by Julie Vail
“Get in.”
He got in and placed both hands on the steering wheel—ten and two. “Johnny, I . . .”
“Drive the fucking car, Alex.”
††††
We parked at the back of the station, and instead of walking inside with Alex, I got into my own car and drove west. I stopped at the end of Washington Blvd., and parked. I walked to the end of Venice pier. Dolphins were crossing not fifty yards in front of me, a whole school of them.
The first dolphin I ever saw was during a vacation one summer in Jones Beach, when I was a kid. They swam close enough to touch, and then they jumped up out of the water like circus performers. I remember how thrilled my father was to see this, more so for me, probably, than himself.
That night I dreamed that the school of dolphins came into the house, pushed my father to his knees, and put three bullets into his head. I woke up screaming, and he was the one who came in. To comfort me.
My entire life was defined for me the moment he took that bullet in his head almost five years later. From that summer in Jones Beach, up until the day he was killed, I had the dream often. If it wasn’t dolphins doing the deed, it was something else. But the dream came to me over and over again.
If he hadn’t walked me to school that day . . .
If he hadn’t taken that day off . . .
I begged him to let me stay home that day. He compromised and took me in late. My mother had protested vehemently.
Angie . . . he’ll be fine. It’s fourth grade, for God’s sake. I’ll speak with Sister Crotch-Rot tomorrow. I could hear my mother’s laughter all the way down the street, where we had gone, to the corner deli. He ordered a caffè e pane for himself, and one for me, with extra milk, and I endured the cheek-pinches from the old lady behind the counter, to be with him.
I should have been there, with him. Maybe they would have killed me instead.
††††
I drove back to the station. I’d been gone for two hours. The pit was empty, so I started gathering together all that we knew on the Jackson Bennett suicide, which was now looking like a murder. I wanted all our ducks in a row for when I could finally get my hands on Kevin Meyers. Someone was going down for the murder of David Crane. We also had Jackson Bennett, and now Rob Chambliss to add to the list.
I was deep into writing when Alex came in and grasped my shoulder. Gonz was on his heels.
Alex sat down in a chair on one side and Gonzo sat on the other.
“Adam Shapiro,” Gonzo began. “We paid this guy a visit. His offices are over in Westwood. Admitted to what happened, said it was an accident. Feels terrible, and so on.” Gonz leaned his elbows on his knees. “He seems harmless, T. Knows Karen’s with someone else now, says he was just giving it another shot. We took a picture.”
“You took a picture?”
“Yeah.” Alex handed me a Polaroid. I looked at it and then raised my eyes to them both. They busted up. It was a picture of two dogs fucking. I don’t know where the hell they could have found the time to take a picture like this but they did. They were both braying now like a couple of donkeys.
“A couple of assholes.” But I had to smile. Only real friends treated you this shitty.
“Where does he work?”
“He’s an architect, owns his own business. He’s got bucks.”
“I knew that. Karen told me.”
“Eh, he’s a jerkoff, T,” Gonz said. “Like I said, he’s harmless, but he’s not stupid. We’ve done enough now. He’s got the dough to waste on lawsuits if we harass him.”
“Did he seem harassed?”
“Not yet. That’s why I’m tellin’ you . . . let it go, now.”
“Here’s the real deal.” Alex handed me a Polaroid of a dark, well built man with jet black hair and an olive complexion.
“Shit.” I continued to stare at the photo.
“Yeah. Good lookin’ guy, John. Sorry,” Alex said, and they both started braying again. “Seriously. Make it be over, now, Johnny. Alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”
Alex tapped me on the shoulder and headed back to his desk. The tap told me all was right again. I’d make it up to him later.
I always did.
TWENTY SIX
It only took a couple of dates with the NYPD Records file clerk to get her to let him go into Archives. Alone. It took him three days, but he finally found it. His father’s file.
Information was changed. Other reports were retyped on newer, whiter paper, the originals nowhere to be found.
Commendations, promotions reports, performance appraisals . . .
all overshadowed by page after page painting his father as a crooked cop.
Went undercover June 1969. Killed January 1972.
He was supposed to act crooked. So he could get next to Vitello.
He took money. And kept it.
They didn’t get him out in time.
The department didn’t get him out.
I hadn’t seen Karen for a couple of days. She’d had a few tough days, and so had I. I was finding it hard to juggle the work and the woman—just like before, when I was married and didn’t know better. Now I did, but it made it no less easy.
I was picking her up for dinner, and I called her on her cell to let her know I was on my way.
“Love, I just have to run into the store. Pick me up on the corner.”
“Alright, baby.” I was preoccupied. Three dead, all by the same hand—maybe. But why? How did things get so out of hand for a guy like Kevin Meyers, whom I deemed too dumb to breathe not much more than a week ago.
I pulled up five minutes later and she got in the car carrying a tiny sack.
“What’s in the bag,” I asked.
“Girl stuff.”
“Huh.”
“Never mind,” she blushed, looking out the window.
I arched a brow. “Pregnancy test?”
