Crime Wave

by Adam Carpenter

  “Trust me, we didn’t flaunt anything at the Hill.”

  “I doubt you did here, Rocky, but still, you got beat up for being gay. Guys, they make up their minds, it’s hard to change. In a charged atmosphere like prison, resentments fester, revenge can take time to execute.”

  Rocky blanched, perhaps at the hard truths or perhaps at the harsh words.

  “Give it some thought. I’ll be back another day, okay?”

  “Yeah, Jim, thanks. Really, really appreciate your stopping by.”

  “Take care. Just know, I’m doing what I can.”

  “How can I ever repay you?”

  Jimmy actually thought about that. Money wasn’t what he was after. “When you get out, first thing you do is apologize to Meaghan. You used her to make your family happy, you hid behind her. But honor stands tall. Let’s see if you can be taller.”

  “You got it, Jimmy. Sure, and I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe someday, you’ll feel comfortable being yourself, and you’ll fall in love again.”

  “Hard to be optimistic in a place like this. Right now, Duvan is still my life. When he was transferred to the Hills, it was like destiny had finally shined down upon me.”

  Jimmy paused, bringing the phone back to his ear. “What do you mean, transferred? He was in prison longer than you, right?”

  “Yeah, but he was up at Attica initially. And he used to act out, a lot. He was angry over the ugly turn in his life, said he’d never meant what happened, why was he being forced to suffer at such a brutal place? It was only after three years up there that he was finally sent down to the Hill. He told me that moment he smelled the air at Parsons Hill, he felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders. Like he could taste freedom, just on of the other side of the fence.”

  “Too bad it was short-lived,” Jimmy said. “I’m sorry, Roc.”

  “You and me both.”

  Jimmy hung up the phone on the sidewall, placed his hand on the plastic divider before pulling it away. Rocky did the same. The sweat of their palms remained. Jimmy nodded toward the waiting guard, and at last, he exited the visitor’s room. He and Rocky, they’d known each other a long time, rarely seen eye to eye, each of them going down separate paths, only to be brought to this defining moment. Jimmy had been lucky, he hadn’t struggled so much with his sexuality. It was part of him. It didn’t define him. If he could help Rocky grow comfortable with himself, then his guilt or innocence was immaterial. Being true to yourself was the only way to survive.

  § § §

  Jimmy spent the rainy afternoon updating The Forever Haunt file, taking the clippings from the Daily News and Post about the recent deli murders. A half-empty bottle of Yuengling sat on the floor, a slip of condensation running down the label. He was focused on setting up the new file, reading over the articles again, looking for any details that might have escaped him the first time. He recalled the doubtful words of Detective Roscoe Barone, accusing him basically of grasping at straws. He heard Ralphie’s voice in his head, who, despite his reservations about Jimmy’s mission, never tried to dissuade him. Leaving Joey McSwain’s murder unsolved ate at his former partner, too; it was Ralphie’s biggest regret of his career and was probably one of the reasons he was drinking away his retirement.

  Jimmy set the file down on the floor amidst cut-up newspapers and a pair of scissors. He picked up his beer and took a quick pull of it. It was warm and foamed over his lips. He wiped at the excess beer, then leaned his head back against the sofa and let out a sigh. He felt as though he’d been running a marathon since that call last Friday from his sister, asking him to trail after Rocky. At last he had a moment for himself, and as he took a look around the empty office, he wondered if this was all life had to offer. Sure, he was better off than Rocky Martino, Duvan Akhbar, not to mention Alicia McDonald, lives linked by tragedy. Jimmy took one last sip of his beer, his gaze returning to the thick accordion folder that housed his father’s case. He slid a hand inside one of its compartments, withdrew an eight-by-ten portrait.

  Joseph McSwain, Jr. stared back at him, that devilish grin evident on his face, his caring eyes penetrating from the only place he still existed, in the past, in inflated memories. Oh, sure, Joey could swear up a storm when his temper got the best of him. Until he was quieted by the understanding, loving tone of his wife. If the NYPD commanded his brain, it was Maggie who instructed his heart. Jimmy missed him every day. Whoever it was who took a father from a fourteen-year-old boy, he had to pay for it. And for the first time in years, he felt like he had a shred of a lead, no matter how frayed it might be.

