JULY 10, 1977
MANHATTAN, NEW YORK
It was late Sunday afternoon by the time Delgado reached the last address on Jacob Hoeler’s list, a community center in Lower Manhattan, the squat, modern building squeezed between ancient tenements that had been divided into small industrial units.
It was the third location Delgado had been to that day, and in that time she had been to two AA meetings and two support groups for military veterans. She hadn’t been sure how well her presence would be tolerated, but, as it happened, she was welcomed warmly at each. Of course, she realized soon enough, everyone was welcome, and nobody was judged. That was the whole point of the groups. Not only that, participation was as voluntary as attendance, so Delgado had been able to quietly sit and observe without drawing any suspicions.
Whether this was the right approach to the investigation, Delgado was less certain. Of the four meetings she’d been to, it was only at one of the support groups—one specifically for Vietnam veterans—that she had found a connection to the card homicides.
And that connection had not even been a direct one. Talking to some of the attendees during a coffee break, Delgado learned that the group she had joined was relatively new, formed from the remnants of an earlier support group. That one had split up suddenly after the facilitator had disappeared.
That facilitator had been Jonathan Schnetzer.
The first victim.
And when Delgado showed the photograph of Jacob Hoeler from the file she had borrowed, two of the group members had recognized him, despite the poor quality of the image. Yes, he’d been to the old meetings a couple of times.
Progress, finally—but while Delgado knew she was on the right track, the task ahead still felt enormous. She’d found a lead, but only at one meeting out of the four she had so far been to, and it was already heading to four o’clock in the afternoon. What she really needed to do was canvass several meetings at once, but that was impossible.
She was on her own, working a case she wasn’t even supposed to be on.
As Delgado looked through the front windows of the community center, she saw the notice taped to the glass, almost lost among the similar notices posted so they could be read from the street.
She was at the right place. But was she too late?
The notice read: Veterans’ group 4PM workshop canceled.
Veterans’ group? That had to be the one.
Taking a breath, Delgado entered the community center and found her way to the front desk. The woman behind it pushed her glasses up into her curly hair and looked up at Delgado.
“You looking for something?”
It was time to play it differently. Delgado fished her detective’s shield from her bag and held it up. The woman peered at it, dropping her glasses back onto her nose. Then she looked at Delgado over the top of the frames.
“There something wrong?”
“I’m Detective Delgado.”
“Uh-huh.”
Delgado put the shield away, then pointed at the front window on which was stuck the mass of notices.
“The veterans’ group was due to meet at four?”
“Oh, that,” said the woman. She stood from her chair and moved over to the window, leaning to make sure she picked the right sheet of paper before peeling it off. “That should have come down already. That group doesn’t meet here anymore.”
“When was the last time it did?”
The woman returned to her chair. “Well, let me see.” Next to her elbow was a large ledger book, already open. She pulled it over and flipped through the pages, scanning the top line of each sheet with a finger before continuing.
“Okay, here we go. Actually, it’s been a whole month now. They were booked in twice a week, Wednesday night, Sunday afternoon.” The woman frowned, and checked the next page. “That’s it. They were paid up for the month, but the last eight sessions didn’t happen. I’m sorry, that notice should have been taken down a while ago.” She paused, and looked up. “Oh, that’s right.”
“Do you remember something?”
The woman examined the ledger book again, tapping one line with a finger, then looked back up, lifting her glasses back onto her head.
“The first Wednesday that was missed. The group showed up but their organizer didn’t. They were asking where he was. Linda—that’s my colleague, she’s not here—she tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up. It was the same on the Sunday. Only a couple of people showed up, but again, we tried calling. No reply.”
Delgado had a feeling she knew what the answer to her next question was going to be.
“Can you tell me the name of the organizer?”
“Well, Linda’s not here. I could look up the number. Although don’t you need a warrant or something for that?”
Delgado shook her head. “I’m just after the name.”
The woman sniffed, then opened the ledger up again. She traced the lines once more with a finger, then tapped the page.
“Sam Barrett….”
She lifted the book and turned it around so Delgado could read it.
Her guess had been correct. The veterans’ group was run by Sam Barrett.
The second victim.
Delgado just had one more question. She took out the photograph of Jacob Hoeler and passed it over.
“Did you ever see this man here?”
Down came the glasses. The woman held the picture close, then far away. She frowned.
“Maybe. I don’t know. Hard to tell. This is a bad picture.”
Delgado nodded. “If you could think hard.”
The woman sighed, like Delgado was really intruding on her day. She looked at the photograph again, then handed it back.
“The Wednesday. He was here on the Wednesday, when the group were all asking where their organizer was. What’s this about anyway? We don’t want any trouble here.”
Delgado returned the image to her bag. “No, no trouble. You’ve been a big help, thanks.” She turned and walked out, and as she went through the doors she could hear the woman at the desk sigh heavily again.
Out on the sidewalk, Delgado paused, and considered what she had learned about Jonathan Schnetzer, about Sam Barrett, and about Jacob Hoeler.
Then she turned on her heel and headed uptown.
There was one more meeting she wanted to go to. One more person she wanted to talk to.
Dr. Lisa Sargeson.
Delgado checked her watch—if she hurried, she could just make her meeting.