Coney Island Avenue

by J. L. Abramo

Murphy received word from Fielder at CSU.

  “There was blood on the car door, empty beer cans on the floor in back. They ran an absorption-elution test on the blood sample, Batman confirmed it matched Jenny Greco’s blood type,” Murphy reported.

  “It should be enough to arrest the boy if he won’t cooperate otherwise,” Samson said. “Let’s try to get something out of him. If he refuses to talk, we will have to let him notify his family.”

  “He’ll call his old man and they’ll lawyer up,” Murphy said.

  Samson’s cell rang. Ripley.

  “I talked with a few of Donner’s teammates. They said during practice Peter was going on about how hot Jenny was and betting he could score.”

  Samson related the news.

  “Would you mind if I talk to the boy?” Senderowitz asked.

  “Not at all,” Rosen said.

  “Try finding out if they discovered rope in the boy’s car, and call Ripley back for the names of the teammates who said Peter was eyeing the girl. Let me know if you get anything I can use in there.”

  Senderowitz sat down at the table opposite Peter Donner.

  Samson, Murphy and Rosen watched and listened.

  “I’m Detective Senderowitz, Peter. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I want to call my father.”

  “And you will be able to call him very soon. I was hoping you could help me out first, just a few quick questions.”

  “Can I have a Coke?” Peter asked.

  “Certainly.”

  “I’ve got it,” Murphy said in the adjoining room.

  “How well do you know Jenny Greco?” Senderowitz asked.

  “I never met her before yesterday. I spotted her during practice and I asked who she was. A teammate gave me her name and told me not to waste my time. Jenny wouldn’t give any of the boys on the team the time of day. I made a little bet that I could get her to take a ride with me.”

  “So you took her for a ride.”

  “I invited her out for a soda, said I would drive her home.”

  “Did you stop anywhere?”

  “At a grocery store for a couple of soft drinks.”

  “What store?” Senderowitz asked.

  “I don’t know the name, on Eighty-sixth near the train station.”

  There was a light tapping on the glass.

  “That must be your Coke. Give me a moment.”

  “I know someone is watching through that mirror,” Peter said.

  “They watch me constantly, waiting for me to screw up,” Bernie said. “Give me a second.”

  Bernie stepped out of the room, Murphy handed him a can of soda.

  “No rope in his car,” Rosen said. “Adam Jackson and Carl Douglas.”

  “Get a phone up here for the kid,” Senderowitz said before going back in.

  Bernie placed the Coke on the table and sat again.

  “We have a phone on the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Who gave you Jenny’s name and told you she was not very friendly?”

  “Adam. Carl agreed.”

  “We are very concerned about Jenny, Peter, and her parents are very worried. She never arrived home last night. As far as we know, you were the last person to see her. We only want a little help.”

  “I told you everything I know. I dropped Jenny exactly where she asked me to. I hope she’s alright, but I can’t help you.”

  “Do you have any idea why Jenny’s blood was found on the door of your SUV?”

  Donner looked the detective in the eyes and then looked down at the table.

  “I want to call my father.”

  “Bring in the phone,” Senderowitz said, rising from his seat.

  Rosen entered and placed a phone in front of the suspect.

  “When you speak to your dad, Peter,” Senderowitz said as the detectives were leaving the room, “tell him you are under arrest.”

  “Nice try,” Samson said. “Tommy, when he’s done with his call, go in and read him his rights.”

  “I don’t like him,” Senderowitz said.

  “I’m not too fond of him myself,” Rosen said.

  “I mean I don’t like him as a murder suspect.”

  “He’s been lying through his teeth all day,” Murphy said.

  “Blatantly,” Senderowitz agreed. “Something obviously happened between Peter and Jenny last night, but I don’t believe he strangled her with a piece of clothesline. I think he will be very surprised and shocked when he learns the girl is dead.”

  “What do you think, Sam?” Murphy asked.

  “I think it’s time to notify the girl’s parents.”

  FOURTEEN

  On Saturday the Labor Day weekend began, three days marking the official end of summer vacation.

  New York City public school teachers and administrators would start work on Tuesday. Students would begin classes on Friday, following the observance of Rosh Hashanah.

  Peter Donner was out on bail. The new hope of the Lafayette Patriots had been temporarily suspended from the varsity football team. His parents were looking into transferring Peter to a different high school to avoid certain recrimination.

  Jenny Greco had been buried.

  Rosen and Murphy went on an unhurried excursion up to Cooperstown for the weekend.

  Murphy for the Baseball Hall of Fame, Rosen for the early fall foliage.

  Marty Richards took his wife and daughter to Connecticut to visit his parents.

  Ivanov had declined an invitation to join her parents, her sister, and Alex Holden for Sunday brunch. She knew the talk would be about Alex’s case and she had been told to steer clear.

  Marina accepted an invitation to have coffee with Detective Jack Falcone instead.

