by F. P. Lione
I plugged in my cell phone and took my address book out of the drawer next to the sink. I never bothered to fill it out right, so I went to the Vs for Vinny and dialed his cell phone.
He picked up on the third ring and said, “Hey.”
“Hey Vin, what’s up buddy?”
“Tony, what is going on with you and Marie?” he said, sounding upset. I was surprised he called about it—he never gets involved.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s flipping out, Tony. Her and Dad are fighting. She said you attacked her outside the bathroom at your engagement party, and she’s threatening to leave Dad over it.”
I’ll bet.
“Vin, I went downstairs to use the bathroom and she was talking on the pay phone outside the door to her boyfriend. Let me finish,” I said when he started to interrupt me. “It had nothing to do with me. Denise had her followed. I heard her telling this guy, Bobby Egan, that she was gonna empty the bank accounts and leave Dad.”
“You think she would do that?” he said, sounding skeptical.
“No, not Marie,” I said sarcastically. “If you don’t believe me, go see Denise. She’ll show you the stuff the investigator got on them.”
“Why can’t we have a normal family?” he sighed.
“Don’t ask me.”
We talked for a couple of minutes before he had to get back to work. I missed living with Vinny. I didn’t see him a lot when we lived together, but I missed having the connection with him. I brought my sandwiches over to the living room and turned on the TV so I wouldn’t have to think about it.
I put the morning news on in case I missed anything while I was at work last night. A developer leased the World Trade Center for ninety-nine years in the biggest real estate transaction in New York history. The guy that leased it agreed to pay 3.22 billion dollars for the 10.6-million-foot complex. He signed a thousand pages of contracts, leases, and agreements. Makes my three rooms for seven hundred bucks seem so insignificant.
Next the blonde talked about how the city pays over forty thousand dollars for a mentally ill person to be homeless in New York City. “If they’re homeless, why are we paying for them?” I asked the TV.
She answered me by saying that the cost to city agencies such as hospitals, jails, shelters, and medical offices averages out to $40,449 a year for each mentally ill homeless person. The skells cost more than most cops make in a year.
I shut it off when she started talking about the genetically modified salmon that would be making its way soon into American markets. She said that we were already eating genetically engineered corn and potatoes, and I vowed that next summer I’d be growing my own stuff like Alfonse.
I switched to ESPN and was starting to doze off when I heard yelling. I sat up to listen, and I could hear a man yelling and a woman crying. I heard Alfonse outside my window yell, “Hey! Get your hands off her! I’m calling the cops.”
I knew without seeing it was Ralph across the street. I sighed and grabbed my gun out of my bag and stuck it in the waist-band of my jeans. I walked upstairs. Alfonse was on the phone, telling 911 that the guy was in the street hitting his wife.
When I got to the front gate I saw he had her on the ground, still in her pajamas. He was kicking away at her as she screamed. I walked toward them and Romano’s father flashed through my head, shot in the face in a domestic dispute. I would have hesitated, but I was raised that you never hit a woman and you never let anyone else hit a woman.
“Ralph!” I yelled. “Get away from her.”
He cursed me out, telling me to mind my business. He talked big, but when I walked toward him, he backed away from her.
He was screaming, telling me what a lying whore she was. He was past the point of rage, and all I could think was, This guy works corrections and he’s got a gun. I was thinking, If he pulls his piece and starts shooting, I’m gonna take him out.
When the wife realized he backed away, she looked up and tried to move away from him without him seeing her. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see she had her eyes on him the whole time as she moved.
She was beat up pretty bad. From where I was standing, I could see choke marks on her neck. Her face was swollen and bruised, and she was holding her ribs.
“Let her go, Ralph, it’s not worth it. Why would you risk your job for her?” I said. Guys like him think everyone thinks like they do, so I humored him.
He seemed to deflate somewhat and let off a stream of curses about women in general and how we give them everything and they spit in our face.
