by Alex Barclay
‘Really?’ said Anna, raising an eyebrow to Joe.
‘Yeah,’ said Shaun. ‘Why?’
Anna stood up and walked upstairs, opening the door to Shaun’s room, then the bathroom. No Tara. She walked back into the kitchen and sat down. She shook her head at Joe. Anger simmered behind her eyes. Shaun grabbed his bagel, smeared cream cheese on it and left the knife on the counter top by the open tub.
‘Your knife,’ said Anna. ‘The cheese.’
Shaun kept walking.
Joe slid into the seat beside her. ‘There it is,’ he said. ‘The Mom’s approach to a problem. You start by identifying the issue – girl in Shaun’s bed – you can’t say it right out, so you survey the child going about his business and pick apart all the other things he’s doing. That’s good.’
‘Ugh,’ she said. ‘Tara. Ugh.’
‘Hey, even I feel dirty.’
Shaun stuck his head around the door, his cell phone in his hand. ‘Guys, I’m going out to meet Tara.’
Dr James Makkar had accepted two important things about Joe Lucchesi: a. he didn’t do alternative therapies to alleviate stress, therefore, his symptoms and b. he was surgery-phobic. Joe and Dr Mak had an understanding.
‘Hello, Joe. Nice to see you for a scheduled visit.’ Dr Makkar was dressed in white scrubs with a white mask hanging around his neck. He was in his late thirties, but his silent-movie grooming added years. ‘Need me to wipe that sweat off your brow?’
‘You’re not supposed to make fun of me,’ said Joe.
‘You are looking for a nurturing environment?’ said Makkar.
‘I don’t know why I come here,’ said Joe.
‘You need me.’
‘Right. But thanks again for helping me out last time.’
‘Temporarily,’ said Makkar. ‘With all the limitations you put on me, my hands are tied. Which is obviously how you like them.’
Joe smiled.
‘Follow me.’
Joe walked behind him down the short corridor.
‘Take a seat. Let’s have a look at that jaw.’
Joe sat down and opened his mouth when he was told.
‘How’s work?’ said Makkar.
‘Crap. How about you?’
‘Fantastic, of course. It’s all about smiling.’
‘Or crying out in pain.’
‘You wouldn’t come to me if I caused you pain. The amount of times I’ve numbed your mouth before you even knew I was in the room. Your condition causes you pain; I make it go away. I’m good cop.’
Joe raised his eyes, one of the few responses open to a patient in a dentist’s chair.
‘You get very close to people’s eyes in my business,’ Makkar had told him before. ‘We see right in, all those little reactions. I think I’d make a great jury consultant if I wasn’t doing this. Or a cop, of course.’ Joe wanted to smile at the thought of this slight, dapper Indian cop, patrolling the 75th precinct, but he couldn’t.
‘OK,’ said Makkar. ‘First of all, how are your symptoms?’
‘Not as bad as the last time. Pain in my jaw, cracking when I open my mouth.’
‘And,’ said Makkar tapping Joe’s chin and looking inside his mouth, ‘grinding your teeth.’
Joe nodded.
‘Your options are… well, keep taking painkillers. But that’s getting a little tired in my opinion. It’s not getting you anywhere. I’m thinking you really should consider surgery.’
‘What?’ said Joe, struggling to sit up. ‘We’ve been here. I don’t do surgery.’
‘Joe,’ said Makkar, laying a hand gently on his shoulder, ‘if you shattered your leg in an accident, you’d do surgery. You’d have no choice. Of course, you do have a choice in this case, but you can’t keep going on as you are, suffering with this unnecessarily. The pain does go away, but it’s been years now and I think your lifestyle and what you’ve been through – and are probably still going through – are taking their toll. Those problems are not quick-fix ones. It’s likely you’ll be signing up to a lot more pain for a lot longer.’
‘That’s positive thinking.’
‘I’m being realistic. Hear me out. I know you fear surgery-’
‘It’s not fear, it’s-’
Makkar tilted his head patiently. ‘I know you fear surgery, but this is different. I mean, I don’t even need to call it surgery.’
‘Doc, I’m forty. I’m a big boy. Call it what it is.’
‘OK, then: arthroscopy. Here’s the deal – you go under general anaesthetic. The surgeon makes a little incision right here in front of your ear.’
