Nasty Cutter

by Tim O'Mara

  Mr Avila shook his head. ‘Oh, Tommy. How am I going to explain this to your mother?’ He looked at me and said, ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Now,’ I said. ‘I think you and Tommy need to speak with the school counselor, Ms Stiles.’ Elaine Stiles would surely recommend outside counseling, but there was no need for Tommy to hear that from me. ‘I’ll talk to the youth officers and explain what happened.’

  Mr Avila offered me his hand. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘You’re welcome. Let me call Ms Stiles and make sure she’s available.’ To Tommy, I said, ‘It’s going to be OK.’

  He didn’t look like he believed me. I wasn’t exactly sure I believed myself.

  After the cops and the Avilas left, I remembered I needed to check on Hector Robles. His weekend hadn’t been much better than mine. I found him in the gym, running around with the rest of his class, so I decided not to bother him, as he seemed fine for the moment.

  Me? I needed another cup of coffee and decided to get some fresh air and hit the Spanish restaurant a few doors down. I was barely off school grounds when I heard someone call my name. I turned to see Bobby Taylor. Or was it Billy Taylor? By the confident way he’d called me, the sureness of his steps, and the way his suit fit, I gathered it was the former.

  ‘Bobby,’ I said, not even trying to hide my surprise. ‘What’s up?’

  He ignored my outstretched hand and said, ‘I’ll tell you what’s up.’ He stepped closer to me, making the difference in our sizes more apparent. He held a business card up to my face. It was Allison’s. ‘Your girlfriend ambushed Billy at Marty’s house yesterday and got him to agree to an interview.’

  ‘First of all,’ I said, ‘Allison didn’t “ambush” your brother. We ran into him, and she asked him about telling his story. I agree with you: it was the wrong time and place, and I spoke to her about it.’ I took a breath. ‘Secondly, he didn’t agree to anything. He said he needed to talk to you first. I guess he did.’

  ‘Damn straight he did. He’s done his time, and for the past ten years he’s gotten his life going in the right direction. Why would I want him to risk fucking that up?’

  There was something in Bobby Taylor’s tone that told me he was more concerned about how this would reflect on him than on his brother. After all, Billy worked for Bobby now, and any conversation about how he’d gotten his life back together would have to include his new job. Bobby obviously wouldn’t want his brother’s past to hurt his company’s image. I didn’t say that to Bobby, though.

  ‘So you advised Billy not to talk to Allison, I guess?’

  ‘I advised him of shit. I told him not to talk to any reporters.’ I think he realized he was getting a little too hot and, like any great athlete, he took a moment to cool himself down. A half minute later he spoke again. I took that time to step back a foot or so. He was a little too close for comfort. He now lowered his voice. ‘You know Billy’s a bit slow, Raymond. I assume your girlfriend knows the same?’

  I nodded. ‘She does.’

  ‘Then why would she ask him to do something like this? The least she coulda done was consult with me first, you know. I’m still looking out for the guy.’

  ‘I told her that,’ I said. ‘But he is a grown man, Bobby. You said so yourself: he runs the repairs operations of your business.’

  ‘That’s because that’s what he’s good at,’ he said. ‘Talking to reporters? Hell, talking to anyone he doesn’t know well is hard on him.’

  I had picked up on that the day before but decided to try a compromise. ‘What if you’re there when she speaks with him?’

  He shook his head and gave me a look like he was trying to figure out how many bites it would take to eat my face. Through gritted teeth, he said, ‘I don’t want him talking to her under any conditions, Ray. Is that clear?’

  ‘It’s clear to me,’ I said. ‘Did you call Allison?’

  ‘I was hoping you would do that,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to get too heated with her.’ His tone got a little lighter. ‘Of course, I could also go over her head at the paper. But I don’t think she’d want that, do you?’

  Ah, pulling out the celebrity card. It also occurred to me that he probably spent a lot of ad dollars at Allison’s paper. Must be nice being Bobby Taylor.

  ‘I’ll tell her we spoke,’ I said.

