“Like all the way up to One Police Plaza, and Larry’s powerful father? What’s been done to find the killer since the Commissioner’s press conference? He promised justice for the fallen officer, but it’s been almost two weeks. I’ve heard nothing.”
“Only thing I know is we buried a brother. Just a few days ago. Still raw.”
“Look, Barone, I’m not unsympathetic. I’m sorry it happened. From what I’ve learned, he was a good cop, a good father.”
“What do you mean, what you’ve learned? This isn’t your case, McSwain.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Not,” Larry Dean said. There was more than the usual vitriol in his voice.
“Struck a chord, did I, Larry?”
“McSwain, leave him alone.”
“Okay, have it your way.” Jimmy could see a pain inside Larry’s eyes. There was more to the story there. Luke had been one of their coworkers at the10th precinct. For now, he’d drop the subject. He still needed Barone on his side, and as much as his partner was a pain in the ass, loyalty always won out over a smart-ass private eye trying to scare up some information on the sly. Jimmy decided to try another tactic. He pulled out his iPhone and called up his photos, slid a finger till he found the one of the diamond-crusted bracelet. He showed it to Barone first, begrudgingly to Larry.
“Recognize this?”
“That your Valentine’s gift to Frisano?” Larry asked.
Barone grew irritated, pulling the near-empty beer away from his partner. “Larry, I’ll see you back at the precinct. Get a coffee on your way back. And before you protest, that’s an order from a superior. Go.”
Larry Dean didn’t look happy, but he did as he’d been instructed. But not before knocking back the dregs of his beer. Jimmy had a sense they weren’t done with each other. Perhaps he’d have a confrontation with another Dean sibling back in the neighborhood. Mickey had always been a challenge, Larry a lightweight. One punch, he’d be done, flat on his back. Just to wipe the smirk off his face would satisfy Jimmy. He’d always made jokes about Jimmy’s sexuality, the intent to minimize Jimmy’s masculinity. But it rarely worked. Jimmy had never had a problem with being gay. Maybe Larry had some latent feelings he’d denied exploring. Shame. Why hide from life.
Once Larry had stepped out into the sunshine, Jimmy and Barone returned to the matter at hand.
Jimmy spoke. “So, the bracelet, you ever see it before?”
“I got a question for you, instead. Where’d you see it?”
“On the wrist of the widow Luke. There, I gave up some info freely. Reciprocate?”
“I’m gonna come clean about something, McSwain, but if I hear it on the street I’ll know it came from you and I’ll never tell you another damn thing.”
“Scout’s honor,” he said, putting up a hand.
“Yeah, right. Some boy scout. You get a merit badge in beating Mickey?”
“Nah, that was extra credit.”
“Punk ass kid, always was. Deserved a few punches, not so much a gunshot to the head. Prison would have been better, taught him a lesson.” He paused. “Larry’s different, quiet, he wants to do good. He gets in his own way.”
Jimmy nodded, acknowledging the comment without comment. He was waiting.
“Okay, the bracelet, yeah, I saw it. Well, a photograph of it. On a list of hot items.”
“Stolen items?”
He nodded. “From the evidence room.”
“Officer Luke wasn’t such a good guy after all, huh?”
“That’s up to the Commissioner’s office to determine. There’s a task force.”
“Sure there is. Just like when my father was murdered.”
“There’s no correlation, Jimmy. How could there be after all this time? Luke was like ten years old when Joey was killed.”
“Just means this has been going on for too long.”
“This? What is this? McSwain, you see conspiracy when I just see a cop who went too far.”
“Oh, please, you don’t believe that bullshit and neither do I. Look, Barone, I’ve always had a lot of respect for you, you do good work, dedicating your life to solving crimes and protecting people. If only you had been assigned my father’s case instead of Tolliver, maybe we wouldn’t be here today still looking for answers. But you can’t honestly believe Officer Luke’s killing was an isolated incident. It’s part of a chain of events. Think back to last summer, to Rashad Assan. A former cop, released from prison after a decade, and what does he do? He goes on a killing spree of deli owners. Targeted stores, not random. Delis, not unlike the kind where my father was gunned down. Rashad knew something and he was sent to prison as a way to send a message to others who defied the men in charge. Then there’s the chop shop in Queens where Assan’s sister, Seetha, was held hostage…”
“She wasn’t his sister, she was a Fed…”
“No, she wasn’t. That was a cover story. Lieutenant Sal Frisano confirmed it for me a few months ago, Seetha was real and is now in witness protection. Then Mickey Dean comes back to town, quite unexpectedly, and where do I find him operating his illegal activities? In another chop shop, this one on the west side of Manhattan, his old stomping grounds.”
“Jimmy, you’re reaching if you think there’s a connection between all of that stuff.”
“I don’t think I am,” Jimmy said. He’d tried to avoid using his last piece of evidence he believed linked all these events of the past year, yet he knew he had to put all his cards on the table if he was going to make progress. These disparate pieces had led him to this point, his investigation getting the needed, and unfortunate, push from the execution of yet another cop, a young man who probably didn’t know what he’d gotten involved in. Jimmy leaned in, pushing his beer aside. “Tell me, Roscoe,” he said, intentionally using the detective’s first name, making it personal. “Does the phrase Blue Death mean anything to you?”
