by Tim O'Mara
“What makes you think I’m not?”
He straightened up. Then, seeing the look on my face, he broke into a huge grin and tapped the bar with his finger, and then pointed it at me. “That’s a good one. Got yourself a funny friend here, Caroline.” Willy shook his head. “‘What makes you think I’m not?’ That’s good. Anything else I can get you two, you let me know.”
“Those burgers smell good,” I said.
Caroline nodded. “Willy may not be the best—or friendliest—bartender in the city, but he does make a good cheeseburger.”
Willy slapped the bar. “You two grab a table, and I’ll bring a couple of platters out.”
Caroline led me to a booth along the wall. There were two framed pictures hanging on the paneling, both of black men playing the trumpet. Caroline tapped the one closest to me.
“He played here,” she said. “In the early sixties. Said my uncle made the best ribs he’d ever had.” She saw the look on my face. “You have no idea who that is, do you?”
I shook my head. “Not unless he played for the Yankees.”
“Sonny Rollins?”
“If you say so. I never quite got into jazz to be honest.”
“Jazz is not something you ‘get into,’ Mr. Donne.” She ran a red fingernail along the frame. “Jazz is something that gets into you. Into your essence. Slowly … and over a long, long time.”
A warm sensation hit the center of my chest. “You make it sound … very Zen-like.”
“Damn. I was trying to make it sound like sex.”
I took a long sip of my Bud. “That, too.”
She laughed, and after a while Cousin Willy came over with two plates filled with sweet potato fries, pickles, and the biggest cheeseburgers I’d ever seen.
“You two can get started on these,” he said. “I’ll be over in a bit with a coupla more drinks for ya.” Before he left, he gave me a wink and a big slap on the shoulder. Buddies.
Between bites, she spoke more about jazz, and I filled her in on some of the finer points of baseball. After half an hour, I’d finished my second beer and barely half of the burger. I pushed my plate away and leaned back.
“Don’t worry,” Caroline said. “Willy’d be disappointed if you actually finished the whole thing.”
“He may have spoiled breakfast for me tomorrow.”
“He’ll be happy to hear that.” She reached into her bag and took out a pack of cigarettes. She slid one out and passed it under her nose. “So that poor boy is still missing?”
“Going on two weeks now.” I got Willy’s attention behind the bar and stuck two fingers in the air. “How well did you know the father? Francisco Senior.”
“Too well.” She took a final sip of her sour and whirled the ice cubes around. “Man didn’t walk so much as he slithered, know what I mean?” She gave me a fake shudder. “Man made my skin crawl every time he came into the office.”
“Which was how often?”
“Too often. Except near the end … near the time he was killed.”
Willy came by with our drinks. As he was clearing the table, he asked, “Anything else?”
“Just two more of these in a bit,” Caroline said. Then to me, “That okay with you?”
I nodded, detecting the beginning effects of alcohol on her. “Absolutely. Thanks, Willy.”
After he left, Caroline said, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something. How come—you being a schoolteacher and all—you’re so interested in Mr. Francisco Rivas?”
“I’m more interested in getting Frankie home,” I said. “Knowing more about the father might help me do that.”
“Shouldn’t the cops be doing that?”
“Cops got a lot on their plate. Besides, how high on their list of priorities do you think a dead sleazeball and his missing son rate?”
She smiled. “You gotta point there.”
“And you were so eager to talk to me about him because…?”
“Like you said, I figured somebody’s gotta be lookin’ out for that kid. I’m impressed that you’re taking the time to do that.” She picked the cherry out of her whiskey sour and placed it up to her lips. “Anything else you care to impress me with?”
“Maybe later,” I said, as the cherry disappeared into her mouth. “What exactly did Rivas do for Roberts?”
“Mostly just building maintenance. Upkeep. Even did that sleazy.”
“How do you mean?”