  Ripley rented a bungalow in Ocean City on the Jersey Shore and enjoyed the weekend watching Kyle and Mickey climb aboard every single amusement park ride on the boardwalk and frolic on the beach.

  Samson stayed close to home with his wife and two daughters, his son Jimmy was not around much.

  Senderowitz spent most of the weekend with Johnnie Walker.

  The stake-out at the Italian restaurant had been called off. Chief Trenton and District Attorney Jennings had unhappily agreed it was a dead end. Pressure from the media regarding the Donahue case had eased off considerably, their interest redirected first to an eighteen car pile-up on the Long Island Expressway and later to the high school girl in the dumpster.

  Mendez would have enjoyed the weekend celebrating the decision to terminate the stake-out if he wasn’t busy trying to figure out what was bugging his wife.

  Landis knew what was plaguing Salina Mendez and had no idea how to help her.

  Salina managed to sneak a phone call to Landis on Monday.

  “Stan, I need your help.”

  “I’ve been wracking my brain, Salina. I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “I understand you and Rey are on a later shift tomorrow, now that your surveillance duty is done.”

  “Yes, eleven to seven.”

  “I told Rey I needed to go shopping for food and household supplies tomorrow and I would take the children over to my mother in the morning.”

  “And?”

  “I made an appointment at Planned Parenthood on Court Street for nine.”

  “Salina, think about this,” Landis urged. “It’s not a good idea going behind his back.”

  “I’ve thought enough about it and there are no good ideas. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Rey will blame me either way, for terminating the pregnancy or for getting pregnant in the first place. And he can’t know about this, Stan. You have to swear you will never tell him.”

  “So why tell me?”

  “Because there is no one else I can ask to come with me to the clinic,” Salina said. “Please, Stan, I can’t do this alone. I can’t.”

  Samson insisted Jimmy join them at the park on Monday afternoon, to spend time with the family.

  Samson
and his wife sat on a bench watching the boy push Kayla and Lucy on side-by-side swings.

  “What’s on your mind, Sam?”

  “The girl found at the ball field. She was sixteen, not much younger than Jimmy. It’s scary out there, Alicia. Do we need to lock our children up to keep them safe?”

  “We do what we have always done. We implore them to be careful. We teach them to be alert. We ask them to beware, without frightening them. And then we say our prayers.”

  “It doesn’t guarantee their safety.”

  “There are never guarantees, Sam.”

  At the swings, Jimmy’s cell phone rang.

  “Hey.”

  “Can you come over?”

  “Push me, Jimmy,” Lucy said.

  “Hold on,” he said to the caller. “Pump your legs, Lucy. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Jimmy walked away from the swing set.

  “Sorry.”

  “Can you come over?”

  “I don’t think so. My father is planning his annual Labor Day barbeque and he wants me to be at home.”

  “Kenny called from somewhere in Ohio. He said he’ll be back midday tomorrow. Then he’s driving locally for a few weeks. This could be our last chance to be together for a while. Can you try to get away later, after the festivities?”

  “I’ll try. I’ll call you.”

  “Try hard. Save me a hotdog.”

  “You are a great little traveler,” Marty Richards said, taking his daughter from the car seat.

  “She really loved seeing your parents,” Linda said.

  “It’s no wonder. Every time we see them it’s like Sophia hit the lottery. I could barely get all the gifts into the trunk. They’re spoiling her.”

  “She’s their only grandchild. And we could all use a little spoiling every once in a while.”

  “She’s out like a light,” Richards said. “How about we empty the trunk later, put Sophia in her crib, and try spoiling each other a little?”

  “How about a lot,” Linda said.

  Ivanov and Falcone rose from their table at the New Times Restaurant on Coney Island Avenue.

  “I need to walk over to the Six-one and check in. Everyone else is doing the holiday weekend thing.”

  “I’m glad we got together,” Falcone said.

  “It was nice. I’m glad you’re back on coffee.”

  “If you’re curious about why I gave it up for a while, I would rather wait to talk about it.”

  “Take your time. Do you do dinner?”

  “Almost every day.”

  “Maybe I can whip us up a meal sometime.”

  “This is Lorraine DiMarco, Mr. Vasin. I’m representing Alex Holden.”

  “Yes, Ms. DiMarco. May I call you Lorraine?”

  “Please do.”

  “Then I insist you call me Pavel. Marina informed me I might be getting a call from you, that you might need some assistance.”

  “I was hoping you could meet me tomorrow morning to talk about it, around ten, at my office in Brooklyn Heights.”

  “Please give me the address and I will gladly see you then.”

  They were driving north on the Garden State Parkway, headed back to Queens early Monday afternoon.

  “Are we there yet?” Mickey said from the back seat.

  “Soon, son,” Ripley answered.

  “He asks every two minutes,” Kyle said, seated beside his father.

  “So did you when you were his age, every time we took a trip.”

  “When Mom was with us?”

  “Yes son, when Mom was with us. And she always told you the same thing. We’re not there yet but we’re here together and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  “Do you wish Mom was here now?” Kyle asked.

