Sacrifice Fly (Raymond Donne Mysteries)

by Tim O'Mara

  “How’d your date go the other night?” Rachel yelled from her bedroom.

  “Not so great,” I yelled back. “Kinda got into a fight.”

  “With your date?”

  “No,” I said. “With a guy I used to—never mind. I screwed up is what happened.”

  “You call her and apologize?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do it, Ray,” Rachel said. “Soon. Before you look like an asshole.”

  Might be too late for that. The cordless rang. I forgot it was still in my hand.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “I’m five seconds from the front door.” Uncle Ray. “Buzz me up.”

  One thing about my Uncle Ray: the man can fill a doorway.

  “You and I,” he said, tapping my chest twice with his huge index finger as he stepped into Rachel’s apartment, “are going to have a long talk after your sister’s on her way to La La Land.” He then gestured over his shoulder. “You remember Jackson.”

  Officer Jackson walked in and removed his blue baseball cap. He was dressed like my uncle, in khaki pants and a yellow golf shirt. Like a couple of undercovers and their colors of the day. We shook hands.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “No problem.”

  “Raymond,” my uncle said. “We will take your sister to the airport. Jackson will take up a position down the block in my car and keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Like a black guy sitting in a parked car in Rego Park?” I turned to Jackson. “Sorry.”

  “No problem,” he repeated, not concealing his amused grin.

  Uncle Ray pondered that. “Right. Jackson, take a position up here by the window until we get back.” He walked over and pulled up the shade but let the curtain fall into place over the window. “Anything you think I should know about, call me.”

  “Understood.”

  Rachel came into the living room holding a large suitcase. She put it down and gave our uncle a hug. When the embrace ended, she turned to Jackson and said, “Hey.”

  Jackson smiled. “Ma’am.”

  “Ray tell you the story, Uncle Ray?” Rachel asked.

  “And he will again,” my uncle replied. “After we get you in the air. Your car?”

  “Around back.”

  “Give the keys to your brother. He’s driving.”

  Rachel went into the kitchen and returned with her car keys. She flipped them to me.

  “Bring it around front,” Uncle Ray said. “Three minutes.”

  I did as instructed. Three minutes later, I pulled away from the curb on the way to LaGuardia with my sister and uncle in the backseat.

  Uncle Ray badged our way into a parking spot in the red zone. We got Rachel ticketed, her bag checked, and we were able to wait with her by the Passenger’s Only gate. Uncle Ray again flashed his shield so we could escort my embarrassed sister onto the plane. Her fellow passengers checked her out, as they probably would during the next five hours.

  When we got back to the car, Uncle Ray took the keys. “I’ll drive.” I was about to object when he added, “Keeping my hands on the wheel will quiet the urge I have to smack you.”

  We drove back toward Rachel’s in silence.

  Chapter 15

  “YOUR LITTLE GAMES HAVE GOTTEN you in over your head, Nephew.”

  We were sitting in a booth at the pizza place under the BQE, not far from my place. Uncle Ray was drinking an espresso. I had an iced tea. Jackson sat in the car, across the street, with a Diet Coke.

  “I wasn’t playing games, Uncle Ray.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You were. And you got caught not watching your back. It’s over now. Your … involvement in all this. Let the real police do their job.”

  “The real police,” I said, “were sitting on their asses while I took a ride upstate and found something pretty damned important.”

  About a year after my dad died, Uncle Ray caught me in the back shed smoking a cigarette. He smacked me so hard I felt it for days. He had the same look on his face now.

  “Great,” he said through his teeth. “I’m real proud of you.” He pointed at me with his cigar. “Now look at the fucking results. Two of the people I love most in this world are in danger. How’s that make you feel about finding a clue, Raymond? Was it worth it?”

  “If it helps get Frankie home … yeah.”

  “Goddamn, boy. Is this kid so fucking special he’s worth all of this?” He shook his head, and before I could answer he added, “I’m thinking of sticking your ass on a plane. Get you out of town until this kid’s found.” He paused to make sure I was listening. “One way or the other.”

  “He was alive a few days ago,” I reminded him. “He’s a smart kid. He got himself and his sister upstate. Maybe back.”

  “Well, if he’s all that smart, Raymond, you need to consider the very real possibility he does not want to be found. By you or the police. Why would that be?”

  “He’s scared,” I said. “He doesn’t know who to trust. Something made him not tell his cousin he was up at her place. Maybe he saw something that spooked him. Or someone.”

  Uncle Ray shook his head. “You got a whole lotta answers, don’t you?”

  I got a whole lotta nothing, he meant. He was right.

  “You wanna disappear for a while?” Uncle Ray asked.

  I shook my head. “I got school. I can’t just disappear for a while.”

  “School fall apart without you?”

  “Yeah, Uncle Ray. That’s what I meant.”

  “You’d be smart to lose the sarcasm, Raymond.” There was that look again.

  “I’m going to live my life,” I said. “If these guys wanted to hurt me—I mean really hurt me—they had the chance. I’ll just mind my business until this all gets settled.”

