And I’m feeling terribly guilty about being relieved about it. I was kind of hoping they were so he and I could get back together. It’s so hard to be alone.”

  Joanna grabbed both of Kate’s wrists, looking her deep in the eyes. “Don’t feel bad, Kate. You’re under a lot of pressure right now. You haven’t just lost your husband in the most horrible way, but your two small children have lost their father. You don’t have a job and you don’t have a lot of money. Your mother and Diego’s parents don’t have a lot of money to help you with, and I don’t either. It’s only human for you to want some help. As jealous as Diego could be, I don’t think even he would have a problem with Trevor taking care of you now, but give you his blessing. He would hate to see you like this. And Trevor obviously wants to take care of you. That couldn’t be any clearer. A girl could do a lot worse than being with a guy like Trevor. So you’re not having dinner here tomorrow then?”

  “No, he’s taking me out to a restaurant. He thought it would be good for me to get out of the apartment a little. Mom’s coming to babysit the kids.”

  Joanna nodded. “I totally agree with him—it’ll be great for you to get out of the house. I’m telling you, this guy’s not looking for friendship only, and that other woman is no longer in the picture. Make the most of it. It’s not like you don’t like him. You should ask him about what’s going on just to be sure, though. He’ll probably be relieved that you did.”

  Kate gave a tired smile. “Yeah, I will. Now please tell me the latest with Shane.”

  They spent the rest of dinner talking about Joanna’s new boyfriend. Kate had had enough talking about all her woes; she craved lighthearted diversions now, and her best friend’s dating life was sure to provide that.

  A couple of hours later, they had finished the wine bottle Joanna had brought with her and had moved on to drinking tea instead. They decided to call it a night then, as both had lots to do the following day. Joanna had a job to be at at eight in the morning, while Kate had to go to two job interviews. Both of them needed their sleep.

  “Well, I’m glad that you’re looking like you’re feeling better now,” Joanna said after she had given her friend a long hug goodbye by the front door in Kate’s apartment. “Promise me you’ll find out tomorrow if Trevor has in fact broken it off with his fiancée.” She gazed at Kate with a stern face. “You don’t want to get involved with him if he hasn’t. That usually ends badly.”

  Kate smiled, feeling warm and happy from the wine and tea in her stomach. “Yeah, that’s true. I’ll be sure to ask him about what’s going on with Clementina when I see him tomorrow.” She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God, I can’t believe that I’m actually thinking about getting back together with Trevor so soon…”

  Joanna gently pried her hands from her face. “Don’t think like that, Kate. He likes you, you like him. He wants to help you. Accept his help and know that Diego would be happy that you did. Take it one day at a time. I’m sure he’ll understand if you’re not ready to sleep with him yet. That doesn’t mean you can’t see each other. Hug a little. Everyone needs hugs, and you especially right now.” She threw her arms around Kate and kissed her on the cheek. “Just go with the flow.”

  “Thanks, Joanna,” Kate mumbled into her friend’s shoulder before they parted. “I’ll try.”

  “Always, babe. Sleep tight and break a leg on those interviews tomorrow. I have a strong feeling that you’ll nail a job soon. That accounting firm would be crazy not to hire you.”

  “One can only hope,” Kate replied dryly. “Be careful on your way home. Are you sure you don’t want to crash here?”

  Joanna waved a dismissive hand at her. “Positive. Talk to you later.” With those words, Joanna disappeared into the elevator and Kate closed the door.

  Leaning against it, Kate thought of her date with Trevor tomorrow. She would definitely ask him about what was going on with him and Clementina, even though she was fairly sure she already knew the answer. Again, she filled with a sense of deep guilt at the thought of getting involved with someone so soon after her husband’s death. But the fact of the matter was that she needed a man in her life right now, the kids needed a father. And Trevor was the perfect person to fill that role.

  Even Diego would have to agree with that.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  “Are you sure the knife is only available in that store?” Wil asked the woman behind the desk in the evidence collection room. The woman, a large-bu
sted, short-haired female in her thirties by the name of Rita Dolinsky, had called Wil a short while ago to tell her what she had discovered in regards to the murder weapon in the Diego Martinez case. Wil had instantly gone downstairs to see Rita and hear what she had to say. Rita was one of three people working the evidence desk and had just returned from vacation. Knowing how obsessed Rita’s boyfriend was with antique weapons, one of her coworkers had shown it to Rita.

