“What?” Mintz said, not quite following the train of thought.
“You know, I just spanked her and stuff like that, but …”
“Frank, I don’t wanna know about … Why you talkin’ about yer sex life?”
“Was just a game,” DeGraw said. “Never, and I mean never did I raise my hand to Sandy in anger.”
“Fine. But what’s that gotta do with Wild Willy in pieces in the alley here?”
“Once, Lou, one time only, I hit Sandy. Big argument, she was slammin’ me with a telephone ’cuz I wouldn’t let her make a call to this mutt, this new boyfriend.”
“Who turns out to be Wild Willy, but okay, what does you hittin’ Sandy …?”
“I wasn’t even outa the house yet and she’s whorin’ herself with this guy. I’m givin’ her shit about it, and she’s really pummelin’ me in the chest. Which is fine, but then she clips me in the face and I just react, on reflex. I cuff her one on the chin and she goes down in a heap like I’d really hauled off, which, you know, I absolutely did not do.”
“Okay, got it, stormy freakin’ romance,” Mintz said. “But …”
“I shouldna had those beers at lunch.”
“Wait a minute,” Mintz said. “Yer makin’ turns here …”
“I just had four frickin’ beers, dunce, and six before we started the shift.”
“So what, there’s nobody around,” Mintz said. “Yer not makin’ sense.”
“If we call this in, they’ll around. They find out I know the victim, they’re gonna sit me down for questions, and I don’t want no beer on my breath, okay?”
“All right, but we gotta call this in,” Mintz said. “We’ll get ya some mints when we go back. And yer not drunk anyway, so what da fuck ’er ya talkin’ about?”
“Listen,” DeGraw said, grabbing Mintz by the arms. “One time I was violent with my wife over the guy, and another time … I threatened this guy’s life.” Mintz’s jaw went slack again as DeGraw continued, pointing each word, “He was smackin’ her around, so I threatened him in front of half my friggin’ neighborhood in Gravesend. They all heard me threaten to cut Wild Willy’s balls off if he hit Sandy again in front of the baby.”
“Whoa,” Mintz said, breathing heavier. “When did this happen?”
“Couple weeks ago, Labor Day. I stopped in to see the baby. So I’m inside, and everybody’s outside drinkin’, and then he and she start to argue over something, I don’t know what, and things fly outa hand. So I go out, and he’s manhandlin’ her, and all of a sudden I’m handin’ the kid off and steppin’ in. Big friggin’ scene, right in the street.”
“And you don’t tell me this weeks ago?”
“Fuck you,” DeGraw said. “You gossip way too much.”
“And I just heard twelve too many details for one night, so shut the fuck up.”
DeGraw poked a finger at Mintz’s chest. “You and me, we gotta get on the same page here, or this thing’s gonna get nasty.”
“Oh, it’s already nasty,” Mintz said, half-laughing with a hysterical little whoop. DeGraw recognized it as Mintz’s nervous habit when he felt he was in over his head.
“I need ya, Lou. I ain’t sittin’ in a cell for somethin’ I had nuttina do with.”
“Hold on, just hold on and tell me something,” Mintz said, mustering his courage, taking a breath and squaring himself in front of DeGraw. “Did you ice this guy? … No, no, no, don’t tell me, please don’t tell me, I don’t want to know …”
“You fuckin’ hump,” DeGraw said, grabbing his hat from his head and swiping a meaty paw across his face and through his hair. “I mean, you really think …”
“It’s a proper question,” Mintz said, trying to beat back another whoop. “And if you can’t handle it comin’ from me, how you gonna do when they sit you down?”
DeGraw let his body go slack. He needed Mintz to be as cool as possible, for moral support at the very least, and maybe more than that. “Awright, listen, Mintzy. Everybody knows the world’s a little better now that this guy stopped breathin’. Cripes, I’d like to be able to say that I did do this guy. But it just so happens that I did no ice this muthuh. And now my footprints are down there in his friggin’ blood okay?”
“Oh shit.”
“Oh shit is right,” DeGraw said. “What am I gonna do with all this?”
“Wow, I don’t know, Frank. What do ya think?”
“Look, my footprints are down there. You think maybe you could walk down there too and put your footprints all over? Then we could maybe say you were the one who went down and not me, I stayed out here.”
