by Henry Hack
Harry reached across the table and took her hand in both of his. He said, “Susan, when can I see you again?”
“Tomorrow. I have some research to do. Then I’ll need to interview you again.”
“How about this? I won’t take your no for dinner as final now. If you can wrap this up tomorrow to your satisfaction, would you re-consider?”
“No, Harry. No.”
“I didn’t hear that. We’ll talk tomorrow. Think about gnocchi in rich, deep red Bolognese sauce – sprinkled with Romano and Parmesan cheese…”
“Stop it. I’m taking you back to your post right now.”
Harry took the bill and went up to the cashier and paid the check. Susan reached into her bag for her purse and Harry said, “What’re looking for? I hope your tape recorder wasn’t running during lunch.”
She blushed and said, “I don’t have a tape recorder. I’m searching for money to pay for my half of the bill.”
“Susan, the first thing you learn out of the Academy is all IAD snoops have their tape recorders always up and running. And by the way, nobody but me picks up the tab on my post.”
“The post man is the host man? And what if he didn’t actually pay the tab?”
It was Harry’s turn to blush and he said “Susan, you saw me pay.”
“I saw it seemed like you paid, but what if you didn’t?”
“If I didn’t pay and you didn’t pay, I’d say that makes us a couple of rotten, corrupt cops. We just may have to turn ourselves in to the Mad Russian and beg for mercy.”
“You’re incorrigible. Get in the car.”
Incorrigible, and fun to be with. She hadn’t had much fun in a long time. And that smile and that feeling he gave her, and she knew he felt it, too. He felt it so strong he asked her to dinner on New Year’s Eve. That took guts. Is it possible he wants me more than I want him?
She dropped him by the callbox and he said, “Here they come. Look down the avenue. Here comes the brown sedan.”
She looked, and then a full ten seconds later, saw the approaching vehicle. Two guys staring straight ahead. Harry was right. They weremorons.
“Susan, I can’t patrol my beat with these guys around. Tell the Russian I don’t want to see them tomorrow. I’ll act very badly if I do.”
“I can’t promise anything. Unless Gregorovich is in the right mood, I won’t even approach him on this. I confess I’m afraid of him and afraid of his power.”
“I understand. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When I first met you in the IAD office and you turned around and walked over to me, I felt something. Did you feel it, too?”
“What did you feel?”
“Light-headed, like an electrical charge hit me. You did, too. I know you did.”
Susan trembled and whispered, “Yes, Harry, I did.”
He got out of the car and saluted good-bye as she drove off. My God, what a woman. He never thought he’d feel this way again. She hadto have dinner with him. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts of betrayal on New Year’s Eve.
Chapter Nine
Harry got back to his apartment and cracked open a beer. He wondered what couple of items Susan had to go over with him tomorrow. One of them had to be that anonymous letter she had not yet mentioned. Why had she kept that in her back pocket? And just what would he do if those IAD lowlifes showed up again? How would the Russian react if Harry rousted his morons? Maybe Uncle Mike knew Inspector Gregorovich. He called him at his home in Whitestone and Aunt Mary answered. “Hi, Aunt Mary, it’s Harry.”
“I used to know a Harry, but I’m not sure I do anymore.”
“Ah, come on, Auntie, I’m a hard working cop. They don’t give me much time off. You know that.”
“Now you sound like that old lyin’ husband of mine. You could have stopped over on Christmas.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I got involved on Christmas Eve with an attempted murder on my beat, and I’ve been working ever since.”
“Then when will I see your big carcass in this house?”
“As soon as this case is wrapped up. I promise.”
“I suppose you’ll be wantin’ to talk to the old retired chief himself?”
“How’s Uncle Mike doing?”
“Healthy as a horse, but a wee bit of a pain in the neck. You know what they say about a retired husband?”
“No, what do they say?”
“You get twice the husband and half the income. Come around once in awhile, Harry. Take him for a Guinness. Hold on, I’ll get him for you.”