“Bite your tongue,” she hissed.
I looked over at her. “Wouldn’t be so bad . . . would it?”
She stared back.
I shrugged. “Would it be the end of the world?”
“You know, sometimes you just plain scare the shit out of me.”
“I’m just saying . . .”
“Well, just stop saying.”
We went to a burger place at the end of Washington and we both ordered beer on tap and a couple of burgers. We talked about our day and then she said, “I have to go to a conference next week in San Francisco. It starts Monday, but maybe we could go for the weekend, and you can fly back late Sunday or something. Actually,” she went on between bites of burger. “What would be even better is if you could just stay with me the entire time. These things are boondoggles, and the conferences only go until about noon then we’re free. It’s only three days. What do you think?” She sipped her beer. “Johnny?”
“Sorry, baby.” I shook my head free of Meyers and Chambliss and Bennett and David Crane for the moment. “I’m up to my ass in this case, babe. I just can’t.”
She took my hand and kissed my fingertips. “You seem preoccupied.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’d love to get away with you for a weekend, though.”
“We will, dolcezza. We will. I promise.”
I paid the bill and waited for her outside the bathroom while she did God knows what. When she came out, I asked.
“What do you do in there for twenty minutes, lady blue?”
“I pee, I primp, I fluff. I check to make sure I’m still presentable. And it’s not twenty minutes. And don’t tell me I’m the first woman you’ve waited outside the loo for.”
“You’re not, and you’re quicker than most. It’s because you have less primping and fluffing to do.”
“Then quit complaining.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I got her seated then went around and started up the car.
“Baby, I’m going to drop you off and go home, huh? I’ve got an early day tomorrow and I
have a couple of calls to make when I get home.”
“Alright,” she said, looking out the window.
“We’ll do the weekend, sweetheart, okay? Just let me get done with this case.”
She turned and smiled. “Okay.” And she squeezed my hand.
I pulled up to the turnabout and noticed the red Audi R8 right away. I couldn’t decide if it was the red color or the yellow bow on top that got my attention first. It was a $125,000 car, the next model up from the one she owned—and he wrecked. She got out and Rocky came over to her and said something. Then she went white. I got out of the car immediately.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Come on. Walk me to the elevator.” She turned and started walking but got no further than the length of my arm because I had a hold of hers.
“What is this?” I asked. Rocky stood a few feet away and when I looked at him, he came over. “Rocky, what’s going on?”
“Uh, well remember that picture you showed us of that guy who was bothering . . .” He stopped when I held up my hand, but she’d heard enough. She turned and looked at me.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Well, he dropped this off for Doctor Gennaro about an hour ago.”
“Son-of-a-bitch.” So, Alex and Gonzo’s visit today did nothing to clue him in on how serious I was that he keep his distance.
“Johnny . . .?” she said, taking my arm. “Forget it, John.” Then she turned to Rocky. “Want a car? It’s yours.” She walked toward the entrance of her building and I followed her. We got inside and the concierge, Billy, was standing behind the desk.
“It was the same guy, detective,” he helpfully pointed out.
“I know, Bill. Thanks.”
She huffed on with a purpose toward the elevators.
“Forget about that right now, Karen. This is it. I’m bringing this guy in.”
“Really? On what charge? Car buying?”
“Here, Dr. Gennaro. He left this.” Billy handed her a card, but I grabbed it first.
“John . . . dammit.” she hissed, grabbing for it. I held it out of her way and I opened it.
I hope this is a suitable replacement.
Sorry.
“Is he fucking kidding me, Karen.” I threw the note to the ground and paced.
She came right up to my face and hissed, “You want a scene right here, or do you want to go upstairs and talk?”
I sighed and took her arm. We got up to her place and as soon as I closed the door behind me, she spun around.
“How the hell do they know about Adam Shapiro . . . what he looks like, even?”
“You know, no one asked you to call Alex and get him involved in this.”
“What in the hell . . . ? Yes, I did get him involved, because you’re behaving so maturely about this. How did the security people get a picture . . .?”
“Alex and Gonz went to see Mr. Shapiro, and they took a picture. He was told to stay the fuck away. Now, you’ll do that restraining order.”
“The hell I will.”
“Then, you know what? I’ll have him at the station tomorrow. I’ll make sure his office is full of people when I go grab his ass and handcuff him.”
“You are not bloody serious. You’re acting like a child.”
“Yeah? I’m acting . . . ? He’s got balls, Karen. Two homicide detectives went to see him today and told him he was lucky you weren’t hurt in that accident. Told him he should have filled out a police report . . . scared him, or so we thought. Clearly, he’s not concerned about that visit at all, because he just bought you a new car, then delivered it himself.”
“You think he just nipped out and bought the car after Alex and Gonz talked to him? He had that car purchased the day after the accident—over a week ago.”
“And this makes me feel better about all of this . . . how?”
“It’s done now . . . over. I’ll call him, have him take the car back . . . he won’t bother me again.”
“Goddamned right he won’t. You’re moving in with me.”
