by John Cutter
“That they are,” Medveded agreed, “but still, you’ve got to have them eating out of your hand. You’re tall, you’ve got good looks—hell, you’re a goddamn war hero!”
“Yeah, well,” Galipoli said, with mock humility.
“They’ve got to be throwing it at you,” Medveded went on. “That type of shit is exactly what women want. It’s what men want, for that matter.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Galipoli snapped suddenly, his expression ugly. “I ain’t into guys.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Medveded backtracked. “I just mean, guys must be jealous of you. Again, something I don’t envy you for. I’m not a jealous type, so other guys’ stuff doesn’t bother me—I know I’ve got things going on for me too. But—”
“Well, why do you think the rest of this shit task force hates me so much?” Galipoli burst out. “They couldn’t shine my shoes, and they know it. Just look at tonight! These assholes think I need to force women to do the things they do with me. It’s bullshit! They all beg me for more.”
It was an obvious opening, but Medveded let it slide. Every bread crumb Galipoli dropped would lead him to the truth eventually.
“Speaking of which,” he said, “where the hell are those guys? I told them I’d stick around until they got back, but I wasn’t planning on being here all night. Do you want anything to eat? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, that’d be good,” Galipoli said. “I could go for a burger.”
“Sounds good to me,” Medveded said. Anything to keep you in the chair, and not asking for an attorney, he thought. He found a menu and put in the call, making sure to get Galipoli whatever he wanted. Some perps talked more easily when they were fed, and Medveded had a feeling Galipoli was one of them.
As they were finishing up, Medveded made his first move toward the king.
“I want to be honest with you about something,” he said, “but I need you to keep it to yourself.”
“Course,” Galipoli said, barely concealing his interest. “What’s up?” Medveded cleared his throat. “I can’t stand that fuck Morrison,” he said quietly.
Galipoli almost choked on his food.
“Come on!” he said loudly, laughing in disbelief. “Don’t bullshit me—”
“Hey, shut the fuck up,” Medveded hissed, glancing at the door again. “I’m not telling you so you can send it around.”
“Sorry, man,” Galipoli said, his smile still wide. “It’s just, I thought you two were tight.”
“Everyone does,” Medveded said. “Especially him. And I’d prefer it to stay that way, if you don’t fucking mind.”
“Sure, sure,” Galipoli said. “Sort of a friends close, enemies closer kind of thing?”
“Exactly,” Medveded said, nodding profoundly. “Exactly. I’m not a stupid man; I have ambitions like anyone else. I’m not planning on sticking around this phony operation forever. You got to play the game, you know? That’s why Morrison’s stuck here—he can’t keep his act down long enough to move on. The way he talks to Chief Arndt—”
“I know what you mean,” Galipoli interrupted, leaping at the bait. “Arndt might be a punk, but he’s up top, and he recognizes a good thing when he sees it.”
“I’ve never really talked to him much; he a good guy to know?”
“Definitely—definitely.” Galipoli looked at Medveded with a sideways smile. “I mean, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
“What do you mean?”
Galipoli laughed. “You don’t think one of these other assholes would have recommended me for a shield, do you? They wouldn’t know good policing if it walked up and kicked their ass for them.”
“No no, I see what you mean,” Medveded said. “Still, you didn’t have to grease the wheels on that? I mean, most guys, that’s how they end up getting it these days,” he added casually, as though bribery were a natural part of the job. “I remember I had to pay a fortune for mine.”
“Oh, I kicked him a little something,” Galipoli sniffed. “That’s just the industry—even the high-ups who recognize talent have to get something out of it for themselves. But it wasn’t much, in the long run. So yeah, he’s a good guy to know. Him and Dave Cook—he’s another guy who keeps his friends close.”
Medveded hadn’t been expecting a reference to the City Councilman, but he was smarter than to let it show. “Cook, out of Brooklyn?” he asked, playing dumb.
“Yeah, District 43 in Bay Ridge,” Galipoli said. “Where I grew up.”
“How’d he help you?”
