Absolution

by Henry Hack

  “Do you know him?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I guess Charlie and I will find out. At least we weren’t transferred, too.”

  “Not yet. They’ll leave that up to McAuley. If he wants his own sergeants, you two will be history.”

  . . .

  That night the same question that was put to me by Harry Megara, What are you going to do about it? was repeated by Vivian, and my answer was the same. She said, “What about the captain’s test now?”

  “Same answer for the same reasons as before. I’ll go to the Bronx and run the squad. Same pay, but less pressure and a longer commute. Then I’ll decide my future.”

  “Maybe retire and look for a position in the real world?”

  “Maybe, but I’ll give it some time and a lot of thought. In the meantime, we are preparing for our meeting with Howie Stein.”

  “What’s the name of his firm again?”

  “Schroeder, Harwood. That’s how it’s referred to in the industry. The full name is Schroeder, Harwood, Curran, Marino, and Stein.”

  She chuckled and said, “A real equal opportunity employer. Are any of those partners female?”

  “I don’t know, but I doubt it.”

  “How do you think they’ll react to this information?”

  “I have no idea, but I hope they jump on it with all their resources.”

  . . .

  We arrived at the building on Madison Avenue which housed their law offices, six floors worth, the top six floors, of the thirty-two story edifice. Charlie and I took the elevator to the top floor and the receptionist at the desk opposite the elevators gave us a million-dollar smile and said, “Are you the gentlemen here to see Mr. Stein?”

  “We are,” I said.

  “I’ll buzz him.”

  Charlie whispered to me, “Jeez she looks like she stepped out of Vogue magazine.”

  And when we went inside we were greeted by an equally attractive woman who opened Howie’s door, which had a gold nameplate with his name and title engraved on it, and showed us in. Howie jumped up to greet us, and my jaw dropped when I saw him.

  “What’s the matter, Mike? Didn’t recognize me?”

  “Yeah, something like that. You look great, uh –”

  “Prosperous?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. The secretaries here look like Vogue models and you look like you stepped out of GQ.”

  “Yeah, no more rumpled hundred-dollar, off-the-rack suits I used to wear at the DA’s office for me anymore.”

  “What’s that freaking outfit worth?” Charlie asked.

  “H-m-m-m, let me think. The suit was two grand, the shirt a hundred and a half, the tie a hundred, and the shoes five hundred.”

  “Don’t tell me what you paid for your socks, Howie,” I said. “Probably more than my whole outfit.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. You look like a real schleppy Jew. If you had a rumpled raincoat on you’d look like fucking Columbo, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Wasn’t he Italian?”

  “Yeah, his character. The actor who played him, Peter Falk, was one of us.”

  “You know, Howie, I noticed you no longer have grease under your fingernails, like you used to.”

  “Because, Charlie, I no longer have to change my own oil and filter in my driveway anymore. The once a week manicure, by the way, costs more than your whole outfit.”

  We traded a few more insults and then got down to business. Howie eyed the stack of documents and said, “Tell me what this is all about.”

  We did. He listened intently and flipped through the lists occasionally as we spoke. We left nothing out and when I finished talking Howie said, “Your story alone, up to where you discovered who Bishop Manzo was, could make a blockbuster movie. But what he gave you here will blow the roof off St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome.”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  “Doesn’t that bother you being raised in the Catholic faith? Something, by the way, which I never knew before now.”

  “Not one bit. Will you take the case?”

  “Do you know the monetary potential here?”

  “I’m not concerned with that, Howie. I want these bastards exposed and made to pay for their abuses. Either criminally or civilly. Preferably both.”

  We hashed it out some more and Howie said, “Can you two hang around for lunch?”

  “I assume you have an expense account?” Charlie said.

  “Of course I do. This ain’t a civil service job, you know.”

  “How come you don’t have a corner office, though? Mike, maybe we should have brought this to a more prestigious partner.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Usually they hide the Jew in the corner, but not in this case.”

  “You guys enjoy playing Abbott and Costello? There are only four corners on the floor, you jerks. And they are occupied by my four partners who are senior to me and have been here much longer.”

  “Yeah, all right,” Charlie said. “I guess we’ll buy that story. But this better be an expensive lunch.”

  “Oh, it will be,” Howie said, patting the stack of files.

  He picked up the phone and buzzed his secretary. “Madeline,” he said, “I want you to contact all four partners and set up a meeting with me ASAP, preferably this afternoon. It’s important enough for them to shuffle their schedules, and it is important enough to stay beyond five o’clock, regardless of their social schedules.”

  He listened for a few moments and I guessed she was asking what she should tell them was so damn important. He said, “Tell them Jason and the Argonauts paid me a visit and dumped the Golden Fleece on my desk.”

  “That should tweak their interest,” Charlie said.

