by Tim O'Mara
TWO
Ten minutes later, Allison got out of a taxi right in front of my school. She was wearing her light blue winter jacket I’d bought for her this past Christmas. She had this thing about wearing winter clothes until the second week of April. It was one of her few superstitions. She was born during a rare Midwestern April blizzard and here we were now in early April snow flurries. Which reminded me that I’d have to go birthday shopping in the next few days. I stepped over, we kissed hello, and she went right into journalist mode: holding her phone in one hand and a reporter’s notebook in the other. The phone, I knew from experience, was in Record mode.
‘Tell me everything you know,’ she said.
‘I knew the guy, Allie,’ I reminded her. ‘Take it down a notch, OK?’
She took a breath and kissed me again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just that we’ve been under pressure from Anthony to break as many stories as we can before the traditional press.’ Anthony was the money guy behind the blog/website. She paused. ‘I am sorry. My first question should have been, how are you doing?’
She was learning, too. ‘I’m OK. I was in my office finishing up some paperwork and MoJo called me. He asked if …’
A few minutes later I was through with my story. This was the second time I’d told it to Allison, but now it was official because it was recorded. ‘A real honest-to-God fucking arrow?’
‘Yep.’
‘The cops’re still up there?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. And Royce told me to tell you no reporters are allowed up there. So no photos on this one, Allie.’
She laughed, reached into her bag, and pulled out a cube the size of a small Chinese food take-out box. She opened it and took out what at first looked to me like a children’s toy. As she unfolded it, I realized what it was.
‘When’d you get that?’
When it was completely unfolded she said, ‘Just this week, actually. This is my second time using it.’
‘Royce is not gonna like that.’
‘Too bad for him. The city may own the school. They don’t own the air rights.’
Her ‘toy’ was a video drone. It came with a remote control and was available to the public through those cool tech catalogues you get in the mail three times a week around the holidays. She turned it on with the control box and the drone flew up to the roof of the building. Allison handed me her phone. ‘Hold this,’ she said.
‘Isn’t there a rule about using these around schools?’ I asked.
She ignored that and had already switched the phone to the drone app. We both watched as the camera/drone rose about twenty feet above the school: a good sixty feet in the air. She maneuvered it until it was over the crime scene and then took about a dozen photos. After a minute, she switched it to video mode. The picture was amazing. We saw the roof, MoJo’s pigeon coop, and his body. At one point we saw Royce looking up as if he’d just spotted a UFO.
‘Can you get a close-up of how unhappy he is?’ I asked.
She ignored that and a minute later used the controls to bring her high-tech crime scene trespasser back home to her. We used her phone to review the images the drone had taken. Unbelievable, I thought. As much as I missed being a cop sometimes, I could not imagine being one nowadays when everything I did could be captured for the whole World Wide Web to see.
‘Why do you bother leaving the apartment?’ I asked. ‘You could do your job from home these days.’
‘But then I wouldn’t get to interview insightful people like yourself, Ray.’ She folded her drone back into a cube, put it in her bag, and slipped her notebook into her back pocket. She raised her phone to me. ‘I have to file this. What’re your plans?’
‘The LineUp. I have to break the news to Edgar about MoJo and that’s gonna take a few beers. Maybe more.’
‘Mind if I tag along? I can write and upload this from anywhere. And before you say no, I promise not to ask Edgar anything about Maurice.’
‘OK.’
‘But if he offers …’
‘Don’t push it, Allie.’
‘Too soon to question the detective?’
‘Way too soon.’
I turned to start the ten-minute walk to The LineUp. Allison took my hand and slipped her other one – the one holding her phone and newly acquired crime scene footage – into her pocket.
By the time we got to the bar, Edgar was already in his regular seat. In front of him were his laptop, a half-finished pint of Bass Ale and a small can of tomato juice. The look on his face was hard to read – it always was – but I had the feeling that I was late in breaking the news to him about his friend’s death. Allison and I walked over to him and before sitting down, I said, ‘You OK, Edgar?’
