“Sal Mormo?” Frank said. “Who’s this?”
“My mom.”
“Really? The two of you can come with me.”
They followed him to a meeting room to see Vic across the table from them, the pages of Lyssa’s letter spread out in front of him. Vic kept his eyes on the table, ignoring their greetings, telling them to “Sit down. We have to take care of something first.”
Frank picked up a juvenile rights form and read it out loud, “You don’t have to be here. You can leave at any time. You and your mom can talk in private. If you agree, sign the bottom.” He held out the pen to Sal’s mother who looked at him and then down at the form in confusion.
“She don’t understand English too good,” Sal said.
“What does she understand?” Vic said.
“Spanish and Polish.”
Vic’s eyebrows raised. “How does that happen?”
“My dad’s from Poland. She picked it up from him.”
“You speak both?” Vic said.
Sal nodded.
“Tell her everything I just said. If she agrees, ask her to sign the form. You can pick the language.”
After a flurry of conversation between the mother and son, Mrs. Mormo picked up the pen and scribbled on the form. Sal took the pen from her but did not sign. “What’s this all about?”
“Sign the form first,” Vic said.
Sal had thick Mick Jagger lips and when he sneered it looked like two rubbery window shades smacking together. “What if I want an attorney to look it over?”
“Go hire one. It should only cost a thousand dollars. You’ve got that, right? He can come see you in prison.”
The two of them stared at one another tensely until Frank leaned forward, “Listen, Sal. It’s just a form that spells out your rights. All we’re asking you to do is listen. You don’t have to say a single word. I promise.”
Sal pulled the form in front of him and bent down over it until he was inches above the table, moving his lips to form each word. Frank leaned close to Vic and said, “My five year old can read without moving his lips.”
Vic looked back at him but said nothing. Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell-phone to check his text messages. He looked up to see if Sal had finished reading yet, but the kid’s mouth was trying to wrap itself around the word custodial. He smirked and started to type on his phone when he realized Vic was glaring at him. “Put that away,” Vic whispered.
Frank sighed and dropped the phone back in his pocket, sitting up as Sal slid the signed form back across the desk. Vic picked up Lyssa’s suicide note, clearing his throat to read it aloud. Sal’s mother leaned forward, listening intently to every word Vic said, squinting like it would help her better understand. Vic came to the part concerning Sal very slowly, giving her a chance to hear every syllable. Sal did not flinch.
When Sal finished reading the letter, Vic held it up to show them where the blood stains were. “That’s from her, where she blew her brains out in the bathroom of the foster home she was living in. A thirteen year old little girl, Sal. How’s that make you feel?”
Mrs. Mormo looked at the letter in horror and spoke rapidly in Spanish to her son. He shrugged and answered back, “I don’t know.”
Vic put the letter back in its envelope and folded his hands on the table. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“About what?”
“About Lyssa!”
Sal shrugged and said, “Who’s Lyssa?”
Vic leaned across the table and shouted, “The little girl you raped and forced into suicide. How many people have you done this to that this isn’t ringing a bell, genius?”
“I don’t know any Lyssa.”
“Lyssa?” his mother said. The two of them shook their head no.
Vic checked the envelope and saw it was addressed to Mrs. Rose from “Li-Li.” He showed them the envelope and said, “How about Li-Li? You know a Li-Li, Sal? Her brother is currently locked up in a sanitarium upstate because he at least he had the decency to admit what he did.”
“Li-Li,” Sal said, nodding with recognition. “I know her. She got my boy put away. She a lying bitch—”
Vic’s hand shot across and snatched Sal by the collar, yanking the boy halfway across the table and slamming Lyssa’s letter against his forehead like he was tacking it to a wall. “So help me God I will beat you like a dog if you finish that sentence, young man.”
Sal’s mother took him by the shoulders and drew him back into his seat. Vic leaned on the table, looming over them, “I just wanted you to know that this investigation is just getting started. I will arrest you for rape and see you tried as an adult. I will put you in a state prison with a thousand angry, lonely, bored men who can’t wait for fresh meat. I will make a phone call to my good friend who works at the prison and make sure you get the right cell-mate.”
Sal held up both hands and shouted, “I swear to God I don’t know what you are talking about! Please, listen! I don’t even know this girl. She thought she was my girlfriend!”
“Get out.”
Sal moaned and buried his face against his mother’s shoulder, sobbing until snot bubbles popped out of his nostrils. His mother looked at the three of them in confusion but still wrapped her arms around her son and patted him on the back as he wailed.
Vic pointed at the door and said, “The two of you, get out of my police station.”
Sal clutched his chest and gasped, “I can’t…I can’t breathe…I can’t walk.”
Vic jumped out of his seat and raced around the table, snatching the back of Sal’s chair and shaking it until he fell on the floor. “You have ten seconds to leave here on your own two feet or I’m dragging you out by your ears.”
Mrs. Mormo lifted her son from the chair and started pulling him away from Vic, who stalked behind them with both fists clenched, closing on them. Every time Sal stopped walking, Vic made like he was going to kick him. “I’m still counting. You’d better move.”
