“Is he good to go?” Kylie asked as we sped across the 79th Street transverse.
It was the classic question. Translation: do we have enough evidence to arrest him?
“No,” I said. “The video doesn’t prove he killed her, and the fact that his Albany alibi is full of holes doesn’t put him on Roosevelt Island with Aubrey. All we can do is smile, be superpolite, and ask him if he’d be so kind as to come back with us to the station and help us with our investigation.”
“Superpolite doesn’t sound like me,” Kylie said.
“Good call,” I said. “Let me do the talking.”
Kylie turned onto West End Avenue and parked the car in front of the same hydrant she’d blocked the week before. This time a doorman came running out of the building, waving his arms. He was about thirty, tall, with large bony hands and a thin-lipped scowl on his face that looked like it was painted on permanently.
“You can’t park there, lady,” he yelled.
“Wanna bet?” she said, flashing her badge.
“So what’s the deal?” he said. “You two cops are going to lunch for what—two hours? I need that space for people who are getting in and out of cabs.”
“Relax, pal,” I said. “We’ll be out of here in ten minutes. We’re going to see one of your tenants.”
“Which one?”
“We’d rather not be announced,” Kylie said.
“And I’d rather your car weren’t blocking the front of my building. Life is full of disappointments, sweetheart. Which tenant?”
I’d never seen him before. He hadn’t been on the door the night we first visited Langford. But I knew the type. Somewhere along the way he’d been soured on cops, and Kylie’s in-your-face approach didn’t help change his mind.
“Dr. Langford,” I said.
He flashed a victory scowl. “Your names?”
We played the game and identified ourselves. He rang up.
“No problem, Doctor,” he said after a brief dialogue. Then he turned to us. “He’s with a patient. I’ll let you know when you can go up.”
“And what’s your name, asshole?” Kylie asked.
“Eddy. With a y in case you’re adding me to your Christmas card list. Now cool your jets outside. We have a no-loitering-in-the-lobby policy.”
By the time he waved us in ten minutes later, Kylie was seething. “I’ll be back for that punk-ass prick,” she said as we rode up in the elevator.
“Calm down,” I said. “Remember the deal. I do the talking.”
I rang the bell, and Langford cracked the door open.
“Hate to bother you again, Doctor,” I said, “but it would speed up our investigation if you came down to the station and helped us out with a few more questions.”
“Could we do this another time?” he said. “I’m with a patient.”
“We can wait downstairs,” I said. “What time would work for you?”
“I have an impossible schedule,” he said. “Plus I’m traveling this weekend. How about next Tuesday?”
“How about now?” Kylie said, shoving her way in front of me. “If that doesn’t work for your schedule, how about five minutes from now?”
“Excuse me, Detective,” he said, bristling, “but I’ve already told you everything I know about Aubrey Davenport.”
“No you haven’t. Take a ride with us, and I’ll prove it.”
The doorman had pressed all Kylie’s buttons, and she was unleashing her anger on Langford. I tried to get the situation back under control.
“Dr. Langford, I’m sorry if we sound overly aggressive,” I said. “It’s just that some new evidence has come to light, and it would help if we could share it with you. Are you sure you can’t spare twenty minutes?”
“No. If you’ve got new evidence, send me an email. I’ll get to it when I can.”
“How about if we just put it on YouTube?” Kylie said.
We had an ace in the hole, and Kylie was pissed enough to turn our cards faceup. If Langford was our murderer, he’d have known about the video. And now he knew that we knew. I was pretty sure he’d slam the door in our faces. But I was wrong.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure. I very much want to help you catch Aubrey’s killer. I’ll go with you. Come in.”
He opened the door, and we entered his waiting room. “I have a patient in my office. I can’t just leave her there. We’re in the middle of a hypnotherapy session.”
“Does that actually work?” I said.
“Oh, goodness, yes. It’s highly effective at helping people change behaviors like smoking or nail-biting. Also, a trained therapist can help people explore painful feelings and memories they may be hiding from their conscious mind. My patient is in a hypnotic state. Give me a few minutes to bring her out of it.”
He stepped into his inner office.
“I don’t get it,” Kylie said. “Why is he suddenly being so cooperative?”
“Maybe it’s because you threatened to ruin his career by going public with the video. Nice way to let me do the talking, MacDonald.”
“And now you’re bent out of shape because I got him to agree to come in for questioning? A hundred bucks says he cracks when we show him the video. Call Selma Kaplan. I want her behind the glass when he gives it up.”
The inner door opened. “Detectives, please step in,” Langford said.
We walked in. I didn’t see the woman in the chair by the door until we were on the opposite side of the room. She was attractive, in her midthirties, sitting quietly with her purse on her lap.
“This is Karen,” Langford said. “She had a horrific childhood. She was raped repeatedly by her mother’s boyfriend, Lucas, and Mom did nothing to stop it. She was powerless then, but she’s much stronger now. Aren’t you, Karen?”
The woman nodded.
“Now that your mother and that evil Lucas are back in your life, what are you going to do if they try to hurt you?” Langford asked.
“Kill them,” Karen said, taking a gun from her purse and pointing it at me and Kylie.
The shrink flashed us a devilish smile. “Oh, she will,” he said. “I’m an expert at suggestion therapy. If you so much as move from where you’re standing now, Karen will shoot you dead. Isn’t that right, Karen?”
“That’s right. I’ll shoot them dead.”
“Mom,” Langford said, pointing at Kylie, “you’ve hurt your daughter enough, but now she has a newfound strength.” Now he pointed his finger at me. “As for you, Lucas, don’t even think about trying any of your old tricks.”
He opened the door. “Good-bye,” he said, and shut the door behind him.
My eyes scanned the room, stopping briefly on the flying elephant, who, according to Dr. Langford, symbolized the power of belief, and then they came to rest on the woman blocking the door.
Karen didn’t blink. She stared straight ahead at the two of us, gun in hand, finger on the trigger.