Barone opened his mouth and then shut it just as quickly. Like an alligator who had missed his prey, his expression was one of wariness, but also of calculated attack. “Leave it alone, Jimmy. You know more than you should. More than anyone should.”
“I’m on to something. Blue Death is something. Something bad.”
“You have no idea, Jimmy. It’s…dangerous stuff. Not anything to mess with.”
“Why?”
“Because, even if the rumors of Blue Death became public, it would get the press sniffing around and eventually would bring down the most powerful police force in the United States. None of us want that. Just stay away.” He stared at the last of his beer, which looked flat and warm but still he gulped it like that gator finally getting his meal. He swam off unsatisfied.
Jimmy was left alone in the bar, just him and one regular and the bartender now. It was early afternoon, post lunch hour but not yet happy hour. He’d been left much to think about, all of it having left him with an inner chill. Barone was old-school, not easily rattled, yet Jimmy had managed to frighten him by uttering just two words: Blue Death.
Moving to the bar, he ordered another beer, dropping a twenty on the bar.
“Barone took care of it,” he said, “Said you might be asking for another after he left.”
Jimmy offered up his thanks, took a grateful sip while staring ahead at the mirror over the bar. His own face stared back at him, one that seemed to have a few additional lines on it after the last few days. What would he look like by the end of these two cases? Would he find a solution? Barone’s words echoed in his mind. The truth would bring down a police force.
He thought about Officer Denson Luke.
He thought about Carmen Ramirez, her husband Ranuel Inshan, their son Sonny Ramirez.
He thought about Joseph McSwain.
Of Mr. Wu-Tin.
And finally, of a young girl named Cassiopeia Dean.
A puzzle with too many pieces.
It was a delicate balance, and he knew he’d have to return to his office and write up details of all he’d lea
rned recently. How else to keep it all straight? And then of course, there was another mystery haunting him. The words his mother hadn’t spoken last night. And as much as he wanted to probe her for more, he knew he had to wait for her to come to him. In an investigation, sometimes you were active, sometimes you had to let things gestate till your mind could figure out any missed connections.
Jimmy McSwain had been bored last week. Now he was overwhelmed.
He felt blood bubble inside him. This is what he lived for. The busier the better.
Yes, he was working two cases again, perhaps more than that. Life had quickly become a complicated mess. When you boiled every case down, it all meant one thing: defeating one enemy. Evil.
Chapter Six
Saturday morning presented Jimmy with a series of challenges, not least among them the fact there was no coffee in the cupboard. Add in the truth that he couldn’t get his share of the shower, because between his mother and two sisters, the apartment was overrun with an estrogen energy. He should have stayed in his office instead of sleeping on a sofa that barely fit him. But Mallory wasn’t ready to go back to her place, not on Valentine’s Day, not to a lonely studio whose walls “will probably close in on me, crush me,” she’d said last night. He stretched his body, felt a now familiar ache in his shoulder from last fall’s bullet wound, and wished for a hot spray of water on it right now.
Wasn’t happening.
“Ma, where’s the coffee?”
She wandered into the living room, wearing her bathrobe, rubbing at her eyes.
“Sorry, must’ve forgotten. We’ll all go to the Westway for breakfast, my treat.”
Jimmy looked at a clock upon the wall. It was just before nine. “I’ve got things to do.”
“You need to eat. How else can you be productive?”
“With coffee,” he said.
“You’re impossible to please, Jimmy McSwain.”
“I’ll go to my office, shower there, pick up coffee on the way.”
“Independent, as always.”
Jimmy, disheveled from sleep and sporting a couple days’ worth of dark scruff, kissed his mother’s cheek. “Just how you raised me.”
“Don’t forget to shave.”
Jimmy rubbed his cheeks. He couldn’t remember when he’d last put a razor to his face. A few days for sure, producing a thick coating of whiskers. He told his mother he’d consider it, then grabbed his leather jacket and headed out, his voice trailing back that he wasn’t sure when he’d be back, maybe not till Monday. Even at age thirty, his mother liked to know his comings and goings. That’s what you get for sharing a legal address with the woman who gave birth to you. There were always strings attached.
Down the steep stairs Jimmy bounded, a pattering sound seemingly chasing after him. His eyes darted upwards, and he realized what he heard was rain. A heavy downpour. Great, just what he needed on a day when he wanted to scour the city for a variety of leads and undisclosed clues. He hadn’t brought an umbrella with him, though truth be known he hated to use them. No one in the city knew how to carry them anyway, the pointed end always jutting upwards. If they crashed into someone, that could mean an eye. Did that lesson not get taught anymore?
Jimmy approached the first door to the building’s vestibule when he stopped, looked back toward the rear apartment. He wondered if Carmen was awake and figured there was only one way to find out. He doubled back, knocked gently. He heard tentative footsteps and before she could ask who it was, or worse, simply open the door, he announced himself.
“Carmen, it’s Jimmy.”
He heard the lock turn, a chain being pulled back. The door opened. “Oh, thank you. I was thinking to call you…perhaps it was too early? Guess not.”
“A private investigator doesn’t keep regular hours. You can call me anytime.”
Her attempt at a smile failed. She was dressed in gray sweat pants and a pink T-shirt, both of which highlighted her mocha-colored features. Her dark hair was flat against her head, but still she was pretty. