Hot in the City

by Jules Court

  She let him continue to lead her up the shag carpet-covered stairs to the second door on the left. He pushed it open.

  She walked through and he released her hand. His instantly felt empty.

  She sat down on one of the twin beds. “You shared a room with Will?”

  “It was a nightmare. He’s a fucking slob.”

  “So am I.”

  “But you’re cuter.”

  She looked away, but not before he saw the corners of her mouth turn up. He wanted to give her more reasons to smile. Something told him she didn’t have enough laughter in her life. Maybe if she wasn’t worrying about her cousin all the time...

  “Some people you can’t save,” he said. “They’ll just suck you under.”

  “You don’t know anything about Sara.”

  “I’ve seen her sheet. I know enough.”

  “People are more than their mistakes.”

  “I see it all the time. Some people are just takers. You can give and give. You can bail her out, get her into treatment programs, threaten tough love, but she’ll just keep breaking your heart. People don’t change. I’m not trying to be a dick.”

  “It must come naturally,” she said. “I can’t let Sara face this alone. I owe her too much.”

  “What do you owe her?”

  There was a story there. From the tightening of her lips, he wasn’t about to get it out of her. Not yet. But it reminded him that he still had a job to do. He pulled out his cell.

  Danny picked up on the first ring. “All my leads dried up. How are you doing finding Sara Murphy?”

  “Working on it. I’m still with her cousin.”

  Danny deployed his weaponized silence.

  Brian bit his tongue to stop from stammering out excuses. “We’re going by her apartment again shortly. I’ll let you know if we find her.”

  Danny disconnected without a word.

  He returned his attention to Priya. “Time to make our excuses.”

  Chapter Seven

  Brian didn’t find Sara at the 1773 Coffee Shop, the Burren Pub, the Frog Pond in the Commons, or any of the other spots Priya directed him to. Nor was she at her friend Beth’s, her friend Brigit’s, or her scummy boyfriend Mark Sullivan’s place. In fact, Mark Sullivan wasn’t anywhere to found either. And, as the afternoon wore on, Brian was growing more and more frustrated and irritable in the sweltering heat.

  It didn’t help that Priya had stopped talking to him. If he asked her a question, she answered, but outside of that she simply seemed to have retreated into her own thoughts. Even her body language was closed. She sat in the passenger seat of his car, arms folded across her body, head turned away to stare out the window. It stung to have been so easily dismissed, especially when she was occupying way too much real estate in his head. Still, he allowed the silence to lie heavy between them. He didn’t have the energy to crack a joke or even pick a fight at the moment.

  In a Hail Mary, he flipped a U-turn in order to cruise by Sara’s apartment again. It was probably the last place she’d be, but he was desperate. As expected, Sara wasn’t there.

  But someone else he wanted to talk to was. Mark Sullivan was posted up outside Sara’s apartment when Brian pulled up to the curb. Sully was sporting a Celtics tank top that showed off his skinny biceps. Who the hell gave a fuck about the Celtics anymore?

  “He smells like body spray and Jägermeister, doesn’t he?”

  She watched Sully with a frown. “I wouldn’t know. The only time I met him, I avoided standing too close.”

  “Wait here.” He got out of the car before she could protest.

  It was possible Sully was only looking for his girlfriend, but Brian’s gut was telling him Sully was there on someone else’s orders. Sully was a two-bit player, only kept around to hold the higher-ups’ dicks. But earlier, when Danny had hauled him in for questioning, he’d deployed some heavy-duty legal firepower. No way on his own could he afford the type of lawyer who wore a suit worth more than Brian’s entire paycheck.

  Sully was a weasel and weasels squealed—okay, pigs squealed. He wasn’t sure what noises weasels made, but Sully would make them to save his skin. All it took was the right kind of pressure.

  “Hiya, Sully.”

  “Shit.” Sully dropped his cigarette. “I know my rights. I’ve got a lawyer. You can’t hassle me.”