Without taking his eyes off his beer, he said, ‘No. But you already know that, Ray.’ Again, eyes still on the pint glass, he added, ‘Hi, Allison.’
‘Hi, Edgar.’ She gently placed her hand on his shoulder. Besides me, Allison was one of the few people who could touch Edgar without his recoiling. It had taken her a few years to earn that level of trust. ‘I am so sorry about your friend.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I guess. Isn’t that what people say? Thanks?’ He touched his glass. ‘I never understood that. Someone you’re close to dies, someone else says sorry, and you say thanks. For what? And why say sorry? It’s not like it’s your fault. People say dumb things when other people die.’
‘I guess you’re right, Edgar,’ I said. ‘It’s just what we do.’
‘It’s stupid.’
‘I agree. Can we sit with you, or do you want to be left alone?’
‘You can sit with me, Ray,’ he said. ‘You, too, Allison. I just don’t know if I’m gonna talk all that much.’
I pulled out the stool next to him. ‘That’s up to you, man. Talk as little or as much as you like.’ Those were words I’d never said to Edgar during our entire friendship. On most occasions, you could not shut him up.
‘I’m gonna go in the back room and grab a table for a bit, Edgar,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a little more work to do before calling it a day.’
‘OK,’ he said.
‘You want a drink?’ I asked her.
‘When I’m done. Don’t wanna be one of those reporters who drink on the job. It’s so cliché.’
Allison gave me another quick kiss and went to one of the new back tables Mrs McVernon had put in, hoping for a bigger lunch crowd. I slid in next to Edgar, and Mikey came over with a pint of Brooklyn Pilsner for me. I pulled out my credit card and signaled by circling my index finger that everything was on me. He nodded and went off to take care of a trio of young women who’d come in right behind Allison and me.
‘How’d you find out?’ I asked Edgar after taking a sip.
‘Police scanner. They didn’t use his name, but they mentioned the address of the school and a quick description of the vic.’ He caught himself. ‘Of the murder victim. It wasn’t hard to figure out from there.’
‘That sucks, man. I got here as soon as I could. I wanted to be able to tell you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m your friend,’ I said. ‘Bad news is better when it comes from a friend, don’tcha think?’
‘Maybe in your world. Doesn’t matter to me how I hear it. Bad news is bad news. There’s no good way to tell me what happened to MoJo.’
Edgar’s never been officially diagnosed, but it was my professional opinion – as a special education teacher and as one of his only friends – that, if tested, Edgar would show up somewhere on ‘The Spectrum.’ He had all the hallmarks of Asperger’s; most prevalent of these were a high intelligence and a severe lack of social skills. That being said, he’s had my back for some years now, and he’s been a real help when it comes to my needing tech assistance. He’s become one of my accidental best friends.
‘You’re right,’ I agreed.
‘Who caught the case?’ he wanted to know. Edgar knew the names of Brooklyn North’s detectives as well as
he knew players on the Yankees and Mets.
‘Royce.’
‘Good,’ Edgar said. ‘He’s thorough and you’ve worked with him before.’
‘He is good and thorough, but I won’t be working with him, Edgar. I gave him my statement, told him what I knew about MoJo, and that’s it.’
Edgar poured some tomato juice into his Bass. ‘That’s never it with you, Raymond. Even I know that.’
I ignored that. ‘He is, however,’ I said, ‘going to have some questions for you.’
‘About what?’
‘About your relationship with MoJo. Your company, what you’ve been working on. Finances. Stuff like that.’
The way Edgar adjusted himself on his barstool, I could tell that wasn’t sitting well with him. Literally. He was very private about his technological abilities now that he used them for a living. While working with NYC Transit it was just a hobby, and he wouldn’t shut up about the new toys he’d bought and what he could do with them. Now, it was akin to lawyer/client confidentiality. Now that he had real clients, Edgar was pretty tightlipped about what he was involved in.