“Well, honestly, the war hero thing has its perks,” Galipoli smiled. “When I first got on the job, Arndt took me under his wing. He’s kind of looked out for me since then, sort of treated me as his project. Anyway, he had me get involved with all these fundraisers for politicians over the last few years. I never had any money to donate—you know, on a cop’s salary—but I’d go with him a lot, and he introduced me to a lot of people. Most of them are phony fucks, as you’d guess. Real snooty motherfuckers. Once they knew I wasn’t a donor, most of them wouldn’t even talk to me.”
“So why was Cook different?”
“Well, so Chief Arndt takes me to his office one day, last year. He was up for reelection. Real nice guy, for a change. Once he hears I’m from his district, he couldn’t be nicer. Tells me he’d love to have a war hero on his campaign committee, you know, start showing up to events and so forth—”
“What’d he pay you?” Medveded asked bluntly. Galipoli looked surprised. Medveded rolled his eyes. “Come on, man,” he said. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Just haven’t found any opportunities lately. What’d he give you, a couple hundred per appearance?”
Galipoli laughed, his pride getting the better of his discretion once again. “A couple hundred? That’s chump change,” he said. “He gave me a G every time, sometimes more.”
Medveded whistled low, as though impressed. “You weren’t worried about it blowing up on you?”
“Fuck no,” Galipoli said. “It’s what I deserved. Besides, Arndt told me Dave could be trusted. I could put you guys in touch, if you want—it couldn’t hurt to talk to him.”
Medveded feigned interest. “I mean, the extra money must’ve been nice.”
“Damn right it was. Down payment for my car, right there.”
Medveded’s mind raced. Corruption in the department was rare nowadays, but where it did exist, it almost always went up the ladder. He decided to test the extent of Galipoli’s knowledge.
“Even so, I guess your envelopes weren’t as good as Arndt’s,” he said.
“Are you kidding?” Galipoli laughed. “No way. No way. Say you’re a politician, and you’re in a situation—imagine the kind of help the Chief of Detectives can give you.”
“Sure, but—”
“Look at it this way, man. Sometimes Cook would ask me to deliver Arndt’s to him, so one time I opened it up. I wasn’t doing anything with it—just looking. There was ten grand in there. Ten fucking grand. Cash. Tax-free. Think I’d say no to that every couple of months?”
“No, I guess not,” Medveded laughed.
“No is right, my Russian friend,” Galipoli said grandly. “I’d jump at the opportunity.”
Medveded jumped at his, to bring the conversation back around to the homicides.
“Man,” he said. “I’m learning something today. I haven’t had the balls to take that kind of chance in my career.”
“You want the reward, you gotta take the risk,” Galipoli pontificated.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Medveded agreed sheepishly. “But look—women are a different story, right? You have a natural ability there. You got a secret, or what?”
“Like you said, it’s natural.”
“I mean, it must be. I’ve seen Tina staring at you when you were at your desk—”
“Tell that to those motherfuckers!” Galipoli exploded, gesturing towards the door.
“I’m sure she�
�ll tell them herself,” Medveded said calmly. “I mean, it was pretty obvious. She didn’t think anyone saw her, but I did. Girl eyed you like a ham sandwich. I swear, half the time I caught her looking at you, she looked like she was about to start touching herself under the desk.”
This got a rise out of Galipoli. He leaned forward, suddenly interested.
“I knew that bitch was into me,” he hissed under his breath. “It’s the same with all of them. They all act high and mighty when other people are around, but deep down they’re all just bitches in heat. I get them alone, I can’t keep them off of me.”
“Yeah?” Medveded asked, hesitant to commit more in case Galipoli was baiting him.
“Oh yeah,” Galipoli said with a faraway look. No baiting there, Medveded thought. It’s chest-thumping time. “You should have seen Tina tonight,” Galipoli went on. “Little fucking minx.”
“What happened?”