  “She is, Kyle. She always will be.”

  “Are we there yet?” Mickey asked.

  Eileen Kaplan walked with her niece out of Mt. Hebron Cemetery in Flushing after the burial ceremony.

  “Why wasn’t your father here?” Eileen asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sarah.”

  “I didn’t tell him.”

  “How could you not tell the man his wife has died?”

  “I don’t know. She wasn’t his wife anymore. Why should he care?”

  “Your father always cared for her, and for you. He was a good husband and he always treated your mother with respect. When did you last speak with him?”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “I thought so.”

  “What?”

  “He didn’t know she was dying.”

  “Mom didn’t want him to know.”

  “Foolish pride. She didn’t even want you to know, yet I told you. Do you regret you had the chance to spend time with her before it was too late?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Your father would have wanted to be here. They loved each other very much and were very happy until his work took its toll. Your mother couldn’t handle it, and your father couldn’t change who he was. There was no one to blame. Listen to me, Sarah, I knew my sister. I know she would want you to be a part of his life, more than ever now that she is gone. And I knew your father very well, ever since we were all younger than you are today. I am certain he wishes to be part of your life as well. Did you feel you needed to choose one above the other?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He is your father and he loves you. Reach out to him before it is too late.”

  “I don’t know,” Sarah said as they arrived at the black limousine.

  “You grill a mean burger, Mr. Samson,” Alicia said as they finished washing and drying the dishes. “Although you may have gone a bit overboard with the jalapeños.”

  “I thought you liked it hot.”

  “I’m joking, Sam, everything was perfect.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And Kayla said it was the best hotdog she ever ever had.”

  “That’s because we only allow them to have hotdogs twice a year. Where are the girls?”

  “Upstairs, in their pajamas, teeth brushed, waiting for you to come up and read The Little Prince.”

  “When they’re a little older and they start asking me about my work, I can read The Little Finger Prince. Why did Jimmy have to run off?”

  “It’s the last weekend before school begins.”

  “And?”

  “And he wanted to see some friends,” Alicia said. “He promised he would be home early.”

  “We’re ready, Dad,” Kayla called from the top of the stairs.

  “Hurry, Daddy,” Lucy chimed in.

  “I’m coming, girls, get into your beds.”

  Samson’s eyes locked on his wife’s eyes for a moment before he started up to the girls.

  “What?” she asked.

  “It’s a poor excuse for not staying home with his family for a change. It’s the last weekend before school begins for all five of us.”

  Murphy pulled up in front of Rosen’s place in Park Slope.

  “I had a great time,” she said.

  “Being dragged through the Hall of Fame for three hours?”

  “It was worth every moment,” Rosen said. “Watching you stand in front of the plaque of Sandy Koufax, like a little boy.”

  “Koufax was a Brooklyn kid. When Sandy was at Lafayette High School he was better known for basketball. He started baseball as a catcher. My father always told us Koufax was the best left-handed pitcher to ever play in the big leagues. Dad hated Walter O’Malley with a passion for taking the Dodgers and Sandy away from Brooklyn. My father didn’t see Koufax pitch until the Mets came along in sixty-two and the Los Angeles Dodgers were the visiting team. The way Dad talked about watching Sandy on the mound was intoxicating. Koufax became a legendary hero to me, even though he stopped playing years before I was born.”

  “I like that story, Tommy. You don’t often talk about your father.”

  “He loved baseball,” was all Murphy said
.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  “I’m thinking about going over to Joe’s Bar and Grill. I haven’t seen Augie since his nephew’s funeral and we didn’t really have a chance to talk. And if it’s not too late I need to pick up Ralph.”

  “I’m sure your mom won’t mind having him for another night.”

  “I need to get him out of there before he decides he doesn’t want to give up her cooking.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “You will.”

  “Don’t drink too much,” Rosen said as she left the car.

  Murphy watched Sandra get into the house before he drove off.

  On the opposite side of the street Josh Altman watched her also.

  Maureen Rose watched her husband anxiously pacing back and forth across the living room floor.

  “David, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong.”

  “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

  “I suppose I am,” he finally admitted, “Meeting new colleagues and students. Wondering how I will be received, wondering if leaving Newton was really a good idea.”

  “We agreed we had to leave, David. We decided it was too difficult to stay there, to be constantly reminded. And it was much too hard on Jason, with all of the questions at school. It’s a new start for all of us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “David, you’re a wonderful counselor. They will be lucky to have someone with your experience. Those kids will need your help.”

  “I sometimes wonder if I can help anyone anymore.”

  “You can, David, and you will. Jason is busy with a James Bond movie and it’s a beautiful evening. Take me out for a walk.”

  “Sam. Wake up.”

  Samson opened his eyes and saw his wife Alicia standing in the bedroom doorway. He glanced at the bedside clock.

  It was after one in the morning.

  “What wrong?”

  “Jimmy hasn’t come home, Sam.”

  FIFTEEN