  Jimmy rose from the floor, stretching his body. He grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge, then stood before the air conditioner, enjoying the chill as it hit his bones. The rain was letting up out there, and he wondered if the storm had done anything to relieve the city of its relentless heat. It was nice to not be sweating.

  Yet his mind suddenly flashed an image of his sweaty body, and not just his.

  His eyes fell on the doorframe. Frisano pixeled into view, and Jimmy was pushing him against that door, tearing at his shirt, kissing him, tasting him. He saw them come together in a tight embrace, arms encircling each other, as though the heat swirling around them had melted them into one. How he had excited Jimmy, and just now, he felt that same wash of desire hit him. It had only been an opening gambit in whatever feelings existed between them, and Jimmy wondered how many more months it would take for them to come together again, to kiss and to touch…and maybe to take things to a higher, hotter level.

  He couldn’t believe he was thinking such things. It was one thing to have a quick fling with someone visiting the city, as he’d done with Barry, and then there were other men he’d met. One-nighters, semi-dates that ended in sex, some failed nights out that ended with an empty bed. Jimmy had had only one real love, and it had ended badly, and it took all of his might to not even bring his name to his lips. Mallory and Meaghan had both liked Remy St. Claire, and Maggie, too, was accepting of him. But he’d left town, chasing a dream in France as a fashion designer. He had taken Jimmy’s heart with him, and since then, it had been closed down. Until the day he had met the new police captain of Chelsea’s 10th Precinct.

  Now he couldn’t get Frisano out of his mind.

  Stealing a glance at his iPhone, Jimmy wondered: should he call, or text? Neither of them had established any ground rules. They hadn’t spoken or texted since Frisano had departed that night, duty calling him away to the deli murders case. Not that so much time had passed, but given the intense heat between them, first at the bar, then here behind closed doors, Jimmy was left wanting so much more. It left Jimmy wanting all of him.

  A cop.

  Fuck, he thought.

  Just then his telephone rang, his heart skipping a beat. Could his thoughts have conjured his elusive lover? His body not here, a voice would have to do.

  He dashed over, only to see his mother’s name on the caller ID. His desires deflated.

  “Hey, Ma.”

  “We’re having dinner at six.”

  “Ma, I just got back…”

  “The Martinos—Rosa and Sal both—are joining us. So is Mallory, and apparently she’s bringing…someone.”

  “Oh, that’s news.”

  “Meaghan’s here, too, of course. Jimmy, Rosa wants to know how Rocky is.”

  “I’ll be there, Ma. Give me a half hour.”

  “Oh, and Jimmy, could you pick up some beer, please. For yourself, and for Sal.”

  “Okay, no problem.”

  With new resolve, Jimmy packed up the file known as the Forever Haunt, putting it back inside the black metal cabinet he kept stored in his closet. Closing the drawer, his hand lingered, staring at the cabinet and feeling as though he was figuratively putting his father back in the ground. It was a familiar refrain. Then he left the mess on the floor as is and headed out to the McSwain family home. It was a short walk, only a few blocks and one avenue, and soon Jimmy was walking along Te
nth Avenue, his mind going over the guest list. Since the Martinos were going to be there, was that the reason why Mallory was bringing…someone. He had to assume it was Taylor Hendrix, who was Rocky’s lawyer. Perhaps it was as simple as that.

  Except it wasn’t.

  Jimmy caught sight of his sister standing before the entrance to their building, and she was in the arms of the aforementioned lawyer. They weren’t discussing a case. He was leaning in and planting a hot kiss on her lips, even as raindrops fell. Getting one last kiss in before he met Mamma McSwain. Actually, Jimmy thought the sight was romantic, and fighting jealousy, he cleared his throat as he approached. Mallory quickly broke apart, her face flush.

  “Oh, hey, Jimmy…”

  “Mal. Taylor, nice to see you again.”

  “Hi, Jimmy.”

  “Look, Jim…”

  He held up his hands. “No explanations needed. You’re a grown woman.”

  “Just don’t make a big deal with Mom. This…it’s new still.”

  “Oh, so you still like each other then.”

  Mallory turned to her date. “Ignore him. Jimmy’s just a cynic. Which is another word for single.”

