The End of Brooklyn, page 10
“Oh? What did he become, instead?”
“Dead,” she said.
She drove in silence for a while, then said, “He was murdered when I was a teenager.”
“Cops find out who did it?”
“No,” she said. “I guess maybe that’s why I became a cop.”
“How’d it happen?”
“He was playing basketball in a schoolyard and a couple of guys came up and shot him.”
“Witnesses?”
“The other players, but they claimed they didn’t know the shooters.”
My first thought was drugs, but I kept my opinion to myself.
“That’s too bad,” I said. “I know what it’s like to lose a brother.”
“You, too?”
“My oldest was killed in Viet Nam.”
“That must have been tough.”
“It was,” I said, nodding. “My mother died a few years later, but it’s my brother that my father has a small shrine to.”
“That could be . . . creepy.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So Father Vincent is older than you?”
I nodded. “And Maria is the youngest.”
“I have a younger sister, but Robert was my only brother.”
We drove a while longer in silence. I was sure she didn’t have time to put on perfume, but the car smelled like her, anyway.
“When did you get your shield?”
“A couple of years ago,” she said. “It took me eight years.”
“That’s an accomplishment.”
“Is it?” she asked, sounding almost bitter. “That depends on how you got it, doesn’t it?”
“I just assumed you‘d earned it.”
She gave me a quick look before turning her attention back to the road.
“That’s not the general opinion.”
“What’s it matter what anybody thinks as long as you know you earned it?”
She was quiet again until we pulled up in front of my place.
“I want to tell you something,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m not sleeping with Hicks.”
“It’s no skin off my nose if you are.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I wanted to tell you.”
”But he is your rabbi, right?” When you had somebody in the department who was superior to you, and they helped your career, they were your “rabbi.”
“We have an agreement,” she said. “We let people think what they’re going to think, and he helps me.”
“Hey,” I said, “you gotta do what you gotta do.”
My reply didn’t seem to be what she wanted. She turned and stared out the windshield.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “But if you want to know the truth, I really never thought you were sleepin’ with him.”
“What?” She looked at me and blinked.
“You’re way too classy for him,” I said. “Anybody who can‘t see that is an idiot.”
“I—well—thank you.”
“Thanks for the ride.”
I started to get out, then paused and looked at her.
“What?” she said.
“Can I ask somethin’ else about the case?”
“Sure, why not?” she asked. “We’re bonding here, right?”
“Yeah, uh, right,” I said. “Did you determine what kind of a gun was used on my dad?”
She hesitated, then said, “From the shells we recovered we figure they were shot with an Uzi.”
“An Uzi?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothin,’” I said. “Thanks.”
“Look—” she said, then stopped.
“What?”
”Never mind. Keep in touch . . . about the case, I mean.”
“I’m not looking into it, you know,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said, “sure. Just let us know if you hear anything.”
“Will do.”
Thirty-Four
The message light was going like crazy.
I had a feeling most of the calls were going to be from an incensed Tony Mitts. And I figured he had a right to be mad. I was going to have to do something, since I had opened my big mouth. But I still needed to get back to Sheepshead Bay to get those notes from the limo. And I needed to let Benny know what had happened at the Barge. But I also needed to get a few hours’ sleep or I’d be no good to anybody.
I fell into bed without even getting undressed. . . .
I woke as daylight came through my window. I could have used a few more hours, but I got up and showered and made myself a quick breakfast of coffee and toast. I got dressed, switched to my other windbreaker, once again stuck my .38 in the pocket. There was just too much lead flying around for me to go unarmed.
I left my apartment as quietly as possible. I didn’t want Sam to hear me because I didn’t want to take the time to explain everything to her. I could do that later.
I got my car, a five-year-old Toyota I’d picked up cheap, out of the parking lot where I kept it and aimed it at Sheepshead Bay. I still had Carlo’s keys in my pocket, which was the only thing I’d lifted from his body before the cops arrived.
I drove down Emmons Avenue once without stopping, just to make sure there were no cops around. Second time I pulled in behind the limo, got out and quickly retrieved the envelope from the back seat. I locked the car, got back in mine and drove to Victory Memorial to see Benny and let him know what had happened.
“Carlo’s dead?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “and that’s not all. He was the one who called me about the five grand.”
“I never liked him,” the big man said. He was munching an Egg McMuffin I’d brought him. In fact, I’d brought him three.
We were standing in the Don’s room, talking across his bed. He was still out.
The cop outside the door was gone. Benny said the detectives asked him to call when the Don could talk and they’d come by for a statement.
“There’s some stuff happening, Benny,” I said. “Let’s sit down and talk about it.”
We pulled two chairs together and sat at the foot of the Don’s bed.
“What was Carlo up to?” Benny asked.
“He said you told him to drive me to deliver the five grand.”