  “You’d better.” He finished his espresso. “In the meantime, I’m gonna have some patrol cars pass by your apartment for the next few days. The school, too.” Before I could object, he said, “Don’t worry. They’ll be discreet. We—I—am also gonna have another talk with Royce. I’ll set that up for tomorrow. See if anything rings a bell with him regarding the two guys you ran into today.”

  “He’s not going to be happy.”

  “That’s not my problem, Raymond. In fact, he’s probably already unhappy that I made an inquiry to the ME’s office into the COD.”

  Cause of death. This got my attention. “What’d they say?”

  “Blunt force trauma,” he said. “No big surprise there. But they’re not quite sure which blow did the deed. The heavy object or the shot to the nose. Doc I spoke to seems to be leaning toward a combination of the two.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Means that either injury by itself would—ordinarily—not’ve been enough to kill the guy. Put the two together, though, and you got yourself one unlucky son of a bitch.”

  Ordinarily. “So … what?” I asked. “Rivas got hit in the head by a … something heavy and then got punched in the nose?”

  “Or vice versa, Raymond. Can’t even be sure how much time passed between the injuries, or if they were inflicted by the same person.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “It is what it is, Nephew.” He stood up. “Let’s get you home.” He handed me the keys to Rachel’s car.

  When we got outside, Uncle Ray explained the plan to Jackson. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m going to hang back,” Uncle Ray said. “Make some calls and get a ride back to the Island. Maybe get a slice or three. Jackson’ll follow you home.”

  Again, Jackson said, “Yes, sir.”

  I thanked Jackson, and before I could cross the street to Rachel’s car, my uncle took me by the elbow. “Be careful, Raymond.”

  “I will be,” I said.

  He pulled me into a hug, and then held me at arm’s length. I’m not sure what he saw when he looked at me, but I saw my father’s brother. The man who’d hurt you if he thought it would keep you from hurting yourself.
The man I had wanted to be so many years ago.

  It took three minutes to drive to my apartment and another fifteen to find a parking spot. It was two blocks away, and I’d have to get up early to move it, but this day was almost over. Jackson was parked across the street from my place and would be until he was relieved at ten. I was unlocking the second door to my apartment building, when it occurred to me that I hadn’t heard the first click shut behind me. I turned and saw why.

  A small girl—seven or eight years old—was standing there, holding the door open with her foot. A dark blue book bag hung from her shoulder.

  “Are you Mr. Donne?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I am Milagros,” she said. “Frankie’s sister?”

  Shit.

  Chapter 16

  “AND SHE JUST SHOWED UP AT your place?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “No sign of the boy?”

  “No.”

  “She give you any idea where the boy—”

  “His name’s Frankie,” I said.

  “She give you any idea where Frankie was? Or is? Or might be?”

  “No. She said Frankie told her not to tell anybody anything.”

  “Well, damn, Mr. Donne, then maybe you won’t mind telling me why you got that shit-eating grin on your face.”

  “I guess I’m relieved Frankie’s still okay, Detective. Relatively speaking.”

  “Relatively speaking.” Detective Royce turned to Jackson and said, “You see anything, Patrolman?”

  “Just the little girl, sir,” Jackson said. “I was keeping my eyes out for the two suspects described by Mr. Donne earlier today to Chief Donne and myself. When Mr. Donne identified the young female as the missing girl, we came here immediately.”

  “Here” was the precinct’s detective squad, quieter now than the last time I’d visited, but still busier than you’d think for an early Sunday evening. Two other detectives were working at the moment: one on the phone, the other filling out a report, clicking away on an outdated computer keyboard. Royce leaned back in his chair and stared at Jackson for a few more seconds, wanting to chew him out just a little, but knowing that Jackson had done everything by the book and was smart enough to drop my uncle’s name into his verbal statement. Royce turned his tired eyes to me and took a deep breath. The three of us looked over at Milagros, who was sitting at a desk and talking with a female officer in between bites of Chinese food.

  “God damn,” Royce said and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t made it home today either. And I was to blame. “Girl’s gonna have to get checked out over at the hospital. Make sure she gets a clean bill of health before…”

  “Foster home?” I asked.

  “Until we figure out something better.”

  “How about the grandmother’s?”

  “It’s not my call. I’m still waiting for someone from Children’s Services to get back to me. Tough to get a social worker this time on a Sunday.”

  I gave that some thought and figured the last thing we needed was some overworked, underpaid city employee who wouldn’t be too happy to trek out to Williamsburg on a Sunday night. “You need a licensed social worker to sign off on that, right?” I asked Royce.

  “That’s why I called ACS, Mr. Donne.”

  “What if I can get someone here quicker?”

  “Licensed?”

  “Woman I work with at the school.”

  “You think she can pull off a temporary kinship foster with the grandmother?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  Royce thought about that for a while. “It’s worth a shot.”

  “Can I borrow your phone?”

  Royce handed it to me. “Dial nine first.”

