by G. K. Parks
Mission accomplished, I internally cheered as I returned to the main thoroughfare to find another cab. As I passed, there were a few fresh-faced uniforms coming out of the precinct. Two of them chatted happily, paying me no heed. Incompetence and obliviousness were my allies at the moment.
Rounding the corner, I practically collided with a beat cop who was returning from his tour. He initially smiled, and I swore for not ducking my head a millisecond sooner. I took three steps past him before he called out, “Excuse me.” Parker, keep walking. My pace remained unchanged, but he was still calling to me and approaching quickly. My two choices were run or see what he wanted.
“Yes?” I played dumb, focusing on the ground and refusing to fully turn around.
“Hold on a second.” His voice was uncertain, and I knew I had been made. “Turn around slowly and take your hands out of your pockets.”
“Really, I don’t have time for this.” Continuing to walk away, he put his hand on my shoulder to halt my procession, and I spun around and delivered an elbow to his jaw. He dropped to a knee in surprise and pain, and I slid over the hood of a parked car and darted across the street.
Genius, my sarcastic internal voice mocked as I ran down an alleyway. In the distance, the sounds of radio chatter polluted the air as the cop called for back-up. All of this over a damn meeting with O’Connell. What the fuck was I thinking? This close to a stationhouse meant a swarm of officers would be on me in a matter of minutes. I needed to get off the street, which meant there was only one way to go. Up.
As my rubber soles screeched to a stop next to a fire escape, I didn’t even have time to process the rationale as I jumped up and tugged the ladder down. I climbed flight after flight, all the way to the roof. The original beat cop was two levels below and gaining quickly. Despite my fear of heights, I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran full speed off the roof and jumped to the next rooftop, landing hard and rolling. Movies always make this seem exciting, but in real life, it was a goddamn miracle I didn’t turn kamikaze or break my ankle.
Thankfully, the door leading to the inside was unlocked, and I shut it before the cop emerged onto the roof of the first building. The building I had so tactfully entered appeared to be an insurance firm, and I received many awkward looks as I made my way down the stairs. Running down flight after flight, I couldn’t help but think the elevator might have been a better idea. Finally, I made it to the ground floor and slowly opened the door to the lobby. The police hadn’t penetrated the building yet, so there was a chance I could still slip by.
Taking off my jacket, I twisted my hair tightly and secured it in place with a pen from a nearby desk. There was a pair of sunglasses on another desk, and I slid them on before heading out the door. My disguise wasn’t much, but it might be enough to throw off some confused rookies. I strutted down the street as a dozen police officers surrounded the building I had ascended. A block away, I got into another cab and gave the driver Mark’s home address.
* * *
As we pulled into Mark’s neighborhood, I began scanning for surveillance vans. Nothing looked suspicious or particularly nondescript. There was also no reason to think the authorities would consider me a threat to Mark or dumb enough to go to his house, so this was already a better plan than leaving a note for O’Connell. Getting out, I paid the driver and walked around to the fence at the end of the row of townhouses. Once the gate was unlatched, I went behind the connected buildings and counted four across before stopping at Mark’s back door.
Even though he was a federal agent and knew crime intimately, he still kept a spare key underneath the ugly frog statue in his backyard. I picked up the key and opened the door. Mark’s car wasn’t parked out front, and I didn’t believe he was home. However, it was a better idea to be safe than sorry, and I announced my presence as I entered. After getting no response or hearing any other sounds, I opened the fridge and made myself a sandwich.
I was famished, and I didn’t know where or when my next meal would be. As I chowed down on a turkey sandwich and a glass of orange juice, I grabbed a sheet of paper and outlined everything I knew. There wasn’t much. Everything relating to Infinity was in my office, and the LEOs had probably cleared all of it out. Police corruption was investigated by internal affairs and the FBI. Since Mark was an OIO agent, Director Kendall probably kicked him over to the Bureau to help investigate. His long history with O’Connell’s superior, Lt. Moretti, and the brief cooperative ventures they had in the past made Jablonsky and O’Connell the perfect pair and would explain why they had both approached me about working another case.
