“Cut the shit, what are you really after?”
Joe hesitated, then just spat it all out, trying to keep his voice neutral as he spoke about Shea, the stranglings, Nora.
Jay shook his head, said,
“You dumb prick, come on, we’ll have another brew and I’ll tell you the skinny.”
The music had got louder and being a cop hangout, it was country and western, the only concession they make to sentimentality, Lucinda Williams with “Drunken Angel.”
They got their drinks and Jay ushered them into an alcove, away from prying ears and where they could hear each other, said,
“You’re going after Shea?”
Joe considered, said,
“Well, his name is all over this whole business.”
Jay looked around, then:
“You must be out of your cotton-picking mind, bro, Shea is golden, he’s so far up that corporate ladder, he’s bulletproof, he’s not liked but fuck, ain’t nobody gonna go up against him, you do and sayonara sucker.”
Joe felt a rush of rage, he’d come to his running buddy and here he was getting... what... a shit sandwich, he gritted,
“Sorry to have wasted your time, I didn’t realize you’d be scared of the little bastard.”
Jay was stunned, actually took a step back, calling a cop a coward, whether true or not, you better be packing more than attitude, he took a deep breath, asked,
“You hear I got shot last year?”
He hadn’t.
And Jay nodded, said,
“Thought so but then, you’re down there sunning yourself, why the fuck would you care what happens to cops?”
Joe was going to say,
“I fucking care what happens to my sister.”
But asked,
“How’d it happen, the shooting?”
Jay sighed, said,
“A gangbanger, fourteen years old, I took my eye offa him and he shot me in the gut, and they’re right, nothing hurts like that sucker so yeah, it made me more careful and I’m certainly not gonna have Top Cop thinking I’m sniffing around him.”
Joe was tired, maybe the damn cold or the series of boilermakers, he shrugged on his gloves, said,
“Sorry I took up your time.”
There’s always something good about seeing a copper go down. The trouble is it doesn’t happen often enough.
Nineteen
Jay grabbed his arm again, said,
“Whoa, slow down, hothead, did I say I wouldn’t help you, you hear me say that? Let’s get the fuck outa here, go and have some dinner and lemme hear what you’re planning.”
They went to a diner around the corner, you got a cop bar, you got a nearby diner, coincidence?
Sure.
They ordered up a mess of eggs, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, toast, and of course coffee.
Jay said,
“You’re gonna go after a star like Shea, you got to procede with caution, he gets a sniff of you, you’re gone.”
Joe eased on down from his rage and even ate the food with an appetite, Jay asked,
“You still listening to Van the Man?”
Joe smiled, Christ, he’d forgotten that... Astral Weeks, he’d played that like a zillion times and he remembered how much Nora loved Enya, now that he didn’t get, all that airy fairy shit and celestial longing, the fuck was with that?
But thank God, he’d never said it to her, just acted like he was a devotee, we always lie to those we love.
Guess it’s why it’s called... an act of love.
Act as if...
They pushed their plates aside and Jay said,
“You want to get the dirt on the golden boy, track down a guy named McCarthy, he used to head up Internal Affairs and had a serious hard-on for Shea. Then Shea’s star rocketed and word is, Shea got McCarthy smeared, the guy is working as a private dick now, his partner, a black guy, get this... he went to work with Shea, so much for loyalty.”
Joe didn’t mention he was already planning on McCarthy, said that was a great lead.
Jay yawned, said,
“Bro, I’m beat, gotta get some shuteye, here’s my cell number, stay in touch and hey, be careful out there.”
They’d been major fans of Hill Street Blues.
Outside, they did a brief hug, nothing too intimate but warm enough.
Jay watched Joe trundle off in search of the train and then he got on his cell, rang Shea, said,
“Houston, we got a problem.”
What a trip.
The past eighteen months have been a fucking roller coaster like I couldn’t have planned.
Oh yeah, I planned and in ferocious detail.
Bring ’em all down.
And I did.
That shrink, back home, he’d said to me,
“I want you to act like you’re a decent upright citizen and we can literally change your behavior and the mind might well follow.”
Didn’t I do all that good shite in the first part of this, wasn’t I like a good guy?
Okay, I wasn’t completely coplike, like certain things that might be... not kosher... putting the blame on that bollix Fernandez, and I have to say, that Lucia, she sure fought back.
When I went to the hospital after, put my medal round her neck, I was so zoned and had the green beads in my pocket, was going to strangle her right there in the bed but that bloody nurse was watching me.
But it worked out, kept Kebar off balance and nobody, no-fucking-body pushes me in the dirt, I knew I’d kill him right then but a little agony along the road seemed right.
When we went to off Fernandez, Kebar took me by surprise, I had him figured too dumb, he’d said before we left,
“...I know who you really are, kid... what you are and the girls... the beads... I searched your place, found them green mothers but I can get you help, we’ll do this thing now, and after, I’m going to bring you in, make sure you get the very best treatment.”
Stupid bastard.
Like that was going to happen.
I think he cut me some slack because I was good to Lucia.
I wanted him to know that and whispered it in his ear... I was the one who did your sister... his howl of sheer agony before I pulled the trigger, ah, memories.
Then like freaking dominoes:
Gino.
Morronni.
McCarthy.
Brought them all down.
McCarthy’s sidekick, that black guy who was always smiling, he was a whole lot sharper, he came to see me after I screwed McCarthy, said,
“Nice work, kid.”
Before I could argue, he laid it out, most of what I’d achieved... I waited, then asked,
“You going anywhere with this?”
And that smile again.
He said,
“I want back in the real force, I was never cut out for this IA snake stuff and you, you’re untouchable, you can make it happen.”
I looked at him, debated, then asked,
“Why should I bring you along?”
He put a toothpick in his mouth, I wondered how it would look in his right eye, and he said,
“This way, I don’t blow the whistle on you, and with my knowledge from IA we can go all the way.”
I took the risk, mainly because I like that rush, to be out there, on the precipice, it’s the business and what an asset he turned out to be.
Using his inside info and my status as hero cop, we were two steps from running the department.
As for my little peccadillo, he only once ever referred to it, said,
“Drop the green beads, you need a new act.”
Cold.
Fucker could have been my psychic twin.
McCarthy I’d planted dope on, and the day he was marched out, lucky not to be doing jail time, he strode straight up to me, hissed,
“Oh you’re good, better than I ever expected but mark this you sick fuck, I’m going to nail you.”