“Then get rid of her,” I said. “Why are you with her?”
“She’s crazy—how am I gonna leave my kids with her?”
The sad part is he was serious.
An RMP pulled up from the precinct in New Dorp, and two cops got out of the car.
“You happy, Sandy? You’re going to jail,” Ralph yelled at her.
“I didn’t call,” she told me, looking terrified. “Tell them to leave.”
I walked over toward the RMP, out of earshot of Ralph. I knew one of them, Eddie DiTommasso, who I ran track with in high school. He was big and built, with light frizzy hair. His partner looked more Italian than Eddie. He was big too, but not as bulky, with dark hair and eyes.
Eddie’s partner walked over to Ralph with his nightstick tucked under his arm.
“Listen,” Ralph told Eddie’s partner. “The last cop told her if you guys have to come out here again, he’s locking her up too.”
“Really? And who was that?” he asked.
“His name was Lambert.” I could tell by Eddie’s partner’s face that he knew the guy, and what he thought of him.
“What happened?” Eddie’s partner asked Ralph, stone-faced.
Ralph was breathing heavy. “I’m at work, trying to call my house, and she’s nowhere to be found.”
“I was sleeping,” she said. She was crying and having a hard time getting the words out. “Where would I be at three o’clock in the morning?” She sounded beaten down, like there was no sense in her answering anyway.
“You won’t be happy till I’m dead,” he screamed at her. Eddie’s partner was standing in front of him now, blocking his view of her.
“Hey, Tony,” Eddie said, shaking my hand. “What’s going on with these two?” he asked as he gave a slight nod toward them. He didn’t want them to see us talking about them.
“He was beating the crap out of her, and she wasn’t saying a word to him.”
Alfonse walked toward us, and I noticed he was wearing his gardening gear, a faded Yankee hat, a cotton sleeveless shirt, old blue work pants, and stained construction boots.
“Officer, I’m the one who called,” Alfonse said, looking more upset than I’ve ever seen. “He’s no good, this guy. He beats his wife. Someone parked in front of his house, and he took a bat and broke the windows in the car.” Alfonse shook his head. “And he stole my recycle pail.”
“This guy’s a nut,” I said.
“Yeah, we’ve dealt with him before,” Eddie said.
“Listen, the guy’s with corrections and I’m sure he’s got a piece,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Eddie said.
The wife was sitting on the ground with her head down on her knees, trying not to draw attention to herself. The neighbors were out on their front stoops, looking to see what was going on but not surprised by any of it.
Eddie’s partner was trying to keep Ralph under control. I heard him say, “Stop looking at her—you’re talking to me. She’s not going anywhere,” as Ralph tried to look around him at the wife.
I stayed with Alfonse while Eddie walked over to the wife. She stood up as he approached, wincing and holding her side. I heard Eddie talking to her quietly and then heard her answer when Ralph started yelling.
“What are you telling him? You’re a liar, a lying whore!”
In New York, when people say whore it sounds like whouh.
&nbs
p; Eddie’s partner warned him, “I’m not gonna tell you again, shut your mouth and talk to me.”
I saw Eddie get on the radio, then walk over to his partner and Ralph. As Eddie approached, Ralph held up his hands and said, “I’m on the job—can I show you my ID?”
“You’re on the job?” Eddie asked. “What job?”
“Corrections.”
“So you’re a corrections officer. You have a gun on you?”
“Yeah,” Ralph said, looking wary.
“Well, we need to have your gun,” Eddie said diplomatically, but he was looking to lock him up now and he wanted to get the gun first.
“Why do you need my gun?” He was catching on now. He was expecting some professional courtesy so he could tell his wife he could do whatever he wanted to her and no one would stop him. It was obvious that’s happened a time or two for him to be as bold as he’s been, but no one was gonna cover for him here.
“Because you’re in the middle of a dispute and I don’t feel like getting shot,” Eddie said impatiently.