Making another sandwich, I tried to pinpoint who in the police force might have an axe to grind. The problem was the crooked cop could be anyone. The way he acted made it seem like he didn’t know anyone else was in the club besides Sam. Then again, something was wrong with Ernie since the ambulance rushed him away. Did a cop come for Ernie too? Or did his mafia partners get pissed because he brought the fuzz into their establishment and emptied out the safe the night before? Did Ernie deposit the money like I told him? Too many questions and not enough answers. I sat back in the chair, instantly regretting it.
Checking the time, I went to the bathroom to see how well I was or wasn’t healing. All the physical exertion wasn’t letting the wound close. It was red, tender, and warm to the touch. So much for avoiding infection. I found some rubbing alcohol and cleaned and redressed my injury. Mark’s hospitality was not going to go unappreciated. Any resources he had would be exploited, and whenever this was all over, I’d send him a nice fruit basket to express my gratitude.
Back in the kitchen, I left a few notes on Ernie – the emptied safe, some shady silent partners, his speculation on the new staff. Then I wrote everything I knew about the shooter. My description only described him from the chest down, and I wished I had gotten a better look at his badge. Closing my eyes, I tried to sketch what I had seen. When I opened my eyes, it was a detective’s shield. At least that would narrow matters. He wore a pale grey t-shirt underneath a blue windbreaker with the shield hanging from a chain around his neck. He fired one shot into Sam Harrigan and another into me. The son of a bitch was two for two. I fired twice, missing both times. After finishing my very brief incident report, I scribbled a quick thank you for the sandwiches and headed to the door.
Just as I was exiting through the back, Mark came in the front. His weapon was out, and I ran for the picnic area and ancient playground the neighborhood provided. As soon as Mark realized it was me, he holstered his gun, and we watched each other uneasily. I took a seat at a picnic table far enough away to outrun him if he wanted to pursue but close enough so we could still easily see one another. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out one of the two unused burner phones and dialed Mark’s home number.
“Making yourself comfortable?” he asked.
“Thanks for the sandwiches. I wanted to make sure you had some more information. Did you get anything back on the ballistics yet?”
“Mi casa es su casa.” He picked up the notepad and skimmed the pages. “The bullet you delivered didn’t match your gun. It’s from a Glock, probably police issued. But right now, we’ve got nothing to compare it to. Our team pulled two slugs out of the wall, and the striations were a match to your nine millimeter. Didn’t I train you to be a better shot?”
“What about the one that went into Harrigan?” I shut my eyes briefly, before locking eyes with Mark.
“Do you want to come in?” I wasn’t sure if the invitation was to his house or to turn myself in, so I shook my head. “The son of a bitch removed his bullet from the vic.”
“What about the autopsy? Maybe they could take a mold or something.”
“Alex, Harrigan’s not dead. He’s in critical condition and under protection by the U.S. Marshal Service.” I pressed my lips together and said a silent prayer of thanks to any deity who might be listening. “The problem is proving you didn’t shoot him.”
“I didn’t
shoot him.”
“I know. Evidence doesn’t say you did. It just says you hit a few wild shots into the wall. If he wakes up, maybe he can tell us who did. In the meantime,” he flipped through the pages again, “Papadakis was found this afternoon bludgeoned in his own bed. Apparently, some woman was snooping around, and it set off red flags, causing the doorman to call up to his apartment. The management heard Papadakis calling for help and phoned an ambulance.”
“Any leads? Or do you want to pin this on me too?”
“It’s being investigated.” He slumped further in the chair as we stared at each other through the screen door. “Parker, none of this looks good. Your office was full of information on the best way to conduct a heist. Infinity’s safe was empty when we got there, and the bartender was shot. You were the only other person there, at least according to the corrupt shithead. We won’t be able to substantiate any of your claims until we track down this fucking dirtbag. Right now, all of the arrows are pointing to you.”
