by Saurav Dutt
“Well considering we’re deciding the fate of our marriage tonight, I think at least one drink is in order” Sean grinned “they even had one at the last supper..”
Andie sunk down onto the couch and kicked off her shoes. She placed one hand on her forehead, massaging her temple, and the other lay outstretched as she closed her eyes. “Just a gin and tonic or something…if ya got it” she sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Sean enquired as he rummaged through the drinks cabinet and fixed her drink. He placed it within her palms and she took a slow sip, appreciating the gin as it snaked down her throat. “I was at Riker’s earlier today…” she frowned as she cradled the glass within her hands.
“Rikers?” Sean replied as he leant back in a chair opposite her “your old man?”
“Uh huh” Andie muttered “you never told me the Warden was trying to get hold of me.”
“You never read the letters remember, and as for the new ones I had nowhere to send them to until you finally decided to pick up your cell phone..” Sean retorted with a wry grin as he took Andie’s glass from her hands and placed it on the table before her.
“I didn’t come here for another argument…whatever the reason was, he got my home number ‘cause you gave it to him” she replied, glancing at him momentarily, noticing he was wearing the shirt she had bought him for his last birthday.
“He said it was about your old man, that it was urgent” Sean paused “I didn’t expect you would go.”
“He’s dying” Andie murmured, her eyes gazing off into the distance “at least he says he is…lung cancer…I don’t know how long he’s got…he wants me to speak for him at his parole hearing so he can get a release on compassionate grounds.”
“I’m sorry…” Sean whispered, rising to take a seat beside her “I know there’s no love lost there between you guys…but still…”
“He was different to what I expected..the way he was with me” Andie drifted off “I know it’s been years and time passes..but he was so different…humble, regretful even…it was maybe the first conversation that didn’t end with one of us wanting to tear the other’s eyeballs out.”
“So are you gonna do it?” Sean asked, turning to face her, studying her reddened eyes and exhausted face “are you going to this parole hearing?”
“He says my Mom is here in NY..” Andie paused, staring down at her lap “how about that, here of all places…the one person I hate the most in this world and he wants me to find her, for some kind of bedside reunion before he dies. I was waiting for the punch line, but he wasn’t kidding” she smiled.
“I don’t understand” Sean shook his head “why would she be here? Does he mean she came here to find you or that she just happens to be here? How would she find you, wouldn’t she-”
“-I don’t know if he’s bullshitting me” Andie interrupted “but the last thing I want is to see her face again…I’ll speak for him at the hearing if I have to, I’ll do that..but nothing else”
Sean tentatively sipped his beer and unfurled a cigarette pack, carefully positioning one between the fingers of Andie’s right hand “I think you deserve one after the day you’ve had” he smiled.
“I thought you were serious about quitting..” she replied, eagerly accepting the gift as the swift click of Sean’s chrome lighter left the tip of the cigarette smouldering in a bright amber hue.
“Tell you the truth” Sean leant back as he lit his own “this whole thing between us has got me off the wagon, worrying about Peter, all this damn suspense…..I have to ask you one thing, why did you leave our place in Long Island and come here? Too many bad memories?”
“….and good ones…” Andie sighed “I went from Rikers straight to a bar, I just sat there, didn’t even drink. All I could think about was if I ran into her one day, I don’t know what I’d do..what does she even look like now?”
She placed her head on Sean’s shoulder, a tear trickling down her cheek as she inhaled the smoke from the cigarette “As for us, just one day it comes to you that it’s not working anymore, and you have to wake up and live with it, and then one of those same days you know you have to do something about it..” she sighed.
“And Ben?” Sean nodded as he began to stroke and caress her hair gently “do you really see him as somebody who can look after you and our son?”