  ‘You can also tell her to leave Billy alone.’

  ‘She’s my girlfriend, Bobby. Not my daughter.’

  ‘Tell her to stay away from Billy.’

  ‘And if she won’t?’

  He took back the few feet I’d put between us. He looked down on me, and I thought I could feel his breath on my forehead. ‘Then we’ll have to talk again, Ray.’

  ‘And what,’ I said. ‘You’ll beat me up, Bobby?’

  He stared at me, shook his head, and then laughed.

  ‘Twenty years ago, I already would have, man,’ he said. ‘Now I got lawyers for shit like that. Make sure your girlfriend knows that.’ He accented that by waving Allison’s card in front of my face.

  He turned to walk away, but I wasn’t done yet.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. He turned around. ‘How’d you know where I worked?’

  ‘I called Bridges to Success,’ he said. ‘I’m on the board, remember.’

  Right. He was leaving me with one more reminder that he was Bobby Taylor and I was a schoolteacher. I went off to go get my coffee.

  EIGHTEEN

  I was outside the building drinking my coffee and still trying to calm down after Bobby Taylor’s surprise visit when the front doors opened and out came Hector Robles and his father. Hector gave me a wave and his father gave me a look that said he was trying to place my face. I decided to make it easy for him.

  ‘Raymond Donne,’ I said as I stepped over to the two of them. ‘We met on Saturday when I swung by your apartment to check on Hector.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ he said and shook my hand. His was the handshake of a guy who hadn’t spent too much time behind a desk. ‘Thanks for that, by the way. I’m not sure I got a chance to say that the other day. I was in a bit of a hurry.’

  ‘Your wife explained it all. How’s the work coming?’

  ‘Slower than I’d like, but I wanna get it right. My dad was a carpenter and he taught me one of the most important rules about woodworking.’

  ‘Measure twice,’ I said. ‘And cut once?’

  He smiled. ‘Your dad teach you that?’

  ‘My dad and my uncle. Neither one was a carpenter, but they loved their little woodworking projects. They each helped the other build backyard decks and a tree house for my sister and me. I got about as far as birdhouses.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re a Jersey boy?’ he asked.

  I pretended to cringe. ‘Long Island. We used to make fun of Jersey.’

  ‘I grew up in Brooklyn,’ he said. ‘We made funna both of you.’

  I laughed. ‘What’s up?’ I asked. ‘You feeling OK, Hector?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I just got an orthodontist appointment. They’re gonna fit me for braces.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Mr Robles said. ‘First we gotta see how much they’re gonna run us, then we’ll see if they’re gonna fit you or not.’

  ‘They’re not covered by insurance?’ I asked.

  ‘Not my wife’s. And I’ve been outta work for a while, so …’

  I remembered my conversation on the driveway yesterday with Marty Junior and his friends. Someone had said at one point it all becomes about the kids. I guessed this was one of those times.

  ‘I’m thinking,’ Hector’s father said, ‘that maybe I can make a deal or something. Maybe this orthodontist needs some carpentry done, and we can come to some kinda arrangement.’

  ‘Woodwork for dental work,’ I said. ‘Pretty good idea.’

  ‘If he goes for it, yeah.’ He pulled out his phone and checked the time. ‘We gotta run, Mr Donne. It was nice meeting you again.’

  ‘Same here.’ We shook hands again. �
�You coming back later, Hector, or will we see you tomorrow?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he said without hesitating. ‘Dad’s gonna take me to lunch after the doctor’s appointment.’ Hector had a big smile on his face. He did need braces, I realized. But the way his eyes lit up when he smiled? No need to fix that.

  ‘Sounds like a good deal. See you tomorrow then.’

  I watched as they headed down the steps and off to their errand. Father and son, doing something as simple as going to the doctor’s, and yet it wasn’t all that simple. The guy’s kid needed braces, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to afford to get them. I don’t remember growing up with issues like that. In his own way, I guess my dad made it look easy. But he never took me to lunch instead of back to school.