“I’m not gonna shoot you,” Ralph said, then looked over toward his wife and yelled, “but I might shoot her!”
She was sitting on the ground again with her head down, trying to be invisible.
He unbuckled his belt and went to slide his gun off. It looked like a snub-nose .38 five-shot and me, Eddie, and his partner all had our eyes on it. He saw us looking and he snapped, “You female dog! [I’m editing here.] This is your fault, you don’t know when to stop! You just keep pushing and pushing,” he said as he accented each word with a stomp of his foot, with his hand on his belt.
Eddie saw Ralph was losing it, and he looked at his partner. A second later they both moved in as Eddie grabbed his right arm and the partner grabbed the left. I ran toward them as they put him on the ground. Eddie got Ralph’s right arm behind his back and pulled the gun off the belt.
“Tony, take this,” he said as he handed me the gun, and they cuffed him.
“You can’t lock me up!” he screamed and started to buck.
“Listen, calm down,” Eddie said. When he didn’t, Eddie got in his face and said, “I said calm down!”
“You happy now?” Ralph screamed toward his wife. “Get off of me!” He tried to push Eddie away and move toward her. “You’re dead, you hear me? You’re dead!”
She put her arms around her legs and buried her head and started rocking back and forth.
The sergeant pulled up and was out of the car before his driver could stop. He ran over to Eddie and his partner to help them, and I saw the bus pull up behind the sergeant’s RMP.
EMS got out of the bus, and I pointed toward the wife. One of them, an overweight middle-aged woman, shot the wife a dirty look and shook her head. Her partner was younger, bald and skinny, and mumbled something under his breath. He looked at the holstered gun in my hand but didn’t say anything.
Once they got Ralph in the RMP, I heard bits and pieces of Eddie and his partner talking to the sarge, saying, “The guy’s a nut job; he works for corrections.”
Eddie and the sarge came over to me.
“Did you call?” the sergeant asked.
“No, Boss, my landlord did,” I said as I pointed to Alfonse standing by the curb. I handed the holstered gun to Eddie. Alfonse took that as a cue and walked over to us.
“Eddie, be careful,” I said. “This guy’s a nut, and I don’t doubt he’s coming back after her.”
“Would you be willing to be a witness?” Eddie asked with a smirk.
“Only if I have to,” I said and smirked back. If it wasn’t my collar, I’d rather not be involved. Then I looked over at her all beat-up and said, “Okay, if you need me to, I’ll do it.”
“I’ll definitely be a witness,” Alfonse said.
I was more concerned with Alfonse testifying against this guy—I didn’t want Ralph coming after him.
The sergeant walked over to where EMS was checking out the wife and asked her if there were any more guns in the house.
She nodded and said, “I think there’s two more.”
“Where are they?”
“In the safe.”
“Do you have the key?”
“No, it’s on his key ring.”
“Joe, get the keys off this guy so I can get into the safe,” the sergeant said.
Once he had the keys, she took him in the house. They came out a couple of minutes later, and the sarge had a brown paper bag tucked under his arm.
“You need to go down to Family Court today and get a temporary order of protection,” the sergeant told her.
“What good will that do me?” she said with a strangled laugh. “You see how he is—you think that’s gonna stop him? He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Not if you get the order of protection,” he said. “He’s going through the system, that should help. Is there anywhere you can go?”
“If I had somewhere to go, do you think I’d be here? It doesn’t matter where I go, he’ll find me.” She put her hands over her face, and her shoulders were shaking as she cried.
“Put him in my car,” the sarge said, talking about Ralph. “You two go with her to the hospital,” he said to Eddie and his partner, “and we’ll start the paperwork back at the house.”
EMS put her in the ambulance. My next-door neighbor was gonna follow her to the hospital and give her a ride home.
Eddie took the information from me and Alfonse, and I told him to call if he needed anything.
I said good-bye to Alfonse and went back down to my apartment. The message light was blinking on my answering machine.
