by E. R. Fallon
The bartender, a handsome, middle-aged blond man, noticed her straightaway, and seemed to notice that she didn’t belong there.
“Can I help you?” he asked her.
“Are the owners around?” she asked, showing him her badge, wondering if he was the boyfriend Joseph had mentioned.
“Can I ask, what’s this about?” the man said with a slight smile. He seemed more educated than she would have thought, and she reasoned he must have done something else before becoming a bartender.
“Are they here?” Dana asked, again.
“I’m one of them,” the man finally said.
“Your name?”
“Sam Paul,” he said, but didn’t offer to shake her hand.
He seemed a bit nervous, and Dana made a mental note to run his name through their computer records at the station.
“What’s the name of the other owner?” she asked him.
He hesitated, then seemed to grasp that she wouldn’t leave without it. “Violet,” he said.
“Violet what?”
“McCarthy,” he said after a pause.
So, this was one of the big-time dealers in the neighborhood that Joseph had mentioned. Sam didn’t dress the part, but, then again, they didn’t always.
“What are you looking for?” Sam asked her, seeming bolder.
“Is Violet around?” Dana asked, ignoring his question.
“Not at the moment, no. What do you want?” he asked her, seeming annoyed, or worried, she couldn’t tell which one.
“Nothing,” Dana said, turning to leave. It wasn’t as though she could outright ask them to confess, but she had applied a little pressure. Putting the heat on a suspect often got them to make an unwise move, to her benefit.
She left the pub, reasoning that Sam would be the easier one of the pair to crack. Of course, she could have been wrong, but she almost never was.
Dana headed to the neighborhood police station to meet the officer who had been assigned to assist her with the case, someone who apparently was very familiar with the neighborhood. Dana didn’t like having help, she preferred to work on her own, but she figured she could let them help her and take all the credit.
Inside the station, she exchanged pleasantries and a few jokes with some of the officers, then went to the desk where she’d been given space to work. She sat down and researched Sam Paul and Violet McCarthy, finding that Sam, an ex-banker, had a criminal record for white-collar crime. She couldn’t find any criminal convictions for Violet but from what the informant had told her, Sam might have had book smarts, but Violet had street smarts, and in gangland New York that counted for a lot. They were an odd pair, and she wondered how they’d gotten together, but in New York, anything was possible. Dana reasoned that Sam must have been in charge of their operation.
She printed Sam’s record and mugshot then took them with her for a meeting with Lieutenant Andrews in his office.
On her way to the meeting, she stopped at the coffee machine to get a cup. She waited behind a tall man in a police uniform for him to finish getting his coffee.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Sorry, I seem to be taking forever.”
From what she could see, he was young and handsome, with dark good looks, a charming smile, and an easy, carefree demeanor. She was immediately drawn to him.
“That’s okay,” she said, and found herself giving him a smile, something she rarely did.
“Do you work here?” he turned around and asked her, with his coffee in hand. She now saw that he had a small scar above his eye, as if he’d been a professional fighter.
“Yeah, I just started here recently. I was just about to go to a meeting—”
“What do you take in your coffee?” he asked her.
“Milk, no sugar,” she replied, wondering where this was going.
“Here, take mine; it’s how you like it,” he said, handing her the warm cup. “This way, you won’t be late for your meeting.”
“Thanks,” she said, and accepted the cup, somewhat flustered by his kindness.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
“I’m Dana,” she said, shaking his hand, which felt rough and warm.
“Tommy,” he said, waiting a moment to release her hand.
“I should be going,” she said, remembering the meeting. “Thanks again for the coffee.”
Dana could feel his eyes on her as she walked away, and, for once, she enjoyed the feeling of a strange man looking at her.
Dana entered the lieutenant’s office and was surprised when the same man from earlier, Tommy, joined them a few moments later.
“This is Officer Carmine,” Lieutenant Andrews said. He seemed to notice the looks exchanged between them. “You two have already met?”
“We have, sir,” Tommy said, smiling at Dana.
Dana was unable to hide her disappointment, and nearly frowned. It was hard enough to meet dating prospects in her line of work, as a lot of men weren’t attracted to tough lady cops, but Tommy had seemed like a potential match, and now she found out they would be working together, with him under her supervision, which made him off limits, in a way.
“Detective Fitzpatrick has been brought in to help with the heroin case I told you about. She’s in charge of it,” Andrews told Tommy. “Tommy’s going to be working with you,” he said to Dana.
She nodded, and took his words as a cue to show Tommy what she’d printed. Tommy seemed to sense that her demeanor toward him had changed when she didn’t return the smile he gave her. She opened the folder and motioned for him to look at the collected papers. Tommy, standing so close to her, smelled of aftershave, and gave her a feeling of warmth.
“This is who my informant suggests are behind it,” Dana told him. “Only the one has a record so this is all I have for now. I’ve asked research to come up with a shot of his partner.”