  “Yes, definitely,” Rita said and blew her nose into a large tissue. She had a bad cold that refused to let go. “As soon as I saw that knife, I knew it looked familiar somehow. So I took a few photos of it and showed it to my boyfriend. He told me that knife was from an arms and antiques store out in Williamsburg, and that as far as he knew, there is only one of its kind.”

  “Really? Do you know the name of that store?” Wil had placed her elbows against the desk and was leaning toward Rita. She was liking what she was hearing. They needed a break in this damned case finally; the gang stuff was not enough.

  “Yes. It’s called Nilsen & Nilsen. I have the phone number for it, too. My boyfriend texted it to me. Want it?”

  “That would be great.”

  “Hold on,” Rita said and found her cell phone in her red purse that she had placed somewhere behind the desk. “What’s your number?”

  Wil gave Rita her cell phone number and Rita forwarded the number to her cell.

  “Thanks so much, Rita,” Wil said when her phone beeped and the store’s contact info had entered her phone.

  “If you go today, you need to call them to make an appointment,” Rita said as Wil was walking away from her.

  Wil paused and faced the other woman. “An appointment?”

  “Yes, Jimmy said they only see customers by appointment on Fridays.”

  Wil held up a hand. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  Saying goodbye to Rita, Wil hurried back up to the office where Larry was behind his desk. She was eager to talk to him about what she had just found out. In her opinion, it was a far better lead than Diego’s secret gang affiliation. She couldn’t help but feel that if someone from the gang had qualms about Diego’s jump out, the retaliation would have happened a long time ago. Why decide to retaliate far more than a decade later? She supposed it was possible that someone from the gang who held a grudge had spotted Diego in New York recently, and that was why he had been offed so many years later. Still, Wil had the distinct sense that this was not what had happened, and she trusted her gut. After a year living on the street, it had become quite reliable.

  She spotted Larry shoving half a jelly donut into his mouth behind his desk when she entered the station’s open place office.

  “One of these days you’ll choke yourself to death,” she warned as she stopped beside him.

  He waved a dismissive hand in her direction and had a big gulp of coffee instead of answering her.

  “I’ve found out something very interesting,” she continued, sitting down on a metal chair beside Larry, and waited for him to finish chewing. He wiped his hands and mouth carefully with a paper napkin from Dunkin’ Donuts.

  “What’s that?” he asked and crumpled up the napkin, then tossed it into a wastebasket at the other side of the office as though he were shooting a hoop. “Score!” he called out, pleased with his skills. “Damn, I knew I should have become a professional basketball player instead of a cop.”

  He tsk-tsked to himself, then looked at Wil. “So what’ve you got?”

  “Rita down in evidence claims to know where the knife used to murder Diego Martinez can be found,” Wil replied. “Well, where it came from.”

  Larry swiveled toward Wil in his chair, looking suddenly more attentive. “Really? And where would that be?”

  Wil told Larry what she had just been told by Rita. He whistled between his teeth. “Very interesting indeed. How about we call and make an appointment right away with this store? I’d love to see what the owner has to say about one of his knives having been used to kill someone.”

  “Yeah, me too. Let me give them a call and see if we can get them to squeeze us in today.”

  Wil punched the number Rita had given her, and a rough male voice answered after a couple of rings.

  “Nilsen & Nilsen, this is Rudi, how can I help you?”

  “Hello, Rudi, this is Detective Wilhelmina Cooper with NYPD homicide. I’m investigating a recent murder case, and it has been brought to my attention that the murder weapon used in the killing came from your store.”

  Rudi sucked in a breath. “Really? How can you be so sure it’s from Nilsen & Nilsen?”

  “I’d prefer to tell you about that in person. Actually, to the owner of the store. Is he or she around?”

  “I’m the owner. Can you come in today? I’d really like to figure out what this is all about as soon as possible. And I don’t want the public to know about a killer having used a knife from my store. Can I be sure that you don’t leak that information to the press? Nilsen & Nilsen has a very good reputation, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Don’t worry. We don’t divulge information in an ongoing investigation.”

  Rudi harrumphed. “That has not been my experience with the NYPD. I read about stuff being leaked all the time in the papers.”