  Brian plucked the cigarette from the ground. “Tsk tsk. Didn’t anyone ever tell you littering is a crime? Turn around. Against the building and spread ‘em.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Are you resisting?” he asked, using the kind of bullshit power play tactics he’d avoided pulling when he was a beat cop. But Sully was up to his wispy goatee in this mess. He didn’t have time to play nice, not when Sara was still out there, possibly with a target painted on her back.

  “Why don’t we take a ride to the station house?” He grabbed Sully by the shoulder, turned him and slammed him against the building. He slapped the cuffs on Sully with a movement more muscle memory than conscious choice.

  He hesitated for a moment with his hands clamped down on Sully’s shoulder and arm. He didn’t want this scumbag anywhere near Priya. He looked back at his car.

  That wasn’t going to be an issue. The passenger seat was empty. Priya must have split while he was roughing up Sully. Fuck.

  He yanked Sully away from the wall. “Let’s go.”

  Once in the car, a protesting Sully stashed in the backseat with the safety locks on, he pulled out his phone. “Danny, I’m coming in. I caught a minnow.”

  * * *

  When Brian slammed Mark Sullivan up against the wall, it knocked some sense back into Priya. She’d let herself be lulled by his smile, humor and soft green eyes into forgetting what he was.

  He was a cop. He did what he had to do to make a case. And despite his words, she had no guarantee he’d be any gentler with Sara. All it took was a little bit of banter and the memory of how he looked in his boxers and she was following him around like a puppy. He’d even commanded her to stay.

  He was too busy with Sully to notice her push the car door open. As she walked away toward the closest T stop, she forced herself not to look back. Sara might still make contact and it would be better if Brian wasn’t around when that happened. He wouldn’t be looking out for Sara’s best interests, not when he’d already labeled and dismissed her. In his worldview, people were the sum of their mistakes.

  What did that make Priya? Unfortunately, she knew the answer: a self-serving coward. No matter how many double shifts she pulled, she couldn’t work hard enough to escape her past. Sara might be the one with the record, but Priya was the criminal. She’d been the one who, filled with cheap vodka and rage, lit a match and tossed it into Justin’s Mustang.

  It probably would have been okay if she hadn’t poured the cheap vodka all over the backseat where she’d lost her virginity. She’d been staring at the flames, watching them destroy what Justin loved, wanting him to experience just a sliver of the pain she felt when he’d tossed her aside, when Sara tried to drag her away.

  “The cops are coming, you’ve got to get out of here,” Sara was saying, but Priya wasn’t done. She wanted the whole world to burn.

  She’d been too full of rage and booze to fully understand what happened next. She barely remembered Sara shoving her and yelling, “Run!”

  And later when she discovered Sara had been arrested for arson, she’d only made a half-hearted attempt to confess. When the police believed she was trying to cover for her cousin, who already had a string of petty offenses to her name while Priya was class valedictorian and headed for an Ivy League college, she hadn’t fought too hard. Even Sara’s own mother believed Sara to be the true culprit. The fact that Sara insisted on taking credit was only partially to blame. It
had been too easy for everyone to believe the good cousin/bad cousin narrative.

  And Priya had tried so hard since then to be good, to become what they all thought she was. It was so damn hard. And she was so tired of lying. She was the bad cousin. She’d always been.

  * * *

  Brian pulled one of the battered chairs out from the interrogation room table and took a seat. The buzz of the police station’s ancient HVAC system and the low hum of the overhead fluorescent sounded overly loud against Sully and his attorney’s aggressive silence. Brian made a show of slapping down a manila folder with a satisfying thwack. Both Sully and his expensive attorney’s eyes followed the file. It didn’t really matter what was in it; he could have stuffed it full of takeout menus and the lyrics to Taylor Swift songs. Even if you never opened them, especially if you never opened them, files meant serious business.