“Once again, this is exactly why I can’t turn myself in.” I got up from the bench, ready to walk away.
“With any luck, Papadakis will be able to shed some light on the matter once he’s out of intensive care, and when Harrigan wakes up, we’ll see if he can’t clear you completely. In the meantime, stay away from the precinct unless you have a death wish.”
“Don’t worry. I’m staying away from everyone if you catch my drift.” I was talking about Martin. “Mark, you once asked me to protect him because you couldn’t. Now I’m asking you to protect him because I can’t. He doesn’t need to get caught up in this. Our communication has been severed. He’s not a go-between.” He nodded in understanding.
“Are you okay? You were shot for god’s sake.”
“I’ll be better once I can stop running. Here’s my phone. You’re probably going to want to call this in and run a trace, so I’ll just leave you the damn thing.” Placing the phone on the table, I walked away.
* * *
Back in my unpaid motel room, everything was left undisturbed. Eventually, I would have to escape my safe haven because staying in one place too long would somehow lead to capture. If Nick got my message, we would be meeting in the morning to exchange information. There was a good chance he would bring me in, but I had to risk it. My discussion with Mark had left some important questions, and since O’Connell was a cop, he’d have a better idea of who was dirty. His commentary on having no friends in burglary replayed through my mind, and I wondered if Hoskins might have some idea who on his team might be crooked.
My head was pounding, and I tried desperately to stay warm as I burrowed under the blankets. Maybe some sleep would help matters. Waiting was the only thing I could do without having any real leads or means of investigating. An hour later, I pulled the blankets tightly around me before getting up to search for the acetaminophen. Popping two, I finally fell into an uneasy sleep as dreams of being arrested and murdered in a prison cell played through my unconscious mind.
When I awoke, I felt slightly better. I prepared for my meet with O’Connell as I watched the morning news for any stories on Papadakis, the shooting, or me. Still, nothing was mentioned. Dressing in layers, I put Martin’s sweatshirt on over my tank top and button-up blouse. I was constantly freezing and suspected I might be feverish. Maybe it was from spending the day out in the rain and not from some infection that would turn gangrenous and eventually kill me. It brightened my day to think O’Connell could arrest me or sell me out, and at least then I would die from a crooked cop’s bullet, instead of necrotic flesh.
I arrived at the diner and took a seat in the back corner next to the emergency exit. I wasn’t above running out the door. Ten minutes later, O’Connell showed up alone in civilian dress and sunglasses. He scanned the room and slowly removed his aviators.
“Are you trying to get me fired?”
“If it’ll make you feel any better, you can consider me your CI,” I offered.
“Dammit, Parker. I should arrest you right here,” he hissed. “The radio calls yesterday at the station were ridiculous. Have you lost your fucking mind? You could have gotten killed.”
“Ah, Nick, you’re worth it.”
“Cut the crap. I can’t be seen with you. So what the hell is going on?”
“Everyone who can vouch for why I was at the club is getting attacked. I gave all my information and the dirtbag’s bullet to Mark, but I’m not coming in from the cold until I know I’m not getting pinched for this.” The waitress approached the table and refilled my mug with hot water and handed me another tea bag. “Do you think it might be someone in burglary? I’m guessing the same guy who hit the four clubs was one of the burglary guys, and that’s why it looked like an inside job each time.”
“You’re quick.” His eyes continued to sweep the room. “We’ve narrowed it down to a particular division, but we don’t have enough to get a search warrant. It’s all too circumstantial right now. Are you sure you don’t remember anything else about the shooter?”
“I only saw him from the chest down, reflected in the goddamn mirror.” I lifted my mug and held it close, hoping to absorb the remaining heat from the ceramic. “Any word on Ernie Papadakis or Sam Harrigan?”
