Pawlowski interrupted herself by reaching out and grabbing the arm that held the gun. O’Hare shrieked in surprise and thenout of pain as Pawlowski wrenched his wrist hard to the right. He released the pistol and it fell to the ground with a clatter. Ava sprang forward next and helped with the assist. She took O’Hare’s other arm and though he did his best to fight, they were able to bring both arms behind his back and cuff him.
This pair of cuffs is getting quite the workout today,Ava thought.
For a moment, Ava thought O’Hare was crying as she made sure he stood up straight. But after a few seconds, it was clear that he was laughing. She wasn’t quite sure about what, but she did know that he’d just held a gun on two officers and had admitted to losing everything because of Alfred Perkins. In her book, all of that was more than enough reason to place him in an interrogation room and get him to talk.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Once again, Ava could feel the stare of everyone in the Seventeenth Precinct as she and Pawlowski brought Isaac O’Hare into the building. She did her best to ignore it, lowering her head and directing O’Hare to the back, where the interrogation rooms were located.
“Just keep walking,” Ava said, honestly not sure if she was speaking to Pawlowski or O’Hare.
She feared that O’Hare would start cackling again, as he’d done during the cab ride over, drawing more unnecessary attention to them. He managed to remain stable, though, and they made it to the hallway at the other side of the room without incident.
However, when Pawlowski opened the door to the interrogation room, a voice called out to them. It was a familiar male voice, the sound of Captain Miller sounded quite aggravated.
“Detective Gold? A word?”
Ava turned to face him and could tell by the stern look on his face that arguing or pleading her case would not be helpful. Instead, she turned back to Pawlowski and gave her a little nod. She watched as her new partner led O’Hare into the interrogation room. She did so quickly, as if fearing Miller would call her name as well.
Ava headed over to Miller, who was standing by the intersection of the hallway and the larger floor where the bullpen resided. She was slightly relieved when he didn’t instantly lead her back towards his office. Her hope was that he wouldn’t act irrationally or try to start an argument while they were standing in front of the entire precinct.
“Yes, sir?”
“Who’s this?” he asked, nodding to the now-closed interrogation room door.
“Isaac O’Hare. He’s one of the names we found on Perkins’s list of clients in his office. We spoke with the coroner and discovered a strange bit of fabric that had been taken off the body, gripped in his hand. O’Hare owned—or, ratheronceowned—a textile mill that made the exact same kind of fabric. When we spoke to him, he came right out and told us he’d lost everything because of O’Hare and the crash.”
“And that was enough to cuff him and bring him in?” Miller asked, incredulous.
“No, sir. We arrested him because he drew a gun on me.”
“Oh. I see.” He seemed confused and first, and then concerned. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, sir. We’re fine.”
“Good. Detective Gold, I fear that if nothing comes out of this interrogation, we’re going to have to remove you and Pawlowski from the case. There’s just not enough justification for keeping it open while everything points to suicide.”
“I understand, sir.”
He stood still for a moment, watching her closely as if he was sure she was going to argue. When she said nothing, he gave a curt nod and then turned away, heading back for his office. She’d known this would happen but felt disappointed all the same. They hadn’t even been given until the end of the day—which was only two hours away, but it still stung.
She entered the interrogation room, walking in just as Pawlowski was finishing up with a question.
“…two nights ago? Were you anywhere near the Chrysler Building?”
“What in God’s holy name would I be visiting that place for? An ugly eyesore on the city if you ask me. So…no. No, I wasnowhere near the Chrysler Building two nights ago. In fact, I was nowhere near that side of town.”
“Can you tell us where you were?” Pawlowski asked. Ava remained quiet, letting Pawlowski run with it.
O’Hare thought about his answer for a while and then shrugged. “Guess it makes no difference now, if I’m already under arrest. If you must know, I was with an old friend of mine down in Harlem, having some drinks.”
“A speakeasy?” Pawlowski asked.
“No. At his place. He’d gotten it off of someone else. It was some awful rotgut, that’s for sure, but it did the trick.”
“How long were you there?”
“I don’t…Jesus, I don’t recall. The last few days have been a blur. Hell, the last few weeks. I mean…it’s all been such a whirlwind, there are days I forget to even change my damned clothes!”