While Everyone Was Sleeping

by Donald Collins

  “We need to talk,” Danski said. “Have you heard from Matthew?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, he was here the day before yesterday,” Audrey said.

  “You should have called us,” Danski said.

  “I’m sorry.” She answered and chewed the corner of her lip nervously

  “Did he ask about the money he left for you?’ Litchfield asked.

  “Yes,” Audrey answered. “Fortunately, he didn’t ask to see it again. He just asked if it was enough or if I needed more. I told him not to worry; I had plenty to get by.”

  “Did he take his van and leave your Toyota here?” Litchfield asked.

  “No, but he went out to the garage and I saw him get in on the passenger side. I guess he left a tool there that he needed for a job he’s working on.”

  “You think he’s still doing his handyman jobs?” Litchfield asked.

  “Oh yes, I’m sure of it. He can’t sit still for long. He has to work.”

  Danski moistened his lips and nodded. He was glad they hadn’t told her about the notebook on their first visit there. He asked if she minded if he and Litchfield took another look in the garage and she told them to go right ahead. “Look all you want,” she told him. “Do whatever you need to do.”

  When he saw the book was gone, Danski called McQuade.

  “Excellent,” McQuade responded. “That means we’re on for Friday night - 1572 East 81st Street – apartment 6K. The occupant’s name is Mae Shulman.” Danski suspected that he was reading from the information sheet he gave him.

  “Roger that,” Danski said.

  He called McQuade again later that day. “Gregory and I went to Mae Shulman’s building and spoke with the super. His name’s Ramirez.”

  “That was kind’a risky, don’t you think?”

  “We can trust him not to tell anyone what our plan is. His son’s a cop in the five-four.”

  “What did he tell you about Shulman?”

  “He said she lives alone – no husband or boyfriend, and no pets. She doesn’t even have fish.”

  “Anything else we should know about?”

  “There are staircases on the north and south ends of the building and a passenger elevator in the lobby,” Danski answered. “There’s also a service elevator by the back door. Ramirez said he’s the only one who uses it or goes out the back way. There’s nothing out there except a dumpster.”

  “That’s good to know when we get there,” McQuade said. “It’s a big building and now we’re all familiar with the layout.”

  “If you know it’s a big building it means you’ve been there, too,” Danski said.

  “Yeah, Jeff and I took a ride past there when we left your office. We didn’t go in, we just wanted to get a visual.”

  Danski laughed. “Good, no problem. We shouldn’t all get there at the same time. Gregory and I will get there around four. We’ll talk with Shulman and get her and her neighbor out of their apartments. The neighbor’s name is Rappaport, Myra Rappaport, another single female, according to Ramirez. He said she and Shulman are close friends.”

  “What’s she got to do with this?” McQuade asked.

  “A precaution,” Danski answered. “We wouldn’t want her opening her door to take her kitchen garbage bag to the chute or come across the hall and knock on Shulman’s door just as Matthew gets there.”

  McQuade nodded. “You’re right, she could scare him off and spoil everything we set up.”

  “We’ll give the women enough time to pack their pajamas and a toothbrush and then get them out of there. We don’t want to tell them what’s going on until the very last minute.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” McQuade said “They might blab everything to some of their other neighbors, or else sit by their windows looking for Adams behind every parked car.”

  “Just to be on the safe side, I think we should have a man in Rapport’s apartment manning the peephole,” Danski said, “He can alert us when Adams gets to the sixth-floor hallway.”

  “Okay,” McQuade grumbled. “I guess It can’t do any harm having him there. I’ll talk with our boss about letting us have another man. Listen, I’m gonna put you on speaker phone so Jeff and I can both hear you. Let’s go over this one last time to be sure we have all our ducks in a row. You and Gregory will get there at sixteen hundred and go directly to Shulman’s apartment. You’ll explain everything to Shulman and tell her you need her and her neighbor to pack an overnight bag and get out of their apartments immediately.”

