„Good,“ said Mallory. „That backs me up. The guy with the crossbow wasn’t the only shooter in the crowd.“

This was the moment Coffey had been waiting for. He leaned toward her, not even trying to suppress his happiness. „The crossbow shooter was hired by the magicians on the float. The kid was part of the act, Mallory – a publicity stunt. The old guys paid him to do it.“

It was not hard to read her face. She reminded him of the children on the parade films, eyes turned skyward, watching the giant puppy deflate – a startled wide-eyed look followed by an expression of Oh, shit.

Two screwups in one day.

She was shaking her head in denial. „No. If it was faked, Charles Butler would’ve – “

„Charles didn’t know,“ said Coffey. „I talked to him myself. The old guys didn’t tell him what was coming. Said they didn’t trust him to act surprised. They wanted the genuine article for maximum effect.“

„That fits,“ said Riker, nodding. „Charles can’t hide a thing with that face of his. The way that poor bastard loses at poker. Behind his back, Dr. Slope calls him the bank.“

„I want to see that crossbow shooter,“ said Mallory.

„Too late.“ Coffey was not smiling now. „The West Side dicks kicked him loose twenty minutes ago. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t sue the city. So you don’t go anywhere near the kid.“ He rapped his knuckles on the desk to make sure she was paying attention. „That’s an order, Mallory. Don’t even think about crossing me. You can’t afford one more violation.“

Her voice was almost mechanical, giving equal weight to every word. „There was another shooter in that crowd.“

„What if there was?“ Coffey shrugged. „The parade has passed by. It’s over. Who the hell cares?“

Well, she cared. That was obvious. Mallory was shredding the sheet of press quotes into tiny pieces. Not one scrap escaped the lap of her cashmere blazer. She was freakishly neat.

„There must be a witness on my side. I never drew my gun.“ Mallory stood up and deposited the confetti in his wastebasket, and she also took this opportunity to scan everything on his desk.

He riffled through the paperwork and picked up an affidavit signed by a taxpayer. „This is my personal favorite.“ Riker’s report had described the witness as a punk kid with too many earrings and a bad attitude toward cops. „This guy swore he saw you aim the gun at the balloon. And then he heard you say, ‘Take that, you evil puppy from hell.’“

Mallory did not get the joke, but Coffey was grinning, his life was complete. She had no more possible comebacks.

He had not anticipated a sniper shot from her partner.

„She had good reason to go after the kid with the crossbow. It wasn’t a toy,“ said Riker. „Crossbows are illegal in – “

„He had a performance permit signed by the damn mayor.“ Coffey waved the paperwork faxed from the West Side precinct.

„And she was supposed to read that through his back pocket while he was running away? And what about that old guy who died last week? The Central Park magic show? He was killed with crossbows – four of ‘em.“

„Okay,“ said Coffey. „The arrest was a righteous call. But don’t tell me you’re going for a connection to the park accident.“

Mallory sat down and leaned back in her chair, suddenly more cheerful – always a bad sign. „What if it wasn’t an accident? Suppose I can prove Oliver Tree was murdered?“

Coffey had a problem with that. Mallory was too hot to get clear of the balloon assassination. She might cheat the pieces to come up with a diversion. „No way. It’s a closed case. Accidental death, cut and dried.“

„When did anyone ever die in a cheesy magic act?“ She had a good point, but he would never admit it – not to her. „There’s no reason to question another detective’s report, not unless you enjoy making enemies. So forget it. And now there’s still the little matter of a bullet missing from your gun.“

„Mallory fired her gun yesterday,“ said Riker, with great reluctance. „I found four witnesses, all patrol cops.“

Coffey made a rolling motion with his hand. „Come on, what’s the rest of it?“

„She killed Oscar the Wonder Rat. Picked him right off the top of the candy machine in the lunchroom.“ Riker pointed one finger like a gun barrel and cocked his thumb to fire. „Single shot.“ No, no, no!

Coffey stared at the ceiling for a moment, outwardly calm, inwardly screaming at Mallory, Are you nuts? Totally nuts?

„Okay, Riker. Leave the missing bullet out of the paperwork. I don’t want the reporters to know she gunned down a rat with a pet name.“

He had to wonder about those four uniformed officers who had watched her pull a weapon inside the station house. What had gone through their minds when they heard a gunshot in the one place where they were supposed to feel safe? Most cops would have twenty-year careers without ever firing a gun on duty.

Had the uniforms downstairs already pegged her as a loose cannon? In that paranoia unique to cops, were they watching her more closely now? And how long would it be before the rat story crossed the line between the patrolmen and his detectives?

And now he understood why those two men in uniform had not taken part in humiliating Mallory. Cop, accountant or postman, the rules were the same: It was not a sane idea to antagonize a dangerous coworker.

The uniforms would find another way to deal with her.

Mallory was pulling papers from the deep pockets of her trench coat.

She unfolded a sheet of text and set it on his desk blotter. It bore the mast-head of the tax assessor’s office, and by the date, this information was a week old.

„Oliver Tree left an estate worth millions,“ she said. „That’s just the tangible property. I haven’t even looked for cash holdings yet.“

In Malloryspeak, this meant she had the bank statements, but he would not like her method of acquisition, and neither would the bank appreciate her computer skills, her high-tech lock-picking.

Riker was leaning forward to stare at the list of property holdings, clearly surprised by this information. So Mallory was a week late in sharing the money motive with her own partner. Well, that was typical.

She tapped the sheet with one red fingernail. „Forty years ago, the old man bought up a row of condemned brownstones. Got them for a song and did the renovations himself. He still owned three of them when he died. And he owned a small theater in a prime real estate location.“ On top of this paperwork, she laid down her own report on the parade shooting. „The crossbow shooter was related to Oliver Tree. I don’t know how he figured in the old man’s will – not yet.“

By the look on Riker’s face, he was also hearing this for the first time.

Coffey scanned the lines of text underscored in red ink. The bowman’s name was Richard Tree, nephew of the magician who had died a week ago – killed by four arrows.

She laid a three-year-old arrest report on top of this sheet. „The nephew has a juvenile record for drugs. Maybe the parade stunt was a fake. But a junkie would kill his own mother for cash, and that kid was in the park the day his uncle died. So I’ve got motive and opportunity.“ And then, as if she had read his mind, she added, „I didn’t raid sealed juvie records. I talked to the cop who busted him.“

Of course, she had found that officer’s name in a raid on sealed juvenile records, but Coffey let that slide.

„I like money motives, too.“ Riker was looking at his wristwatch again as he stood up and buttoned his coat. He averted his face, hiding the anger from his partner. There were many lessons that Mallory had yet to learn, but apparently Riker intended to handle this one privately. One hand was on the doorknob when he glanced back at Coffey. „I’m sure the mayor’s office wants the park death to stay accidental. High murder stats are bad for tourism. But you know she’s got something here.“