by Henry Hack
“I’m getting transferred.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry. Gregorovich told us today. We had nothing to with it. The word came right down from Chief Kelly.”
“I’ll survive it. He didn’t tell her he had called Uncle Mike who had gotten back to him in ten minutes and simply said, “The Seven-Six it will be, lad. Good luck and good hunting there.”
“And how are you dealing with your other issue?”
“Ah, the Richie Winston situation.”
“Yes, Harry. How are you holding up?”
“When that situation is finally over I don’t know where I’ll end up, maybe flipping burgers at Mickey D’s. Would you stand by me, Susan, if I was a flipper of burgers?”
“Now you’re confusing me. What do you mean?”
“If I wasn’t a cop. If I was gone from the Force.”
“How could that happen?”
“I have some issues to resolve as you have probably figured out. But I have to see this thing through and be in on the arrest of those who killed Richie Winston.”
“Because they did it on your precious beat?”
“It goes deeper than that. I owe it to him.”
“What do you owe to Winston? You hated him.”
“I can’t talk about this now.”
“Harry, let me tell you straight out. If you expect us to have any future together you must be totally honest with me. You have lied to me throughout the Winston investigation. When the hell are you going to tell me the truth?”
“I have to work through this some more. I have to get it right.”
“What are you afraid of? Don’t you trust me?”
He grasped her hand tightly, their first physical contact in weeks. “Susan, I trust you, and I love you. What I’m afraid of is you won’t love me back and I will lose you. I can handle the loss of my job, but I can’t handle the loss of you, too.”
“Then let it out. The truth may set you free.”
“Yes, it may. But please, I can’t do it now. Give me some more time. Stand by me. Let me do this on my terms.”
“How long do you expect me to stand by your dishonesty with me?”
“I don’t know, but hopefully it won’t be too long. Please.”
She caressed his cheek and said, “Don’t let this torment destroy you. Let it out before it eats you alive.”
“Soon, Susan, soon.”
They ate dinner and finished with coffee and shared a chocolate torte. They walked hand in hand to their cars in the parking lot. Susan opened her door and turned to Harry. “It was nice seeing you again. I hope you can work out your problems.”
“I will. It was wonderful seeing you again, too. I’ll try to call you during the week, but if we can’t connect, can I see you again next week?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“How about Mario’s next Saturday night at seven?”
“Mario’s it is. I’ll meet you there.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips. She did not respond as if she wanted to be kissed again, so he backed away and said good night.
●
“Good afternoon, Officer Cassidy,” said Captain Snyder when Harry picked up the phone. “I’m calling to let you know the transfer order just came out and, wonder of wonders, you are going to the Seven-Six. Now how do you suppose that happened? Do I smell the influence of retired Deputy Chief Michael Cassidy here?”
“Would you believe he is close friends with the Head Hatchet? And he assures me Bill Kelly is a good guy under all that IAD bluster.”
“Sure could have fooled me,” said Snyder. “Listen, I just spoke with Hunter and Faliani and we called your new boss over there, Captain Al Hermann, who happened to come on the Job with me. He’ll put you on the foot post where those anti-crime cops spotted your guy.”
“That’s terrific, Captain. I can’t wait to get there.”
“I hope you find him and lock his ass up. This murder case of ours has been unsolved for too long.”
“I’ll do my best, sir. Again, thanks for everything.”
Harry hung up and took in a deep breath. He let it out slowly and relaxed. Things had started to look up. Susan had come around a bit and seemed willing to stand by him until he resolved his issues. And now he had been given the chance to redeem himself, a golden opportunity to find Richie Winston’s killer. And when he did, his career would be over. But he would have Susan, a clean soul and final redemption for the heinous act he had allowed to happen on Christmas Eve. And if he couldn’t find the killer right away, or ever, how long would Susan stand by him? Would she walk away even after he bore his soul to her? He had to stop second-guessing himself. He had to be positive, but every time he did the little voice would surface with its whispers of betrayal, murder and suicide. He did not reach for the bottle of scotch, but for the rosary beads given him by Tom Ryan. As he prayed on the black beads the little voice became fainter and fainter and faded completely away before Harry finished the second decade.