  “The neighbor, too?” Jeff said.

  “Yeah,” Danski said. “We’re gonna have a man in there as a back-up. Gregory and I will use the service elevator to bring the women out the back door where an unmarked car will be waiting to take them to a hotel on the West Side. They’ll stay at the hotel until it’s safe to come back.”

  “Jeff and I will get to Shulman’s apartment at sixteen-fifteen.” McQuade said. “That will give us time to become familiar with the layout.”

  “We have to assume Adams will be watching the front of the building. He might have been watching it for a couple of days and already have a general idea of who comes and goes at that time, so we’ll have to be careful he doesn’t spot one of us going into the building.”

  “It sounds like we have all the bases covered,” Rider said.

  “One last thing,” Danski said. “I’ll take a ride down to the Target store on Fourteenth Street and borrow a mannequin and a pair of women’s pajamas. We can’t have Adams come in there and find an empty bed.”

  “I like that,” McQuade said and then laughed. “That covers everything, right down to the smallest detail. There’s nothing to do now except go there Friday afternoon and wait for Adams to show up. I’ll call you later to confirm that we’ve got another detective from our squad to man the apartment across the hall.”

  McQuade called Danski an hour later. “We’re all set. I got a man for the other apartment. His name’s Turner, Frank Turner. He’s a new man in our squad so he drew the short straw.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Danski and Litchfield went for breakfast at a small luncheonette on Second Avenue where they discussed the takedown of Matthew Adams over bacon and eggs. The trap they were setting for him was almost twelve hours away and the detectives were getting antsy.

  At four o’clock they would talk with Shulman and Rapaport. They would explain to the women that they had information that Shulman was targeted for a burglary and the detectives would be waiting when the burglar arrived. They wouldn’t let them know until after the arrest that the burglar was their helpful handyman. They would explain that another detective will take them to a West Side hotel until the action was over. After finishing his breakfast Danski raised his cup, letting the waitress know he wanted a refill.

  “I’d better make it decaf,” he said when she approached with a glass pot in each hand, one regular, the other decaf. “It’s gonna be a long day; I probably shouldn’t have too much caffeine in my system.”

  Gregory laughed. “Why change now?”

  ***

  At four-fifteen Danski called McQuade and let him know that phase one of the plan was underway. They had escorted Shulman and Rappaport out the service entrance of the apartment building where a waiting unmarked cruiser drove them to a hotel on West 57th Street near Columbus Circle. Accommodations were arranged with expenses paid by NYPD. They were both given thirty dollars to buy dinner and another twenty for breakfast the following morning in case it was necessary.

  This was the first time Danski got to see Shulman’s apartment. As he stepped into the living room, he noted that the layout was similar to Susan’s apartment, only smaller. A short hallway brought him from the living room to a bedroom and bathroom on the right side, followed by a small den and a master bedroom on the left.

  Danski went to a window facing the street and pulled the curtain aside. “Uh oh, we’ve got a problem,” he told Litchfield when he saw a tall, dark-haired man get out of a c
ar and then walk to Shulman’s building. He immediately called McQuade.

  “A man wearing a dark top-coat just got out of a car parked out front and he’s walking toward the building.”

  “Yeah, that’s Turner,” McQuade said.

  “Well, get him off the street and inside the building fast before Adams sees him. The guy couldn’t look more like a cop if he was wearing a uniform.”

  “Yeah, I guess I should have told Frank to dress a little more casual, like he was going to a bar to hang out with some friends.”

  ***

  The detectives met in Shulman’s apartment ten minutes later.

  “Gregory and I will take the two closets in the master bedroom,” Danski said and then glanced around looking for spots for McQuade and Rider to secrete themselves when Adams got there.

  “I’ll take the hall closet,” McQuade said before Danski could make a suggestion. “Jeff can take the closet in the front hallway just in case Adams senses something’s wrong when he gets inside the place and decides to make a run for it before he gets to the main bedroom.”

