First Avenue

by Lowen Clausen

  “Maria, move over there a little bit,” he said and gestured to the corner away from the two boys. “Sit down on the floor.”

  She followed his instructions, although it was clear she didn’t understand why she needed to move away from him.

  From the outside door a flashlight beam began searching the room despite the overhead bulbs. Sam held his badge up so that it could be seen from the door. “Police officer inside,” he shouted as loudly as he could. “I have two suspects under control.”

  “That’s him.” It was Henry’s excited voice. “He’s the one told me to call.”

  Sam breathed easier, but he knew there was at least one gun pointed at him. Probably more. He was careful not to make any sudden move. The light found his badge and then his face. Sam turned away from it so that his vision would not be affected.

  “That you, Wright?”

  It was an acknowledgment most welcome, and quickly there were six or seven cops in the room. Two officers handcuffed the boys and dropped them facedown on the floor.

  Sam went over to Maria. He kneeled down and gently touched her face. “How badly are you hurt?” he asked. He looked for signs of injury beyond the cuts and bruises.

  “It’s not so bad,” she said. She didn’t flinch from his hands.

  “I’m sorry about this. I never expected this.”

  “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have come down here.”

  “Tell me what happened,” he said.

  She looked beyond him at other cops who had gathered close around him—too many and too close. Sam stood up and turned away from her.

  “I need a little room. Let’s get those guys out of here,” he said, pointing to the boys on the floor. “Somebody transport them for me and put them in separate holding rooms.”

  His friends in blue began clearing the room. The boys were jerked to their feet and hustled out the door. One officer remained in the doorway. Sam kneeled down again to Maria.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said again.

  “Pierre said he wanted me to clean the basement. He had Bill show me where to go. He said we needed paper cups. After Bill left, those two guys came in. They closed the door. I tried to get away, but I couldn’t. They wanted to know about you.”

  “Me?”

  “They said, ‘What did you tell the cop?’“

  “Did they see us together?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t tell them anything.”

  The girl had held up well, but this was a memory that broke her. She drew up her knees from the concrete floor and covered her face. She began sobbing.

  “It’s okay, Maria,” Sam said. “It’s okay. Take a breath. That’s it. I have to know what happened.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. Strong shoulders. Her face looked like she had put up quite a fight. She tightened the muscles around her mouth and looked up. Tough girl, he thought. Too tough for a girl so young.

  “Did Pierre know anything about this? Did they say anything about Pierre?”

  “He knew.”

  “Did they mention his name? It’s important to remember.”

  “They didn’t say his name, but he knew. He knew.”

  “I know he did, Maria. At some point, we have to prove that.”

  Then he remembered the photographs in his coat pocket. He cleared his throat and slowly drew them out of his coat.

  “You remember that man you told me about in the bookstore with Pierre?”

  She nodded her head.

  “Can you look at these pictures and tell me if you see him?”

  She took the photographs from him. They were all the same size. Markowitz had trimmed off the arrest numbers from three of them. The fourth never had a number.

  Her hands shook as she went through them. She paused a few seconds longer on Jamison’s picture, the third in the batch, but then went to the final picture.

  “He’s not here.”

  “You’re sure?” Sam asked. “He might be a little older now.”

  She went through them again quickly without hesitating. “He’s not here.”

  “Okay. That’s fine.” He took the pictures back. He was relieved that none had been picked.

  “Who were those men?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get you out of here. Can you get up okay?”

  He helped her up. When she was steady on her feet, he held her arm as they walked into the next room. He looked for the friendliest face and picked a young woman officer he didn’t even know. He asked her to take Maria to Harborview Hospital for a checkup. “Stay with her,” he cautioned.

  On their way to the door, Maria stopped and looked back at him.

  “I’ll be seeing you real soon,” Sam said.

  His words almost made her cry. Maybe she wasn’t so tough after all.

  He posted one officer at the basement door to seal it off and took the last two officers with him around the corner to the Donut Shop.

  Surprise, surprise, he thought. The doughnut business had gone to hell. The surly man-boy, Bill, was alone behind the counter.

  “Where’s Pierre?” Sam asked him.

  “He’s not here.”

  “When did he leave?”

  “I been too busy to notice.”

  “I’ll bet you have. Business is closed today. You sit over there until I’m ready to talk to you,” Sam said. He pointed to a table away from the window.

  For a moment Sam thought Bill was going to smart off in his inimitable way and give him an excuse to “place” him in the chair, but instead, he kept his mouth shut and slouched over and down into the designated seat.

  Progress, Sam thought. We’re making progress.

  Chapter 34

  From inside the Donut Shop Sam watched First Avenue go about its business. Few tried to enter the locked front door. Those who did turned away upon seeing the scribbled sign. Although he would have preferred writing “Closed Forever,” it had given him satisfaction to post the notice of temporary disruption.

  He had made certain that Henry disappeared down the street before the wrong people, whoever they were, would take notice of his odd presence. Now with Henry gone, Sam wished he had been clearer with his gratitude. The old man had paid for the shoes in full.