“One time,” she said, “the boiler at one of Mr. Roberts’s apartment buildings goes out. He sends Rivas over to see what he can do to fix it. Rivas comes back saying it’s more than he can handle. Mr. Roberts gives him a few hundred dollars to give to the regular repairman. Next day, Rivas says it’s done. That’s it.”
“That wasn’t it?”
“A week later, the thing blows again. Did a lot of smoke damage to the lower units. Mr. Roberts called up the repairman to chew him out. Turns out the guy was never called to the job. Mr. Roberts finds out that Rivas had his own guy, some loser friend, come in and patch up the old one while Rivas pockets the money. That’s what I mean by sleazy. If there was a dollar in a bucket of cow shit, you’d find Rivas’s hand in it.” She put her fingers over her mouth in an exaggerated motion. “Excuse my language.”
“Don’t let it happen again.”
She touched my hand. “You’ll have to excuse me. I need to powder my nose.”
She slid out of the booth and made her way to the back, past the small stage. She looked back to make sure I was watching. Just like the first time we’d met. The bar was now filled, and most of the patrons were watching the Mets game. They were up by two in the sixth. Caroline returned, nose freshly powdered.
“Did I tell you that the office was broken into last night?”
I gave her a shocked look. “No. What happened?”
“Came in through the back door. Picked the lock.”
“They get anything of value?”
She smirked. “Like what? Blank tickets? Any cash comes through that place is out before five. Everything else is done over the phone. Credit cards.”
“Why would anyone bother to break in then?”
“Probably just some kids screwin’ around.” She took a sip from her drink. “To see John—Mr. Roberts—though, you’d think it was the end of the world.”
I nodded. “That’s understandable. His place of business was violated. People react strongly in that kind of situation. What did the cops say?”
“He didn’t call them.” She leaned into me, still smelling like a vacation. “I can see why Willy thought you were a cop. You talk like one.”
Our faces were inches apart. “Teachers, cops. I guess we all kind of sound the same.”
“I guess so,” she said. “Feel like movin’ on?”
I looked at my watch. “It is getting late.”
She took my wrist in her long fingers. “I didn’t say the evening was over.”
“No,” I said. “No, you didn’t. Let me take care of the bill.”
“Just leave some money on the table.” She stood up and smoothed her hands over her pants. “Willy’ll figure it out.”
I did a quick calculation in my head, took a last sip of beer, and left two twenties under the empty bottle. Caroline grabbed my hand and led me to the door. She waved over to the bar. Willy waved back. “See ya,” he shouted to us as we exited.
Outside, the air was sticky and warm. After sitting for so long, my knees took a while to warm up. I don’t think Caroline noticed. There was little traffic on the street as she took both my hands in hers and asked, “Now what, Mr. Donne?”
“Are you going to call me Mr. Donne all night?”
She pulled me close and whispered in my ear. “I just might. And how long do you think all night might be?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It is a school night.”
She released my left hand and readjusted her bag over her shoulder. “Wanna see if we can find us some music around here?”
“That sounds good.”
“Good? Boy, you don’t know the half of it.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her lighter. She rummaged through it for a few more seconds, and instead of pulling out her pack of cigarettes, she said, “Shit.”
“What?”
“I left my wallet at the office.” She closed her eyes. “Middle drawer.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry. We have to swing by the agency.”
I held out my arm. “Let’s go.”
It took less than five minutes to stroll to the office, and arm-in-arm with a sweet-smelling, beautiful woman was the way to do it. Caroline got out her keys, and the two of us lifted the gate. Once inside, she punched in the alarm code and locked the door. She didn’t bother turning any lights on as she carefully made her way over to her desk. After opening the middle drawer, she spun around to face me, waving her wallet.
“Ready when you are,” I said.
“You know, Mr. Donne. We do have this whole place to ourselves.”
I looked around. “And a very romantic place it is at that.”
