All those years ago, I thought, smiling. It really was a wonder, like Emily had said. This city. How many ghosts? I wondered. How many memories and dreams and aspirations packed in and out of how many walls? Who knew what would happen tomorrow? But I was glad I’d been part of keeping this old wonder rolling for at least another day.
I went left on 14th Street to Union Square and walked through some skateboarders rolling around the empty farmers’ market and past the closed doors of the Barnes & Noble. I found Broadway and pushed north.
It was coming on 2:00 a.m. by the time I got to my building on West End Avenue and stepped off the elevator onto my floor.
I truly was bamboozled by all the noise coming from behind my closed apartment door. There was laughing and distinct whooping.
A party? I thought. Who was old enough to party till 2:00 a.m.? Seamus was too old, I thought as I turned the lock and pushed open the door.
“Michael! You’re home!” Mary Catherine said, standing there wide-eyed on the front-hall carpet, surrounded by the kids.
I stood there, stunned frozen, with my fingers still on the key in the lock.
How? I thought. Wasn’t she still in Ireland?
Then I wisely dispensed with all that and did the only sensible thing.
I let the door bang closed behind me as I slammed into Mary Catherine and hugged her for all I was worth.
“I love you, too,” she finally whispered in my ear.
WHO IS DETECTIVE MICHAEL BENNETT?
PERSONAL LIFE
Michael Bennett lives in New York City with his ten adopted kids: Chrissy, Shawna, Trent, twins Fiona and Bridget, Eddie, Ricky, Jane, Brian and Juliana. His wife Maeve worked as a nurse on the trauma ward at Jacobi Hospital in the Bronx. Maeve died tragically young after losing a battle with cancer in December 2007. Also in the Bennett household are his Irish grandfather Seamus and their nanny, Mary Catherine. Bennett’s relationship with Mary Catherine is a complicated one and they have an on-off romance.
HOBBIES
Bennett doesn’t have time for hobbies. He spends his spare time looking after his kids.
EDUCATION
Bennett graduated from Regis High School and studied philosophy at Manhattan College in the Bronx.
WORK
Bennett joined the police force to uncover the truth at all costs. He started his career in the Bronx’s 44th Precinct before moving to the FBI. After his time with the Bureau, he rejoined the NYPD as a senior detective.
Bennett is an expert in hostage negotiation, terrorism, homicide and organised crime. He will stop at nothing to get the job done and protect the city, even if this means disobeying orders and ignoring protocol. Despite these unorthodox methods, he is a relentless, determined and in many ways incomparable detective.
THE FUNERAL FOR Melanie Phillips is heavily attended, filling the pews of the Presbyterian church and overflowing onto Main Street. She was all of twenty years old when she was murdered, every day of which she lived in Bridgehampton. Poor girl, never got to see the world, though for some people, the place you grew up is your world. Maybe that was Melanie. Maybe all she ever wanted was to be a waitress at Tasty’s Diner, serving steamers and lobster to tourists and townies and the occasional rich couple looking to drink in the “local environment.”
But with her looks, at least from what I’ve seen in photos, she probably had bigger plans. A young woman like that, with luminous brown hair and sculpted features, could have been in magazines. That, no doubt, is why she caught the attention of Zach Stern, the head of a talent agency that included A-list celebrities, a man who owned his own jet and who liked to hang out in the Hamptons now and then.
And that, no doubt, is also why she caught the attention of Noah Walker, who apparently had quite an affinity for young Melanie himself and must not have taken too kindly to her affair with Zach.
It was only four nights ago that Zachary Stern and Melanie Phillips were found dead, victims of a brutal murder in a rental house near the beach that Zach had leased for the week. The carnage was brutal enough that Melanie’s service was closed-casket.
So the crowd is owed in part to Melanie’s local popularity, and in part to the media interest, given Zach Stern’s notoriety in Hollywood.
It is also due, I am told, to the fact that the murders occurred at 7 Ocean Drive, which among the locals has become known as the Murder House.
Now we’ve moved to the burial, which is just next door to the church. It allows the throng that couldn’t get inside the church to mill around the south end of the cemetery, where Melanie Phillips will be laid to rest. There must be three hundred people here, if you count the media, which for the most part are keeping a respectful distance even while they snap their photographs.
The overhead sun at midday is strong enough for squinting and sunglasses, both of which make it harder for me to do what I came here to do, which is to check out the people attending the funeral to see if anyone pings my radar. Some of these creeps like to come and watch the sorrow they caused, so it’s standard operating procedure to scan the crowd at crime scenes and funerals.