‘Can you be with me when he asks me the questions?’
‘That’s not standard procedure. But I’ll see what I can do. Royce is a pretty reasonable guy.’ I paused. ‘For a cop.’
That brought a brief smile to Edgar’s face. ‘When is he going to interview me?’
‘I have no idea. You want me to call him and see if I can arrange a time?’
‘Yeah. Thanks.’
‘No problem.’ I pulled out my phone and wondered how many employees of the New York City Department of Education had an NYPD detective’s number programmed into their cell phones. I bet Jessica Fletcher didn’t.
I called Royce and it went straight to voicemail. I said he could call me anytime. Like he needed my permission for that. I turned back to Edgar. ‘Another beer?’
He finished the one in front of him. ‘Thanks. And thanks for calling Royce.’
I signaled to Mikey to bring another two. When he brought them over, I asked him to see if Allison was good. ‘I already asked,’ Mikey said. ‘She told me she was working and she’d come to the bar when she was done.’
‘Sounds like Allie.’
‘She like that at home?’
I took a sip of pilsner. ‘Why don’t you go ask her.’
Truth was, when Allison was working a story, Mardi Gras could be going on and I’d have trouble getting her away from her screen. Now that she was working the website, her focus was doubled; if she didn’t get the story out fast, if it didn’t scoop the other sites and TV and radio, that didn’t increase subscribers or advertisers. She hated the way the journalism business was these days, but considered herself lucky to have a job. And a domestic partner with health insurance.
I looked to the back of the bar and saw her face lit up by the glare from her laptop. Based on the notes I’d seen her take down at the scene – and the images from the drone – I figured she’d be another fifteen to thirty minutes filing the story and editing and uploading the video. By then, we’d both be ready for dinner and, I hoped, a quiet night at home. After today’s events, I needed one.
‘You guys gonna eat here?’ Edgar asked. Like he was reading my mind.
‘We could do that. Wanna eat with us?’
‘Not if it’s like a date or something. I don’t wanna be a third wheel, Ray.’
‘We live together, Edgar,’ I reminded him. ‘We can have a “date” whenever we want. Tonight, we’ll eat with you.’
He poured a little more tomato juice into his Bass. ‘Thanks. I know I don’t usually ask, but I think I need the company right now.’
‘You got it.’ I made a line with my index finger up and down the side of my frosty pint glass. ‘You mind me asking when’s the last time you spoke with MoJo? You guys working on anything right now?’
He thought about that. ‘You sound like Detective Royce. That’s the kinda thing he’s gonna ask, right?’
I smiled. ‘You caught me, Edgar. I just thought I’d sneak in a little prep for your talk with him. Make it a little easier, y’know?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah. Thanks.’
I waited for him to answer. ‘So …’
‘Oh. Yeah. We were doing a job over in Sunnyside. A convenience store right on the other side of the Greenpoint Bridge. They’re having more problems than usual with inventory going missing and the owner wants to know if it’s local kids or his new workers helping themselves to the five-finger employee discount.’
‘So …’
‘So MoJo and I are putting in some hidden cameras to go along with the ones the public sees. Kinda like security on top of security. Have to work nights during the few hours when the place is closed so the employees don’t know about it.’
It didn’t occur to Edgar that he was speaking of Maurice in the present tense. That was going to take a while for him. Edgar was the kind of person who lived mostly in the present. His few excursions into the past and future mostly involved who the Yankees should pick up or get rid of and whatever new technology was coming down the pipeline. I could probably count on one hand the number of times we had had an in-depth conversation about the past outside of criminal matters and baseball.
My phone buzzed. I looked down to see Royce’s number. ‘Hey.’
‘You still at The LineUp?’
I was about to ask him how he knew where I was, but decided against it. ‘I was just about to order dinner.’
‘Edgar with you?’
‘Shouldn’t you know that, Detective?’