Joe touched the side of his face. ‘I don’t like the sound-’
‘Oh, shut up. He inserts this tiny instrument with a little lens and a light and he has a look around. If he sees inflamed tissue or whatever, he’ll remove it. Or he might need to realign the disc. Or he might inject liquid steroids if you need it. You’ll have a couple of little stitches, some swelling afterwards, that’s it. No overnight stay in hospital. It’s way less hardcore than open-joint surgery. Recovery time is quick, there’s no major scarring. And a few weeks of physical therapy, just twice a week.’
Silence.
‘OK,’ said Makkar. ‘Why don’t I tell you about an alternative: joint replacement procedure. You go under general anaesthetic. You’re out. And then you wake up with a new jaw. Recovery period – six weeks, jaw wired shut.’
Joe laughed. ‘Let me tell you about the clippers guy. When I was a rookie, my partner and I were called out to an apartment after we got a load of reports of a bad odor in the building. We break down the door and let’s just say I’m glad I can’t mentally store smells the same way I’ve stored the pictures from that night. Our victim is face down in the hallway in a pool of puke etcetera, with a cut finger and a pair of clippers across the floor from him. His jaw had been broken a couple weeks beforehand when he was mugged and then it was wired shut by doctors in the ER. And as you know, he was given the clippers so he could clip the wires in case he needed to puke or whatever. The poor guy, who was only eating liquids through a straw himself, was making dinner for his girlfriend and cut his finger real deeply while he was slicing through some peppers. It turned his stomach and he knew he was going to throw up. So he went to grab his clippers, but his hands seemed to be covered in this olive oil marinade, the clippers shot out of his hand across the floor, he couldn’t hold on much longer, he puked and choked on it. And he wasn’t found for two days, because the girlfriend had stood him up.’
‘Women can be such bitches.’
‘Yeah, that’s not exactly the message I got from that little story. Jaw, wiring and shut: no thank you.’
‘You’re married, your wife’s not gonna stand you up.’
Joe shook his head.
‘So, arthroscopy sounds good, right?’ said Makkar.
‘Better.’
‘Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m sending you for a consultation at the Facial Pain Clinic at Columbia. They will do a better job of encouraging you. Please. Humor me.’
Joe swung his legs off the chair and stood up. ‘I can’t promise anything.’
Desk space was tight at Manhattan North, with twelve extra detectives drafted into the task force to add to the original eight. Martinez walked over to Joe’s desk with Rencher, holding a sheet of paper above his head.
‘We have a match,’ said Martinez. ‘Between 11 and 11.30 a.m. both Mondays, we have this guy.’ He put two photos down in front of Joe. Danny came over to join them.
Joe nodded. ‘Good work. Anyone at the post office know who he was?’
‘No,’ said Rencher. ‘The guy there made a big effort to help us, though.’
‘Do you think he’s our guy?’ said Martinez, pointing to the photo.
‘He looks like he ticks a few of those profile boxes,’ said Joe. ‘But who knows? Next Monday, Danny and I’ll be waiting for him, see if he’s trying to send us anything else. While you’re here, I was going to fill you in on
something I noticed in the Aneto crime scene photos. There was a dermestid beetle there that didn’t really have a place.’
‘Oh no – not a domesta beetle,’ said Martinez. ‘Shock. Horror.’
‘Dermestid,’ said Joe.
‘Whatever.’
‘This could mean something,’ said Joe. ‘Dermestid beetles only feed on the dried tissue of a body. Like when it’s practically skeletonized, which Aneto’s body wasn’t even close to being. Put it this way – dermestid beetles are used by museums to clean animal bones so they’re all nice and white for the display. They put the bones in a box with a colony of dermestids and any skin, tissue, muscle, whatever, is eaten away.’
‘Yawn,’ said Martinez.
‘So,’ said Joe. ‘I’m thinking this is a hitch-hiker bug. It could have come in on the killer.’
‘Hey!’ said Martinez. ‘Someone put a call in to the Natural History Museum. See if they’ve got an escaped dinosaur skeleton with maybe a hammer he robbed from the cave man exhibit.’
‘Callersaurus Rex,’ said Rencher. ‘The Calleraptor, The-’
‘You know, you’re a bunch of fucking retards,’ said Danny.
