The Craving

by Jason Starr

  “She was useless at the lineup yesterday,” Dan said. “I don’t believe she was ever planning to help us, she was just busting our balls.”

  “That wasn’t your call to make.”

  “As the commanding officer at this precinct, actually it is my call to make. But before I made my decision I consulted with Santoro and Reese.”

  “You didn’t consult with me.”

  “You weren’t here.”

  “Come on, that’s bull—”

  “Look, I’m as upset about this as you are. You think I’m not upset?”

  “The only thing you seem upset about is protecting your own ass.”

  “Look, Rodriguez, I’ve just about had it with you—”

  “I gave that woman my word, goddamn it,” Geri said. “I told her we would protect her, and now because of your…” She was going to say your stupidity but caught herself and said, “This isn’t right. I told her we would protect her. I promised her.”

  “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You knew we could only protect her for a limited amount of time. If the case went unsolved for a month, for a year, you knew we wouldn’t have cops out there forever, she wasn’t going into the freakin’ witness protection program. Eventually she was going to be on her own.”

  “It was two days after she agreed to talk to us,” Geri said. “Two days.”

  “Look, I agree this is an unfortunate situation; it sucks, okay, and despite what you think, I am extremely upset about it. But the fact remains, the past is the past and there’s nothing we can do about it now except deal with it.”

  “Yeah, well I want to hear you explain to her family why this unfortunate situation went down the way it did. And I want to hear how you explain it to the press too, because you know when word gets out that a witness who was supposed to be under police protection was murdered, they’re going to be all over this.”

  “I won’t have to explain it,” Dan said. “You will.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “As lead detective on this case you’ll go to the crime scene in Washington Heights and make a statement on behalf of the department. You’ll explain why we made the decision.”

  “If you think I’m taking the fall—”

  “You aren’t the NYPD,” Dan said. “I’m tired of your attitude that you’re in this alone. You’re part of a team.”

  “I wasn’t part of the team that made this decision.”

  “You’re still part of the team and lead detective on the case. One thing I won’t tolerate around here is an atmosphere of finger pointing and blame.”

  “You expect me to go out there and lie?”

  “No, I expect you to go out there and do your job.”

  “Yeah, do my job, so you can cover your own ass.”

  “I’m not asking you; I’m giving you an order, is that understood?”

  “What if I don’t take it?”

  “That would be the biggest mistake of your career.”

  Geri glared at Dan, using every bit of restraint she could muster up not to go ballistic on him, and then she stormed out of the office, passing Shawn, who was sitting and eating a Pop Tart, saying, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Driving uptown on the Henry Hudson Parkway, Shawn next to her, Geri put the siren on, not only because she wanted to get to Washington Heights in a hurry, but because she wanted to speed, let out stress. An angry driver to begin with, she was out of control, going eighty, cutting over two lanes to pass an SUV.

  Shawn, still holding a chunk of Pop Tart, said, “Take it easy, will ya? When I die I don’t want it to be closed casket, know what I’m sayin’?”

  Geri didn’t slow down, pushing the needle past eighty-five.

  “Hey, look, I know you’re pissed off,” Shawn said, “but you wanna be a cop, sometimes you gotta roll with the punches.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You’d better do that. It’s called a pecking order.”

  “Pecking order my PR ass,” Geri said. “If it wasn’t for my ethnicity, if I wasn’t a woman, you think we’d be having this conversation? Dan had a problem with my promotion to begin with, and this is how he’s taking it out on me. And he’s like, ‘What can she do about it?’ ’cause he knows it’s like I’m on probation one more year till I move up a grade. He knows I can’t rock the boat ’less I want to walk off the plank.”

  “I don’t know about walkin’ planks,” Shawn said. “All I know is you’re gonna kill both of us if you don’t slow the hell down.”

  Realizing ninety on the Henry Hudson was getting out of control, Geri slowed to seventy-five.

  “Good, now we’re at open casket again,” Shawn said. “Least my kids can see me one last time before they put me in the ground.” Then he said, “But you think I didn’t have to take hits on my way up? Nobody makes it without getting past the bumps in the road. And if you don’t like it, then quit. Be a security guard, work the door at a strip club. You walk away, trust me, there’ll be cops lining up to take your spot, you can count on that.”

  In Washington Heights, when they turned onto 184th Street, they saw news trucks from the major networks double-parked in front of Morales’s building. There were also several marked and a couple of unmarked police cars, and reporters, cops, and dozens of bystanders milling around the area.

  “Guess these cops had to leave the marathon early,” Geri said sarcastically.

  When Geri and Shawn got out of the car they were intercepted by Annabelle—Geri couldn’t recall her last name—a media relations person for the NYPD whom Geri had met a couple of times before.