  Danski nodded his approval. “Good thinking. He’ll be trapped between us.”

  The four detectives stayed away from the windows and waited patiently, assuming that Adams would be watching from the street. Danski assumed Adams had watched her apartment windows on several evenings to discern a pattern. At ten o’clock Danski went to the living room and turned off the television and the lamp that sat on a side table next to Shulman’s recliner while the other detectives took their positions. Guided only by a night-light in the bathroom and another in the hall, Danski returned to the main bedroom where he turned the ceiling light on for less than a minute before turning it off, again.

  “It’s a waiting game now,” he told Litchfield, McQuade and Rider. McQuade called Turner. “Adams should be on his way up here. Be on your toes.”

  “No sign of him, yet,” Turner said. “Uh oh, I see him now. He just came through the staircase door and he’s on his way to you now. Get ready.”

  “Ten-four,” McQuade said and quickly disconnected.

  “It’s show-time,” McQuade told the other detectives. “Our boy’s out there in the hallway.”

  At eleven-fifteen the apartment door opened slowly and, without making a sound, Adams stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and slowly crept through the living room and down the hallway directly to Mae Shulman’s bedroom. From the threshold he took in the figure in the bed that was turned on its left side. The hair from its gray wig obscured the features. Adams waited several seconds before moving on to the dresser on the opposite side of the bed. He glanced at the figure in the bed again before opening an ornate jewelry box that took up the center position on top of the dresser. With a narrow flashlight held in his mouth he sorted through the jewelry with a discerning eye.

  “Police, don’t move,” Danski shouted as he pushed the closet door open. Do it now, Matthew. You’re surrounded. You have no place to go.”

  Adams pulled his snub-nose revolver from his pocket and fired wildly as he broke for the door. Litchfield shot Adams as Danski groaned heavily and fell to the floor.

  “Call for a bus,” McQuade shouted to Rider as he flipped the light switch while Litchfield snatched Adams’ gun from the floor as he rushed to Danski’s side.

  Blood seeped through Danski’s fingers as he held his right hand to his upper left arm. Litchfield hurried to the bathroom and returned with a towel and wrapped it around Danski’s upper arm.

  “I’ll be all right,” Danski groaned as Litchfield knelt alongside him.

  “Well, this guy won`t be,” McQuade shouted as he examined Adams closely. “Tell them to put a rush on the bus. He’s got a gaping chest wound and could go out of the picture any minute now if they don’t get here fast.”

  “Officer down, also one civilian shot,” Rider said when a 911 operator answered. “We’re gonna need two buses. He gave the address, then snapped his phone shut and turned to McQuade. “I told them to put a rush on it.”

  A radio car team arrived less than five minutes later, followed by an ambulance crew. “At the end of the hall,” Turner shouted and motioned the EMTs down the hallway to the main bedroom.

  “We’ve got to move this man fast,” an EMT said after examining Adams. “He’s lost a lot of blood.” Adams was loaded onto a gurney and then rushed out of the apartment and down the corridor to an elevator where a uniformed officer held the doors open.

  “I don’t think Target’s gonna want this mannequin back,” McQuade said. “There’s a bullet in the forehead from Adams’ second shot.”

  A second ambulance crew tended to Danski’s wound and then got him onto their gurney and wheeled him out of the apartment. The elevator that took Adams to the lobby returned to the sixth floor just as Danski’s gurney got there. Adams and Danski were taken to the same hospital in two different ambulances. Danski was taken to the E.R. where he was put under anesthesia as doctors removed a bullet that entered his left shoulder and lodged in his upper chest.

  While Adams was taken to the O.R. in critical condition, Litchfield called Audrey and informed her that they had arrested Matthew during the commission of a burglary in an occupied dwelling and that in the course of the arrest he fired two shots, one of which struck Detective Danski.”

  “Oh my God!” she gasped.

  “Matthew was shot in the return gunfire,” Litchfield told her. “He was taken to Bellevue Hospital where he remains in critical condition.”