“You’re a great father, when you want to be..” Andie replied “I wish it could be different, but you know we’ve been going in different directions for too long…Ben is a good guy”
“Well personally” Sean nodded as he cupped Andie’s chin in his hand “I think he’s a bit of a schmuck..he couldn’t even carry my jockstrap”
“Don’t say that..” Andie murmured as she stared into his blue eyes. They locked into each other’s gaze, the cigarette smoke swirling around them as they refused to speak. He drew closer, his hand gently floating across her upper thigh as her lips parted to let escape a quiet, sensitive gasp that was patient, unhurried.
“I still love you..” Sean whispered as he brought his lips closer to hers. She did not answer, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as her pulse quickened as his hands firmly clutched her breasts, his fingers circling the surface of her blouse as his lips pressed against hers. She closed her eyes, her tongue slowly darting around the corners of his upper lip. She didn’t answer him as she dragged him toward her, her back reclining against the sofa as their bodies collapsed against one another. The cigarettes slipped into the ashtray resting in front of them on the table and the ash glowed as she let out a quiet groan of ecstasy as his hand tightened around her breast and as he pressed his groin against her naval.
Momentarily her eyes flickered open, her fingers gripping his hair as she whispered his name in his ear and spread her arms out, letting him touch her wherever he pleased.
Chapter Nine
John’s vision was obscured by the penetrating glare of the lamp light. A quick glance at his wristwatch told him it was just after seven in the evening. His ears picked up the sound of rain battering against the windows as he sat upright in the chair. He saw her opposite him, lying very still in the hospital bed. As he rose to his feet, he noticed her eyes were closed, her expression peaceful. Her hair was brushed over to one side, revealing the unhealthy pallor of her skin. He approached her and stood by her side, gently placing a finger upon her cheek which was cold to the touch.
He noticed her breathing gently and saw her eyes flicker open briefly then close again. She wore a hospital gown and her arms were clasped together in front of her as she lay on her back. At that moment he realised just how long he had been asleep.
Just as he fumbled through his pockets to locate his cell phone the door to the private room opened and a tall, laconic man in white doctor’s robes stepped in fixing his gaze firmly upon her for a few moments. He stood there intently, his chin balanced on a clenched fist and he nodded to himself. At that moment he tilted his head towards John, studying him momentarily before speaking.
“I’m Dr Firth” he said in a strong and defined English accent as he cleared his throat “what’s your relationship to the patient?” he mumbled as he gesticulated towards the bed.
“Doctor” John replied “what’s wrong with her? Is she alright?”
“She’ll be fine” Dr Firth replied, his eyes fixed on her “she’s extremely malnourished and weak, her blood sugar levels are very high and she’s a diabetic as well as having a whole host of other medical problems. She suffered a hypoglycaemic attack….didn’t you know she was a diabetic?”
“I only met her a short while ago…we’ve only really been close a matter of days…” John trailed off “I’m a NYPD detective, I was with this lady when-”
“Yes your colleagues informed me..” Dr Firth cut in “they’re very eager to speak to your friend when she regains her strength. And I believe they’re quite keen to speak to you as well.”
“She didn’t have a handbag” John said as he stared at her “she didn’t carry any insuli
n, I mean how was I supposed to know?”
“So you’re not a close friend I take it” Dr Firth replied as he strode to her bedside, gently caressing her cheeks and placing his hand upon her forehead as he gauged the temperature.
“I know as much about her as you do” John shook his head “no I’m not a close friend”
“Oh I know quite a bit about her” Dr Firth smiled as he stared blankly at John “she’s got a five inch scar just above her temple, her hair is covering most of it-it’s a nasty, nasty injury, a few inches deep…I wouldn’t know what caused it, but it would have been blunt judging by the nature of the mark…we’re going to do a scan of the head, but I’m willing to estimate that whatever it was….caused a great deal of trauma to the head and possibly the brain area. Somehow, I think that a diabetic attack is the least of her concerns..”