Joe shook his head. ‘Look, all I’m saying is this one little bug is out of place. It’s something to think about. I mean, maybe the guy owns one of the businesses that breeds dermestids for museums, that kind of thing.’
‘Suuure,’ said Martinez.
Anna flashed a glance at the bed and her pyjamas lying there and thought how comfortable her night could be if she tucked herself back in. Joe arrived home earlier than she expected.
‘Hi,’ she said, forcing herself to get up, slipping out of the bathrobe and putting on the jeans and top she had thrown on the chair earlier.
‘You look beautiful,’ said Joe, grabbing her and kissing the top of her head.
‘Thanks.’
‘You ready?’
‘Nearly. By the time you’re finished in the shower, I will be.’
She went downstairs and put on Shaun’s Kanye West CD and started tidying anything that wasn’t going to mess up her clothes.
Joe came into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water and knocked back two Vicodin.
‘If there was no dole you would have a serious problem,’ said Anna. She tried to sound light, but failed.
Dole testing was the NYPD’s random drug test. Every day a list of officers were called at random, without notice, to the Medical Division in Queens to give a urine sample. If they fail, they’re fired. If they test positive for prescription drugs and don’t have an up-to-date prescription, they’re fired.
‘What are you talking about?’ said Joe. ‘I have a prescription for these.’
‘What about the times you go to your friend in the Village?’
‘It’s no big deal,’ said Joe. ‘You really think I’m a better person or a better detective when I’m going around in fucking agony? Or when my brain has other things to focus on other than pain?’
‘I worry about you.’
‘Let’s go.’
The night was warm and still and the traffic into the city was light.
‘So,’ said Anna. ‘Would you like to bet with me? Whether Gina will be wearing red and black with gold jewellery, red and black with red jewellery or gold and black with gold jewellery? Boobs squished together and out or separated, up and out?’
‘Well, that’s bitchy,’ said Joe.
‘Come on,’ said Anna. ‘It’s true. Red lipstick or red lipgloss? Black eyeliner or black er eyeliner?’
‘Gina likes to make an effort. That’s all. She’s home with the kids all day, she likes to dress up when she goes out, make a statement.’
Anna’s smile faded. She stared out the window.
‘What?’ said Joe. ‘What did I say?’
‘Nothing,’ said Anna. ‘Nothing.’
He stared ahead.
‘Don’t let her take me over,’ said Anna. ‘I don’t want to get into a big conversation with her asking me lots of questions. It can be too claustrophobe.’
‘Claustrophob-ic.’
‘She’s just question, question, question…’
‘Oh for Christ’s sake, why the hell did you come out? Have you got anything good to say? About anything?’
‘This is hard for me,’ said Anna, her voice rising. ‘OK? I’m doing my best.’
‘OK, sweetheart. I apologize. I’m sorry. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. I’ll keep an eye on Gina.’ He took a deep breath. The rest of the journey passed in silence.
Gina stood up and waved as they walked in to Pastis. She was wearing a tight black skirt, a black blouse with a lace cami underneath and a wide red patent belt. Anna squeezed Joe’s hand. He squeezed back. Gina moved around the side of the table and hugged Anna tight.
‘Honey, you look gorgeous. It’s great to see you out. My God, have you lost weight? Like this girl needs to lose weight. I mean, really. But you look amazing.’
‘Thanks,’ said Anna. ‘So do you. Happy birthday.’
‘Hey, beautiful,’ said Danny, kissing Anna on both cheeks. Joe hugged Gina. ‘Happy birthday, sweetheart.’
‘So Anna, what’s been going on with you?’ said Gina.
‘Not much. A little bit of work.’
‘Danny tells me you’re working from home.’
‘Yes.’
‘Good for you. And what’s it like? Is it hard to discipline yourself? I know I couldn’t do it. I’d be thinking of the laundry or tidying the bathroom or I’d be in the fridge all the day…’
‘It’s good. I’m enjoying it,’ said Anna.
‘How does it all work?’
‘All these companies who want their products to appear in the magazine send me them – or photos of them – and pray I’ll put them in.’ She laughed.
‘They actually send stuff to your house?’
Anna nodded.