“Geez,” Mintz said, trying not to hyperventilate. “You want me to say I’m the one who found him?”
“Now that I think about it,” DeGraw said, “there might be a lot of footprints down there, how you gonna step into all the ones that are mine?”
“Exactly.”
“And second, I already got his blood on my shoes, in my pants, and who knows where else. When somebody tells a detective how I threatened Willy on Labor Day, I’m an instant suspect. And when they test this uniform for Willy’s blood, I am screwed.”
“But I can still vouch for ya, Frank,” Mintz said. “We were together all night.”
“Which makes you a secondary suspect.”
“Well, then fuck it, the only thing I can do is read you your rights,” Mintz said, whooping as he removed handcuffs from their belt holster. “You are under arrest.”
“Just cut it out, all right?” DeGraw said as Mintz laughed. “You know, I hate it when you enjoy my predicaments.”
“Somebody’s gotta lighten this mood, Frank, ’cuz lemme tell ya, this mood sucks.”
DeGraw leaned back on the wall and eyed the bloody hand on the sidewalk, taking out cigarettes. He put one in his mouth, gave Mintz one, then lit them both.
“Awright, face it, yer screwed anyway,” Mintz said, fighting for control. “They gonna find out what you said to Wild Willy on Labor Day, so ya gotta figure goin’ in they’re gonna take a good hard look at you, at least as a formality. Holy shit, yer fucked.”
“Do me a favor and stop laughin’, ya prick.”
“Just nerves, Frank. You know I get this way. Don’t be mad at me.”
“It makes me frickin’ nuts, so stop it, okay? What am I gonna do here?”
“What do you mean, do?” Mintz said. “We gotta call this in.”
“I don’t know, is that true?”
Mintz contemplated his meaning for a second. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute …”
DeGraw said, “Where are we?”
Mintz didn’t understand the question. “Red Hook.”
“Red Hook waterfront,” DeGraw said, like he was leading an idiot. “And what are those? Those things right over there, and all over here?”
“Metal drums.”
“Some rusted, with holes in ’em. And over there we got cinderblocks.”
“Oh no,” Mintz said. “Oh God, no, no, no.”
“Why not?”
“But, but, but, but …”
“But give me one reason.”
“How ’bout it’s against the LAW goddamnit!” Mintz said.
“We are cops,” DeGraw replied. “We’re on the right side of the law, my friend.”
“But you’re not guilty,” Mintz whined. “What would you be coverin’ up for?”
“Bear with me,” DeGraw said. “It’s clear this blood is fresh, and we’ve been together all night. So if I get jammed up for this, you do too, right? So, since you got a stake here, I say the freakin’ Mafia dumps so many bodies out there in the Buttermilk you can practically walk across to Governor’s Island—and don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about. So let’s just pick up the pieces of Wild Willy, stuff ’em all in a barrel with cinderblocks, walk it out to the pier head there—and finish the frickin’ job.”
“Jesus,” Mintz said, gulping air and whooping again. DeGraw was speaking in earnest, but kept his tone even.
; “What would be left to find? Blood? It’s gonna rain the rest of the night and tomorrow too. Guaranteed there’s no blood to notice between these two warehouses when the sun comes up. Then it’s a missing-person case at most and chances are it never goes beyond that.”
“Interesting theory,” Mintz said. “You willin’ to stake your career on that?”
“I’m willin’ to stake my freedom on that, and nobody would hate jail more than me, Louie. And we might as well face another fact while we’re at it—this thing ain’t no coincidence It’s aimed right at me.”
“Oh sure, like the world revolves around you,” Mintz said. “How ya figure?”
“The wallet. They wanted this guy found and identified.” Mintz began to pace back and forth while DeGraw held up the warehouse with his back and thought out loud. “I think chances are excellent that somebody, maybe some twisted individual right in Gravesend, who maybe witnessed me threaten this guy with murder and mutilation …”
“Not necessarily in that order,” Mintz said.
“And maybe that sick individual has one huge case of the hots for Sandy, which could be the key here …”
“She is pretty hot, if you don’t mind me sayin’, Frank.”
DeGraw went on, “And maybe he got in his mind that if he conks this Willy guy on the head, cuts him up and puts him exactly where he knew I’d be tonight, he can run with the opportunity I myself inadvertently provided on friggin’ Labor Day.”