  “I need to get there,” Audrey said. “Matthew took my car and I don’t know any of my neighbors well enough to ask them to drive me to Manhattan, so I’ll have to call a cab.”

  “I’ll have a radio car pick you up and take you to the hospital,” Litchfield said. “Be ready when they get there.”

  “You’ve got to be joking,” the desk officer responded when Litchfield called the Far Rockaway precinct and asked that a radio car pick Audrey up and drive her to Bellevue Hospital. “The police department doesn’t provide taxi service for a defendant’s family members, especially when they shoot cops.”

  Litchfield explained that Audrey is a critical witness in the case and had provided key information that led to her husband’s arrest.

  ***

  After being treated, Danski was removed to a private room. When he awoke his partner was sitting in a hard-back chair next to his bed. McQuade, Rider and Turner were standing behind him.

  “You gave everyone a scare,” Litchfield said. “But I told them all not to worry – you’re too stubborn to die.”

  Danski forced a smile. “Did I miss anything?”

  “After Matthew regained consciousness a public defender was assigned to represent him at his bedside arraignment via video link,” Litchfield replied.

  “And, of course he denied everything.”

  “You got that right,” Litchfield answered. “He denied kidnapping Jake, attempting to murder Susan, or committing the burglaries in question. He also adamantly denied going to any Mets’ games this season.”

  “You’re a riot,” Danski said.

  Litchfield pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped in a few numbers. “He’s awake,” he said when he got an answer. “Try to sit up straight,” he told Danski and then laughed. “The Police Commissioner and Chief of Detectives Gibson are on their way in to see you.”

  After the commissioner offered congratulations to Danski and the other detectives for what he called exceptional police work, Gibson told the group that he had reviewed the facts of the case and found the arrest to be well planned and executed. “It’s unfortunate you were injured in the process, Detective Danski.”

  The commissioner said he felt confident the Firearms Discharge Review Board would find Mr. Adams’ shooting justifiable. Minutes later the room was cleared out and Litchfield’s phone buzzed. After disconnecting he told Danski that other people had just gotten there and were outside waiting to see him.

  “I don’t want to
talk with any reporters,” Danski said. “Can’t you and McQuade handle them?”

  Litchfield again went to the door. This time he called in Christina and Brittany and then left them alone.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Two Months Later

  After his discharge from Bellevue’s prison ward Matthew became one of approximately nine hundred adult males being detained at the Manhattan Detention Complex at 125 White Street while they awaited a trial in Manhattan. The facility is comprised of two buildings, the North Tower and the South Tower. The buildings are connected by an elevated enclosed walkway. The South Tower, where Matthew was lodged, was formerly known as The Tombs.

  Audrey ‘s love for Matthew never faltered despite learning of his dalliances with Susan and probably other women as well as being a burglar and kidnapper. Her respect for her husband of twelve years suffered a severe blow, however, the night she was arrested and questioned by Danski and Litchfield and learned that almost everything he’d ever told her was a lie. Yes, he worked as a handyman, but she learned that he used that position to cheat on her and to steal from elderly customers and then sell their possessions on the street or at carefully selected pawn shops in Manhattan for a fraction of their value. The most crushing blow of all was realizing that her own son died five years ago and that Matthew kidnapped his other son from his one-time girlfriend’s apartment and then managed to convince her that he was their child. When the truth became known she felt stupid, naïve, used and manipulated. Despite all this, she continued to visit him at the former Tombs while he awaited trial to answer charges of kidnap, multiple burglaries and two counts of attempted murder. The first of which was his former girlfriend Susan, whom he attempted to toss off her roof but was interrupted; the second was Detective Danski, a man Audrey believed was an honest and dedicated New York City detective.

  Audrey sat on a hard wood chair opposite Matthew, separated by a thick plexiglass divider. It was her fifteenth visit overall. She lifted the black phone that hung on the wall to her right and spoke.