“Oh, come on.” She took a few steps toward me. “We could have just as much fun here as we could listening to music.” When she reached me, she put her arms around my waist and pulled me into her. “You ever do it on an office desk before?”
“No.”
“This could really be your night, then.” She leaned forward and kissed me. I could taste the burger, whiskey sour, and cigarettes as she slid her tongue into my mouth. She ran her fingers up and down my back before she pulled away. “You kiss pretty good for a white guy.”
“I’d like to think I kiss pretty good for any color.”
She laughed and kissed me again, this time taking her hands around to my front and looping her thumbs on my belt. “Pick a desk,” she whispered.
“Excuse me?”
“Any desk.” She pushed me back. “How about Marsha’s?”
“You don’t think she’d mind?” I asked, my butt resting up against what I assumed to be Marsha’s desk.
Caroline smiled as she slowly unbuckled my belt. “She would totally come undone.” I could feel my belt slipping through the loops of my pants. I took Caroline’s face in my hands and kissed her again. She dropped my belt and I moaned as her fingers worked to get the top button of my pants undone. When she’d succeeded, she slowly pulled down the zipper.
“Shit,” she said.
“What? Is it stuck?”
“Not that.” She pulled the zipper up quickly and stepped back. “That.” She pointed toward Roberts’s office.
I looked over and saw what she meant. There was a light coming from under the door. We were not alone.
Caroline put her finger to her lips. “Shhh.” She took a step toward the office and turned to me. “I was the last one out of here tonight. He must have come back.”
I gestured at the front door. “Let’s go.”
She took another step. “I don’t hear anything. What’s he doing in there so late?”
I shrugged. “Let’s just get out of here, okay?” I had the feeling if Roberts saw me one more time, he might just call Detective Royce, and I did not need that kind of trouble.
Caroline waved her hand at me, went over to the office door, and placed her ear against it. After a few seconds, she put her hand on the doorknob and turned it. She was halfway through the door when she screamed.
I ran over to her as she stumbled back out of the office. She grabbed me hard and started to breathe heavy through tears. I took her by the shoulders and said, “What?”
She motioned with her head to the office. “Oh, my god.”
I loosened my grip on her and opened the door the rest of the way with my foot. There was Roberts. Slumped over his computer, looking like he’d fallen asleep while working late.
Except for all the blood.
Chapter 28
“JUST THAT ONE TIME,” I SAID for the third time in the past half hour. “Yesterday. Here at his office.”
Roberts had been taken away by an ambulance almost an hour before. He was still alive, but from what I overheard from the EMS crew, he’d be lucky to make it to the hospital. I was being interviewed by a detective, Lund or Lind, I didn’t quite get his name, as he seemed rather annoyed at working at this late hour and had a bad habit of slurring his words. He had his jacket hanging over the driver’s side door as we stood outside Roberts’s in the late-night humidity. The sweat stains under his arms were threatening to reach his belt. He was a tall man. Tall and fat. The kind of fat you get from sitting on your ass eight hours a day for ten or more years. The kind that makes it difficult to see your shoes.
“And you were here, why?” he mumbled.
“Then?” I asked. “Or tonight?”
He looked down at his notebook. “Tell me both. Again.”
I reminded myself to keep my tone respectful. “I was here the other day to ask about his nephew. A student of mine. Tonight, because Ms. Pierre left her wallet behind.”
Still looking at his notebook, flipping through the pages, he said, “You’re a teacher, is that right?”
“Yes. Can I see Ms. Pierre now?” It was pushing ten, and I hadn’t seen Caroline for almost thirty minutes. She was inside being interviewed by this guy’s partner.
“Soon as Detective Vincent’s done with her.” He gave me a look, more guy-to-guy than professional. “You planning on taking her home tonight?”
“Just as soon as the other detective’s through. She’s had a rough night.”
“Right.” He flipped to a new page. “How long you known Miss Pierre?”
“Less than a week,” I said, because it sounded better than “two days.”
