were pushing shopping carts full of case folders and evidence back from courtrooms in the overflow civil courthouse across Centre Street, ending wearying days on trial. I crowded into an elevator with two of the junior assistants and rode up to the eighth-floor office suites.
“Hey, Laura. Start with the good news.”
“Can’t think of any. You’re going to need a shovel to get through all the stuff that’s been piling up since you left.”
“Battaglia?”
“Better send out for a cocktail before you go in there. Something to steady your nerves. He’s been like a raging bull today.”
“Now?”
“Go rescue Nan. She and McKinney have been in with him for an hour.”
“Take off. See you tomorrow.”
“Not a prayer. You need an air-traffic controller for these messages. I’ll wait till you’re out.”
“Thanks.” I picked up a legal pad and headed through security to the executive wing. Rose looked as grim as an executioner.
Pat McKinney practically exploded with delight when Battaglia, who was talking on the phone, scowled at my entrance. “What was it? Chapman’s class reunion that took you back to the Bronx?”
“And to think Mike didn’t invite you to come along, Patrick. You could have been homecoming queen.”
News of our important find hadn’t reached the DA yet, or McKinney wouldn’t have been quite so snide about my absence.
I sat next to Nan at the conference table and leaned over to whisper to her. “I am so sorry to have dragged you into this mess.”
“I’ll get you back,” she said, patting my hand. “You’ll owe me for months.”
“Alexandra will be a little late for that meeting, Keith,” Battaglia said, crushing the cigar with his teeth as he raised his voice. “We’ve got some business here first.”
Battaglia had been talking to Commissioner Scully. I didn’t know whether that would be worse for Mike or for me, since we had both disappeared for the afternoon.
“So what else does your crystal ball tell you?” McKinney asked. “You sure nailed that St. Pat’s location for the second body.”
I didn’t answer. I was most anxious to ask Battaglia to find out from Bishop Deegan who the man in the courtroom during his testimony was. I was certain I had seen him at St. John the Divine the day before, but for the first time in my years under Battaglia’s watch, I worried about giving up information like that when there was clearly a backstory between the district attorney and the bishop to which I was not privy.
“They had a solution for that kind of prognosticating in Salem,” McKinney said. He was, as usual, the only one to laugh at what he thought passed for humor.
“Nan was just telling us that there might be a Bellevue connection,” Battaglia said, eyeing me, waiting for me to speak.
“Mercer come up with anything solid yet?” I asked her.
“Risk management’s doing their usual dance,” she said, referring to the legal arm of the hospital, always vigilant against the potential for lawsuits. “Patient privacy, medical privilege—we’ll be lucky to have our first shot at records by Monday.”
“Surely Chapman’s got a hot nurse or two he can lean on there to break the rules,” McKinney said.
“I won’t forget to ask him.”
“Scully’s having the Homicide Squad bosses in at six for a briefing. He wants you there,” Battaglia said.
I was certain McKinney had been lobbying to take me off the case. His girlfriend had just been dumped from the head of the Gun Recovery Unit for general incompetence, and Pat kept looking to insert her into other high-profile work. The fact that he hadn’t dragged her into this mess suggested he didn’t have any ready solutions for these murders and feared things would get worse before we made headway.
“All right if Nan comes along?” I asked.
“I’d prefer it. At least I can find her when I need something.” Battaglia had good reason to respect Nan’s professionalism. She had tried some of the most challenging cases—from murder to multimillion-dollar white-collar frauds—and was one of his most trusted soldiers.
Chapman obviously hadn’t reached Scully yet. “Just so you know, Mike didn’t take me on a wild goose chase. We found what we were looking for.”
“Are you serious? He found the woman’s tongue?” The DA put his hand on the black phone that connected him immediately to the police commissioner’s desk. “Tell me where it was. I can hold this one over the PC’s head.”
I explained what had led Mike to the campus chapel. A smile crept onto Paul Battaglia’s face. He liked the church trivia and the forensic finding almost as