Tommy remained silent for so long that Dana said to him, “Officer Carmine?” His face had paled in such a way that he looked ill.
“Officer Carmine, are you okay?” she asked him when he stayed quiet. “Officer Carmine?”
4
Tommy had gone into the meeting with a plan to tell the lead detective about the likelihood of Camille O’Brien running the heroin operation. To say that the sight of his mother’s boyfriend in Detective Fitzpatrick’s files shocked him would be a gross understatement. Sam being involved had to mean his mother was as well, with her most likely being in charge. Tommy felt like he would pass out. He couldn’t breathe, and he needed air, fast.
“Excuse me,” he said, “I don’t feel well.” He hurried out of the room, with Lieutenant Andrews asking if he was okay.
Outside on the station steps, it took him a moment to realize that Dana had followed him.
“Are you all right?” she asked him, with that file still in her hand.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed some air,” he replied.
“You look like you’d seen a ghost in there,” Dana said.
Tommy shook his head in denial. “No, it’s just that I must’ve eaten something bad for lunch.”
“You seemed okay at the coffee machine earlier,” Dana said, in a motherly way, and he felt like he’d known her for a long time. Straight away, he’d been attracted to her, and she seemed genuinely concerned for him, not suspicious.
Dana walked farther outside and stood next to him in silence, seeming to sense his need for solitude.
“I told Lieutenant Andrews I would check on you,” she said after a while.
“Is he pissed I just bolted like that?” Tommy asked.
“No, I think he believes you’re ill.”
Something about the way she said it worried him. “And you don’t believe I am?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Dana said with a slight smile on her pretty face, pushing a sheaf of her soft-looking blonde hair behind her ear.
“I’m not surprised, since you’re a detective,” Tommy joked.
Her green eyes l
it up when she laughed.
“We’re going to be working closely with one another,” she said, “and I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot. From the way you reacted in there, I thought that maybe you knew something about the case, something you wanted to tell me, perhaps?”
Tommy’s mother had claimed to be reformed, with her past behind her, and he’d thought she was just running the pub with Sam, but now he knew she was up to her old tricks.
“No, there’s nothing to tell,” Tommy replied to Dana in a calm voice, feeling conflicted. His work meant the world to him, but he loved his mother. He knew he would have to make a tough decision. “I really just felt ill,” he added when Dana continued to watch him.
Dana nodded and opened the file in front of him. “Are you all right to discuss the case now? Andrews wants us to get started on it right away.”
Tommy tried not to wince, for he didn’t want to see the mugshot of Sam again, but he said to Dana, “Sure, I’m fine,” and hoped she didn’t sense his apprehension.
Standing so close to Dana, she smelled of a flowery perfume, and although he was drawn to her scent and her beauty, he was very much aware of the damage she could do to his mother.
“We need to find their supplier,” Dana told him. “My informant claims to not know who it is.”
“Do you think he’s lying?” Tommy asked. “It’s a he, right?”
“Yeah, it’s a guy. I’m not sure if he’s lying, but he doesn’t seem clever enough to lie.”
“You think that this Violet McCarthy heads the operation?” Tommy asked, feeling guilty for lying, but he did so out of loyalty to his mother.
“No, I think that Sam Paul is in charge. He’s a white-collar criminal type, university educated. McCarthy’s got street smarts, but I doubt she has the brains to run such a discreet operation.”
Tommy kept his thoughts to himself about how wrong she was. “What are you planning to do?” he asked, worried about his mother’s fate. In truth, he’d never liked Sam much, but knew his mother loved him, so he didn’t want anything to happen to him either. Tommy would do anything for his mother, but would he risk his entire career, and possibly his future, for her?
“I’ve already been to their pub,” Dana said. “I’ve put the heat on them.”
“You saw both of them?”
“No, just Sam.”
Tommy knew he ought to warn his mother before Dana got any closer, but could he?
5
The day after Camille attended Mrs. Valeria’s birthday party with Johnny and Phoebe, her mother, Sheila, came over to Camille and Johnny’s house in the suburbs for a visit. Sheila sat at the kitchen table while Camille made coffee. She had a plan she wanted to discuss with her mother, but needed to wait until the right moment to propose it.
“So, how have you been?” Camille asked, as she set down two cups of freshly made coffee on the table.
“I’m well. Eric’s well,” Sheila said, as Camille took in the sight of her tall, strong mother, older now, and more beautiful than ever.
“And Mickey?” Camille asked the name of her stepbrother.
“Not sure,” Sheila replied, taking a sip of coffee. “He hasn’t been by to see us in a while. But I assume he’s okay, I haven’t heard otherwise.” She paused. “You and Johnny are good?”
“Yeah, we are,” Camille answered truthfully. The road to their marriage hadn’t been without bumps, but she did feel they were in a good place currently.