  In the corner, Danny leaned against the wall. His tie was loosened and his open collar showed off bits of intricate scrolling tattoos. Brian had worked his way up from beat cop to detective here in Boston, but Danny had come in as a detective about a year ago. Rumor had it, before moving to Boston, he’d been an undercover cop in New York who’d successfully infiltrated the Bloodline chapter of the Latin Kings street gang.

  Brian wondered whether the tattoos were part of his former gang identity or were the real Danny. Or maybe the two had merged. Was it even possible to come out of deep cover as the same person? But it wasn’t something they’d talked about yet because he and Danny were still working out the boundaries of their new partnership. It was only last month that Brian made detective and got partnered with Danny, who was nothing like Brian’s last partner. He’d shared a squad car with Big Ed for five years and Big Ed had told Brian everything from his marital woes to the size and regularity of his morning bowel movements—no matter how many times he’d begged Ed not to. Other than his coffee order, Daniel Cruz was a total black hole.

  Brian wrangled his attention back to the minnow across the table. “Tell me about your whereabouts Thursday night,” he ordered Sully.

  The suit spoke up. “My client will only confirm that he has no knowledge of the event on Thursday and was in no way involved.”

  “The event?”

  “I think he means the murder,” Danny said dryly.

  “You gentlemen are wasting your time, not to mention taxpayer money, harassing my client.”

  “Okay, we won’t talk about the event,” Brian said. He tapped the folder on the table in front of him. “Let’s talk about how someone ripped off K’s Liquor Store, despite the fact that they’ve been dutifully paying their protection money.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?” Sully asked in a sullen voice.

  “I think the O’Donnells would be pretty upset with whoever pulled that job. And it just so happens that we’re getting pretty close to getting enough evidence to issue an arrest warrant. What’s wrong, Sully? You’re looking a little sweaty.”

  The truth was they had jack and shit about the K’s Liquor robbery. Right on schedule, the residents of South Boston had all been struck mute, including the storeowner. But from Sully’s panicked expression, Brian knew his fishing expedition had hooked him something. Either Sully had been part of it or knew something about it. They’d been thinking it had been a ramp up in the conflict between the O’Donnells and the Castle Hill Gang, Castle Hill targeting O’Donnell-protected businesses. But maybe it was the work of a slimy little opportunist looking to pin the blame on Castle Hill, convenient scapegoats that they were.

  “That’s bullshit!” Sully slammed his hands on the table. “I didn’t have nothing to do with that. Fucking cops.”

  “Mr. Sullivan,” the lawyer said warningly. He leaned forward. “What is it that you’re offering?”

  Brian ignored him, keeping his focus on Sully. “What do you know about the murder of Big Jack O’Donnell? We know you’ve got your ear to the ground. Who put out the hit and why?”

  “Remain silent, Mr. Sullivan,” the lawyer said.

  “If you leave without talking, it might just casually slip out when I speak to Frank O’Donnell. I hear he’s eager to make an example out of someone and he’s not too particular as to whom.”

  Danny gave a shark’s grin. “My partner’s got a big mouth. Loves to gossip.”

  “You’re just trying to scare me,” Sullivan said.

  “Mr. Sullivan, I have to counsel you to remain quiet,” the suit said, grinding his blindingly white veneers.

  Sully puffed his scrawny chest out. “I have to counsel you to shove it up your—”

  “Why don’t you just tell us what you know?” Brian said, reaching out and shoving Sully back against his chair.

  Sully visibly deflated. “Word is the O’Donnells have been muscling in on the Castle Hill Gang territory. Don’t know who pulled the trigger, but it was a message.”

  Brian took a stab. “You were supposed to be there.”

  “This chick I’ve been seeing wanted me to meet her, but she’s been a crazy bitch lately and I was over at the Rusty Nail, and have you seen the bartender there? She’s got these—” He cupped his hands in front of his chest.

  “We’ve all seen breasts before.”

  “Not like this chick’s. She told me she was getting off her shift.” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “So I went over her place and nailed her.”