‘That’s gotta be so much fun,’ said Gina, ‘opening gifts all day. Do you get to keep any of it?’
Joe leaned in. ‘Unfortunately, she does. She keeps lots of it, don’t you?’ He was smiling.
‘Ooh, Anna’s not taken too kindly to that,’ said Gina. She patted Anna’s hand. ‘Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. All these guys get on the job is dead bodies and-’
‘Dead ends,’ said Anna, smiling.
‘Ouch,’ said Gina. Joe was already turning back to Danny.
The waiter arrived and took their order – four Steak Bearnaise, well done for Gina and Danny; extra fries for Danny, extra sauce for Anna, side salad for Gina that she never ate.
‘I went to see Old Nic the other day,’ said Joe.
‘Aw. Mr Nicotero,’ said Gina.
‘Mr Nicotero, that’s cute,’ said Danny.
‘I can’t get past it,’ said Gina, laughing. ‘When
I was dating Bobby, you know – his father was always going to be Mr Nicotero to me.’
‘You dated Bobby Nicotero?’ said Anna.
‘He was the handsome quarterback, I was the head cheerleader.’ She laughed.
‘He’s a big guy,’ said Anna, ‘but he doesn’t look like an athlete.’
‘He was really good,’ said Danny.
‘He’s a jerk-off,’ said Joe.
‘Come on,’ said Danny. ‘He’s not that bad.’
‘He treats his old man like crap,’ said Joe.
‘Old Nic says that?’ said Danny.
‘I say that,’ said Joe. ‘Old Nic’s too nice a guy.’
‘Maybe he wasn’t always,’ said Anna.
‘No,’ said the others at the same time.
‘Old Nic’s adorable,’ said Gina.
‘I’m surprised Bobby ended up a cop,’ said Danny.
‘Why?’ said Anna.
‘Bensonhurst, honey,’ said Gina. ‘In those days, you were either a wise guy or you went into the service. Bobby was in gangs, that was his thing.’
‘You know,’ said Danny, ‘Gina tried out a few of the bad boys
before she gave in to me – didn’t make my life too easy, that’s for sure.’
Gina leaned away from him and slapped her hand on the table. ‘Well, about time. That’s the first time ever he’s admitted that I gave in to him. Read the small print: he hounded me. He pursued me relentlessly, 24/7.’
Danny looked away. ‘Whatever you say, sweetheart.’
Joe and Anna laughed.
‘Now that I recall,’ said Joe, ‘you arrived on my doorstep a few times to hide from some wiseguy with a baseball bat.’
‘I’m proud of you, honey,’ said Gina. ‘As far as I’m concerned? You gotta prove you want to die for someone before you-’
‘Here’s our food,’ said Joe.
Dinner was over and two empty wine bottles had been taken away from the table. Gina got louder. Anna got quieter. After three barbed comments in a row she directed at Joe, Danny put up his hand.
‘OK, who here ordered a side of marital discord with their steak? Anyone?’
Gina shook her head. Joe locked eyes with Danny, warning him off the humour route. Anna didn’t look up from her plate.
‘C’mon, I’m kidding,’ said Danny. ‘But I’m sending it back, it doesn’t taste right. It’s kind of… sour.’ He turned to Gina, ‘Hey. Where’s my laughter track tonight, baby?’
‘I’ll laugh when you say something funny. That’s how it works. Joe, how’s your tiramisu?’
‘It’s totally sick,’ said Joe. ‘As I heard Tara say to Shaun yesterday.’
Anna smiled. ‘It’s so funny to listen to her. For me, sometimes, it’s like a whole new language.’
‘The other day,’ said Joe, ‘I heard her bitching to Shaun about some guy who had “storked” one of her friends.’
‘Stalked?’ said Gina.
‘Storked. Like “porked”, but with the end result being that the girl winds up pregnant.’
They all laughed.
‘That makes Danny a serial storker,’ said Gina.
‘And I am a lone storker,’ said Joe.
‘Shooting blanks for years,’ said Danny.
‘Amen to that,’ said Joe. ‘Sad and all as it will be, Anna and I will be packing off our beloved son to college next year and then we’ll have the freedom to-’
‘Argue at full volume,’ snapped Anna.
‘Jesus, Anna,’ said Joe. ‘What’s your-’