  When I got back to my office, I called Allison. She was out in the field trying to find out from a private contracting firm why construction on a city-owned building was already six months behind and a million dollars over budget. She told me she could give me five minutes before her next interview.

  ‘I just had a visit from Bobby Taylor,’ I told her.

  ‘Cool. Looks like you rate. Is he working with other kids from your school?’

  ‘No, and I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.’ I gave her the blow-by-blow description of our conversation.

  ‘Ah, geez,’ she said. ‘Another minor celebrity with lawyers. You don’t know how many times I have to deal with them. They all think they should have their own reality shows.’

  ‘I think most of them do. But he seemed pretty serious about protecting himself and his brother. And I got the strong feeling it was in that order.’

  ‘His brother’s a grown man and can make his own decisions.’

  ‘You got the first part right. I’m not so sure about the second.’

  ‘Well,’ Allison said, ‘that’s why the paper has our own lawyers. It’s not going to matter anyway if Bobby controls Billy’s life the way you say he does.’

  ‘That’s the impression I got, Ally.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll luck out with Melissa and her brother.’

  ‘If you can’t get the perp, get the vic.’

  ‘Are you trying to sound like a cop or can you just not help yourself?’

  ‘Let’s not have that conversation, OK? I’m still at work.’

  ‘Me, too,’ she said.

  The silence that followed was typical of the kind that had preceded most of our recent arguments. The outcome depended on who spoke next and what they said. I went for it.

  ‘Wanna have dinner tonight? Your ‘hood this time.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Let me call you. I got a few more interviews to do with some of the city’s Building Authority people. I never know how long it’s gonna take when I know the interviewee does not want to be interviewed.’

  I almost told her my story about Tommy Avila but figured I’d be better off sitting on it for dinnertime talk.

  ‘I’ll talk to you later, then,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, you will.’

  She ended the call without saying good-bye again. Whatever. At the moment the class period was changing and I liked to be out there and visible when the hallways were filled with kids. ‘Proximity Control’ we called it in the business. Just being a visible presence prevented half the things that could go badly. Maybe Allison had a point; I couldn’t help thinking like a cop sometimes.

  I was halfway through a turkey and Swiss sandwich when my cell phone rang. I was going to ignore it, but it was Edgar. I wondered if he’d gone to work or if he’d actually taken the doctor’s advice from the other night and gotten some rest. That was my first question. His answer surprised me.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I still got a little headache and some nausea, but my vision’s good. I’ve been flicking back and forth between the cable and Marty Stover’s files.’

  ‘You find anything good?’

  ‘There’s a Columbo marathon on.’

  ‘I meant in Marty’s files, Edgar.’

  ‘Oh.’ He thought about that for a bit. ‘Nothing somebody would want badly enough to break into his place or mug me for, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘That’s what I meant.’

  ‘I know you don’t like coincidences, Ray,’ he said. We’ve had that conversation many times. ‘But maybe Marty’s office break-in and me getting mugged have nothing to do with each other.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, not convinced of that yet. Then another thought hit me. ‘Do the files you have go back as far as the Billy Taylor case?’ I knew it was wrong that Edgar had downloaded those files, but since it was already done, what the hell?

  ‘Give me a sec.’ I could hear the sound of him working the keys on the other end. I almost felt guilty asking him to do me a favor. Almost. He had my answer in a flash.

  ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘Looks like these files go back a few years before your …’

  ‘Before my dad died?’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK, Edgar. Do me a favor and make a separate folder for the Taylor files. You can do that, right?’

  ‘And have it printed out in five minutes.’

  ‘I don’t need you to do that, Edgar, but thanks.’ Then another thought struck me. ‘Is it possible for you to make a copy of the Taylor file and send it to my school email?’

  ‘Are you testing me, Ray? My head’s not that bad.’

  I laughed. ‘Never. Sorry. When you get to it, I’d really appreciate it.’

  ‘Consider it on its way, Ray.’ He paused. ‘Hey, that rhymes.’

  ‘You’re a real poet, Edgar.’