  “Ouch.”

  As the three of them made their way up the five flights of stairs to the apartment, Jimmy started in on the legal jokes, asking Mallory if she’d seen Taylor’s briefs yet. To shut him up, all she had to do was smack him on the arm, a big sister staking her turf. Jimmy laughed it off, his voice echoing up the stairwell to the point the front door opened the moment they arrived, Maggie’s smile widening at the sight of her two oldest children. She embraced them, then shook hands with Taylor as they were introduced. She nodded approvingly at Mallory. Taylor was in a suit, his tie knotted to the neck, his face fresh and smooth. Jimmy was in shorts and a T-shirt and he hadn’t visited a razor in a few days. Maggie still appreciated a well-groomed man. She didn’t always get that in her son.

  Further introductions were made, as Rosa and Sal Martino got up from the sofa. Sal was a grizzled man of sixty-five, a career union guy who’d spent his life welding the world together, even as he wasn’t able to do the same with his family. They had four kids, all but Rocky who had left the neighborhood, and in two cases, the state. Jimmy knew Rosa was envious of Maggie, that she had her three children around her always. Jimmy noted that Rosa still had her husband. In life, it was all about trade-offs.

  “Oh, Mr. Hendrix, thank you for what you’ve done for Rocky,” Rosa said.

  Taylor held up his hand. “Oh, I just did what I could, which wasn’t much. Jimmy’s been a big help.”

  “I don’t know how we can repay you,” she said.

  “Our firm is taking care of the details, Mrs. Martino,” Mallory said. “Pro bono.”

  “Hmmph, Sal Martino doesn’t do handouts.”

  “Shush, Sal,” his wife said. “Or get out your checkbook.”

  Instead, he shook Taylor’s hand. “We’ll talk later about this.”

  Maggie drew them all in to the living room, where Jimmy looked about for Meaghan. He saw no sign of her.

  “Ma, where’s Meaghan?”

  “In her room. She’s not been well today,” she said, and then called her name.

  “I’ll check on her,” Jimmy said.

  “Jimmy, did you pick up the beer, like I asked.”

  Shit, he’d forgotten to pick it up. He’d walked right past the deli, too, distracted by the PDA on display by his sister and her boyfriend-co-worker. “Sorry, I’ll go back out and get it. It’ll only take a couple of minutes. But let me look in on Meaghan.”

  “Oh, that girl is just fine.”

  Still, Jimmy made his way down the hallway, knocking on her door. She didn’t respond, and when Jimmy tried the door, he found it locked. He knocked again, quietly announcing that it was only him. He heard footsteps, then the click of the lock. He entered the room, only to find his sister had crawled back into bed. She looked paler than usual, her flaming red hair doused by the gray day. The room was dark, curtains drawn.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t go out there, not feeling like this. Not with…the Martinos there. Rosa will just stare daggers at me. Sal, too, probably wondering why I couldn’t keep their son straight. Ugh, I could just die right now.”

  “Truth be told, you look pretty close to it.”

  “Gee, Jim, thanks. Kick me when I’m…”

  “When you’re what? Oh shit, Meaghan, are you…?”

  “Shut your face right this minute Jimmy McSwain.”

  Jimmy went to the side of the bed, ran a comforting hand across her arm. “Are you, you know, sure?”

  “I’ve been puking for three days straight.”

  “Did you take a test?”

  “No, I haven’t been able to get to the drug store.”

  “I have to run out and get beer for Sal, I’ll run over to Rite Aid.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that. Let me go with you. I think I could use a bit of fresh air.”

  “Uh, okay, if you’re up for it.”

  Jimmy let his little sister get dressed, standing guard outside her room. She emerged a minute later, a splash of rouge on her cheek. She looked a little better. As they crossed the length of the apartment, they explained they would be back soon, Jimmy asking if Sal Martino had any preferences in brew.

  “Not that fancy shit,” he said.

  “Sal, language!”

  “Sorry, Maggie.”