“Wait, you’re sayin’ all this happens because the guy wants a shot at Sandy?”
“Smart move, ain’t it? With means, motive, and opportunity, the heat is right on me. I could go away for a long time off this or maybe even end up on Death Row.”
“I apologize for puttin’ it this way,” Mintz said, “but you yourself said many times in the past coupla years that a guy ain’t gotta murder nobody to get in Sandy’s pants. You call that woman a slut all the time. So who better than you would know that all it takes is a coupla seven-and-sevens and you’re in like Flynn.”
“I divorced her, didn’t I? How do you know she drinks seven-and-sevens?”
“You told me once, a long time ago. Anyway, so okay, so who needs to commit a murder and pin it on you to get a piece of yer ex-wife?”
New emotions began creasing DeGraw’s face. “’Tween you an’ me—my son don’t even look like me. I hate to say it. It kills me. But I can’t shake this feeling.”
“Stop it, stop it right now,” Mintz said. “The kid looks just like you and that’s that. If not exactly, then close enough. So put it all right outa yer head.”
DeGraw reined in his feelings and pushed on, “All right, I’ll give you another motive, Louie. We been doin’ too good a job around here, breakin’ up Wild Willy’s gravy train. Face it, they might even like Wild Willy, but if his corpse means they can get back to the way they were haulin’ hot shit outa here, Willy is dead. Or maybe they’re pissed off for some unrelated reason and want Willy out of the picture. So off of that alone, partner, maybe some enterprising mob wanna-be sees a chance to take Willy out and pin it on the very cops screwed things up on the waterfront, so he takes a shot.”
“Much as I hate to admit it,” Mintz said, “that one makes a certain sense. With both Willy and us gone, things go back to normal … But can we really do this?”
“Come on, partner,” DeGraw said, taking another pair of surgical gloves from Mintz’s pocket. “Nobody here. All we do is introduce what’s left of Mr. Wild Willy to the depths of the East River, where the little fishies will enjoy eating Italian once again. Then we’re home free: no murder, no suspects, no change on the Red Hook waterfront.”
“God help me,” Mintz answered, closing his eyes and trying to force a swallow through a dry throat, “but I just can’t do this. It’s too risky.”
Deflated, DeGraw slumped back against the building. “Okay, man. I understand.”
“Look, Frank, I’m sorry, but I just …”
“It’s okay, partner. I’ll handle it … how I handle it. Why don’t you just call it in.”
Mintz lifted the radio and hesitated, fingering the broadcast key without activating the call. “Wait a minute, what am I thinking? We have to do this.”
“No we don’t,” DeGraw said. “I’ll handle it.”
“No you won’t. You’re right about what they’ll do. They’ll investigate you.”
“Right,” DeGraw said, noticing that Mintz was calmer now.
“And you know, they might not find that you iced ol’ Willy, but if they nose around into your activities, they’re bound to find out about the boosted guns, don’t ya think?”
“That’s not for you, that’s for me to worry about. How many times do I …”
“I’m sorry for bringin’ it up, Frank, but you could end up stuck with gun charges off of Wild Willy bein’ found dead here, so we gotta do what you suggest, right? We gotta dump Willy in the channel. Just promise me, Frank, if this goes wrong, you’ll step up and protect me.”
“I got yer back from now till the tomb, partner,” DeGraw replied, slipping the gloves onto Mintz’s hands.
“Faster we’re outa here, better I’ll feel,” Mintz said. “Let’s go.”
Stomachs in knots, they collected all the parts of Wild Willy—including the Mafioso’s wallet—and packed them into a rusted barrel, which they topped off with cinderblocks. Then DeGraw used the side of his Glock to tamp down the metal tabs on the barrel lid until it was secure, and they rolled the barrel to the end of the pier where, without ceremony, they sent the creatures of Buttermilk Channel fresh Italian to eat.
This took longer than they expected. They were late, so they trotted out from the warehouses, heading along Wolcott, making a left on Richards, and sauntering into Red Hook Park.
A sector car was waiting for them.
Nico Dounis, a Greek patrol sergeant everybody called Nicky Donuts, got out of the car when they approached. “Don’t nobody answer the radio no more?”