  Markowitz had come, summoned by his call. Together they questioned Bill. It would seem the boy had appeared out of air because he knew nothing about anything. He was master of the surly shrug, and so embedded was it in his personality that Markowitz started calling him that. “Okay, Shrug,” he finally said, “we appreciate all your help. You’re free to go.” Apparently Shrug didn’t understand that phrase because he scowled as though told to stand on his head. “Go,” Markowitz said again for Shrug’s benefit. Shrug went but with obvious reluctance. He would have had the same reaction if he had been told to stay. He posted himself on the corner a few minutes, then disappeared into the air that birthed him.

  Lethargy replaced the adrenaline surge that had rushed through Sam for those few minutes when there was work to do. Markowitz had left to get a search warrant. Sam didn’t feel like waiting for a piece of paper that allowed them to look for what he had already begun to see would not be there. It was the wrong time. There would be nothing about Alberta or the baby, no drugs, and unless they were lucky, nothing that would link Pierre directly to any corrupted piece of the puzzle. When finished, they would have a stack of papers, an assault, two suspects, and a pile of suspicions that they couldn’t prove.

  One suspicion continued to tap on the back door of his mind. He stumbled toward it and opened it cautiously. Maria had been sent to the basement exactly at shift change. By itself it was a coincidence—police routines were not secret—but it wasn’t by itself. It didn’t lead to Lieutenant Jamison, but where did it lead? Where were McDonald and Fisher today?

  Markowitz returned with two copies of a search warrant and took Sam into the kitchen so that the patrol officer watching the door would not hear them. “You have to sign
this,” he said. “It says you had an informant watching this place because Alberta worked here and is now missing. Your informant saw the victim go into the basement followed shortly afterward by these two punks, and when you went to investigate, you found the girl being held there. I left out a little, you see. Nothing about drugs. We’ll wait and see how that goes.

  “We have to leave this warrant here even though Pierre isn’t around. He’s not upstairs, either. The judge won’t let us keep this business closed beyond today—the basement, yes, but not this place. We’re going to search for evidence related to this particular crime. The judge was pretty clear about that. Of course we hope like hell we find something more. Let’s say the judge was more than a little interested in how legitimate this informant might be. He doesn’t want us playing any games about that.”

  “Games,” Sam said, ridiculing the word as he spoke it. “Bastard sitting in his comfortable chair talking about games. Another girl nearly got killed today, and he thinks we’re playing games?”

  “Just sign the paper, and let’s get this over with.”

  “Let me borrow your pen.”

  He burrowed the borrowed pen into the paper and left an unreadable signature.

  Markowitz looked up from his open evidence kit and smiled. “Good, Wright. You show him. Maybe he just wants to make sure we don’t screw this up and get the case thrown out before it goes to trial.”

  Sam did the only thing he could think of doing. He shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated way that made Shrug look like an amateur.

  “I forgot to tell you,” Markowitz said. “The girl wants to see you. Must think you’re some kind of hero. She’s in the station with Officer Winthrop. I’ve got this under control. Why don’t you take her statement and send her home? She’s probably had enough for one day.”

  Sam looked around the room in order to decide how indispensable he was. Finding no evidence of it, he agreed with Markowitz.

  “Good,” Markowitz said. “I already booked your suspects. They weren’t very talkative, but that seems to be a disease around here. But hey, we lucked out. They’re both over eighteen. Got themselves in the big house now.”

  In the station he found Maria and Officer Winthrop in the coffee room sitting in chairs next to each other. Maria was holding a can of soda. Her face was beginning to swell, and she had stitches over her right eye. Winthrop stood when she saw him.

  “The doctor said she’s going to be fine,” Winthrop said. “Nothing broken. Sore and pretty shook up, but she’s going to be just fine.”

  Winthrop gave Maria a gentle pat on the shoulder, and Maria looked up with grateful eyes. That was the reason he had picked Winthrop.

  “Thanks for the help,” he told her. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “I’d better get back on the street then. Good luck to you, Maria. Officer Wright will take good care of you.”

  Sam took Maria into the empty assembly room and had her sit down at a table where there was a typewriter. He rummaged among the piles of papers scattered on the table and found a statement form. He typed the preliminary information and then looked up from the keyboard.

  “I need to write down exactly what happened. Are you okay? Do you need anything before we start?”

  She shook her head.

  In bits and pieces he typed her statement on the blank form. It told when she had begun working at the Donut Shop and what it was like on most days. With Sam’s help she told why she had gone down to the basement and what had happened when she got there.

  “Have you seen those two guys before today?” he asked.

  “I’ve seen the one with the orange cap. He’s been in the Donut Shop. You knew his name.”

  “Yes. Have you seen him talk to Pierre?”

  “Not today. I guess I never have, but they know each other.”

  “And neither of them mentioned Pierre’s name or said something that would tie them together?”

  She shook her head. “You came too fast for them to say anything like that.”

