Clyde Williams was on Melanie’s mind, and not only because Tony Mancuso had convinced her that the threatening package was connected to Suzanne Shepard’s murder. At lunchtime, Melanie ordered in some pizzas and held a small team meeting in the war room. Lieutenant Jack Deaver, Dan O’Reilly, Detective Julian Hay, and Janice Marsh from the D.A.’s office were in attendance. Melanie tried to focus on details of surveillances and witness interviews, but the meeting was dominated by Lieutenant Deaver’s complaints about press coverage on the Clyde Williams issue.
“Am I the only one in the room who’s getting heat from the brass?” the bluff lieutenant asked. “I got a call from the deputy commissioner just half an hour ago giving me hell over the negative press on the Butcher case.”
“What negative press?’ Melanie asked.
“Where you been, Vargas?” Deaver said.
“Investigating the crime, not reading the papers,” she said.
“It ain’t the papers, it’s the TV. Listening to Target News, you’d think Clyde Williams was caught with the bloody knife in his hand, and the only reason he ain’t locked up is because you’re in bed with his kid. Figuratively speaking, I mean. They haven’t actually suggested you’re bangin’ the Williams kid.” Deaver paused. “Yet.”
“There’s nothing I can do,” Melanie protested. “A full-scale investigation of an elected official requires clearance from Main Justice. My boss is dealing with Washington, and they’re slow as molasses. Once we get the green light, we’ll move full speed ahead.”
“How much longer are you planning to wait?” Deaver demanded. “The press is making a huge stink. It’s getting to the point that I got guys in my own chain of command asking if there’s special treatment here.”
“That’s no good,” Melanie said.
“No. It’s not.”
“Look, I’ll speak to Bernadette as soon as we’re done here. I’ll try to get authorization to ask Clyde if he has an alibi, at least. If he does, and we make it public, that should shut up the tabloids.”
The minute the meeting ended, Melanie kept her word and headed for Bernadette’s office. But when the elevator door opened on the Major Crimes floor, she barreled out so fast that she nearly knocked over her good friend Joe Williams.
Joe looked very much like his famous, handsome father, except smaller in every way. He was short and slight where Clyde was tall and robust. The charismatic, outgoing Clyde dominated any room he was in, while Joe came across as timid, an unsuitable trait in a prosecutor and one that had hindered his career. Joe’s best-known courtroom escapade was fainting dead away while getting screamed at by the nasty Judge Warner during his first month on the job. He’d never lived down that moment, nor the widely held—though incorrect—belief that he’d gotten his job through his father’s political influence. Joe had been overshadowed by his father his entire life, yet his response had been to become a better person for it—a more dedicated prosecutor, a more committed intellectual, a more loyal friend. Melanie couldn’t stand the thought that her efforts might lead to his father’s arrest and therefore cause her friend pain.
Startled, Melanie said the first thing that popped into her head. “Joe, I thought you were on trial this week.”
“The jury’s deliberating already, so I’m on beeper. It was in front of Stanchi, a reverse heroin buy. The evidence is pretty weak, but at least she’s pleasant to appear before.”
“Definitely,” Melanie agreed, catching the elevator door as it began to slide shut. She opened her mouth then closed it again, wanting to say something about the Shepard case but knowing she shouldn’t.
Joe’s eyes seemed to understand and forgive all. He patted her on the arm as he stepped onto the elevator. “Hey, I know how much pressure you must be under on this Central Park Butcher thing. Don’t worry about me. Just do what you have to do.”
Which of course only made her feel worse.