She didn’t move. She just stared, almost as stunned as I was. “Excuse me?”
“You’re coming home with me right now, and you’ll move in with me as soon as you can . . . this weekend.”
“Are you insane?”
“You wanna pack a bag right now, or should I pack one for you?”
“I’ll ask again . . . are you fucking mad, John?”
“No. I’m pissed, and I don’t trust this guy.” I took a breath. “I want you with me.”
She pinched that area between her eyes, the area she always pinched when she was fresh out of patience. “Out, John. Go home.”
“Sorry. I guess you didn’t hear me. I said go pack.”
She turned to me and glared. For almost a minute, not a word was spoken, but the daggers flying out of her eyes and into mine stung like hell. “Sit down,” she finally said. “I’ll pour you a drink.”
I found this to be very good advice, so I did. She poured me two fingers of scotch. I sipped, and it burned as it went down. Also not a good sign.
“Thank you.”
She sat next to me. “Now, I want you to listen to me, John. I want you to really hear me, because I’m not going to say it again.” She paused while I took a larger swallow of my drink. “I am going to call Adam, and I am going to have him come get the car. I am going to tell him as clearly and concisely as I can to stop doing this. But I do not want you or Alex or Gonzo, or any other well-meaning cop, to go see him, or threaten him, or harass him. This does not help me, it only makes it harder for me to handle this.”
“See, this is where you miss the point, Karen. This is no longer your problem. It’s mine now.”
She put her hands over her face. “You are not hearing me. You will NOT see him, speak to him, send him love notes . . . nothing. I mean it. This is my problem, and I will handle it.”
“Move in with me. Come tonight, tomorrow we’ll put this condo up for sale, and you move in with me.”
“You’ve lost all reason, John. Go home. Finish your drink and go home.”
“So, that’s a no?”
“That’s a big no.”
“Why?”
She gave a little laugh. “Because that isn’t what I want, John. And on the heels of this? Please.”
“Okay, then I’ll ask you again in a week, after all this blows over. Will that make it better?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s sounds great, John. Ask me in a week.” She stood. “This is not what I want.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I don’t want to discuss this now. Now is not the time for this discussion.”
“Then let’s get some time on your calendar, Karen. When can we discuss it?”
“Discuss what? Living together? We can get that one out of the way now. I don’t want to live with you.”
“Again . . . why not?” She just stared at me. “I’m not getting married again, Karen. I told you that.”
“Yes, I remember,” she said, her voice soft, calm. The calm before the storm, I was about to learn. “I will not live with you, because I’m not doing that again.”
“Why not? We can be together.”
“Alright, John. We can be together . . . why? Because I’m being harassed and you’re asking me to move in so you can . . . protect me? Or is it because you are mad for me and wish to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Karen, I love you, you know that.”
She sighed. “Oh, boy. You don’t get it, do you?” She stared at me, waiting for a response, I guess. I didn’t give it to her, because I really didn’t know how to respond. “Alright, well, without going into detail about my whole sordid, long, wasted relationship with Mr. Shapiro, I’m saying that I’m simply not doing it again.”
“Are you comparing me to him? Is that what’s you’re doing, Karen?”
“No. Not even close. I’m telling you that I want a family. I may want kids. I’ve wasted enough time ‘living together’,
‘testing the waters’, ‘seeing how it’ll all work out . . . ’ I’m done with it, John.” She paced the living room. “This is not your fault. It’s mine. I knew where you stood on this issue and I became involved anyway.”
“I love you, Karen. Nothing will change that. I want you in my life. I want you next to me when I go to sleep at night, and there when I wake up in the morning. I’m not Shapiro. This is not the same thing. Don’t get hung up on the details, please.”
“Yes, the details. Well, John, I think that, in this case, the details are pretty important. Go home now. I mean it. Out.”
“We aren’t done, and I’m not leaving. Now, come on.” I reached for her and she backed away. “Come on, bella. Let’s talk it through.”
“Why? So we’ll end up with an actual solution? You’ve made yourself clear, John. You’re bent on being the knight in shining armor, and that isn’t what I want, or need, right now.” Now she was getting pissed. I saw the color change in her eyes, and it was always the first sign. “The bottom line here is this: I will not do it your way because I’ve done it before. You will not do it my way because you’ve done it before. What’s there to talk about? You’re not Adam. Great. Well, I’m not Marisol. So, tell me . . . what would you like to talk through . . . exactly?”
“Okay. You’re right. This was not a good time to discuss this. Can we just settle down?”
“Oh, I’m settled. I am settled and I see things very clearly. I wish you would. Now, out.”
“Karen. . . .”
“OUT.”
“This isn’t over.” I stood and went to her. “This is not over, not by a long shot.”
“Honey,” she said, looking me in the eye. “I think it is.”
TWENTY SEVEN
It would begin as a flash, something behind his eyes. Then the blackness would overtake him as the pain increased. Pounding, like nails being driven into his head. And once the pain took hold, he knew that his relief would come cloaked in darkness.