  As rough-and-tumble as Sal Martino was, he easily backed down when scolded by his wife, and now by Maggie. Maybe he had issues with women. But he was still a bully, and a weak-minded one. Jimmy felt bad for Rocky. Though it did not excuse what he’d become, you had to look toward the family life for clues. You didn’t have to be a detective to realize that. Jimmy was glad to have the supportive family he did, which is why he was always glad to reciprocate. With Meaghan’s arm in his, he guided her down the long sets of stairs, and at last, they were outside. The rain had cleared out and the sun over the river; it blazed a deep orange.

  “How you doing, kiddo?”

  “It’s good to be outside. Ma, you think she suspects?”

  “No one ever accused Maggie McSwain of growing moss.”

  “You’re so weird, Jimmy.”

  The corner deli was closer to the apartment than the drug store. Meaghan said she thought they might have the tests there. Jimmy had no idea, so he just went with her suggestion. They entered the store, a bell jangling above their heads announcing their arrival. The man behind the counter, gray-haired, in his sixties, and rotund, smiled at them, greeting Jimmy by name.

  “How are you, Ronin?”

  “All good, Jimmy. Business good.”

  “Good, stay safe.”

  Jimmy went back to the coolers along the far wall, Meaghan going for the toiletries area. He stood before the glass doors, looking at the selection. Lots of craft beers, but they also had Bud, Coors, Miller, and he reached inside to grab a six of Coors. It would do in a pinch. As he turned, he heard the jangle of the bell again. Then he heard a commotion at the front counter. His instincts shifted to high-alert, his body dropping hard to the floor. He set the beer down, snuck around to where Meaghan was. He indicated for her to be quiet, and to get down. Fear washed over her face, or perhaps that was the nausea. No matter, he just wanted her out of sight.

  “Give it up, old man. Fork it over.”

  Jimmy couldn’t believe it. It was only six-thirty in the evening, a high-traffic time of day. And yet a criminal was brazen enough to just walk in and attempt to rob the deli. Was this just some kid from the neighborhood needing some fast cash for drugs, or could he be the crazed man responsible for the string of robberies that had plagued the city this summer? Was it the killer of the two other deli owners? Was this, at last, Joey McSwain’s murderer come to light, finally returning to the scene of the crime?

  Jimmy’s heart pumped like a transplant. Strong, filled with life.

&n
bsp; “Just take everything, all you want…just don’t…”

  The blast of a gunshot shattered the small store. Meaghan screamed, just as Jimmy stood up. He saw the gunman turn and fire his way. He ducked, heard the bullets impact against glass. He turned quickly, saw a glass bottle of tomato juice draining, the liquid not unlike blood. Jimmy ducked down again, trying to outsmart the shooter, all while trying to store information on what the guy looked like. He’d gotten a momentary glance. Was he still gunning for Jimmy, or had he got what he came for and left? Had he shot Ronin?

  Jimmy looked around, grabbed at a can of soup on a nearby shelf. He tossed it across the deli, away from him. He heard a sound again, another blast of the gun. That’s when he sprung to action, his body leaping forward. He saw the gunman by the front door, busy stuffing a wad of cash into his pocket. Jimmy smacked up against him, and the two of them went crashing through the doors, sprawling out onto the sidewalk. Jimmy felt the impact against the cement, heard the man beneath him grunt. With his free hand, he smashed his fist down into the man’s face. He heard the man’s nose go splat. A rush of blood came next.

  But then Jimmy felt a hard knock to the side of his head. It clanged. It hurt.

  Shit, he’d been smacked by the gun. Better than being shot.

  Memories of the past filled his brain, distracting him. He was fourteen again, yet he was also the living embodiment of his father. The two had become one in this unreal moment. Father and son, at last locked in battle against a common enemy. A man with a thirst for blood and a history of violence.

  Jimmy felt frozen suddenly, unable to move, thus giving the shooter a chance to get up. Jimmy blinked, bringing himself back to the present. He looked up, just as he felt a kick to his back. His breath left him. He reached out, grabbed for the guy’s leg, but he yanked it hard in an effort to break free. Jimmy heard a clatter nearby on the street, a commotion of people around them. And then, as fast as the incident had begun, it was over. The gunman was nowhere to be seen. Jimmy was helped to his feet as someone screamed to call 911. Ronin had raced out of his store, breathing heavily, Jimmy seeing that he was unhurt. Meaghan followed after him.