  “When do you want to make a statement?” Annabelle asked.

  “Gimme a few,” Geri said.

  Reporters shouted questions as Geri and Shawn bypassed them and went into the building and up to Carlita’s apartment. Santoro and Reese were there.

  “Sorry about this,” Santoro said. “I really am.”

  Geri didn’t want to hear any apologies. Though she had a feeling Santoro was being sincere, she didn’t say anything.

  “So what do we got?” Geri asked.

  “What you see is what you get,” Santoro said. “Perp may have entered via the fire escape. Apparently the victim was in the bathroom at the time. No sign of struggle, seemed to be surprised, two gunshots to the head, and then he was gone.”

  “What’s forensics saying?” Geri asked.

  “Not much, unfortunately. Might have partial prints on the fire escape, but apparently kids were playing on the fire escape yesterday, so that may turn out to be nothing.”

  “What about witnesses?” Geri asked. “Wait, lemme take a wild guess, nobody saw or heard anything.”

  “Nobody saw or heard anything,” Santoro said.

  “Gee, what a surprise,” Geri said. “One witness gets taken out and nobody else wants to talk. Gee. I wonder why.”

  “Nobody wanted it to go down this way,” Santoro said.

  “It didn’t have to,” Geri said. “So why’d you agree to getting rid of protection? And please don’t tell me it had to do with getting cops down to the marathon.”

  “We can’t protect everybody who gives us a tip or a sketch,” Santoro said. “You know that. But, just so you know, I told Dan I didn’t feel right about throwing you out to the sharks on this. I was fully willing to shoulder the responsibility, but it wasn’t my call.”

  Geri could tell that Santoro, unlike Dan, seemed legitimately upset.

  “Whatever,” Geri said. “Guess it’s all part of my initiation, right? Last in, first to take the fall.”

  One of the forensics workers, a young black guy, came in, and Santoro told him to check the roof and the roofs of the other buildings on the block.

  When the forensics guy left, Santoro said to Geri, “We’re still trying to figure out how the perp gained access to the apartment. Even if the perp came through the window, he had to
get into the building somehow. He probably just bypassed the double door security; somebody could’ve buzzed him in.”

  “The entrance to the roof locked?” Geri asked.

  “No, lock’s been broken, the super said. Of course he could’ve entered through another building and dropped down the fire escape, but one thing is the perp probably did his recon; he seemed to be pretty familiar with the building.”

  “Well, guess it’s time to face the storm,” Geri said.

  She was leaving the apartment when Shawn came over and said, “I’ll talk to them with you if you want.”

  “Nah, it’s okay,” Geri said. “I can handle it. But I appreciate the offer.”

  Geri went downstairs, noticing when she got to the vestibule that there were a lot more reporters there than there had been ten or however many minutes ago. Any hopes that this wasn’t going to be a major news story were fading fast.

  As Geri exited the building, Annabelle asked her, “You want to go over anything first?”

  “Nah,” Geri said. “Think I’m just gonna wing it.”

  With mikes and a few TV cameras aimed at her, she gave an official police statement about the incident. While she was tempted to tell the truth, that this murder could have been avoided and had nothing to do with her, she spoke in a formal “police-ese” tone, saying, “Yesterday we made a decision to remove police protection of Carlita Morales, which had an unfortunate result.” She went on, explaining what had happened, hating that she had to be so cold and unemotional.

  She kept the statement short and sweet and was dying to get away, but she had to take a few questions.

  “Were there any direct threats?” a reporter asked.

  “No, there were not,” Geri said.

  “Do you have any leads in the shooting?” another reporter shouted.

  “I can’t comment specifically on anything regarding the investigation itself at this time,” Geri said.

  “Are there threats against anyone else?” a reporter in the back of the group asked.

  “No, we’re not aware of any at this time.”

  Thankfully Annabelle cut in, rescuing her. Geri was heading back into the building when a man to her right, several yards away, behind the police barricade, shouted to her, “My sister died ’cause of you!”

  Geri stopped and looked over at the young Latino. He looked familiar, probably because he looked so much like Carlita. It was startling, actually. They had the same big brown eyes, same narrow nose with the little bump in the middle.

  “I’m really truly sorry,” Geri said.

  “Sorry ain’t gonna bring my sister back!” he shouted.

  An officer came over, in case he had to restrain the guy, but Geri nodded to the officer as if saying, It’s okay, don’t worry.

  Geri said to the young guy, “We’re gonna find out who did this, I promise you.”

  And the guy said, “I want my sister back, that’s all I want, can you promise me that? Can you?”

  Geri held his gaze for a few seconds, then entered the apartment building. On the stairwell she had to take a moment to control herself, and then she went up the stairs to Carlita’s apartment. Shawn was in front and said, “You ready for round two of bad news?”