“Well, consummate gentleman that I am, I pick her up from the salon,” Galipoli said, eager to tell his side of the story. “Once she gets in my car, she can’t keep her hands off me. I’d brought a couple of drinks along so we could get started early, so we drank those, and man, that chick was ready to go. She didn’t even want to wait ’til we got to her apartment. She’s got her head on my shoulder, you know, kind of distracting me while I’m driving—I was like, Slow down, honey, but she couldn’t hold herself back. She wanted to blow me right in the car.”
“Unbelievable,” Medveded said, and meant it. “I would never have known that about her.”
“Oh yeah, she was pretty freaky,” Galipoli said. “She wanted me to slap her, so I did; she liked that, man. She wanted more. I told her to wait until we got to her place, and I’d give her what she was asking for.”
It was obvious even from Galipoli’s facial expression that this was simply his fantasy version of what had happened, but Medveded took it for what it was: a way in.
“Most women just reject me,” he said absently, as though changing the subject. “I usually just end up going home to jerk off.”
“That’s bullshit,” Galipoli said, looking almost pityingly at him. “I never let them get away with that kind of crap. A bitch rejects me, she gets what’s coming to her.”
“How do you mean?”
“You know, just—they get their comeuppance, that’s all.”
Medveded saw that he’d have to put a line out. “I mean, I think I know what you mean,” he said, quickly thinking up a story. “I pulled this rich girl over once for driving drunk, back in my patrol days, and—”
“The fucking rich ones are the worst,” Galipoli said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, she was a piece of work. She just seemed so fucking arrogant, you know? I wouldn’t have done anything otherwise, but I knew she needed to learn a lesson, so I made her blow me.”
Galipoli laughed. “That’s good,” he said. “Still small-time, but that’s the idea.”
“Small-time?” Medveded looked offended. “I thought it was pretty goddamn risky at the time.”
“Oh, brother, the shit I could tell you,” Galipoli muttered, half to himself.
“Come on,” Medveded prodded him.
Galipoli scoffed. “It’s not something I ought to be talking about,” he said.
“How much worse could it be than forcing a girl to blow you?” Medveded laughed. “I didn’t mention that she was basically a teenager—some fucking club girl.”
“Yeah, well, I got some stories about those,” Galipoli hinted again, rolling his eyes as he took Medveded’s bait.
“Well—?”
Galipoli leaned in eagerly. “There was this one girl, total freak,” he said. “I met her in a transgender club downtown. Said she was exploring a part for a role as an actress. She was full of shit—just a freak. I asked her if she wanted a real man, and she had the balls to say, Tell me when you see one.”
Medveded chuckled. “Nice. How’d you take that?”
“Oh, fine. I bought her a drink anyway—I’m a good guy. But she refused to drink it. That pissed me off. Bitch wanted freaky, so that’s what she got.” Galipoli hesitated. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, man,” he said.
Medveded knew he was close. It was time to pull out the stops. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he rubbed it against his leg, making just enough noise for Galipoli to hear him.
“Come on, just tell me,” he said.
“Hey, are you—” Galipoli started, his eyes widening.
“Listen, you gotta tell me, man,” Medveded said. “This shit is why I got into the job in the first place. You don’t think the pay’s what gets me, do you? Come on, I need to know this bitch got what was coming to her.”
Galipoli looked shocked. “Are you serious?”
Medveded let out a sigh. “Look, it’s not like I’m going to pass this on, right?” he said. “It’s between us.”
“No one else?”
“No one else.” Medveded raised his right hand. “One cop to another. I swear it.”
He could see Galipoli’s excitement rising. Finally, he had someone who truly understood him, admired him even, with whom he could share his exploits. His voice lowered almost to a whisper.
“All right,” Galipoli said. “So this bitch comes out of the club, and I’m waiting for her. It’s pretty dark, and I walk up behind her; she turns around and doesn’t even remember me from the club. Stupid cunt. I punch her square in the face. She goes down like a sack of potatoes.”
“Incredible,” Medveded said, closing his eyes as though in appreciation of the justice of it. “Bet she didn’t see that coming.”
“Oh, definitely not. And I was going to leave her there, but decided I ought to have a little fun with her first.”