Vic pushed the station’s front door open to let the mother and son stumble into the parking lot. The boy collapsed on the walkway and vomited on his mother’s toeless shoes.
Frank wedged past Vic in the lobby to hurry back to the lunchroom for a handful of wet paper towels and a cup of water. Vic stared at him as he carried the items outside to where Sal was sitting in the walkway. “Here you go. Clean yourself up. You okay?”
“Thank you, sir,” Sal whispered meekly. His eyes were swollen and drool spilled out of his lower lip. Frank lifted the young man to his feet and walked both him and his mother to their car. He watched them leave, then turned back to face the station lobby, but it was empty.
He headed for the stairs, wincing the moment he put weight on his knee. The pills were already wearing off, but he didn’t have time to stop. He hobbled and hopped the rest of the way down the stairs, using the walls of the hallway as props, until he was close enough to the detective’s office to shout, “You down here, motherfucker? Where the hell are you?”
Vic looked up as Frank came into the doorway and said, “How do you think that went?”
“How do I think that went? Where did you learn to interview a suspect? You put us in a major jackpot on my first freaking day!”
Vic’s face turned curious and he folded his hands behind his head. “You serious? How do you figure?”
“You manhandled that kid, you screamed at him, you told him you were going to get him ass raped in prison for a crime we cannot prove, and then you threw him out when he was having a medical emergency!”
Vic considered all of this for a moment. “So?”
“So? So, I’m already being sued in federal court, douchebag. I don’t need to be involved in any more shit!”
Vic stamped his finger on Lyssa’s letter and said, “That little girl killed herself off of what those motherfuckers did to her. Her brother admitted to everything she accused him of! Do you believe for one second that she wasn’t lying about Sal?”
> “So what?” Frank said. “We can’t arrest him. You lied about that.”
“He doesn’t know that. But you’re right. We can’t arrest him. We both know that. Aside from today, he will never have to face any consequences for the role he played in Lyssa’s death. So was I hard on him? Yes. Do you think I got my point across?”
“If the point is that you are a nutcase, then yes.”
Vic shrugged and said, “If your complaint is that he didn’t have a good time here, that he didn’t enjoy the experience of having to talk to the police about a crime he committed, then I fail to see the problem. If you thought I was going to wipe his ass and make him feel all warm and fuzzy, you’re in the wrong division.”
Frank used his shirtsleeve to wipe the sweat off his face. It came away soaked. “Listen, I’ve got to run upstairs for a second. I need to cool off.”
“Okay,” Vic said. “Hey, Frank? Cream and two sweet and lows, please.”
Frank limped into the hallway. There was an open closet door near the staircase. He ducked inside of it and closed the door behind him. He reached into his pocket and shook several pills into his hand. He threw them into his mouth and swallowed them, having to keep swallowing saliva to get them down. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to abate. After a few moments, he relaxed and went back down the hallway.
Vic frowned when he came back in. “That was quick. Where’s my coffee?”
“I couldn’t make it up there,” Frank said. “My leg started to hurt on the way so I came back. Listen, I’m sorry for going off on you like that. I’m just stressed out.”
Vic watched Frank go back to his seat and sit down at his desk. He continued to stare, even as Frank turned away and tried to concentrate on setting up his new desk.
***
Frank stuck his head into the Chief’s office to say goodnight, but it was empty. A voice called out from the Staff Sergeant’s office, “The Chief’s not in. What do you need?”
He walked down the hallway and looked in on Erinnyes. “Just wanted to say goodnight. I had a great first day. Thanks for the opportunity.”
“Make sure you keep a uniform handy. I talked to the Chief today and there’s no reason to have you sitting around doing nothing when we could use you on the street if they get backed up.”
“Oh,” Frank said. “Won’t that get in the way if we’re in the middle of something?”
Erinnyes’s brow wrinkled. “Well, when that bridge happens, we’ll cross it off, now won’t we?”
Frank cocked his head as he tried to untangle that one. “I guess so. See you tomorrow.”
“One more thing. Were you assigned a vehicle yet?”
“No. I figured I’d use the second unmarked car.”
“Yes you may,” he said, “But only when you are operating the speed timing device for traffic enforcement. Our numbers are unacceptably low this month. For anything else, you are to use Car 6.”
“But that’s a marked patrol car, sir.”
“Quite correct. And since you are only a patrol officer who is temporarily assigned elsewhere, that is your vehicle.”
“And what do I do when that car is being used by someone else?”
Erinnyes leaned back and folded his hands over his enormous belly. “As I think about it, it occurs to me that you might need to use an unmarked vehicle at times. Should that occur, you are to call me directly and request permission to use it. That doesn’t mean anyone else who works in this police department, including what passes for a detective around here. That means me.”
“Or the Chief?” Frank said.
Erinnyes smiled thinly and said, “That goes without saying.”
“Whatever works, boss,” Frank said. He hurried out of the station and was barely into the parking lot when he started unscrewing the cap on his prescription bottle. His cellphone buzzed. He picked it up and saw that it was Vic sending him a text message: Meet me behind the old Banner Building at 0300. We’re pulling garbage, so dress appropriately.