  “What is it?”

  “While you were down there, Dan called; he’s taking us off the case.”

  “What?” Geri wasn’t expecting this at all. “That’s ridiculous, after I go out there and suck it up for the department?”

  “That’s just the way the timing worked out.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “He said the order came from the police commissioner himself.”

  “So I have to be part of the team,” Geri said, “till a head has to roll, and then I’m on my own.”

  “Your head’s not the only one rolling; my head’s rolling too.”

  “You didn’t go out there to take blame for something you had no part of only to get kicked in the ass again two minutes later.”

  “You gotta just chill right now. He said it could’ve been worse, we could’ve got suspended. Since you’re not full grade, he could’ve made you a patrol cop again. I mean, that wasn’t gonna happen, but I’m just sayin’.”

  “Saying what?” Geri said. “Now we’ve got a killer out there and they take the cops who had the best chance to catch him off the case?”

  “Sometimes you gotta just roll with the punches,” Shawn said. “That’s what I’m sayin’.”

  “This isn’t why I became a cop,” Geri said, practically yelling.

  Forensics workers and cops looked over, including Santoro. By Santoro’s expression it was obvious he knew what had gone down.

  “Well, good luck,” Geri said. “You’re gonna need it.”

  Geri and Shawn left the building, ignoring the reporters’ questions. As she got into the Charger, Geri looked at Carlita’s grieving brother, realizing she’d made yet another promise she wasn’t going to keep.

  Geri wasn’t in the mood for another confrontation with Dan, and besides, today was supposed to be her day off anyway, so after she dropped Shawn and the Charger back at the precinct, she headed back home on the subway, figuring she’d get some shut-eye and try to sleep this day off.

  Back in her apartment, Willy and Wonka, maybe sensing that she was in a bad way, didn’t come to greet her at the door and rub their heads against her legs and purr the way they usually did. They didn’t even bother to get up from the couch.

  Geri lay in bed, knowing there was no chance of getting to sleep. Her mind was way too active, replaying events of the day. She had anger and resentment, yeah, but the worst was how powerless she felt. A family had lost a daughter, a sister, and Geri couldn’t do anything to make things right.

  Then her thoughts drifted to the Diane Coles case—a family in Michigan had suffered a loss and wanted closure too. She reached for her cell and called Michael Hartman’s friend Ramon. She got his voice mail—no message, just Julio Iglesias crooning, “Besame Mucho.” Shaking her head, Geri ended the call. She didn’t like to leave messages, especially when she was working on a case, because she wanted to be in a position of control. She didn’t want to be the one waiting around for the phone to ring. She’d rather keep calling back, and her number was private so no one could see it on Caller ID.

  So she waited a few minutes and called again. He didn’t answer, so she hung up and then called a third time. It took about ten calls before a man picked up and said, “You my secret admirer?”

  Geri was thrown off—she wasn’t sure why—and said, “Um, is this Ramon?”

  “Depends who’s calling,” the man said, trying to be suave.

  “I’m Detective Geri Rodriguez with Manhattan North Homicide.”

  “That case, I guess you are my secret admirer. I mean, I had eleven missed calls; you must want to talk to me pretty badly.”

  Was this guy for real?

  “I wanted to talk to you about a case I’m working on,” Geri said.

  “I heard it’s not your case,” Ramon said.

  Geri wasn’t in the mood, especially today, for his smart-ass attitude. But she wanted to stay in control, not play his games, so she kept it professional, saying, “Then I guess you spoke with your friend, Michael.”

  “He said you might call me, yeah.”

  “Well, actually the case is related to a case I’ve been working on, so it is my case.”

  “Whatever you say,” Ramon said. “Whatever you say. I won’t argue with a pretty cop.”

  Had Michael told him she was pretty? Or was Ramon the type of smooth talker who told every girl he met she was pretty? Either way, Geri had had enough of this nonsense.

  “I’d rather talk to you in person,” Geri said.

  “Sounds good to me,” Ramon said. “I like to keep things more physical myself.”

  Rolling her eyes, Geri asked, “Are you home now?”

  “Actually I’m at rehearsal for a play, but I’m gonna be off in about a half hour.�
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  “Where’s your rehearsal space?”

  “Theater district,” Ramon said. “It ain’t Broadway yet. But gimme a couple months; I’ll get there, baby, I’ll get there.”

  So he thought he was God’s gift to women and a great actor. As long as this guy wasn’t cocky.

  “I’m actually in the area,” she said. “So I can come by.”

  He gave her the address, at a theater space on Forty-sixth near Ninth, which was only a few blocks from her apartment. She wasn’t looking forward to questioning some smart-ass, but it felt good to be back working on a case, and more important, she hoped she could help get some closure for Diane Coles’s family.