“You’re a saint for taking that woman’s daughter under your wing,” Sheila said, and Camille knew she meant Phoebe.
“Don’t say that,” she said to her mother quietly so that Phoebe wouldn’t hear upstairs. “I’m no saint. It’s an honor to be a mother to her.”
“Still, there aren’t many women who would do that, another woman’s child.”
“I love that girl as my own,” Camille replied. She wasn’t one to scold her own mother, but enough was enough. Sheila brought Phoebe up nearly every time she visited, when the girl was out of earshot. Camille had always thought of herself as having a good relationship with her mother, but she resented Shelia’s attitude.
“You won’t be welcome in this house again if you keep this up,” she told her mother.
Sheila put down her coffee cup and put her hand to her chest and acted shocked. “You never used to speak that way to me. You’ve changed, Camille.”
She had changed. She’d become a wife and a mother. Her own mother hadn’t liked Johnny at first either, but had grown to accept their relationship over the years, and they’d reached a place of understanding, for the most part. She loved her mother, and still considered her family, but Johnny and Phoebe had become her main family.
“I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is,” Camille said, then because she needed to ask her mother for a favor, she added, “You know I love you,” with a smile, as she sat down at the table.
Sheila wasn’t one to easily back down, but she did appreciate affection, especially from her only daughter. “I love you, too, honey.” But, because she also knew her daughter very well, she asked, “What do you want this time?”
Camille laughed slightly, for her mother knew her all too well. “I know you’ve taken a backseat to the business since your marriage to Eric, but Johnny and I have got a problem on our hands, and we need to deal with it quickly.”
“Who is it this time?” Sheila asked.
Sheila was well-schooled in the gangland world, as Camille’s father was a gangster, and Sheila’s second husband was in the Italian mafia. So, mother and daughter talked ‘business’ as easily as making plans for a party.
“Violet McCarthy. Who else?” Camille said bitterly.
“I thought she wasn’t giving you trouble anymore, after that deal we reached.”
“Turns out, we never should’ve done that. You know how that family is—they want to get their fucking claws on everything.”
“I never liked that little bitch. I can’t believe you were ever friends with her,” Sheila said.
Camille shrugged off the remark from her mother. “We were never really friends, just knew each other.” Camille had once worked at the pub Violet and her mother owned. “Anyway, remember how we let her have a little piece of the action to get her off our backs? She isn’t behaving. She’s running her own dope ring now, and it’s getting bigger by the day.”
“How’d you find this out?” Sheila asked.
“Anton.”
“Fucking Anton,” her mother said, shaking her head.
“No,” Camille said. “Anton told me. He’s got no part in it.”
“So he says,” Sheila remarked.
“No, I trust him,” she said, and she really did.
“Johnny knows?” Sheila asked.
“Of course.”
“What does he think?”
“I dunno; he’s been kind of quiet about it. He’s thinking.”
“Tell him to think faster.”
“He’s my husband, and I respect his opinion, but I came up with my own plan.”
“You talk to him about it?”
“Not yet,” Camille said, and braced herself for her mother’s disapproval.
“You always were an independent woman, but Johnny’s your man, and his opinion is important.”
Camille sighed and drank her coffee. “He and I will talk soon. I promise,” she said to get her mother to back down.
“When?” Sheila goaded.
“Soon.”
“So, what’s this great plan of yours that you haven’t told him about?” her mother asked with a smile. “But first, more coffee.” She gestured for Camille to refill her cup.
Camille rose and went over to the pot on the counter and poured her mother another cup. Then she sat down again.
“I’m listening,” Sheila said between sips of coffee.
For the first time in her life, Camille hesitated to tell her mother what was on her mind. They had always been very close, and she knew h
er mother supported her, no matter what, but Camille’s plan might change that.
“I need you to hurt me,” she said, somewhat quietly.
Sheila put down her cup and just stared at Camille. “What?” she said, after a moment.
“I need you to, you know, beat me up.”
Shelia’s jaw dropped. “What the hell for?”
“So that I can say Violet McCarthy did it, then she goes to jail and her operation stops.”
“Why not just kill her?” Sheila asked after a moment of silence.
“I’ve thought about that,” Camille said, sipping her coffee, “and I’m worried about who would take her place. You know the saying, the devil you know is better than one you don’t. She’ll be in jail, and her racket would stop growing ‘cause her guy, Sam whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is, he’s not capable of running it on his own. So it’d stop, but no one would dare take her place while she’s still breathing.”
“There’s some truth in what you say,” Sheila mused. “Camille, sweetheart, you know I’d do anything for you, I have ever since you were born, but this? This is madness.”
“No,” Camille said, carefully, “it’s love. Can’t you see? It’d be out of love. If you do this for me, then she’s gone from our lives for good. I can just feel it.”
“Sure, they’d send her away for a couple of years. Then what? She gets out and is up to her old tricks, and you got to deal with her again.”