He put back his phone just as a marked patrol car came pulling into the parking lot. Officer Iolaus backed into his parking space and got out of his car, carrying his plastic lunch pail, smiling at Frank. “Shift’s over, buddy,” Iolaus said. “Sometimes, I can’t believe they really pay me to do this. You can have all that defective shit. It’s just me in my little world, driving around the township.”
Frank nodded as Iolaus kept walking past, going into the station. He poured whatever was left in the bottle into his hand and swallowed the pills without counting them.
***
The school bus produced a mechanical stop sign, flashing red lights to stop traffic at the intersection in every direction. Vic watched the first few kids come out of the bus, carrying colorful school bags, laughing and pushing each other. Jason was behind them, waiting to get down from the lowest step. “Hey bud,” Vic said.
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d walk you home. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” Jason said. “I didn’t think I was going to see you until Wednesday.”
“I didn’t want to wait. How are things in the house?”
“Good.”
“Mom’s being nice to you and your sister?”
“Dad,” Jason sighed. “She’s always nice to us.”
They came to the house and Vic stopped at the end of the driveway, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’m not supposed to go in when your mom’s not there.”
“I know,” Jason said.
“You going to be all right by yourself until she gets home?”
“Yeah, I’ll just do my homework and grab a snack.”
“Okay.” Vic cleared his throat and said, “I lied. Something happened today that made me want to come see you.”
“Was it bad?”
“Not too bad,” Vic said. “That’s the hardest part about not being at home. Seeing you guys every day gives me something to hold onto. Without you, I think I’d run screaming into a loony bin.”
“Like Ulysses,” Jason said.
“Who?”
“We read about him in school. He was the captain of a ship in Greece that was passing by the island of the Sirens. Their song made sailors go insane and jump into the water to their death, so Ulysses made all of his men stuff their ears with wax. The he had them tie him to the mast and ordered them to ignore him no matter what happened.”
“So did he get to hear their song?”
Jason nodded and said, “It drove him insane, but he was tied up too tightly to hurt himself.”
Vic looked at his son and said, “You’re one of those nerdy kids I used to beat up in the lunch room, aren’t you?”
Jason laughed, “Lucky for me you got fat!”
4. Detective Ajax raised his hand to shield his eyes from Frank’s approaching headlights. He was dressed in all black with gloves and a hat. He looked like a chubby cat burglar. Vic put down his hand as Frank pulled up; staring in amazement at the marked police vehicle Frank was driving. “Tell me this is a joke, Frank.”
“What?”
“Tell me you did not show up to conduct a clandestine operation in a marked goddamn police car.”
Frank smacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, “The hell I didn’t, Vic! I drove this because this is what I was ordered to drive by the goddamn Staff Sergeant. He gave me a direct order not to touch an unmarked car unless I receive his express permission first. Of course, he told me that right after he said I need to keep a uniform handy so I can go direct traffic when the real cops are too busy.”
Vic gritted his teeth and kicked the car’s front tire. “That meddling asshole! He hates that somebody’s out here doing police work. I am so sick of his shit!”
Frank got out of the car, looking around in the darkness. “Calm down.”
“I won’t calm down! I’m out here at three in the morning with a goddamn gimp who can barely walk down the stairs t
o my office and drives around in a marked police car! I give up. Screw the trash pull. Screw this place. Screw everything. Just go home.”
Frank folded his arms and leaned back against his car, letting Vic pace back and forth while taking deep breaths. “I was thinking that we could leave my car here where no one can see it. I can jump in with you, and we can go play in the trash as much as you want.”
“It’s a two car operation, Frank. We’re going to be taking a lot of trash.”
“Okay,” Frank said. “But on the street we have a saying that goes: Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome. Or did you forget that?”
Vic stopped pacing and said, “No, I didn’t forget that. I live that. I freaking wrote that. You study it now because I invented it.”
“I’m pretty sure it was around before you. My dad used to say it.”
Vic walked over to his car and stood at the door, waiting for Frank. “Your dad used to say it because I said it to him first.”
“You were, like, ten years old.”
“I was a ten year old police genius, Frank. I’m actually the reincarnation of six other police geniuses, and I carry the wisdom of all of them in me, like Cop Buddha.”
Frank patted Vic’s belly and said, “Now it all makes sense.”
Vic laughed and started the car. They pulled out of the parking lot and he said, “Listen, I meant ‘gimp’ in the nicest possible way.”
“Is that an apology?” Frank said.
“Shut up.”
***
An hour later, Frank untied a small white kitchen trash bag in the station’s parking garage and recoiled. “Oh my God, I’m gonna puke.”
“If you puke on my evidence, I will kick you in the knee,” Vic said. “Put your gloves on and don’t breathe in when you open the bag.”
“There cannot possibly be anything we need in here. It’s full of…ulk…dirty diapers… I’m gonna yak.”
Superbia (Book One of the Superbia Series) Page 3
