I was on my feet, roared,
“Fuck ’em, I want to see her.”
The zoning had been bad the last few days... did I kill her?
He picked up the phone, spoke in a hushed tone, then put it down, said,
“Special Agent Peters is going to allow that but he’ll accompany you.”
I said,
“Like I give a fuck what he allows.”
O’Brien said,
“I know this is a shock, but don’t piss this guy off.”
I stormed out of the office and ran smack into Peters, he was going to say something and I said,
“Let’s go.”
An unmarked car outside, two agents in it, I looked at Peters, sneered,
“Am I under arrest?”
He kept his voice low, asked,
“Why, you do something?”
The drive to the morgue was silent and when we got there, they flanked me as if I was going to run, I sure wanted to.
The room itself was icy, and those green walls, puke colored, an attendant was standing by a steel drawer, and Peters asked,
“You ready for this?”
“Like you give a fuck, open it.”
The drawer made a squeaking noise as it was pulled back, and a white sheet covered the body, the attendant peeled it back and there she was.
Dead.
Her eyes were closed but I could see the ligature marks round her throat, they’d cut deeply into the skin, I stared at her, keeping my face in neutral and finally I nodded, said,
“It’s Nora.”
We went outside and Peters asked,
“Can I get you something?”
“Yeah, the fuck out of here.”
Drove me back to the station and the interrogation room, Peters indicated the chair, I sat and he stood on the far side of the table, asked,
“When did you last see... Nora?”
“Two nights ago, I was supposed to pick her up this evening.”
He watched me carefully, then,
“Can you account for your movements on that night?”
“Yeah, I was with Officer K... Kebar to his friends.”
He had his notebook out, asked,
“You think of anyone who might have wished her harm?”
I looked up at him, said,
“Morronni, he does a number on Kebar’s sister, and now, my turn to feel his rage, you talk to him, ask him for his whereabouts two nights ago or do you just hassle cops?”
He closed the notebook, said,
“Look, Shea, I understand your anger, your grief, but why don’t you think this was the strangler? A green rosary was used.”
I gave him my granite look, said,
“Because of one small detail, you’re the expert and you missed it?”
He narrowed his eyes, wondering where I was going with this, asked,
“We double-checked everything, it has all the hallmarks of the other stranglings.”
I let him wait a beat, then I said, trying not to let my voice break,
“Her finger is missing, and the gold ring I put on it.”
Nothing is ever as it’s supposed to be... more’s the Irish-ed pity.
Sixteen
Morronni was seriously pissed.
Gino, standing before him, was nervous, very.
He hadn’t seen the boss this enraged for a long time and he was drinking neat bourbon, a very bad sign, meant medieval shit was coming down the pike and soon.
He stared at Gino, asked,
“The fuck were you thinking, you stupid prick?”
Gino, at a loss, asked,
“What’d I do?”
Morronni was on his feet, swaying, neat bourbon on an empty stomach and a batch of rage will sway the best or worst of ’em, he spat,
“Do... fucking do, you offed the young Mick’s broad, I said we’d refocus him but I didn’t fucking mean for him to go ballistic and he will.”
Gino crossed his heart, swore on his mother’s grave, he hadn’t touched her.
Morronni paused, then,
“Would that psycho Fernandez have done it?”
Gino, relieved to be off the hook, said,
“He’s capable of anything.”
Morronni fumed, then:
“Him and Kebar, they’re gonna make a move real soon, are we ready?”
Gino, on safer ground, said,
“We have a full crew all over the club, Kebar comes in, he’ll be hit from four different angles, he’s history.”
Morronni said,
“Make sure they’re ready to go, those cops, they’re gonna come real soon.”
Gino smiled, said,
“They’ll never know what hit them.”
Morronni, back to biz, asked,
“I don’t suppose Kebar told us where the cops are going to be when we make the shipment?”
Gino said,
“I think Kebar has outlived his usefulness.”
Morronni said,
“Bring him down hard, you hear?”
Gino heard, loud and deadly.
Further down the street, McCarthy was briefing his troops, going,
“The kid has suffered a major loss so he’s definitely going to back Kebar, they’ll make their move real soon, they go in the club, let them get started and we’ll go in, pick up the pieces, get most of Morronni’s crew too.”
His black partner was thinking,
“Pieces... bodies more like.”
I was sitting in me apartment, on my second Jameson, trying to keep my mind a blank.
Bang on the door and I opened it, piece in my hand.
Kebar.
Carrying a large holdall.
He began,
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I held up my hand, said,
“Don’t.”
He began to unpack the holdall, bulletproof vests, sawn-offs and numerous handguns, said,
“They’re expecting us at the club, reason I’ve been casing it, let them think I’m going to go in there, and McCarthy, they’re waiting too, but Fernandez, he visits a little chickie on the West Side, gets himself a bit of poontang before he goes clubbing, that’s where we’re going, now, you still up for it?”
I began to put on the vest, asked,
“Take a wild guess?”
We were good to go and Kebar said,
“Glad to have you on board, kid.”
The duality, hell of a word that, isn’t it, was in full force, I liked Kebar but I had made my plans and with regret, I sneaked a look at him, he really did see me as his backup guy, I think this is where other people feel that thing they call regret, I don’t know about that but both sides of me were at war about my intended action.
On the way to the West Side, we didn’t talk, double-checked our firepower.
The street was deserted and Kebar pointed to a run-down apartment, said,
“He’s on the ground floor.”
Checked his watch, said,
“He should be just about getting his ashes hauled now.”
I asked,
“This is not an arrest?”
He said,
“Not too late for you to bail.”
We jimmied the door with a small pick, went in real quiet and a guy was dozing on a recliner, Kebar shot him in the gut then kicked in the bedroom door, Fernandez was indeed on the job and Kebar opened up with the Magnum, a volley of shots, not much chance the lady was going to survive.
Kebar came back out, said,
“Scatter those packages of coke all over the place, make it look like a dope deal gone to shit.”
Like that was going to fly.
Kebar was surveying the scene when I moved up to him, whispered.
“ ’Twas me fucked your sister.”
His howl of anguish was cut short by the two rounds I put in his skull.
I think you can figure which side of my duality won out.
I had to move fast but didn’t really feel hurried, I had it all mapped out in my head.