“Last I heard, Papadakis knows nothing. He left before the shooting, but he said he hired you to protect the place. It at least adds corroboration to your story.”
“What else am I going to have to do to clear my name?”
“You need to surrender and tell your side of things. It might be enough to get a warrant.”
“When Harrigan wakes up and points the finger at a crooked cop, I’ll see you at the precinct with a set of matching bracelets. Until then, I can’t risk more evidence being fabricated or lost in the shuffle. I trust you and the guys in major crimes, but I need assurances.” Dropping a ten on the table, I went out the emergency exit and through the alleyway before I came out on the other side and caught another cab.
Ten
The rest of the morning and afternoon I spent talking to Infinity’s wait-staff. Sneaking in and out of buildings was rapidly becoming my new hobby. After managing to exchange a few brief words with Mary, Brian, and Tina, I was questioning my own recollection of Saturday night. Things had been busy, but no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary. It was just another insane shift.
Deciding to give it one more shot, I did some digging and traced Gretchen’s whereabouts to the park where she was pushing her charge on some swings. Approaching her slowly, I sat down on a nearby bench and surveyed the area. There were a few mothers chasing after their toddlers and several other nannies and babysitters hanging around. A sole father rocked a stroller back and forth while yelling at his son to put something down. Thank goodness I wasn’t the maternal type or else this could be my future, assuming I had a future.
Gretchen left the child on the swing and turned to find me sitting on the bench. She looked shocked, and I suspected she would call the police. Those were the instructions everyone had been given in case they encountered me, but I doubted anyone else was going to get involved. Common sense dictated the best approach was to do nothing and hope the problem went away. No one wanted to get dragged into drama that wasn’t their own.
“You got a minute?” I asked.
“I shouldn’t be talking to you. You shot Sam.”
“I didn’t shoot Sam,” I replied testily. “But I’m trying to find out who did. What happened Saturday night? Did you see or hear anything suspicious? Maybe some cops loitering around? Maybe someone was outside when you and the rest of the gang left for the night?”
She looked thoughtful. “Ja, there was a police car on the corner. You must be one crazy bitch to shoot someone with a policeman right there.” If she honestly believed I was a crazy bitch, she shouldn’t call me out on it, or I might have to shoot her too. “I have to leave. Don’t follow me, or I will call the police.”
“Gretchen,” I called as she grabbed the child’s arm and
dragged him down the slide, “did you notice the number on the car?” She didn’t respond; instead, she took out her phone as she fled the scene. That was my cue to make an escape.
Walking out the park’s western exit, I was considering going back into hiding and hoping something would surface when a limousine pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down a few inches, and a man looked out. Something about the car and his appearance didn’t bode well.
“Ms. Parker, you need a ride?” I ignored him and continued walking. This guy knew who I was, and that couldn’t be good. The limo continued to roll along beside me. “Did it sound like a question? Let me rephrase. You need a ride. Carmine, assist her in getting in the car.” Before I could react, the front passenger’s side door opened, and a large man in an expensive suit and very large gun exited the vehicle and stood with his hands folded in front of him.
“I guess I could use a ride after all.” There was no way out of this. The large man opened the rear door and waited for me to get inside. Quickly sizing him up, I ran through some possible strategies and decided to get in the limo. Once I was seated, the door closed, and I was face to face with one of the city’s infamous organized crime bosses.
“Welcome.” He gave me a joyless smile. “Do you know who I am?”
“Let’s pretend I don’t.”
“Excellent.” The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. “You can call me Vito. Care for a drink?” There was a well-stocked fridge in the back of the limo, but I wasn’t taking anything from a gangster.
“No thanks, Vito.” He shrugged and leaned back in the seat.
“Looks like you were helping out a mutual acquaintance of ours, Ernesto Papadakis. We appreciate the care you took to ensure the safety of our,” he paused and scratched his chin, “business capital.”
“I’m glad someone appreciates me.”
