Chapter Fifteen
When Jackson arrived at Park’s room Sunday afternoon, he said, “The press crowd has thinned out a little.”
“They’re probably all at One Police Plaza for this press conference.”
Jackson nodded and shrugged out of his jacket. As he draped it on a chair, he said, “Gavin texted me to say all the major local news stations are covering this, so pick a channel.”
“Have you seen the statement?”
“Yes. I approved it right before I came to the hotel. Gavin still thinks I’m your lawyer.”
“Must be nice to have a friend in the NYPD.”
Jackson gestured toward the sofa, so Park sat. Jackson sat beside him. “It’d be even better if I actually worked on homicide cases.”
It was strange to sit next to Jackson in light of the conversation they’d had thenight before. Jackson gave away nothing, merely picked up the remote and turned on the TV. He flipped channels until he landed on the local news. Park opened his mouth to say something and then remembered that Jackson had wanted to wait until the case was resolved to really discuss their relationship. But it was basically killing Park to sit here with Jackson andnotsay something, especiallywhen Jackson looked so good. Perhaps because it was Sunday, he’d forgone the suit, wearing instead dark jeans and a blue-and-white gingham shirt. His hair was looser than usual, clean and not gelled into place. Park opened his mouth to say something again, despite Jackson’s directive that he not, but then Jackson said, “It’s starting.”
The screen showed a white room with the NYPD logo on thewall behind a podium. A line of uniformed cops stood behind the podium, and the wide angle of the camera showed that the room was full of reporters. The mayor—the goddamn mayor of New York City—strolled out and stood behind the podium.
“Good afternoon,” said the mayor. “We’re here to discuss the matter of the death of Zoe Haufman. I want to assure the public that the NYPD has been doing everythingpossible to determine who caused her death, and that the City of New York has made every possible resource available. None of us will rest until her killer is brought to justice.” He paused and looked around the room. “I will now turn this press conference over to the NYPD to fill you in on some significant developments in the case. Please hold your questions for now. Detective Shaw?”
Aftera moment, Gavin, in full dress uniform, strolled out and stood behind the podium as the mayor stepped back. A man in a similar but more decorated uniform stood behind Gavin. The camera zoomed in closer to the podium.
“That’s Captain Russo behind Gavin,” Jackson said. “Gavin’s boss. Good guy, but kind of humorless. I worked with him some when I was still a prosecutor.”
“Okay.”
“Theybrought out the big guns. This is a big deal.”
Park still had a hard time believing all this was happening. This press conference was about him. He swallowed and said, “Should I have put in an appearance there?”
“No. I think that would have made it seem like more of a circus. This is ideal.”
“Okay.”
On screen, Gavin picked up a piece of paper—presumably the statement Jackson hadapproved—and leaned forward toward the microphone.
“Good afternoon,” said Gavin. “I’m Detective Gavin Shaw, and I’m the lead detective on the Zoe Haufman case. Thank you all for coming out on a Sunday.” He paused. “I’d like to update you all on the progress in the investigation. As Mayor Smith just indicated, the NYPD has put every available resource toward solving this case, and though wehave not yet made an arrest, I believe we will be able to very soon.”
“They’re really dragging it out,” Park commented impatiently.
“Hush.”
“Here’s what we know at this hour,” said Gavin. “I’d like to state upfront that we’ve cleared Parker Livingston of all wrongdoing in this case.” An audible murmur passed through the crowd. Gavin held up his hand and continued. “I can’t tell youmuch, but I can tell you that we believe that a man either pretending to be Mr. Livingston or to be working for the Livingston campaign invited Ms. Haufman to Mr. Livingston’s apartment. He then broke into the apartment to wait for Ms. Haufman. Mr. Livingston himself was attending a fund-raising dinner at the time of the murder, and as I said, is cleared of any wrongdoing. We do have evidence thatthe someone entered the apartment illegally, and we have a suspect whose name we are not yet prepared to release.”
Gavin paused long enough to flip over his piece of paper, and a dozen hands shot into the air from the assembled press. Gavin held up his hand again. “I have one other piece of information.”
The press quieted down again and one of the uniformed cops wheeled over a TV. Whilethe cop fiddled with it, Gavin said, “We’ll circulate this, but we’re looking for a potential witness in this matter because we have a few questions. His name is Kenneth Tucker, he’s from the South Bronx, Caucasian male, twenty-eight years old, dark hair, about six feet tall. He wears a pretty distinctive pair of glasses.”
A driver’s license photo of Tucker appeared on the TV. Gavin glancedback at it, and then looked at the camera again.
“As I said, Mr. Tucker is a potential witness. If anyone has information about his whereabouts, or any information regarding this case, please call the NYPD tip line.”
“That’s an interesting strategy,” said Park. “Not admitting Tucker is the suspect. He is, right?”
“Yes, but Gavin has a thing about revealing too much to the press. Healso doesn’t want to spook Tucker into thinking we’re on to him before he’s been apprehended. I’m guessing also that his boss wanted him to at least show the photo, because when I talked to Gavin yesterday, he didn’t even want to mention Tucker.”
“All right.”