I could imagine the look on Royce’s face. ‘Get me a turkey cheeseburger with onion rings. I’ll be there in ten. Your boy in the mood to talk?’
Although I’d never admit it to his face, I liked that Royce had the insight to ask that question. It’s one of the things that made him a good cop. I looked at Edgar and whispered, ‘It’s Royce. You ready to talk?’
Edgar whispered back, ‘Here?’
I nodded, and Edgar nodded back. I went back to Royce. ‘If you do the interview here, I think so, yeah. See ya in ten minutes.’
He broke the connection without saying goodbye. ‘Royce’ll be here in ten minutes. Looks like he’s willing to talk to you over dinner. Less formal than a station interview. You sure you’re cool with that?’
Edgar nodded. ‘Allison gonna join us?’
‘If she’s done submitting – uploading – her story, yeah.’ I took another sip. ‘And we’ll know that when she tells us.’
As if on cue, Allison came up behind us and put her arms around both of our shoulders. ‘Workday’s over,’ she said. ‘Who wants to buy me a beer and some wings? Winner gets to sit next to me.’
We made room for her to sit between the two of us and I said, ‘You got that filed pretty quick. You’re getting good at this online journalist thing.’
‘Now that good equates to quick. I used to only have to worry about getting it ready for the morning paper. But,’ she added, taking her seat at the bar, ‘I scooped everyone else by a few hours. That’s the benefit of being my own editor and field producer. I got quotes, art and video no one else has.’
‘Is it online now?’ Edgar asked.
‘Click away, Edgar. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you when I do my follow-up piece.’
‘After I speak with Detective Royce, OK?’
‘Of course.’ She got up and pointed at my near-empty glass. ‘Get me one of those, some wings, and I gotta pee.’ She pointed at Edgar’s laptop. ‘Now, you read.’
MAN FOUND MURDERED ON ROOFTOP OF BROOKLYN SCHOOL
A Williamsburg, Brooklyn, school aide was found shot to death this afternoon on top of the building in which he worked. The body of the school aide, 35, was discovered by a teacher shortly after 4:30. The police are withholding the identity of the victim until his family have been notified. In a somewhat bizarre twist, the murder weapon was an arrow. Police are unsure of where the arrow shot
originated but are canvassing the neighboring residences and rooftops in search of clues and witnesses.
According to a co-worker – who wished to remain anonymous – the victim was working at the school as part of his community service requirement. The co-worker stated that the victim was recently released from a residential rehabilitation center for drug use and was popular with both teachers and students.
‘He got along with everyone,’ the co-worker said. ‘He liked the kids and they seemed fascinated by his knowledge of hydroponics. Most of our kids have never tasted an organic tomato before, let alone one that was grown on top of a school. That’s why he was up on the roof to begin with. He was covering up his plants because of the snow and cold.’
The victim also kept pigeons on the school rooftop, a hobby apparently unrelated to his official school duties.
CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO AND PHOTOS OF CRIME SCENE
Edgar clicked and for the second time in as many hours, I saw the video and pictures Allison had taken of the crime scene. With the little editing she had done, it looked slickly produced. We went back to reading the article.
‘It’s a damn shame,’ said the co-worker. ‘He was really starting to get his life back together. He was part-owner of a security company and told me he was thinking about working toward a teaching license. He was a good guy. It’s a real loss what happened here.’
The case is being investigated by NYPD Det. James Royce of Brooklyn North, who was unavailable for comment as of this posting. Detective Royce is expected to comment on today’s events soon.
An online search could not determine the last time a New York City resident was killed by an arrow. A Long Island man was shot and killed by an arrow during a neighborhood dispute in 2006. Also, a woman in the Bronx was shot in the stomach in 2009 in an incident the police officially ruled an accidental shooting.
Allison Rogers for NYC Here and Now
It took Edgar about a minute before he spoke. I waited as he processed what he’d just seen and read. I wondered what the chances were that Royce had seen Allison’s post, and if he had, how he felt about starring in her video.