  “Well, rest assured it won’t happen this time around.” Wil made a mental note of stressing to Rita that she and her boyfriend could under no circumstances share information about the knife’s origins with anyone. “When can we come see you?”

  “How about one o’clock?”

  “That works. Can I please have the address?”

  Rudi gave her the address and they disconnected the call. She turned to Larry. “Get your butt off that chair. We’re going out to Brooklyn to visit Rudi, owner of Nilsen & Nilsen.”

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  Nilsen & Nilsen was one of those places with a tiny storefront that turned out to be much bigger than it appeared from the outside when you passed it on the street. Businesses like those were very common in New York City due to the expensive real estate in general and the architecture of the city’s older buildings in particular.

  Wil rang the buzzer when they reached the locked front door and only a few seconds later, she and Larry were let into the store. It was dark and cool inside the deep establishment, the walls on either side full of antique-looking guns and rifles, knives, swords, and spears. There were fake torches placed strategically here and there to provide subtle lighting. That, and the fact that the floor was made of stone, made Wil feel as though she had suddenly been transported a couple of centuries back in time and was walking inside some ancient castle. She was pretty sure that had been the intention when the store was designed.

  A bald man of average height with a giant red mustache and big jowls stood behind a counter farther into the store. He was glancing at her and Larry as they walked toward him.

  “Rudi?” Wil said as they were only a few yards away.

  The man nodded. “The one and only. Detective Cooper, I presume?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” Wil said and brandished her identification. Now that she was up close to Rudi, she saw that he must be younger than he had appeared from a distance—more like mid-forties as opposed to mid-fifties. He was wearing a brown corduroy jacket over a checkered shirt and dark slacks that may or may not have a belt; because his sizeable stomach hung over the waistline, it was impossible to tell what was going on under it.

  Wil indicated Larry. “This is my partner, Detective Larry White. As I stated over the phone earlier, we’re investigating a murder that took place in the middle of Central Park a few weeks ago. A man was robbed and stabbed to death.”

  Rudi’s bulging fish eyes grew one size larger. “Are you talking about that poor dude that was attacked outside the tunnel near Eighty-ninth Street? He had a Spanish name, I think.”

  “Yes, that’s the guy,” Wil confirmed. “His name was Diego Martinez. Someone killed him using this knife.
” Wil produced the iPad with the photos of the murder weapon that she and Larry had shown Kate Martinez, and held it in front of Rudi’s face. “Do you recognize it?”

  As Rudi stared at the first image, both Wil and Larry studied the man’s reaction. Except for the fact that he instantly seemed to recognize it, at least Wil didn’t pick up on anything suspicious.

  “That is one of my knives,” Rudi confirmed as Wil scrolled the screen to the next photo.

  “Okay, great,” Larry said. “Do you know who bought it from you? A specialty store like this keeps records of the sales, correct?”

  “Yes, generally speaking, that’s correct. In most cases we do keep a record, but not always. However, I don’t think we ever sold this knife to anyone. I remember seeing it about a month ago and it’s very expensive. It’s worth about seven thousand bucks. Had a sale been made, I would have been alerted. Which means it should still be part of our inventory.”

  “You’re saying that someone stole it then?” Larry asked. “Maybe someone who works here took it and used it.”

  Rudi looked offended. “Neither my partner nor my employees are cold-blooded killers. They wouldn’t work for me if that were the case.”

  “With all due respect, sir, one can’t always know what’s going on inside the heart of others,” Wil pointed out. “Some people are very, very good at hiding their true selves. That’s what makes them great criminals. Please don’t interpret it as an attack on your ability to accurately assess people.”

  Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Wil’s words alleviated Rudi’s bruised ego, because his round face flamed red and he waved small hands in the air. “I’m telling you, my partner and employees are all upstanding citizens. They would never do what was done to the victim.”

  “Why don’t you let us be the judge of that,” Larry said in a tone that clearly stated the issue wasn’t up for debate. “What were you doing the night of October twenty-seventh?”

  Rudi frowned deeply, looking even more offended now. “You think I might have killed that poor man now? Please. If I did, I wouldn’t be so stupid I’d use a knife from my own store. Well, I can tell you exactly what I did October twenty-seventh.”