Page 48 of The Cabinet of Dr. Leng

Buongiorno had become almost a home away from home for them. It was just around the corner from their Second Avenue apartment, only six tables, with no sign outside and a menu consisting of whatever Tullio—first generation, ancient, unrepentantdal Piemonte—felt like preparing. The Upper East Side had changed in the last decade, and now it felt more like a bedroom community than a vibrant Manhattan neighborhood. All their cop friends, it seemed, had headed for either White Plains or New Rochelle or way the hell out in Nassau County. But neither he nor Laura felt a similar urge. They were earning decent salaries, Laura especially; they’d made a smart real estate move, upsizing to a big two-bedroom in the same building when one became available during a dip in the market. They’d just as soon have dinner here at Buongiorno or at home as fight for bragging rights to reservations at places like Au Cheval or 4 Charles. Besides, Laura got invited to enough wrap parties to keep things interesting.

The waiter came by and recited the handful of available dishes. Laura ordered an appetizer of burrata, Cinta Senese prosciutto, and lardo di Colonnata, with heirloom tomatoes, basil, and pane tostato. How the hell did she stay so thin eating stuff like that? D’Agosta ordered fresh mafaldine pasta alla puttanesca—supposedly the pasta sauce favored by Italian prostitutes.

“And yours?” he asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“Great! It was the opening day of second-unit photography on that neo-noir they’re filming down by the Battery.”

“You mentioned it last night. What’s it called again?”

“There’s just a working title, but it’s a remake of a 1950 crime film,Side Street. The original had a famous car chase in and around Wall Street, shot from choppers and the tops of buildings. This time, they’re using drones, and we’ll be closing half a dozen streets over the weekend for the shoot. I haven’t met the director yet, just the DP and some assistants, but the lead was there—Leonardo DiCaprio! Can you believe it? We chatted—he was totally cool, told me to call him Leo. He’s not like some of the other stars, prima donnas shut up in their trailers or method types out trying to rub shoulders with real crooks or wiseguys. But…”

The excited flow of words stopped abruptly as, for the first time, she took a close look at D’Agosta. “Vinnie, what is it?”

“Nothing, nothing. Go ahead.” He forced his face into a bright smile.

She reached across the table, took his hand. “Here I am, blabbing on. Tell me more about your own day.” Her index finger played slowly back and forth across his knuckles.

He shrugged. “Same old. No question it’s a homicide, but still no witnesses or suspects. The killer was smart. No security footage caught a glimpse of him, can you believe it? In a museum overflowing with cameras. It was a day of asking questions, dragging the net around hoping to snag something.” Eager to talk about something else, he said: “I went to see Pendergast.”

The index finger went still. “Really? When?”

“Day before yesterday. At his place on Riverside Drive.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Because I knew you’d react like this.Aloud, he said: “Slipped my mind. I was there less than an hour. I only went because Mrs. Trask asked me to.”

Laura’s brow furrowed. “Sheaskedyou? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah. He’s been away, you know, down south for several months.” He paused for a sip of wine. “He told me Constance had left—I think that might be it.”

“So? She’s left before. That woman isn’t exactly predictable.”

“I know. But something happened. Something bad. All he said was he’s at ‘a crossroads of no return.’”

“Sounds like a line from the movie they’re shooting. What does it mean?”

“No idea. You can never tell with Pendergast. He didn’t look good.” He shook his head. “He kept turning the conversation back to my own piece-of-shit case.”

Laura looked at him more guardedly. “Vinnie, that isnota piece-of-shit case you’re on. It’s unusual. It’s what you’re best at. And the press is huge. There’s a big opportunity for you here.”

“I know.”Opportunity.He realized he no longer gave a rat’s ass about that. He didn’t even want to talk about the case, to tell the truth.

He met her gaze for a moment, then took another sip from his glass. Laura knew him well enough to see when something was wrong. She was also shrewd enough to gauge how deep it ran—and whether there was anything she could do to help.

“You know, I’d hoped that being back at the museum would—”

“Would what? Be like Old Home Week? Bring back fond memories of decapitated bodies?” It had been his hope, as well—but hearing it from Laura somehow stung even more.

“No, of course not. I’d hoped…I don’t know. That you’d find it reinvigorating. I know you’ve been in a bit of a funk.”

She’d put her finger right on the problem—and it hurt even more than he’d expected. “Itisexciting, okay? Ilovedealing with stiffs, day in and day out—and this one was stiffer than most. I know it’s not as exciting as working with Cary Grant or…orLeo…but…”

Laura withdrew her hand. A moment later, the waiter appeared and placed their dishes in front of them.

“Laura, sweetheart,” D’Agosta said quickly, “I didn’t mean to sound like that. I’m happy about your assignment: it’s got great visibility, and you’re not putting yourself in danger anymore. You’re right about my case, it’s a good one, and being back at the museum reminds me of why I became a cop to begin with. I’m sorry that I just can’t seem to, you know, get more enthusiastic.”

“It’s okay, Vinnie,” Laura said. “It’s okay.”

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