  “I came too slow,” he said. “Way too slow.”

  Tears filled her eyes without warning and dropped like stones from her face. She tried to brush them away with her finger, but she needed more than a finger. Winthrop might know what to do, but he didn’t.

  “It’s okay,” he said, knowing how ridiculous that must sound. It was not okay. There was not one thing that was okay, but he said it again, more feebly than before. “It’s okay now.”

  She nodded as though she agreed with him, but that could only be for his benefit. He sat across from her and waited for her to regain control. Behind her the hallway door swung open, and one of the office crew stuck his head in the door.

  “Hey, Wright. The captain wants to see you as soon as you get a chance.”

  “Okay,” Sam said.

  He looked back to Maria. “I’ll see what he wants and be right back. Do you want me to bring you anything?”

  The girl shook her head. There was nothing he could bring.

  The captain’s office was in a row of offices along the windows above Third Avenue. It was between the lieutenant’s office and the major’s. In thirteen years, he had been in the office only once. A newly promoted captain had invited him in to receive praise for some outstanding arrest that was the same as a hundred others. He wondered if there was another new captain on the Second Watch.

  “You wanted to see me, Captain?” Sam asked from the hallway door. The captain, a big man about fifty with a graying mustache and black-rimmed glasses, looked up from his swivel chair and tossed some papers onto the desk in front of him. He took off his glasses. He was not a new captain.

  “Yes, Officer. Close the door.”

  Sam closed the door.

  “Sit down.”

  He sat down in a straight-back chair across the desk from Captain Russell.

  “You could have gotten yourself killed busting through that door.”

  “I did what I thought I had to do.”

  “And if that boy had a gun?”

  “Then I would have backed out and waited for help.”

  “If he didn’t kill you first.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And the girl.”

  A burning feeling began to rise in Sam’s stomach. The captain’s fleshy face was red as if he were hot himself.

  “She’s not complaining.”

  “So you think that justifies what you did.”

  “Yes.”

  “You exposed my officers to substantial danger. I’m told some drunk called this in. Your shift was over. Explain to me what’s going on here, Officer.”

  “Just doing my job,” Sam said carefully as he felt the tap again at the back of his mind.

  “Is it your job to endanger yourself and my men who had to go in there after you?”

  “They weren’t all men.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Officer Winthrop. She was there, too. Ask her if I should have waited.”

  “I’m not going to ask her anything, but I am going to tell you something.” The captain raised his finger and pointed it at Sam. “I don’t like your attitude, and I don’t like you putting my people in danger. I’ve seen hotshots before, but they don’t go anywhere, and they don’t last. You’d better explain to me what you were doing, or I’m going to see to it that you’re transferred out of here before you get somebody hurt. Now, Officer, what’s going on?”

  Sam knew it was time to shut up and get out of the office. Hotshot, by god.

  “You’re the captain,” he said, ignoring the good advice that had passed through his head seconds before. “Do whatever you want. Nothing surprises me about this chickenshit outfit.”

  For a moment Sam thought the captain would come out of his chair. His back rose and then his neck, but his butt stayed fixed on the cushion. He tilted back away from his desk and from Sam to compose himself and swiveled the chair to look out the window.

  Sam started to
look out the same window, but he didn’t look that far. On the windowsill beside the captain was a book lying open with the pages facing down. On the cover was a black-and-white photograph of an old cannon.

  Big man. Hair slicked back over a bald spot.

  “I’m going to let that remark pass,” the captain said as he turned to face Sam again. His reasoned voice didn’t match his red face or the veins that stuck out in his neck. “I’ll let you finish your report before I make any judgment.”

  Was it possible?

  Sam nodded to the captain. He stood up to leave, although he felt like he had been kicked in the groin. He was able to read the title then. ‘Stillness at Appomattox.’

  “I’ll finish the report,” Sam said. He didn’t trust himself to say more, and this time he took his own advice. He kept his mouth shut and walked out of the office.

  Maria watched him rip the half-completed report out of the typewriter.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered.

  How had it happened? A week ago his biggest obstacles were waves and ships that obstructed his kayak. Now he was on a ride that was out of control. A week ago the captain didn’t know he was alive. Son of a bitch, he thought. I’m alive, all right.

  He checked out a plain car from the property room window and led Maria into the garage. She knew something was wrong but didn’t ask what it was. G deck was nearly empty. Their footsteps echoed off the concrete walls as they walked rapidly down the ramp. He stopped on a lower deck and turned toward her silent bruised face.

  “I’ll explain all this later,” he said.

  Maybe he wouldn’t be able to explain, but he would have to do something. He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the car.

  Chapter 35

  The wind blew into Katherine’s face as she walked from her parked car to Sam’s house. The rain had stopped, but the wind still carried moisture from exploding waves in the Sound. Seagulls raced over her without effort. They held their wings close to their bodies.

  On the telephone his voice had been urgent and worried. She heard cars in the background. He was calling from a pay phone and asked if she could come right away. He would explain when she got there.