14 The First Murder Seen
When Cosette came to the Rosemont home to meet me the next morning, I intercepted her on the front steps. I thought she’d be eager to hear what happened with Desmond and Heathcliff. Instead, she barely listened to me, nodding once in a while but not making a single comment. “What’s going on, Cose? I thought you’d love to hear how our villain got his comeuppance.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Nothing’s wrong, but I’m more than a little distracted.”
“What’s happening, then?”
“Josh was waiting for me when my History class let out. He asked if I would be willing to take over his Set Theory class on Friday.”
“Wow! I can see why you’re distracted.”
“I was so thrilled, and scared, that I forgot all about Desmond. Thinking about what I was going to do kept me awake until the sky began to turn light. Then I kept busy with some futile attempts to polish some demonstrations I had used when tutoring back home in the Valais. I finally managed to sleep for about three hours and gobble a combination breakfast/lunch before heading here. In all the rush, I never had a moment to think about Desmond, or why Josh needed me to teach his class.”
I later learned that the rest of our team hadn’t thought much about Cosette’s invitation either. Raj told me Josh had been called to Washington on some government business–something he did often enough so it wasn’t worthy of being news. What was news was Cosette’s substituting. Sonia and I were thrilled for her, and each of us had a story of their first opportunity to “play at being Josh”–as Raj put it.
Helen volunteered to sit through Cosette’s teaching hour and let her know what she did well, and what she did poorly. I was afraid for Cosette that Helen would have much more of the second than the first, but she turned out to be quite kind and supportive. Her feedback really counted for Cosette, because we all knew Helen was incapable of lying just to make someone feel good.
Even with Helen’s praise, Cosette immediately began to fear the worst when Carmela called her at six the next morning to wake her and say that Josh wanted to meet her in his office at seven. Carmela didn’t happen to say that he’d invited the whole Residue Class, so until she arrived ten minutes early and saw all her teammates, Cosette thought the meeting was about her alone–and wasn’t good news.
At least she was half-right. The meeting wasn’t bad news about her performance as Josh’s substitute. Still, it wasn’t good news.
Josh wasted no time getting to the point. “I was in Washington. The President asked me to volunteer our team to help the New York police solve the murder of the Chinese Ambassador to the United Nations.”
I said, “Is that Jianjun Cheng? I read about the ambassador’s murder in the news, but they called him John.”
Helen explained: “That name is for the convenience of Western colleagues. But the proper diplomatic response is to use the name his parents gave him, Jianjun.”
I couldn’t stop myself from responding sarcastically. “According to the paper, the assassin wasn’t being very diplomatic. Two bullets into the top of his head, at close range, right on the steps in front of his own apartment building. Not a single witness, even though the Chinese have their own security team all over the premises.”
Sonia nodded her agreement. “I saw his building on TV news. Lots of beautiful landscaping for an assassin to hide behind.”
Raj couldn’t let Sonia’s remark pass. It was clear from the tone of his response that he was not interested in the landscaping. “I understand why the President would think it was an interesting case. Lots of international implications. Too bad we will not help, but at least you told everyone on TV why we didn’t involve ourselves in such cases.”
“Was the President angry when you turned him down?” Helen asked.
“He wasn’t angry.”
“So your explanation helped?”
“No, it wasn’t my explanation. It’s because I didn’t turn him down.”
Three of us said “But …” at the same time. Sonia and I dropped out, letting Cosette finish the sentence. “But it was in New York, and you turned down the Commissioner’s request to help with cases on his turf.”
“This wasn’t on his turf.”
“Yes, it was,” I countered. “The paper said his apartment was just a block from the UN, on First Avenue. You might think that was New York turf, but any place in the US where a Chinese diplomat is murdered becomes the President’s turf. I assume that’s why solving the case is a job for the President’s team.”
“I guess I’m still a foreigner,” Cosette said. “I never heard of the President’s team. What is it?”
I had just made up the expression, so I hesitated, Josh rescued me. “It’s whoever the President asks to help. In this case, it’s the FBI, the Secret Service, New York’s terrorism task force–” H paused and surveyed the room. “–and us.”