Far more numerous, the male cops reacted less dramatically. They appraised Adele, their looks vaguely suspicious, then turned to me with reproachful eyes. I was their friend and I’d not only thrown them a curve, I’d greased the ball.
Most human beings have a set of rules they hold dear and cops are no different. The first cop rule is silence. Thou shalt not speak ill of another cop, not to an outsider, not under any circumstances. Call it the blue wall of silence; call it omerta, NYPD style.
The silence rule, like all hard-and-fast rules, works better if you don’t examine it too closely. By displaying Adele’s injuries, we were forcing the cops in the room to open their eyes and they clearly didn’t like what they saw.
I followed Adele to the end of the bar where five feet of rail miraculously cleared at our approach. Mike Blair, his expression grim, poured a Dewar’s for me, then asked Adele what she was having.
‘A screwdriver,’ she announced, ‘and a straw to drink it with.’
‘The straw was overly dramatic,’ I said as Mike went off to make Adele’s drink. ‘You had a cup of coffee before we left the apartment. I don’t remember anything about a straw.’
When Mike Blair returned with Adele’s drink, I raised my glass to Sparkle, who beamed down approvingly, then let my eyes sweep the room. Everybody in the bar knew me, but nobody wanted to look in my direction. Not even my good buddy Jack Petro, who refused to make eye contact until I finally called his name and waved him over.
Jack came reluctantly, his conflicted loyalties apparent in his worried look. Which came first? Loyalty to the job? Or loyalty to your best cop buddy? A toughie, no doubt.
‘Harry, Adele,’ he said without offering his hand to either of us. ‘How’s it goin’?’
‘Not too bad.’ I finished my scotch and signaled for another. When Mike Blair carried the bottle to where we stood, I told him, ‘Hang out for a minute, Mike. Adele’s got something she wants to tell you.’
Adele launched into her statement before either man could object. ‘David Lodge was a cop. A little on the rough side, but no worse than hundreds of cops who go out on the job every day. He was set up to take the fall for Clarence Spott’s death and he was murdered upon discovering the truth.’ She paused to sip at her drink, pulling the orange juice and vodka up through the straw before placing the glass on the bar. ‘When you thought David Lodge’s killer was a black pimp, you were ready to form a lynch mob. Now I’m telling you that his killers are cops and you turn your backs. I think you are pathetic.’
As overkill was Adele’s standard mode of communication, I wasn’t surprised by the punch line. But Jack Petro flinched as though slapped, while Mike Blair stood open-mouthed, the Dewar’s bottle cradled against his chest. Petro finally broke the silence.
‘This ain’t right,’ he said to me, echoing Ellen Lodge.
‘What isn’t right, Jack? Taking down cop killers? Is that what’s not right?’ I was much taller than Jack, and in far better shape. When I stepped in close to him, though I hadn’t meant to intimidate, he took a step back. ‘The story’s gonna come out, no matter what happens to me or my partner, and when it does the job’s collective eyes are gonna be blacker than Adele’s. That means that you, Jack Petro, when you’re out on the street, are gonna feel the public’s contempt, you and every other cop. But that’s not my fault and it’s not my partner’s.’
‘What are you telling me, Harry, that you suddenly got religion? Because me and you, we go back a long way and I don’t recall you wearin’ a halo in the past.’
The question caught me off-guard, a quick jab slipped beneath my glove. But Jack had it backwards. If I’d known what was coming when I got out of bed on the morning David Lodge was murdered, I’d have pulled up the covers and gone back to sleep. As it was, I’d been more than ready to pass the moral buck to my superiors. True, Adele hadn’t put a gun to my head, but she’d definitely set the example. I would never have found the courage to butt heads with the job if she hadn’t been out there. Nor, truth to tell, would I have gotten very far without the files she’d gathered on her own.
I didn’t explain any of that to Jack or Mike, but my attitude softened. ‘Adele got lucky,’ I said. ‘Someone came out of her building as she was being attacked and her assailant ran away. But suppose he hadn’t been interrupted? What do you think might have happened?’ I shook my head. ‘It won’t work, Jack. Even if you truly believe the world is better off without the Spott brothers, you can’t justify the attack on Adele, not unless you’re prepared to stop thinking of yourself as a good guy.’
‘The “good guy” was a little weak, Corbin,’ Adele said as we crossed the bar and pushed through the door.
I took a quick glance over my shoulder. Bye-bye, Sparkle. ‘I’ve known Jack for a long time. Trust me, once you get past the cynical attitude, he’s a romantic. The rest of them, too. They think they’re on the side of the angels.’
‘Just like us?’
‘That’s the way I’m hoping it’ll go. If we’re all heroes, how can we be enemies?’
We came through the door to find Nydia Santiago waiting for us on the sidewalk. Nydia didn’t even glance in my direction. She jerked her chin at the middle of Adele’s face and said, ‘Who did that?’
If Nydia’s tone was demanding, Adele’s was uncompromising. ‘Are there dirty cops in the Eight-Three?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘Because if there are dirty cops in the Eight-Three, they’re the ones who did it. They punished me for picking up the rock they were hiding under.’
Over the last thirty years, police corruption scandals in New York have usually involved small groups of rogue officers who’ve been working together for years. They rip off dealers for drugs and money, put drugs back out on the street, sometimes even ride shotgun on large deals. Given the size of the NYPD and the latitude granted to ordinary patrol officers, the scandals have been relatively few and far between. But that wasn’t the point Adele was making. Precincts in New York are quite smalclass="underline" Bushwick, for example, home to the 83rd, covers only two square miles and has well over a hundred officers working the streets. That’s why it’s impossible for rogue cops to operate anonymously. Other cops have to know.
Detective Nydia Santiago worked in the precinct, day after day, week after week, month after month. She had snitches of her own, naturally, snitches who’d undoubtedly repeated the same rumors Adele and I had so easily uncovered. I could see it in Nydia’s eyes, that moment of reflection as she searched for a way to avoid the unpleasant truth.
I took out the small note pad I keep in my jacket pocket, wrote down the number of the cell phone I’d purchased earlier in the day, then tore off the sheet and offered it to Nydia.
‘If you want to get in touch with me, it’d be best if you didn’t use my home number.’
Nydia stared into my eyes, her expression defiant. Then she snatched the sheet of paper from my hand and jammed it into her pocket. For a moment, I was certain that she’d speak, but she finally turned on her heel and marched back into Sparkle’s without saying a word.
THIRTY-TWO
I spotted the tail before I’d gone two blocks, not because I was especially alert, but because it’s impossible to conduct a successful tail in a silver Jaguar. Not unless you want to be seen.
‘We have company,’ I told Adele.