“I never did.”
“I know. He did that himself. I figured out it was him, and we made the exchange.”
“What was he sellin’?”
“He told me the Don got a phone call the day he was shot.”
“The Don gets a lot of phone calls.”
“Well, he got this one while Carlo was in the room. He told Carlo to leave, that he was walkin’ to the restaurant.”
“So what’s that mean?”
“I don’t know, but I had Carlo drive me to the Barge and let me in.”
“How’d he do that? He ain’t got no key.”
“Yeah, he did. He said the Don gave him one to carry because he was startin’ to forget his.”
Benny frowned.
“Why didn’t he tell me that?”
“Because the old man doesn’t want you to know he’s gettin’ forgetful.”
Benny shook his head and said, “Stupid,” then looked at the Don quickly, checking to see if he’d heard him. “So what’d you find?”
“I went through the Don’s desk and found a bunch of scribbled notes.”
“What’d they say?”
“I don’t know. There was too many to read right there and then, so I took them with me. When we got outside, somebody put one in Carlo’s heart.”
“One shot? From where?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “A ways off.”
“A pro,” Benny said. “Only a pro would be that good at night. Probably had an infrared scope.”
“Why not plug me, too?”
“If he was a pro working on a contract he wouldn’t,” Benny said. “He’s only gettin’ paid for one.”
I looked at the old man in the bed.
“They could be comin’ for him next,” I said.
“They gotta come through me to get him,” Benny said.
“They might do that,” I said. “You need somebody you can trust here with you.”
“You’re the only one I trust, Nicky.”
“I can’t stay here with you, Ben. But I can make a call and get somebody.”
“Who?”
“Friend of mine,” I said. “Maybe two. You can trust them.”
“If you say so, Nicky.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let me make the calls, and then I’ll get back to you. Have somebody here by this afternoon.”
“Okay. You hear from Winky?”
“No. I’ll go and check those addresses you gave me, askin’ about him. And I’ve got to go through the Don’s notes.”
“Leave ’em with me,” Benny said. “I’ll go through ’em.”
I hesitated.
“What?” he asked. “You think I ain’t smart enough to find somethin’?”
“I think you’re plenty smart, Benny,” I said. ”It’s a good idea, because I’m gonna be on the move for a while. I’ll go down to my car and get ’em. Oh, speakin’ of the car.” I took Carlo’s keys out of my pocket. “Here’s the keys to the limo, and whatever other keys Carlo had.”
Benny took them. “These are for the limo, this one for the front door of the Barge. The rest must be his private keys.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I went down to the car and got the envelope with the notes. Benny wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knew the Don, and he could read his handwriting. If there was something there to find, he’d find it.
I brought it back up to the room and handed it to him.
“You went through the Don’s drawer,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“He won’t like that.”
“Maybe,” I said, “we won’t have to tell him.”
He looked at me for a few moments, then said, “Yeah, maybe.”
“I’ll call you about who I’m sendin’ to back you up, Benny. You’ll be able to trust them.”
“Okay, Nicky,” he said. He held up the envelope. “I’ll start readin’.”
“Let me know what you find out.”
Thirty-Five
I went back to my place and used the phone to make arrangements to back Benny up at the hospital. I called two P.I. buddies I know, Miles Jacoby and Henry Po, and asked them each if they’d do it.
“Cash money?” Jacoby asked.
“A payin’ gig, Jack,” I said.
“I’ll take the Don’s money, Nick, but not yours,” he said.
”That can be arranged.”
Hank Po said the same thing. The three of us used to hire out to each other for special jobs, but as we became friends we did it more as a favor. But there was risk, here, and I wanted them to be compensated. So the Don would pay them both.
I called Benny and told him to expect Jacoby and Po at the hospital.
“I ain’t found nothin’ in these notes yet, Nick,” he said.
“Keep lookin’, Benny.”
With that taken care of I was ready to go looking for Benny’s contact, Winky. Benny had given me two addresses in Brooklyn. I grabbed my windbreaker, hanging heavy with my gun in the pocket, and my keys and headed for the door. When I opened it to step out I ran into a brick wall.
Otherwise known as Tony Mitts.
As I bounced off him he advanced on me and grabbed me with both hands.
“What the fuck, Nick?” he shouted. “What the fuck?”
He started to shake me, his eyes blazing with rage. My toes were barely touching the floor.
“Let me go, Tony.”
“What the—”
“Don’t make me shoot you.”
He stopped short. I put my hand in my pocket, then pressed the barrel of my gun to his belly. His eyes cleared a bit as he felt the metal.
“Nick—”
“Let me go and calm down,” I said. “Then we can talk.”
Slowly, he released the front of my shirt and my feet touched down. I backed away, took my hand out of my pocket.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him. “I’m all involved in my dad’s death and I let the business about the rape slip.”