Mintz looked down at his belt and found the radio turned off. “Shit, sarge, I guess I accidentally turned it off.”
“You two have a brawl?” Dounis asked.
“No,” DeGraw said. “Why?”
“You’re all sweaty.”
“Don’t know what yer talkin’ about, sarge,” Mintz said. “Not sweaty at all.”
“Climbing around the warehouses,” DeGraw said.
“Humid out tonight,” Mintz added. “Uh, horseplay, you know, boys’ll be boys.”
DeGraw recognized three too many excuses when he heard them.
Dounis did too. “Okay, what’s goin’ on?”
DeGraw could see Mintz’s mind go into overdrive, a panicky thought making its way toward the lips, so he took Mintz’s arm and turned him away, stepping forward himself to answer. “Little argument, that’s all. Nothin’, really. He don’t know a guy’s still got feelings for his ex-wife even if they get divorced, so I had to straighten him out.”
Dounis studied DeGraw through squinted eyes, but he stifled an urge to pursue it.
“Hey, it’s late,” Mintz said. “We should walk the park.”
“I walked it myself,” Dounis said. “It’s done.”
“But we’re not that late, are we, sarge?” Mintz asked, and again DeGraw wanted to pound him into unconsciousness, but resisted the urge.
“Forty-five minutes I’m callin’, and I got no word on the radio,” Dounis said. “What’s that on your knee, Frank?”
They all looked down and saw the purplish-red splotch visible even on DeGraw’s navy blue pant leg.
“Oil, I guess,” DeGraw said. “I knelt down to tie my shoe.”
“I ain’t no dope and I don’t appreciate bein’ treated like one,” Dounis said. “Yer late, ya don’t answer the radio, yer all disheveled like ya been fightin’, ya smell like a frickin’ brewery, and ya got blood on yer pants. Don’t tell me that’s oil, ’cuz I know the difference.”
The two patrolmen were stunned. Mint
z was ready to speak again but DeGraw spoke first: “Yer absolutely right, sarge. We were negligent. We had a few beers at lunch and lost track of time. Then he insults my ex and I had to straighten him out. Only he don’t show proper respect, so we scuffled a little bit. I took a head butt to the nose and bled, after which I knelt in it when I went down to tie my shoe.”
DeGraw and Mintz waited a tense second while Dounis processed the new information.
“Over here,” Dounis said, walking Mintz about twenty feet away.
Much as he tried, DeGraw couldn’t make out what they were talking about.
Dounis then returned to DeGraw while Mintz stayed behind.
“Turn away from Mintz,” Dounis said, and DeGraw obeyed. “Exactly where was it you two went at each other?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” DeGraw answered. “What the hell did we ever do to you?”
“Where was it you bled? I need to know exact.”
“I don’t know, one of the piers.”
“The piers is your whole patrol, asshole. Which one?”
“How’m I s’posed to know? They all look alike. Like Greeks.”
“After two years, you know those piers like they was yer own pecker.”
“Somewhere around the railroad yard, I’m guessing. Can’t be sure, sarge.”
“That’s not what Mintz said.”
“What d’ya want from me? One of us is right and the other forgot. No big deal.”
“I gotta do somethin’ about this, don’t I?” Dounis said.
“Yer bein’ a hardass, Nicky Donuts. What’s wrong?” DeGraw said. “I never crossed you, not even once.”
Dounis turned to Mintz and said, “Don’t come over here and don’t you two talk to each other.” Then Dounis sat in the cruiser and made a call to the precinct while DeGraw and Mintz could only stare at each other, reading worry on each other’s faces.
When, within a minute, five police cruisers came tearing to that corner of Red Hook Park, Dounis had DeGraw and Mintz taken into custody.
* * *
Unfortunately for DeGraw, the forecast was wrong. It never rained that night. Wild Willy’s blood stayed on the pavement and was collected by the crime scene unit.
By noon, DeGraw had spent hours in an interrogation room at the 76th Precinct, where he was interviewed by Catucci and Bourne, two homicide detectives, and Gonzalez, an ADA who’d been summoned from the Brooklyn homicide bureau. Cho and Santos, of Internal Affairs, also watched through the two-way mirror.
New York City Noir Page 21