“Hello, Uncle Mike. How are you doing?”
“Fine, lad. Just fine.”
“Are you still happily collecting your pension now after forty-one years on the Job, or do you miss it?”
“I miss it terrible, but you know the rules – sixty-three and you’re out.”
“I can’t think of not being a cop.”
“That’s a long way away, lad. Cross that bridge when you come to it. What’s troublin’ you? I can hear it in your voice. You didn’t call your Uncle Mike just to ask how the old fart is doin,’ did you?”
“I always do think about you – you know that. But I do have a situation, a little problem, which I’d like your advice on.”
“Ah, the little problem is it? Let’s hear it.”
Harry told him the details and concentrated on the Mad Russian. “Uncle Mike, I think this Gregorovich is out to get me. What kind of guy is he? Do you know him?”
“Are you asking me if I can get him off your back?”
“Not yet.”
“Let me tell you about Peter Gregorovich. Pete is one of the finest police officers I’ve ever had the pleasure of breaking in.”
“You broke him in on the Job?”
“Yes, I did. I was a sergeant in the old Seven-Five Precinct when Pete came out of the Academy. I took a liking to him, probably the only Irishman who did, and taught him the ropes. He’s a real good street cop.”
“A good street cop? I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, lad. Other than yours truly, you’ll not be wantin’ a better man backing you up on the mean streets of East New York. Don’t let that Internal Affairs crap fool you. He’s got to play the game if he wants the next promotion.”
“Do you think I can talk to him, man-to-man, one-on-one, if I have to?”
“You just tell him I’m your uncle. He’ll listen. Do you want me to put a call into him?”
“Not yet.”
“You get to me quick if you need me, do you understand?”
“Yes, I will. Thanks a lot.”
“Good-bye, Harry. I’m sure you’ll come out of this okay.”
●
When Susan returned to her office that afternoon she reviewed her notes. Cassidy’s relationship with Detective Hunter had been pretty much explored over lunch. Harry showed no reticence in discussing their friendship, but she was surer than ever now Hunter had tipped Harry off on the first anonymous letter’s contents. That would be a pertinent question in the follow-up interview. Rita poked her head into Susan’s office and said, “How did your rendezvous go with the handsome policeman, my pretty?”
“He bought me lunch. Then we went to a local motel for a quickie.”
They both laughed and Susan motioned for her to come in and close the door. “Seriously, he showed me the crime scene area and explained what he did that night, and we did have lunch at the diner where I subtly obtained relevant information.”
“Are you still feeling quirky?”
“More than ever.”
She did not mention Cassidy’s offer to take her to dinner. That was better left unsaid since she had no intention of going anyway. “Rita, what kind of mood is the inspector in today?”
“Not good. He’s been storming around the office snapping at us.”
“What’s his problem?”
“Rumors about promotions are running rampant, and his name hasn’t been m
entioned.”
“Damn, I wanted to talk to him. Harry made the surveillance teams, as I told Gregorovich he probably would.”
“Harry? It’s Harry now?”
“We used first names over lunch. No big deal.”
Rita just smiled and nodded her head.
“Harry, I mean, Officer Cassidy was furious over the surveillance. He wants me to tell the Russian to pull it off, or else. But I’m afraid to approach him after what you just told me.”
“Don’t go near him on this Susan. What can Cassidy do about it anyway? Let it all play out on its own. Don’t get involved.”
“Cassidy is one smart street cop, and I don’t know what he’ll do to these guys, maybe shoot their tires out or something. He is really pissed-off over this.”
“As I said, don’t broach this to the inspector. He put the spies out there, not you. It’s between him and Cassidy.”
“Good advice, as usual. By the way, thanks for the foot-thick pile of paper on my desk here.”
“Hey, I worked my fingertips off on the keys, as did Alicia and Jen in clerical. Some appreciation.”
“I’m only kidding. Thank you, and please thank Alicia and Jen for me. Let me get started on this pile now. More homework tonight, that’s for sure.”