●
Tuesday was Harry’s first day on his new beat in the Seven-Six, and contrary to what he had expected, he loved it. The three-quarter mile stretch of Roosevelt Avenue from 73rd Street to 90th Street ran under the elevated tracks that carried the number 7 train from Flushing to Manhattan. The shops burst with activity and the shopkeepers smiled and shook hands with him as he greeted them. He had heard over a hundred languages were now spoken in northern Queens and he began to believe it. Korean, Laotian, Chinese and a few dozen other far eastern dialects were prevalent, as were Hindi, Urdu, Farsi and Arabic. Even a smattering of Yiddish could be heard from the few remaining Jews on the avenue. There were few blacks, and even fewer whites, and they were mostly transients – delivery men, meter readers and postal workers.
And the food! He took every opportunity to track down the exotic odors as they emanated from the myriad small restaurants on his beat. And he would ask to sample their cuisine, and they would oblige with genuine smiles and heap the delicacies onto his plate. And they would not take a dime from him in return. They liked the big cop who would offer to help them and who would attempt to learn a few words of their native tongue while providing assistance to them in the difficult language of English. And no meal, no visit, no idle chat, no friendly interaction passed by without Harry reaching into his pocket and showing the picture of the young, male Middle-Easterner he so badly wanted to arrest. That was the reason he was there, after all, and he pursued the slightest bit of information with tireless effort and determination, but after February changed to March, and his first week on post came to its conclusion, the elusive killer of Richie Winston had not crossed his path or the path of any other cop in the precinct.
On Friday a car horn beeped at him as walked east on the avenue. It was Pop and Nick and they motioned for him to get in the back seat. “Hey, you two, what brings you all the way from Nassau County to my humble beat in Jackson Heights?”
“We stopped at the stationhouse to drop off more flyers of our suspect and to talk to the detectives for any possible assistance they could give us,” Pop said. “How are you doing here, Hoppy? Any luck yet?”
“The post is fine, but no sign of our boy. I see a lot of young, Middle-Eastern guys around here, and I thought I may have had the right one a couple of times until I got a closer look. Anything new on your end?”
“Nada,” Nick said. “Hey, are they finally done with you in IAD? Did that bitch Goldman give up?”
“I sure hope so,” he said, not wanting to tell Nick, or Pop for that matter, he was going to have dinner with the lovely bitch the very next night. “By the way the boss here has me on steady day tours for awhile. He figures I have a better chance of finding our boy during daylight hours. Give me a few more of those composites. Mine is wearing out from showing it so much.”
●
They tapped wine glasses once more at Mario’s and smiled at each other. Mario fussed over them, happy to see them back. He promised the veal chop special would be t
he best ever served anywhere. They both ordered it on the condition they could have a side of linguini smothered in red sauce. Mario frowned and told them Alfredo sauce, or Carbonara, would be more appropriate. “Red sauce, Mario, or we’ll take our business to Pizza Hut,” Harry said.
Mario smiled, shaking his head saying, “Red sauce it is, you two Americans.”
“Sue, where did you get your ravenous love for Italian food?” Harry asked.
“From my mom’s cooking. She’s a full-blooded Napolitano.”
“I didn’t know you were half Italian.”
“Because I never told you. And, like you, the other half of me is Irish. My maiden name was Donnelly. Goldman is my married name.”
“Yet you and Becker go along with Jap jokes.”
“Rita is totally Jewish, with a great sense of humor, and we both enjoy the kamikaze charade. Does my true ethnic heritage change anything between us?”
“Not at all. I still love you just the same.”
Susan did not acknowledge that last comment but said, “How’s your new beat treating you?”