“Hi, it’s me,” Michele said. “I’m sorry I missed you. Are you working? Did you collar?” I heard her laugh. “I love you. Call me tonight.”
I smoked a cigarette and went to bed, trying not to think about whether or not Ralph would be back for his wife tomorrow.
15
I woke up at 7:30 to the sound of my phone ringing. I purposely don’t have one in my bedroom so I don’t have to answer it, but I left the volume turned up on my answering machine and heard Michele talking.
I ran out to the kitchen to pick up my cordless and got a blast of feedback as I fumbled to shut it off.
“Hey,” I said.
“Did I wake you?” She sounded surprised.
“Yeah, I got to bed late.”
“Did you collar up?” She was getting the lingo down pretty good.
“No, the psycho across the street was beating on his wife, and there was a whole big thing going on outside.”
“Is she okay?”
“They took her to the hospital. She was beat up pretty bad, but she seemed okay.”
“That’s horrible,” she said.
“Yeah, it is,” I said, then changed the subject. “So how are you? How’s Stevie?”
“Good, we’re both good. I was wondering when we’re going to see you this week.”
“I don’t know, maybe Thursday night.” I don’t usually go on Wednesday unless I’m off because she goes to church and I have to leave for work before the service is over. “I’m off this weekend, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, so maybe we’ll do something.”
“They started taping today,” she said, excited. “If they get some of the rooms finished by the weekend, maybe we’ll be priming the walls on Saturday.”
“Sounds good,” I said. I was a little antsy to get off the phone, I felt like my bladder was going to explode. “Listen, let me jump in the shower and get something to eat and I’ll call you back about 9:30.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”
I showered and shaved and drove over to the Chinese dump on Midland Avenue for some chicken and broccoli that looked like cat and broccoli but tasted delicious.
I called Michele back at 9:30 and talked to her until 10:00, then left my house by 10:15.
It was cooler tonight, and I drove with my windows rolled down to catch the breeze coming in off the water along Father Cappodanno Boulevard. T
he roads were clear until 39th Street on the Gowanus, where an accident was blocking the left and center lanes and traffic was slow from the rubbernecking.
I parked on the sidewalk on 36th Street next to Romano’s white Blazer. He was sitting in the car, talking on the cell phone, and held up his hand for me to wait. I lit a cigarette and leaned up against my truck and watched the traffic going into the Lincoln Tunnel. I wondered if he was talking to Denise. I could see him smiling as he was talking. I was glad he was out of his funk, I just hoped it wasn’t because of her.
“Hey, Tony,” Romano said, shaking my hand.
“Hey, Nick, still counting the days till you’re out of here?”
“Yeah,” he said, not sounding as sure now.
“What’s the deal? I thought this was what you wanted.”
“It is, but I’ll miss the guys.”
“I know, but you won’t miss the job,” I said.
“No, this job sucks.” He shrugged like that was a given.
We went down to the locker room to change and admired Rooney’s newest artwork on the inspector. Today he had the inspector’s face superimposed over Wolverine from X-Men with his arms crossed over his chest and his metal claws showing.
“He’s a character,” I said.
“You can’t even tell where he altered it,” Romano said, staring at the picture. “He’s pretty good at this.”
Terri Marks was back behind the desk tonight. I thought maybe she’d be embarrassed to see Joe after the party the other night, but she acted like nothing happened. She winked at him and said, “How you doing, Joe?”
“Fine, Terr, and you?” Fiore asked just as easy.
“Better now that you’re here,” she said with a smile. The lou looked up at her from the corner of his eye and smirked.
I guess everything was back to normal.
Bruno Galotti was back in tonight, which surprised me. He looked okay, no bulging eyes or skin rash. He said he still had a little aftertaste of the mace, but otherwise he was fine.
We mustered up at Hanrahan’s attention to the roll call order. He didn’t have as much patience today for Rooney’s antics and pulled the picture of Wolverine off the podium and tossed it in the garbage without comment.