“Whaddaya think?”
“I don’t understand your question.”
“You think she coulda taken a swing at her boss’s head?” He locked his eyes on me in an attempt to come across astute.
“No,” I said. “She was with me all night. I told you that.”
“She was here until seven. Coulda done the deed, locked up, had dinner and drinks with you, and brought you back so you could both discover the body.” He made that quotation mark gesture with his fingers to highlight the word “discover.”
“Not possible. She was perfectly calm when I saw her.”
He smiled. “C’mon, Mr. Donne. Looker like that? Ice water in their veins. And the black ones?” He got close enough to my face where I could smell the coffee on his breath. “How’d you think she got the keys to this place? You ask me, Mr. Roberts is the victim of Jungle Fever.”
“You’re an asshole.” Maybe I was too tired, too frustrated, or just too pissed off, but the words came right out, and I didn’t care. I waited a few seconds for his reaction.
He leaned away from me. Instead of shock or anger, he gave me a grin that bordered on delight. “Maybe so,” he said, pointing his pencil at me. “But I think I’m right.” He flipped his notebook shut and turned to go back inside the travel agency. “Stay here. Please.”
After a few minutes, I placed my hands on top of his car and started to stretch. I was beginning to feel the effects of the evening from my neck down to my hip. I was about to reach for my toes when I heard a voice behind me.
“Sorry about the wait, Mr. Donne.” I looked up to see the other detective exiting the building. This one looked as if he spent much of his free time in the gym. He offered his hand. His grip was impressive without being intimidating. “Detective Vincent,” he said.
“Your partner’s an asshole,” I returned.
“And a racist. He’s also grossly overweight, smokes way too much, and has breath that’d make a camel cry. He’ll probably be dead in less than two years, and he’s not my partner. Still, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about him like that.”
I put my hands up. “Sorry. It’s been a long night.”
“For all of us.” He took a look at his notes. “Raymond Donne. Is that right?” I nodded. “I had an instructor a
t the academy with that exact name.”
“I have an uncle who sometimes instructs at the academy with that exact name.”
Detective Vincent smiled. If he was surprised or impressed, he didn’t let it show. “Sorry if Lynn gave you a hard time. He doesn’t know any better.”
“How’d you get stuck with him?”
“I’m the guy with the shiniest new shield, so I get the honor of riding with the big man. Paying my dues. I know it’s a pain in the ass, but would you mind going over what you already told Detective Lynn? I’d like to hear it from you.”
It took less than three minutes to once again recap the night’s activities. Vincent listened carefully, didn’t interrupt once, and never wrote one word down in his notebook. When I was finished, he repeated the key details for me to verify. “So neither you nor Ms. Pierre saw Mr. Roberts this evening, is that right?”
“Yes. Caroline—Ms. Pierre—said she closed up the agency just around seven and came right to the restaurant.”
“Shorty’s? Willy bust your chops?”
I smiled. “Tried to.”
“Best burgers this part of Brooklyn. You understand I’ll have to check on your story?”
“Sure. Can I take Ms. Pierre home now?”
“Just let me make sure Detective Lynn is through questioning her.”
Must be tough for this guy, working with someone you know is an idiot and yet having to go through the motions of respect. I admired the ease with which he did it. A minute later, Caroline came out of the agency, followed closely by the two detectives.
“We’ve called the wife,” Vincent told me. “Gonna take her a while to get someone to watch her kid and get down here. Lives upstate, you know.”
“What’s the word on Roberts?”
“Made it to the OR. See what happens after that.”
Detective Lynn stepped forward. “Thanks for all your help, Mr. Donne.” All respectful now. I guessed he’d had a brief chat with his partner regarding my uncle. “Hope we didn’t cause you too much inconvenience.”
I shook my head and took Caroline by the hand. “Not at all. We can leave now?”
“Yes.” Vincent stepped forward and gave me his card. “If you think of anything…”