“As good as it is there, I have not found the suspect. And that’s my reason – my only reason – for being there.”
“And when you catch him will your inner turmoil also be over?”
“Yes. Then I will resolve everything. Once and for all.”
They finished with espresso. There was no room for dessert as the veal chop had been of gargantuan size and they had eaten every delicious morsel. Harry drove back to Susan’s home in Carle Place. He parked at the curb and walked her up to the front door. She turned the key in the lock and he said, “Good night, Susan. It was good to see you again.”
He kissed her on the cheek and turned to walk away. Susan grabbed his arm and brought him around to her and kissed him on the lips, softly at first, then harder and harder. When she released him, she smiled and said, “Good night, Susan? Get in here and let’s see if it will reallybe a good night.”
They rushed into the bedroom, leaped on the bed and made passionate love that went on and on and on…
Susan turned the light on and said, “Thank you very much, Officer Cassidy. I needed that.”
“I’m wiped out. You drained all the fluids out of my body. I need a beer.”
“It has been a long time. You had a lot of fluids built up that needed to be drained, didn’t you?” she said softly, caressing his back. “Harry, where do we go from here? I’m standing by. When will you ever trust me?”
“I told you before I trust you, and I love you.”
“Then tell me the truth, and I will be yours forever.”
“All right, Susan, I’ll tell you the truth. I’ll tell you all about me and Winston last Christmas, but first please let me get a beer.”
“Go right ahead. I’ll be waiting.”
When Harry went into the kitchen to get his beer, Susan reached under the bed and pressed the side of her handbag, turning the IAD issued voice activated tape recorder to the on position.
Chapter Twenty
“When I came back to the Nest, I was half in the bag already. I had a few more beers there. I came out and sat in the car and I spotted the three guys go in the alley and it took awhile for my alcohol-soaked brain to register what might be going on in the parking lot. By the time I decided to check it out, the three guys came running back out of the alley. I went back there and I saw Richie dying. I knew it was my fault for being so drunk I couldn’t react in time, so I ran to the callbox to get an ambulance for him. As I’m running I started to think about the situation and the questions that would arise, questions for which I would have no answers.”
“Like what?”
“What were you doing on your beat after you signed off duty? How much have you been drinking? I tell you, Sue, if they had given me a blood test then I would have shown at least a point-two-zero, and would have been suspended on the spot.”
“You thought of all those questions and the hot water you would be in, and that’s why you didn’t call for help for Richie?”
“Yes and no – here’s the awful part. I put that receiver down because I wanted Winston to die. He was a no-good thief, a thorn in my side for years. I would be rid of him once and for all and the people on my beat would be the better for it.”
“Ah, your beat. Your little corner of the world. Didn’t you think killing a thorn in your side, as you put it, was going a little overboard? You put yourself in the position of judge, jury and lord high executioner, and you were willing to allow someone to die because he disrupted your perfect little world. Because he was an irritation to your sense of order and control, you decided to walk away and let him die.”
“Yes, that’s what I did.”
“My God, Harry, how can you live with yourself?”
“I couldn’t, and I can’t. That’s why I’m trying to make it right, and I need you with me when I do.”
“How can you ever make this right?”
“I’ve confessed to Father Tom Ryan and he absolved me on the condition I also confess to the Job and take my punishment.”
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
“No, I’m telling you this because I know you are right. We can’t have a relationship based on a lie. I’m telling you this because I love you and I don’t want to lose you.”
“You realize you’ll most likely be fired; you will never walk a beat again? That your corner of the world, whether it’s in the Nine-Five or the Seven-Six, will be yours no longer? Can you deal with that?”
“I’ve resolved myself to all of those consequences, and I can deal with all of them – if you stand by me. If you love me, I’ll survive.”
“When do you plan to come forward?”
“Right after we catch Richie’s killer. Then I’ll come in and put it all on paper for you in your office, or you can bring me in to the Russian and I’ll spill it there.”