  ‘Call me when you get it. I don’t trust the Department of Ed system. It’s a pretty big file so give it a few minutes before you open it. Good-bye, Ray.’

  See? Even Edgar knew to say good-bye when ending a phone call.

  Five minutes later, I checked my email and there was the file I wanted. I called Edgar, said thanks, and told him I’d check on him later. Then I set about to print out the file. I knew it was technically against the rules to use school equipment for personal reasons but I rationalized that with all the lunches I’d missed and overtime I’d put in since becoming a dean, the New York City Department of Education owed me a little something. I also set the printer on double-sided, saving paper on what turned out to be thirty pages. It was a big file. When the printing was done, I used a large paperclip – more school property – to bind the pages together and put the whole thing in my bookbag. I’d read it at home later.

  The rest of the day passed by uneventfully and I was home on my couch with a beer and Marty’s file on the Taylor case by four-thirty. I learned nothing new except the fact that big-time cases can make for boring case files. I went on the Internet and found old news articles about the case. All four major papers had covered the case extensively. Each article I read seemed to match up with what Marty had memorialized on his computer. Not that I expected anything different.

  I shut down my laptop, put the case file back in its envelope, and shut my eyes. If nothing else, I could get in a quick nap before meeting up with Ally on the Lower East Side. Any teacher who tells you they don’t crave afternoon naps, has either more energy than I do or is lying. I set my phone’s alarm to not let me snooze past six-fifteen.

  The excitement never ends.

  NINETEEN

  ‘You get all the interviews you needed?’

  ‘I got three of them,’ Allison said. ‘One guy was on another job across town so I missed him. I’ll try tomorrow.’

  ‘You learn anything useful?’

  She laughed. ‘Depends on your definition of the word. I asked all three why the job was already a million over budget and taking much longer than expected, and all three gave me different answers.’ She took a sip of her vodka and tonic. ‘I love it when I let these guys – although one was a woman – just talk. They practically write the piece for me.’

  I let that sink in as I took a sip of my beer. We were sitting at
2A – a cool little bar on the Lower East Side at the corner of Second Street and Avenue A, hence the name – and I was enjoying a Sixpoint Crisp. They didn’t have any Brooklyn Brewery beers, but Sixpoint was in Brooklyn and a damned good brewery itself. One must make sacrifices when one has to.

  I told Allison about my day, highlighted by the story of Tommy Avila and the lengths he went through to avoid school. She listened carefully and shook her head.

  ‘School phobia?’ she said. ‘That poor kid. How do you deal with that?’

  ‘Therapy, for starters,’ I said. ‘We’ve got a great school counselor – you’ve met Elaine – but he’s going to have get some outside help, too. Not just him but the whole family. I also have to figure out if there’s anything happening at the school that exacerbates the problem.’

  She smiled. ‘I like how you don’t put it all on the family. It really does take a village, huh?’

  I’ve always hated philosophies that could fit on a bumper sticker, not that I was against using them when dealing with kids – and parents – with short attention spans.

  ‘Something like that. I’ve never known him to be bullied or get into any kind of trouble. Not more than most of my other kids anyway.’

  ‘Speaking of your kids …’

  ‘Uh-oh,’ I said and took another sip from my can of beer. ‘I feel another story idea coming on.’

  ‘You’ll like this one, Ray. I promise.’

  I leaned back as an ambulance sped up First Avenue filling the bar with red and white lights. ‘G’head,’ I said. ‘Hit me.’

  ‘It’s about Marty Stover,’ she said. ‘More about Bridges to Success really, but his murder got me thinking.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Since his murder is news, why not capitalize – OK, wrong word.’ She caught herself. Nice. ‘Why not take advantage of the situation and do a feature on his charity?’

  ‘Sounds good so far. How does it involve me?’

  ‘You got that kid involved. What’s his name? Herbert?’

  ‘Hector,’ I said.

  ‘Hector, right. I was thinking I could do a piece on the charity and feature one kid who’s been helped by it. And since you’ve got this student who you hooked up with the charity, I could interview him and shadow him during one of the days he’s doing what he does with Bridges.’