  “Can you leave this copy with me?” Howie asked.

  “You got it,” I said.

  “Good, let’s have lunch and then you guys can get back to Queens. After we’re able to evaluate this pile, I’ll get back to you with our decision.”

  “I hope it’s positive,” I said.

  Howie smiled and said, “So do I, Mike. Don’t you see the dollar signs flashing in my eyes already?”

  . . .

  We ate, I should say dined, at a private club Howie and his partners belonged to. After we ordered drinks, we let Howie take over and order the food. We noticed he threw in a few words of French while speaking with the waiter. French! From Howie Stein! Whatever we ate, and I couldn’t be specific about the three courses, was delicious, and our plush surroundings added to the experience.

  We left the club a little before two and as we approached our car I said, “I feel guilty. I don’t think I’ll mention this to Vivian.”

  “Yeah, Mike, I agree, but I will mention it to our three compadres when we get back. Get their jealous bones in an uproar.”

  “I’m not saying a word, Charlie, except we’re hoping for a good decision from Howie.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  At ten o’clock the next morning, my last day as CO of Queens Homicide, my phone rang and Howie Stein said, “Mike, can you shoot over here right away?”

  “Have you reached a decision?”

  “Yes, and we need your advice on the process.”

  “You’re going with it?”

  “With all we have. I’ll give you the details when you get here.”

  A half hour later I was ushered into a corner office of the senior managing partner, Frederick Schroeder. Howie was there and introduced me to the others. All were perfectly groomed and expensivel
y dressed, no doubt to impress prospective clients – rich clients. Schroeder spoke first and said, “You have given us a monumental task, and we have decided to take it on. We employ a large number of associates, but will have to hire many more. We will also have to hire dozens of investigators to do the field work, and Mr. Stein has suggested retaining you temporarily to make recommendations for the chief investigator’s position, and maybe three or four supervisory positions. Howie?”

  “After we hire the chief investigator he will hire the rest with your input. I trust your judgment to find us a top man.”

  “How long will that job last?”

  “At least five years,” answered Schroder.

  “Your retainer will be $10, 000,” Howie said. “Is that a sufficient amount?”

  “No, it is not,” I said, and I could see the surprised looks in the eyes of the partners. “I don’t want the $10,000 – I want the job.”

  “But Mike, you’re the CO of Queens Homicide, how –?”

  “Today’s my last day there. I’m being transferred to the Bronx on Monday, no doubt due to my part in this investigation. My guys are throwing me a farewell party tonight.”

  “Mike, go out and have the secretary get you a cup of coffee.”

  “Will do,” I said, getting up and heading for the door.

  Ten minutes later, as I was draining the last drop of coffee from my cup, the office door opened and Howie said, “Come on in.”

  I sat down and Howie said, “You got the position. When can you start?”

  “Monday,” I said. “When I leave here, I’ll go right down to headquarters, file my retirement papers, and go on immediate terminal leave. I’m not going to the Bronx.”

  “I’ll bet your smug bosses will be shocked you’re bailing on them.”

  “Relieved would be more like it,” I said with a grin.

  “Uh, Lieutenant?” Schroeder said. “Aren’t you going to ask about your salary and benefits?”

  “I’m sure you will compensate me fairly. Not that I’m pushing here but this is an important position, and it has to be done correctly with solid, dependable investigators under my control.”

  “We certainly realize that, and Mr. Stein has assured us you are supremely qualified for this task. We propose a starting salary of $150,000 with bonus performance percentages up to 50% of that. Four weeks vacation, a company car, and the executive package of health and retirement benefits. How does that sound?”

  How does that sound? Was he kidding? I swallowed hard and said, “That sounds fine, Mr. Schroeder.”

  “Hey, Mike,” Howie said, passing a piece of paper over to me. “Here’s a check for ten grand that was supposed to be your retainer. Consider it now a signing bonus, and use it to buy some decent fucking clothes, will you?”

  There were a few smiles, and I wondered how these reserved attorneys had adapted to Howie’s salty street language.

  “Oh, Mr. Simon?” Schroeder said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Have my secretary give you a blank company check. Use it to pay for your party tonight. And have a wonderful time.”

  I shook my head and said, “Thank you, Mr. Schroeder, but those detectives can drink a lot of alcohol. Are you sure about this?”

  “I’m certain,” he said. “Enjoy.”

  I then remembered something I had meant to tell Howie yesterday, and in my best Peter Falk interpretation I turned and said, “Oh, gentlemen, one more thing.”

  Howie immediately picked up on it and said, “What is it, Columbo?”

  “The documents I gave you pertained to incidents within the Dioceses of New York and Brooklyn. I have an equal pile containing allegations from Long Island, New Jersey, and several other states. You can contract them out to appropriate law firms in those areas – for a piece of the action, I would think.”

