“If it’s okay with you, I’ll type up what I’ve got, let you have a look, see if it sounds right, how would that be?”
I said,
“Sure.”
His whole attitude had altered, a barely suppressed rage was building in him so I thought I’d see if I could bring it out to play, I said,
“Off the record Joe, Nora, my girl...?”
I let the name sting him, then:
“I found out after, she was giving it away all over Brooklyn, a tramp in fact... or as one of the guys said... a cut above a ten-dollar whore.”
He looked lashed and I indicated his sandwich, asked,
“You lost your appetite?”
His notebook had been put aside and his fists were clenched, he said,
“I think we’re more or less done.”
He was on the brink so I upped the ante, said,
“I can get a doggie bag, you could have it later, you know, when you’re typing up your notes.”
He looked at me then, and pure hatred blazed from his eyes, he took out his wallet.
And I went,
“My treat, let the NYPD treat one of its former officers.”
He threw a bundle of bills on the table, said,
“I don’t think so.”
He stood up, I didn’t and I said,
“You’ll lemme see those notes, right?”
He nodded, then reached in his jacket and for a crazy moment, I wondered if he had a piece.
He withdrew a small paper bag, chucked it on the table, said,
“Thought you might be needing this.”
And he was gone.
I waited a moment, then opened the bag and out spilled:
A green rosary.
Killing Time
Twenty-Three
Joe was furious with himself, he’d let Shea get to him and he’d lost his cool and the rosary beads, now that was just stupid, he’d found it in one of those arty stores in the Village, it felt good but it was dumb.
Way fucking dumb.
Talk about blowing your cover.
And now, Shea would come after him.
Guaranteed.
The fuck had a way of getting rid of people and looking good at it.
Joe even glanced over his shoulder, paranoia growing by the minute.
He hailed a cab, the damn Pontiac he’d rented wouldn’t start that morning, had the cab take him to Battery Park, cost a bundle but hey, so it goes.
Cameron, an ex-heist guy, hung out there, and Joe, Joe had let a beef with him slide and Cameron had pledged:
“You ever need a favor...”
He needed a gun, that was a favor... right?
Took him a time to locate Cameron but after an hour, he got him in a coffee shop, and Cam went,
“No shit, the cop, where you been hiding, buddy, heard you took early retirement.”
Cam looked old, deep lines under his eyes, and his skin had that gray look of someone who’s either indoors too much or sick or both.
Joe got an espresso, and they shot the breeze for a bit till Cam asked,
“So, what do you want, Joe? I’m glad to see you, well, a bit anyway but you didn’t come all the way over here to see how I was doing.”
Joe cut to the chase and Cam protested for a while, not in the biz no more, snow job.
Joe stopped him with:
“Cut the crap, you owe me, I’m calling it in.”
Cam sighed and said,
“Come on.”
Led him a block away to where his battered Chevy was parked and said,
“Don’t suppose you can fix my parking tickets?”
Got the look and laughed, said,
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
They got in the front and from under the seat, Cam produced a McDonald’s bag, opened it, the smell of fries and burgers emanating, took out a Glock, and a clip of ammo, said,
“Just like you guys carry on the job.”
Joe took it, asked,
“Is it clean?”
Cam laughed, said,
“We at McDonald’s pride ourselves on our hygiene.”
Joe reached for his wallet and Cam said,
“Give me a hundred bucks and we’re even.”
As Joe got out of the car, Cam said,
“No offense but don’t come down here no more, cops aren’t real popular.”
Joe said,
“Ex-cop.”
He was closing the door when Cam added,
“Once a cop...”
It was late when Joe got back to his room, he got inside, turned on the light and nearly had a heart attack.
Sitting on his bed was a black guy, chewing a match, looking relaxed, a lazy smile on his face, Joe had the Glock in his jacket but he hadn’t loaded the sucker.
Fuck.
The guy said,
“Sorry for startling you but we need to talk, I’m Rodriguez.”
Joe was sure this was it, Shea had sent him to do the job, and as if reading his thoughts, the guy said,
“I’m here to help you... help you get Shea.”
The guy reached down, picked up a brown paper bag, asked,
“You drink Wild Turkey?”
Joe got his mug and a water glass, handed them over and then realized, said,
“You were Internal Affairs?”
Rodriguez poured freely, handed the mug to Joe, said,
“Wrong tense.”
“Excuse me?’
“Am Internal Affairs, never left, it was a snow job to get Shea, hell, he even believed I had Peters sideswiped, pure accident, a situation we took advantage of to get me tight with Shea, we’ve been planning this operation for nearly two years, we know Shea is the strangler, but no proof, and we’re going to bring down a shitload of cops with him, he’s got them in his pocket.”
“Does McCarthy know?”
Rodriguez sighed, said,
“No, he’s a drunk, how it goes.”
Joe took a deep swallow and the stuff burned, he was trying to bite down on his anger, asked,
“You knew this guy was killing women and what, you’ve had your finger up yer ass, waiting for what, him to do it again?”
Rodriguez stuck another match in his mouth, said,
“I understand your anger.”
Joe nearly went for him, said,
“The fuck you do.”
Rodriguez took it with that slow smile, said,
“I’ve been on the guy, 24/7... hell, I even went to Ireland with him.”
Joe put the mug down, lest he fling the contents in Rodriguez’s face, asked,
“And when he took out the girl in Sligo, were you on him... 24 fucking 7?”
Rodriguez let out a low whistle, not easy with a match in your mouth, said,
“You’re good, did your background, but he got away from me, this guy is the iceman, the ultimate predator, but we have a shot at him now.”
Joe reached for the bottle, poured, asked about the shot they had at Shea now.
“Yeah, how’s that?”
Rodriguez leaned against the wall, almost a lazy pose, said,
“Lucia, his partner’s sister, he tried to off her but got interrupted, now if she were to come around and identify him?”
Joe stared at him, said,
“I don’t think that’s too likely to happen.”
Rodriguez gave the lazy smile, no warmth, said,
“But if he thought she had?”
Joe suddenly got the gig, said,
“And I’m the guy to tell him?”
Rodriguez said,
“He killed your sister, don’t you want to bring him down?”
Joe said,
“You’re IA... like I’m supposed to trust you?”
Rodriguez filled his water glass but the booze seemed to have little visible effect on him, said,
“And what do you call your partner, Jay, right... who sold you out to Shea... you think he’s better than me?”
Joe lost it, near screamed,
“He’s a treacherous son of a bitch.”