●
She found a folder labeled “Deputy Chief Michael Cassidy.” He had retired from the Force two years ago after forty-one years of service. Chief Cassidy had a varied, distinguished career, and during his last seven years on the Job, which corresponded with his nephew’s first seven years, but no apparent interaction existed between them.
Okay, not much here. Now, for the Richard Winston connection. Winston’s criminal file was thick. No major felonies, but a lot of street crime felonies and misdemeanors. No felony convictions though – must’ve had a good lawyer. Fifteen arrests in all, and Police Officer Harold T. Cassidy’s name appeared seven times in the column labeled “Arresting Officer.”
On the last arrest a statement by the assisting arresting officer asserted Winston made insulting comments to Cassidy, laughing at him, and telling him “this collar won’t stick either, Cassidy. Why don’t you keep to writing parking tickets?”
No wonder Cassidy despised this guy – he beat the system time after time and beat Harry seven out of seven. The door opened, startling her, and none other than Inspector Peter Gregorovich walked in. She stood to attention and he said, “Sit down, Sergeant. I didn’t mean to disturb you. Just wondering how this Cassidy thing is going.”
She briefed him on her visit to Cassidy’s beat and her plans to bring him in again tomorrow to confront him with the anonymous letters.
“Sergeant Becker told me Mark Brimlow wouldn’t go for the apartment search or the wiretap on Cassidy. Why not?”
“Sir, he seemed pretty set in his position, no matter how I tried to convince him. His basic premise was we could not demonstrate a high enough probability the fruits of granting either request would demonstrably, or could even remotely, connect Cassidy to the crime.”
“You sound like a goddamned lawyer already. When do you graduate?”
“In May, sir.”
“I had my surveillance teams out there today. Did you happen to notice them?”
“No, sir.”
“Good, and I’m sure Cassidy didn’t either.”
“Did they come up with anything?”
“Yes, that you and Cassidy went to lunch together at the Viceroy Diner after your walking tour. What the hell was that all about?”
“It was lunchtime, sir. We had to eat and we continued the conversation about the events of the night of the incident.”
“You have to be careful talking to him without a PBA rep present, you know.”
“Yes, sir. Cassidy waived that privilege yesterday in the presence of Officer Vitale.”
“You have that on tape?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good. Looks like you have your work cut out for you,” he said, looking at the pile of paper.
“Most of it will be coming home with me tonight, sir.”
“No school tonight?”
“Christmas recess, thank God. We start the last semester on January 30.”
Gregorovich glanced at his watch and said, “It’s almost quitting time. Pack up your stuff and get out of here. Beat the five o’clock rush.”
“Thanks, Inspector. I’ll do just that.”
“Keep up the good work, Sergeant. Keep pressing Cassidy. Something’s there. Find it.”
●
That evening Susan found it. Harry had a huge arrest file, mainly due to the fifty plus he made during his stint in the Narcotic Squad, but his street collars over the course of his career brought the total to well over 250. The files were not alphabetized, but in chronological order and after two hours of searching she found it – not Skranski, or Skowronski, but Serenenski. No other arrestee’s name was even close to that one. The guy’s first name was Martin, not John, as witness number four had said. But that was okay because Harry said he would have recognized anyone he had ever arrested, and he was certain he had never even seen this John before. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow. She dialed Harry’s home number.
His heart jumped a beat at the sound of her voice and he said, “You’ve reconsidered dinner, haven’t you?”
“No. This is official business. In fact, let’s go back to sergeant and officer.”
“Yes, Sergeant. What can I do for you?”
She detected he was pissed off, but she was in no mood for a repeat of the dinner argument. She related her finding of Sereneski to him.
“Bingo, that’s it, a Burglary Third. I caught the prick and his buddy coming out the front door of Fred’s Hardware at two in the morning, loaded with tools.”
“Right, and you also charged them with assault and resisting arrest.”