“What’d you do? You fuck her?”
“Man, way worse,” Galipoli bragged. “I picked that bitch up and threw her in my car.”
“How the fuck did you get away with that?”
“I just played the Good Samaritan, the guy who found her lying on the street when she came to. She was real shook up. She told me her address, and eventually told me she lived alone too. The rest was easy.”
Medveded pretended to gloss over this crucial detail, hoping to lock in the location first. “Lived alone, huh?” he asked. “Rich bitch, was she?”
“Yeah, totally. She lived in fucking Gramercy.”
Bingo, Medveded thought. He couldn’t believe Galipoli had copped to it so matter-of-factly. It seemed the guy was really getting carried away. And he was so remorseless about it, too!—Medveded had imagined there’d be at least a little compunction mingled in with these confessions, but so far he hadn’t seen any at all. Galipoli had started to rub himself under the table, none too discreetly, and his breathing had become ragged as he’d begun to inwardly relive the thrill of his crime. It looked like the excitement alone could take him all the way, to say nothing of his braggadocio. Medveded decided to try and make things completely explicit between them.
“Wait, so—this was the girl from Park Avenue South?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yeah,” Galipoli said absently. “And nobody knew. They still don’t. And they couldn’t prove it if they wanted to,” he added, smiling, “so don’t get any ideas.”
Medveded waved the idea away, as though nothing could be more absurd between men like them. “But what about all that stuff the other guys had used—the rope, the tape, all that shit—are you telling me you put all that together?”
“Hardware store on Twenty-Third,” Galipoli grinned. “I went by there the next morning to pick it all up.”
“Weren’t you afraid someone would see you going back to her place?”
“No, I wore a big hoodie when I went back. Besides, quiet building like that? No one even knew I was there.”
Medveded whistled again. “Man, I knew you were smart, but I didn’t know you were brilliant.”
“Man, that was nothing,” Galipoli beamed. “The one on Thirtieth Street—
now that was a work of art.”
Medveded feigned utter amazement. “You did the girl on Thirtieth too?”
Galipoli laughed coyly. “Well, you know, I’m not saying anything incriminating here. Just—you do some things right, you know? Some things just—they just go exactly the way you want them to.”
“How so?”
“Oh, you know—some women, they just want it so bad. They keep begging you to do it harder. I gave that one everything I had.”
“I’ve always suspected they want it that way,” Medveded said.
“They do,” Galipoli said. “They really do. Makes you think sometimes, you know. I’m sure she knew it,” he trailed off absently, as though recalling a fond memory.
“Knew it?”
“Yeah.” Galipoli shook his head contentedly. “Not all of them did, but she knew was going to die.”
Medveded smiled. It was as close to a flat-out admission as he was going to get. This game was over; the rest was icing.
“You said ‘not all of them’—so tell me, Lou,” he said, “in all these good times of yours, were those the only two women you killed?”
Galipoli’s smile came crashing down. His eyes went dark as he glared at Medveded.
“You piece of shit,” he said quietly.
“Hey, no need to get nasty,” Medveded said coolly. “Just a friendly conversation we’re having.”
“And have been having, for hours,” Galipoli said. “You trying to get something out of me, you slick motherfucker?”
“Trying?” Medveded said, his smile fixed.
“I’ll kill you!” Galipoli shrieked suddenly, leaping up, his hands shooting out toward the detective as he spun around the table.
Medveded was quicker. In a blur, his hand emerged from his pocket as he swung his arm up. The blackjack landed home perfectly, connecting solidly with Galipoli’s temple. There was a deep thud as Galipoli went down hard to the ground, followed by the answering crash of the kitchen door swinging open.
Kasak and Marchioni were the first through the door. Galipoli, sluggish but conscious, swung out at them with fists and feet as he struggled to get to his feet. They were the wrong guys to get physical with. The two detectives rained down blow after blow to his body, pummelling his ribs and abdomen until he was forced into submission. Cuffing him once more they dragged him out, kicking and screaming, to the squad room cell.