  “Spoken like a true businessman,” Mr. Curran said, the first words spoken by any partner other than Howie and Schroeder.

  “Any other surprises?” Howie asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Good, get outta here. We got some planning to do. Have a blast at your party, but show up here sober on Monday, and in appropriate business attire, I might add. My secretary will tell you where to shop, and you might want to take your wife with you.”

  Several wiseass remarks floated through my mind, but I could see the partners were anxious to get down to the business at hand, so I said, “Thank you for the opportunity, gentlemen. Good afternoon.”

  Twenty minutes later I was downtown at the Pension Bureau offices filling out the necessary paperwork to leave the job via service retirement. No one questioned my decision. No one offered any form of counseling. I was just another number in the vast quantity of numbers they processed every week. I left there at noon and would be officially on terminal leave beginning in ten days, for sixty-three days, based on my twenty-one years of service. I decided to take vacation days until the leave kicked in. As I told Howie, I wasn’t going to the goddamn Bronx, not even for a day.

  . . .

  Vivian worked part-time at the Queensboro Public Library on Tuesdays and Thursdays and volunteered at Jamaica Hospital on Mondays and Wednesdays. Friday was her day off and she would be home cleaning, or out grocery shopping. When she didn’t answer our home phone I dialed her cell and she picked up. “Hi Viv, where are you?”

  “Heading home from the store. Why?”

  “I’ll meet you there for lunch. About one o’clock?”

  “Sure, but you coming home for lunch is a real rarity. What gives?”

  “I have some important news to tell you.”

  “What news?”

  “When I get home,” I said and disconnected the call.

  Vivian had cold cuts and rye bread spread out on the kitchen counter and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted by my nose. I hugged and kissed her on the cheek and went over to the coffee machine. “You want a cup, too?”

  “Yes, now tell me, Michael, what’s your important news?”

  “I’ll tell you in the order it happened with this morning’s telephone call and ending with a job offer.”

  When I finished, she said, “Uh, that’s some job offer, but you already have a job.”

  “Not anymore. I accepted the position and shot downtown to the Pension Bureau and put my papers in.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. I decided I’m not going to the Bronx. I’m going to lead the investigation to bring those miscreants to their judgment. I couldn’t do that if I stayed on the job.”

  “What if the new position doesn’t work out for some reason?”

  “I have seventy-three days to decide if I want to go back on the job, but I don’t see that happening.”

  “Anything else you want to tell me, as if this wasn’t enough?”

  I took the check out of my pocket and showed it to her. She opened her eyes wide and said, “Ten thousand dollars! For what?”

  “You have to take me clothes shopping – tomorrow.”

  . . .

  I was back in the office at 2:30 and asked Harry Megara to get Charlie, John, and Richie to join us. “How did it go over there with Howie?” Charlie asked.

  “Spectacular. What’s new here?”

  “Our new boss called and asked to speak with you, but had to settle for me. This ain’t gonna be good, Mike.”

  “Why?”

  “Before he called, me and Charlie made some calls of our own. This McAuley is a real prick. He made his bones in Internal Affairs and they rewarded him with a detective squa
d. Now, a bigger reward with his transfer here, I presume.”

  “Other than his IAB background, what makes you think he’s a prick?”

  “One of our guys here has a buddy in the 28 Squad and he gave us the lowdown on him. Without going into details, suffice it to say they are going to have their own transfer party – without him.”

  “I’m sorry for all of you that he’s coming here,” I said. “How is the party shaping up?”

  “Good,” Charlie said. “I’m running it. Our usual party joint – The Triangle Hofbrau. A lot of guys have been calling, but I don’t know if you want anyone outside the squad to attend.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like everyone who worked the Mort Stern murder case with us. Catalano and Nitzky from the 106 Squad. And their boss, soon to be Captain Simmons.”

  “And,” Richie said, “the guys from Narcotics – all four of them who assisted on the case.”

  “Get back to them and tell them they’re all welcome. The Triangle can handle that increase easily.”

  “Uh, Boss,” Charlie said. “You know, the host squad has to pick up the tab –”

  “I know, and the more freebie outsiders, the bigger the hit. But this transfer party is special, and cost is no object.” I reached into my pocket and withdrew the check with the law firm’s imprint on it. “You see, I have been given a blank check to fill in at the end of the party with its total cost completely covered.”

  “Where the hell did you steal that?” John asked.

  “Steal? Now, now, Detective Micena, this check was given to me by my new employer. And the reason this transfer party is special is it’s also a retirement party. My retirement party. Fuck the department. I’m not going to the Bronx.”

  I didn’t believe these four men could remain silent as long as they did as they processed the information. Richie spoke first and said, “You pulled the pin? Just like that?”

  “Which were Vivian’s words when I told her a couple of hours ago.”