“Yeah, they thought they could take me. Came at me with hammers. I should have shot both of them, but it wasn’t necessary.”
“You handled them with your hands?”
“Hands and faithful nightstick. I tuned them up pretty good.”
“Maybe Serenenski’s got a relative who didn’t like little Marty getting brutalized by big, bad Officer Cassidy?”
“Look on the arrest report in the nearest relative’s box. What’s in there?”
“Martin and Pauline Serenenski, parents, same address as Marty’s in Ozone Park, Queens”
“Turn the form over and look under the caption, bail.”
“He was released three days later on $10,000 bail.”
“Who posted it?”
“Bingo to you, Officer Cassidy. I’ll read it as I’m looking at it – “$1,000 cash and $9,000 secured bond posted by John Serenenski, defendant’s brother, 36-01 Ditmars Blvd., Astoria, Queens.”
“Tell Hunter and Faliani to go get him.”
“First thing in the morning and, speaking of tomorrow morning, how about eleven for the follow-up interview? Better bring Vitale. Maybe we can wrap this up.”
“How did you make out on that other thing, you know, the morons?”
“I couldn’t get in to see him, he was busy all afternoon,” she lied. “But please, please remember my advice – don’t twist his tail.”
“How about the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“Fettucini Alfredo, or Carbonara. Ice cold Pinot Grigio, a…”
“Don’t you ever give up? What part of no don’t you understand?”
“You’ll change your mind tomorrow. I can wait until then to hear you say yes.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” she said, and hung up the phone.
●
The morning dawned chilly and gray, and the east wind still occasionally kicked up gusts of twenty miles an hour. Harry arrived on post, parked his car and walked to the callbox. He glanced over to the supermarket parking lot, and there they were again. This time it was the brown car. Okay assholes, get ready for war.
&
nbsp; He took his first tour of his beat walking eastbound on the north side of Hempstead Avenue. The brown car passed him about five minutes later, and the green car passed him going westbound, five minutes after that. Harry crossed the avenue at the end of his beat and returned westbound on the south side, nodding at the early opening shopkeepers, stopping and chatting a few moments with a couple of them. He stopped into Gino’s luncheonette for coffee, a toasted bagel and a smoke. When he came out, the green sedan was parked facing west on the avenue, a hundred yards away. He picked out the brown sedan parked on the first side street he crossed as he continued west. He reached the callbox on this end of his beat and picked up the phone to make his first ring. It was time for action. “Harry Cassidy, Sarge. I have a situation here.”
“What’s up?”
“I’ve been followed the past couple of days by two sedans, each with two guys in them. It started yesterday, and I’m beginning to become a little concerned.”
“Do they look like cops or Feds?”
“Could be. But if they are, and they’re watching me, they are the worst surveillance I’ve ever seen.”
“Do you have the plate numbers?”
“Yeah, the green sedan is WWX-1789 and the brown one is VAB-7863.”
“Stay by the box and I’ll get them checked out.”
“Thanks.”
Five minutes later the callbox phone rang and he picked up. “Harry, the first one checks to a waste disposal company in the Bronx, and the second to a salvage company in Brooklyn.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. Could these be mob guys?”
“I don’t like it either. How do you want to handle it?”
“Send me two sector cars. We’ll roust them head on and see what the hell is going on.”
“Hold on, let me see who’s in service. Okay, I’ll send Sectors Baker and Charlie on an assist officer, suspicious vehicles, at your location.”
Both radio cars arrived together. Willy Jasper and Jimmy Coppola were in Baker and Tom Woodall and Joe Gomez were in Charlie. All four were seasoned stand-up cops. Harry explained the situation and got in with Jasper and Coppola. They would go after the green sedan with the salt and pepper team in it; Woodall and Gomez would take the brown one. Jimmy Coppola put on the rack lights and nosed the radio car in at an angle in front of the green sedan. They jumped out and Harry went to the driver’s window, motioning the surprised operator to roll the window down. Harry said, “Let me see your license, registration and insurance card.”