  I got Elaine’s home number from information. She said she’d be there in a half hour. I called information again and asked for Elsa’s number. I got a recording telling me it was unlisted. Royce was able to get it by identifying himself and giving his badge number to a supervisor. I called Elsa and, after an awkward greeting, told her what was going on. She said they’d be at the precinct as soon as they could get a ride. I gave the phone back to Royce.

  “Want me to arrange for you to get a ride home now, Mr. Donne?”

  “Actually,” I said, “if it’s okay with you, I’d rather stay.”

  “Yeah,” Royce said. “I had a feeling.” He turned to Jackson and pointed to the big coffee machine across the room. “You know how to work one of those?”

  Jackson stood. “I’ll figure it out. Sir.”

  “There’s a good rookie.” Royce turned back to me. “Since you’re gonna be here for a while longer, you wanna give it another go with the girl? Maybe she’ll be more cooperative now that she’s had something to eat. I’d try again myself, but I don’t think she’s warmed to me yet.”

  “Yeah,” I said and walked over to the desk where Milagros was sitting. The female officer gave me a forced smile, and I gestured for her to leave Milagros and me alone. Milagros looked like she was feeling better now and began spinning the chair around, making humming noises. I put my hand on the back of the chair to bring it to a stop and crouched down to be at her eye level. “Hey,” I said. “You like that food?”

  “It was a little spicy,” she said. “But it was good. Thank you.”

  “You feel like talking now?”

  “’Bout what?”

  “About Frankie.”

  “He told me not to tell anybody anything,” she said. “I promised.”

  “I know you did,” I said. “But sometimes it’s not really breaking a promise if you are trying to help somebody.”

  “Are you trying to help Frankie?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Then he said you would understand.”

  “But that’s just it, Milagros,” I said. “I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding her head.

  “Okay, let me try to help you understand. If you can tell me where you were before you got to my apartment, that would be a big help.”

  “I was with Frankie.”

  “I know that, Milagros, but where with Frankie?”

  “He told me not to tell anybody anything.” She sounded like a recording. “I promised.”

  “Okay,” I said, barely hiding my growing frustration. “Just tell me how you got to my apartment. Did you take the subway? A taxi? What?”

  “We took a taxi to Anita’s house,” she said with a smile. The smile went away and she added, “But we didn’t go in and say hi.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I know that. Why didn’t you go in and say hi?”

  “I don’t know. We got to the front of Anita’s house—by the bushes—and then Frankie said ‘Let’s play hide-and-seek,’ so we went behind the bushes and stayed there for like a thousand minutes but nobody found us, so I guess we won.”

  I guess you did.

  “And Frankie never told you who you were hiding from?”

  “Nope. I thought it was from Anita and John and Gracie, but then we never saw them, and then they never got a chance to hide. And then we left.”

  “And how did you get to my apartment?” I asked quickly.

  “We took a—” She stopped herself. “Frankie told me not to tell any—”

  “I know!” I slapped the side of the desk before I could stop myself. “Don’t tell anybody anything. You promised.” I realized that everybody in the room was now looking at me. Milagros started to cry. “I’m sorry, honey,” I said, remembering that she must have been more tired and frustrated than I was. “I just need to—”

  The little girl’s tears increased. I got up and grabbed a few tissues off the desk and handed them to her. She began to shake. When I crouched back down and put my hand on her shoulder, she shrugged it off. The female officer came up from behind me, put her hand on my shoulder, and said, “Mr. Donne.”

  I stood up. “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”

  I walke
d back over to Detective Royce, who was pretending to go through some papers on his desk. Without looking up, he said, “That went well.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m thinking of working with children someday.”

  * * *

  Elaine Stiles arrived wearing a Brooklyn College sweatshirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. I guessed we hadn’t interrupted anything too important. I introduced her around. She looked over at Milagros, who had a can of Diet Pepsi tilted over her open mouth.

  “You called the hospital?” Elaine asked.

  Royce answered. “Yes.”

  “Good. If you’d let me on your computer, I can download the paperwork we’ll need to allow her grandmother to take her home.” Royce got up and motioned for Elaine to sit. She pressed a few keys, got online, and pressed a few more keys. “In absence of the legal guardian, the time and day, I don’t think it’ll come back to bite us. She tell you where Frankie was?”

  “No,” I answered. “He told her not to.”

  Elaine gave me a look, let out a sigh, and went back to pressing keys and moving the mouse around. “Where’s your printer, Detective?”

  Royce pointed across the room.

  “Would you mind?” Elaine asked.

  Jackson walked away, returned with the printouts, and handed them to Elaine.

  “This’ll take some time,” she said, handing me the paperwork. “Let me talk to Milagros, explain to her what’s going to happen. Tell me when you’re done with page two.”

  I started in on the paperwork as Elaine crouched down and spoke to Milagros. The little girl seemed much calmer now. She listened with a serious look on her face and kept nodding her head. When Elaine was done, I could read Milagros’s lips. “Okay.”