“Jesus, Nick, what rape?” he asked. Now he looked anguished rather than enraged.
“Mary Ann told her sister that years ago she was raped.”
“Years?”
“Two years, before you were engaged.”
“That’s before we started goin’ out again.”
“There’s even some question as to whether or not it was rape,” I said.
“If Mary Ann said it was rape, then it was.” He clenched his big mitts into fists. “Did she go to the police?”
“She didn’t.”
“Who was it, Nick?”
“I’m not tellin’ you that, Tony, because you’d go out and commit murder. That wouldn’t help anyone.”
“So he gets away with it?”
“Well . . . she forgave him, Tony.”
“So it was somebody she knew?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Why else would she forgive him?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t get the answers from her, Tony, she’s dead.”
“Then I’ll go ask Catherine,” Tony said. “I’ll wring her neck until she tells me.”
“No you won’t,” I said. “you’re gonna come with me now.”
“Where?”
“I’m lookin’ for a man named Winky. He might be able to tell me who shot my father. I need somebody to watch my back. If you help me, I’ll help you. I’ll keep working on Mary Ann’s case and find out the truth, about the rape, and about her death. Deal?”
He stood there for a few moments, going over it in his head, and then said, “Deal.”
“Let’s go.”
Tony had driven his car, but we left it parked in front of my building. It would be ticketed by the time we got back, but probably not towed. I didn’t tell him that. No point in getting him even more upset.
The first place Benny told me to ask for Winky was a bar in Bay Ridge, on Eighty-Seventh Street and Fourth Avenue. It was about three doors down from an OTB office.
We parked down the street and walked to the bar. There were neon signs in the windows advertising “Budweiser” in red and “Heineken” in green. Above the door was printed “Rafe’s.”
Naturally, it was a dive, but I’d spent many a pleasant evening in dives. I felt at home in them.
The bar ran along one wall, almost the entire length of the place, which was impressive. Couldn’t say that about the width of it, though. It was almost unable to accommodate Tony’s wing span.
“This place stinks,” he said.
“What kind of bars have you been hangin’ out in?” I asked. “They all smell like this. It’s a well-earned odor.”
Beer, whiskey, sweat and despair. They had all soaked into the walls, and the grain of the wooden bar.
We went to the bar and added our elbows to the ones already leaning there. A few of the patrons gave us a look, but most of them were too busy nursing their beer.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked. Or maybe he asked, “What’ll ya have?” Either one sounded the same to me.
“Beer.”
“What kind?”
“Whatever’s on tap.”
He drew two frothy mugs and set them down in front of us. Tony looked at his dubiously, and I wondered when he’d gotten so finicky. I picked mine up and took a sip. Pretty much made me finicky, too.
“I’m lookin’ for Winky,” I said to the bartender. “He been around, lately?”
“No.”
“You sure?” I asked. “Benny told me I might find him here.”
“Benny?”
“That’s right.”
The bartender squinted at me from beneath big, bushy black eyebrows that were shot through with gray. If he had any hair it would have been the same, but he was as bald as an egg.
“This about the Barracuda shootin’?”
“That’s right,” I said. “Benny told me I could find Winky here, or at a bar out on Pennsylvania Avenue.”
“Naw, he don‘t go out there anymore,” the bartender said. “He does his drinkin’ here—when he’s drinkin’.”
“And when is that?”
“When he ain’t gamblin’.”
“And is that what he’s doin’ now?”
“Yup.”
“Where?”
The bartender stroked the hard, black bristles on his cheeks and jaw.
“If I tell you, you’ll let the Don know I helped?” he asked.
“I’ll tell ’im.”
“You can find him down the street.”
“OTB?”
“That’s right. As long as they’re runnin’, or they’re open. Then he’ll come back here until his poker game starts.”
“What’s he looks like.”
“Tall, thin. Looks like he could use a good meal. But . . . you’ll know him when you see him.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“If I was you I’d wait till he comes back here, then buy him a drink,” the bartender said. “That’ll make him more talkative.”
“I don’t have the time to waste.”
“He ain’t gonna be happy to be interrupted when he’s playin’ the horses.”
“I’ll have to take that chance,” I said. “Thanks for the info.”
I walked out of the bar with Tony behind me.
Thirty-Six
Just the short time we’d spent in Rafe’s made the sun outside seem ten times brighter.
“Now what?” Tony asked.
“OTB.”
“We gonna interrupt the guy?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“You know anythin’ about him?”
“Like what?”
“Like how big he is?” Tony asked. “Or if he carries a gun?”
“No,” I said, “but you‘re plenty big, and I carry a gun.”
“I ain’t fought much since high school, Nick.”
I looked him up and down.
“But you kept in shape.”