“I didn’t do this, I didn’t touch her.” John protested, staring up at Dr Firth “she kept complaining of memory black outs, amnesia type symptoms, and the blood from the bowler hat, I-”
“-I believe your people are running that through their systems” Firth interrupted “but it would be consistent with a very hard blow to the head. I’m no police officer, but I’d hazard a guess that if she was hit in that way, where she was hit on her head…whoever did it probably intended to kill her…then again she could have just suffered a bad fall and hit her head.”
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. John turned his head to see Officer Diaz standing there with a solemn look on his face. “Detective, if you’ve got a moment..” he mumbled as his eyes hovered over her and towards Dr Firth.
John stood by the bed, stroking her face gently with his hand and nodded to the doctor, following Diaz out of the room, the both of them walking slowly down the corridor.
The rippling sound of feet echoing down the hallway and the crackle of overhead speakers simmering with announcements from nurses filled up the awkward silence that separated them both.
“Captain Durning is here” Diaz piped up as he turned to see John’s reaction “whatever shit this woman is into, it’s got a bug right up his ass” he chuckled as John stared straight on. “Doc was saying the broad’s lucky to even be conscious, you sure do know how to pick ‘em” he smirked. “Remember your rank dipshit” John retorted “and in the future keep your opinions to yourself, now where do ya want me?”
“Right through here” Diaz grumbled as he turned to his left through double doors and pushed open a discreetly tucked away entry point which revealed a vacant private room, adorned with sparse fittings and a customary grey vase which appeared to contain dead flowers. Captain Durning stood there with hands in pockets, a cigar clenched between his teeth. He motioned for Diaz to leave as John stood there facing him.
“After stumbling across your little party last night, I took it upon myself to do a little checking” Durning grinned, his rumpled flabby face heaving with sweat and showing signs of little sleep “the funny thing was I didn’t make her…I didn’t make her at all…but my wife.. she did..would ya believe that? Almost 50 years in this line of work and I couldn’t make Gina Rossi of all freakin’ people, but my wife who prunes hedges and flowers in our freakin’ garden all day long actually did. Maybe I oughta put her on the payroll.”
“You’ve lost me Captain” John scowled, noticing that Durning was fidgeting with a crumpled photograph clasped within his hands. “You’ve been in my precinct what…maybe a year?” Durning enquired as he raised an eyebrow.
“Barely a few months actually Captain, not that you’d notice” John shot back.
“Ah I see..and you were in Atlantic City, New Jersey before that? Right?” Durning probed.
“If you wanted my resume Captain “John smiled “there’s easier ways of finding out where I’ve been”
“The reason I ask” Durning replied “is that it would take a real schmuck to not make Gina Rossi, particularly after schmoozing her the night before, unless that is the cop in question is on the take with her..”
“Come again Captain…maybe it’s the hour, but you’re getting ahead of me” John sighed, studying the photograph being passed to him.
“Dennis Rossi’s moll..” Durning grinned “if you don’t know the bitch, then you know the benefactor, I’m sure you’re not that much of a putz.”
John studied the picture closely. Shot from across a street, its parched lustre suggested it was maybe ten, maybe twelve years old. A raven haired woman, probably in her early to mid 30’s, was clad in a dazzling dark brown mink coat with large black sunglasses. Her glowing hair fell around her shoulders in curls and a cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth as she was flanked by broad shouldered, stern looking men in tailored suits; their poise and attention befitting a security entourage. Taking away the wrinkles, high cheekbones, pale complexion, affluent apparel and dark luxuriant hair it was clear that the woman in the picture was the same one who lay in a bed down the hallway, or at least bore a striking resemblance to her.
“This is bullshit” John snorted “there is no way the broad in this picture is the same one I was with; this is nothing more than a slight resemblance, I mean look at this shit, half her face is covered by a fuckin’ pair of sunglasses and what about that hair?”
