On this glorious spring afternoon a busy crafts fair filled the large central square of West Side College between Seventy-ninth and Eightieth Streets, so dense with visitors it would be virtually impossible to spot the killer and his victim in the crowd.

On this glorious spring afternoon customers filled the scores of neighborhood restaurants and coffee shops, in any one of which the Conjurer might at this moment be suggesting to Cheryl Marston that she go for a drive with him or they stop at her apartment.

On this glorious spring afternoon fifty alleyways bisected the blocks here and offered, in their dim seclusion, a perfect killing ground.

Sachs, Bell and Kara jogged up and down the streets, looking through the crafts fair, the restaurants and the alleys. And every other place they could think to search.

They found nothing.

Until, desperate minutes later, a break.

The two cops and Kara walked into Ely's Coffee Shop near Riverside Drive and scanned the crowd. Sachs gripped Bell's arm, nodding toward the cash register.

Next to it were a black velvet riding hat and a stained leather crop.

Sachs ran to the manager, a swarthy Middle Easterner. "Did a woman leave those here?"

"Yeah, ten minutes ago. She—"

"Was she with a man?"

"Yeah."

"Beard and a running suit?"

"That's them. She forgot the hat and that whip thing on the floor under the table."

"Do you know where they went?" Bell asked.

"What is happening? Is there—"

"Where?" Sachs insisted.

"Okay, I hear him say he going to show her his boat. But I hope he took her home."

"How do you mean?" Sachs asked.

"The woman, she was sick. I figure that why she forgot her stuff."

"Sick?"

"Couldn't walk steady, you know what I'm saying? Seem drunk but all they drank was coffee. And she was fine when they got here."

"He drugged her," Sachs muttered to Bell.

"Drugged her?" the manager asked. "Hey, what is story?"

She asked, "Which table were they at?"

He pointed to one where four women sat, talking and eating, and doing both quite loudly. "'Scuse me," Sachs said to them and gave the area a fast examination.

She saw no obvious evidence on or beneath the table.

"We've gotta look for her," she said to Bell.

"If he said boat, let's go west. The Hudson."

Sachs nodded to where the Conjurer and Cheryl had sat. "That's a crime scene—don't wash it or sweep under it. And move them to a different table," she shouted, pointing to the four wide-eyed and momentarily silent women, and ran outside into the dazzling sunlight.

Chapter Sixteen

She saw her husband crying.

Tears of regret that he had to "end the marriage."

End the marriage.

Like taking out the trash.

Walking the dog.

It was our fucking marriage! It wasn't a thing.

But Roy didn't feel that way. Roy wanted a stubby assistant securities analyst instead of her and that was that.