Susan was silent awhile then said, “I need a drink.”
They got up and went into the kitchen and she poured herself a glass of white wine and Harry got another beer. She drank it down and said, “You gave me a lot to think about. You’d better leave now. I’ll call you when my brain has absorbed all this.”
He dressed and kissed her softly. “Good night, Susan. Please forgive me for what I did. I need your forgiveness, your understanding and your love. Stand by me now, please.”
“Good night, Harry,” was all she said.
After she heard his car pull away she went back into the bedroom, re-wound the tape and listened to it from end to end. There it was, finally, out in the open. No wonder he was so terrified of taking the polygraph. And now she had it. She had him cold – his voluntary confession preserved on tape and ready to be presented gift-wrapped to Inspector Gregorovich. Tears ran down her cheeks as she switched off the recorder. “I have you now,” she said triumphantly. “Officer Harold T. Cassidy, I have you now.”
●
On Sunday morning Susan and Rita spoke on the phone. She had not slept much and had played the tape over and over. “Rita, can you come over? I need your advice and counsel badly.”
“Sounds serious? Problems with Harry?”
“Big time, and I don’t want to wait to see you tomorrow to tell you.”
“Sure, let me call Matt Damon and cancel our dinner date and I’ll be right over. Need anything? Food? Drinks?”
“No, just you. I have the coffee on and there’s plenty of stuff here if we want to eat. But I assure you, I have no appetite and maybe you won’t either after we talk.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Yes, it’s that bad.”
After Susan’s tale was told and the tape listened to three times she said to Rita, “What do you think about this?”
“I think you should be very pleased.”
“Pleased? How could you possibly say after you heard the terrible things he did? From his own mouth.”
“Wait a minute. Didn’t we all know what Harry did that
night? What’s new here that has you so shocked? It’s just as we figured it happened all along.”
“Maybe it’s finally hearing it from his own lips – this terrible admission he betrayed his shield – I just don’t know.”
“The last time we spoke about this you were so upset Harry wouldn’t tell you. You said if he truly loved you he would tell you. Now he has. He confessed to Susan, the one he loves, not to Sergeant Goldman, the IAD bitch.”
“What do I do now?”
“Before I answer that question, let me give you an ‘I told you so.’ I told you not to get involved with Cassidy until the investigation was over, and I’m sure some friend of his told him likewise. But no, you two fall into each other’s arms and now we have a plot of soap opera proportions. There are, in fact, four people involved here, not just two.”
“What do you mean, four people?”
“There’s Sergeant Goldman and Officer Cassidy, and then there’s Harry and Susan. Goldman wants to bring Cassidy to justice and thus advance her career. Cassidy despises Goldman’s tactics and can’t understand why she’s trying to scalp a good street cop. On the other side of this woeful foursome, Harry loves Susan. That’s obvious from last night’s baring of his soul to you. And Susan loves Harry – or does she? If she does, there’s one solution. If she doesn’t, there’s another solution.”
“I’m listening.”
“Which solution do you want to hear?”
“Both of them.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Are you telling me after Harry met your terms and told you all you wanted to know, you’re still not satisfied? What more do you want this guy to do for you?”
“Just tell me. Please.”
“If you love him, you burn the tape and let him resolve this his own way.”
“But what if he doesn’t? What if he reneges?”
“If you love him, it doesn’t matter, does it? But if you don’t love him, you still burn the tape and let him resolve this his own way.”
“But that’s the same thing. There’s no choice here. What kind of help is that?”
“Susan, I feel bad for you. I feel bad you seem incapable of forgiveness. Harry Cassidy is what the other cops call a stand-up guy. He’s confessed to his priest and he’s confessed to the woman he loves. He needs a little time to catch the guys who killed Winston. When he does that he only has one more thing to do – to stand up to himself and confess to the Department. He will do it, and I’m surprised you doubt he will not.”