“When that woman wakes up” Durning spat “we are gonna be on her like flies on shit. I want you to come with me back to the precinct, we’re in the process of opening up those suitcases and finding out exactly who she is. If she is Gina Rossi, this woman has been off the grid for almost 8 years. FBI, you name it have been after this bitch. Whatever shit Dennis Rossi got up to, his wife was the bag lady-smuggling, money laundering-whatever it was, she had a hand in it. Then she ratted him. I’m not buying this amnesia story she’s using to pull the wool over your eyes John…I’ve been in this business long enough to know how far some hair dye, a change of wardrobe and some good acting can get you..especially when you have money”
“If you’re tellin’ me that woman in there, that bum I met on the sidewalk is Dennis Rossi’s moll on the run, then you’ve got more senile than I thought” John shook his head as he followed Durning out of the room.
“I’ll tell you something interesting” Durning murmured as he flicked open a packet of gum and threw a capsule back into his mouth “no sooner had this woman’s details been processed through our system, we got a call from the Feds and the minute I put the phone down to them I got a call from Henry James…that’s Henry James the attorney, that’s Henry James the attorney that charges his clients $3000 bucks an hour..now you tell me how a bum wino can carry that kind of leverage? You tell me that Johnny boy…”
*
John sat in the interrogation room, arms folded, staring at the contents of two open suitcases. They were placed across joined tables, the locks wrestled open and the contents laid bare before him. He could hear the ticking of his wristwatch, and the sound seemed to reverberate off the walls as Durning stared at him sullenly from across the room.
“Captain” John closed his eyes “I’m finding this all hard to believe..” he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders.
“You have eyes detective” Durning smiled “and you’ve looked in those cases several times. There’s no disputing the truth”
“$200,000 in laundered bills, some clothes, rags, gum wrappers, expired food and a bunch of photographs” John nodded at the table “what does this all prove? She could have found these cases anywhere, and those photos prove nothing..a bunch of random people”
“What I’m struggling to get around my head” Durning replied as he paced the room back and forth “is why you of all people wants to defend a woman you hardly know…she’s a freakin’ hobo-so we believe..and you spend a few nights stickin’ it to her and you’ve developed some compassion for a known felon”
“You see Gina Rossi..” John answered as he rose to his feet, staring down at the Polaroid’s littered across the table “I see somebody who resembles her..slightly..have you considered for a min
ute that there are a lot of brunette women who wear designer clothes and are also lookers? Maybe share the same typical features? All this shit is purely circumstantial..why she’s carrying around suitcases and bumming on the streets of Manhattan is only something she can fuckin’ answer..sir..she could have picked up this suitcase anywhere, someone trying to get rid of some laundered money, anything”
“Well we’ll get to the bottom of that very quickly” Durning grunted “once your girlfriend is well enough to answer our questions and once the Feds-”
Officer Diaz poked his head around the corner of the door and cleared his throat, nodding at Durning before glancing awkwardly at John and closing the door.
“Speak of the devil…” Durning smiled as he stood over the suitcases, thumbing through the stacks of bills, studying the serial numbers emblazoned on them “why else do you think the Feds are taking an interest in her? Drug money, false identities, wife of the most infamous gangster in New York since John Gotti..colouring your hair peroxide blonde and faking amnesia might get one over on you, but that shit don’t wash with me…”
The door creaked open and a tall, suited man stepped in clutching a large manila envelope. Dressed in a dark navy three piece suit, his wiry frame prowled around the room, wearing a look of fierce disdain as he studied the table and the suitcases. He did not glance up at either John or Durning. His black shoes glinted against the reflection of his sparkling cufflinks and his red and blue spotted tie glowed under the overwhelming pale yellow hum of the tube light above them. He looked in his late thirties but wore a rugged and brusque look on his face that added ten years.
“I’m Special Agent Pearce” the man announced in a solemn and pronounced Midwestern accent. He carefully unfolded a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket which he balanced delicately on the rim of his nose, thumbing the thick wedges of cash as his other hand fluttered across the contents of the suitcases, running his fingertips across the grooves and curves of the interior lining “what we have here is an unfortunate set of coincidences” he added with a forced smile.