  Brian hastily asked, “Who’s this chick you were seeing?” He had a feeling if he didn’t cut Sully off, he’d start rattling off details. Brian didn’t need to add Mark Sullivan’s O-face to his disturbing mental images file.

  “Her name’s Sara Murphy. She’s this totally hot, like, Indian or Arab kind of chick. But sort of, not really. Like enough to be exotic, but not all hairy and shit.”

  Brian balled his hands into fists.

  “She’s totally DTF,” Sully said, completely oblivious to Brian’s mounting anger. “You know sluts like that.” He gave a conspiratorial grin. Like they were buddies. Like Brian had anything in common with a piece of shit like him.

  Sully kept on talking about what a hot piece of ass Priya’s cousin was. But if he didn’t stop flapping his jaw, Brian was going to have to come across the table and do it for him.

  He tensed his shoulders, his palms flat against the table, ready to push off, when Danny’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Let’s go outside for a minute.”

  He shook Danny’s hand off. “Now? I want to hear what else this asshole has to say.”

  “Now.”

  He stood up slowly not breaking eye contact with Sully, who finally seemed to be getting the message that they weren’t going to get together to drink beers and watch the game anytime soon. A bead of sweat dotted the wispy hairs above Sully’s lip.

  Danny gave Brian a shove between the shoulder blades toward the door. Once the interrogation door swung shut behind them, he turned on Danny. “What the hell, man?”

  “We’re not going to get anything but a lawsuit if you don’t calm the fuck down. You’re letting that asshat get in your head. He’s a racist, sexist douchebag. Just like every other racist, sexist douchebag we deal with every day. But you’re letting this get personal. If you can’t calm down, don’t come back in.”

  Danny was right. Brian was acting like a rookie in on his first interrogation. The scumbags tried to rattle you. It was what they did. And he’d just shown Sully his soft underbelly.

  He took a deep breath. He needed to get it back under control. But so help him God, if that weasel said one word about Priya, he was going to lay him out. It’d be worth the lawsuit to watch Sully scramble around the floor for his teeth.

  “I’m cool, man.”

  “You need to be.”

  “Why are you busting my balls?”

  “You don’t get it, do you?”

 
“What?”

  “I’m not like you.” Danny ran both hands through his short hair in a frustrated gesture. “I can’t afford to blow this case. I’m not one of them. You don’t know what it’s like to be an outsider. You walk through these halls like it’s high school and you’re the quarterback who scored the winning touchdown. We fuck this up and you’ll still have opportunities. You’ll still be joking and high-fiving all your way up the ladder. But me... I don’t have that luxury. No one’s going to bat for me because I remind him of himself as a rookie detective. I’m not going to be invited out for beers or a round of golf. We screw this up and my career is DOA.”

  “I earned detective,” Brian snapped. “I worked hard to get here. No one handed it to me.” His lack of a dating life alone was testament to what he’d given up. He didn’t just walk around high-fiving everyone.

  Danny’s voice gentled. “I’m not saying they did. I’m only saying some people get more chances than others. Now, do you want to hit me and get it out of your system so we can go back in there like professionals?”

  Brian shook his hands out and focused on releasing his anger. When he looked up, Danny was giving him the raised eyebrow. “I should introduce you to my sister. She’d love you. Not in a romantic way, she’s gay, but in a ‘she loves anyone who busts my chops’ way. You’re coming to the next MacGregor family party.”

  “That sounds like a threat,” Danny said, but he was smiling.

  “It is. Now let’s get back to our scumbag.”

  Chapter Eight

  Priya was early. Her aunt wasn’t expecting her until dinnertime. But she’d walked away from Brian with no clear direction of which way to go. She’d mechanically entered the first T stop she came across and found herself on the red line headed south. But she’d mentally recoiled at the thought of returning to her empty, sweltering apartment and she had no idea where else to look for Sara. So she stayed on the sticky train packed close to her fellow travelers, each pretending the others didn’t exist, until it reached the Quincy Center stop. There she jumped out and walked the three blocks to her aunt’s house.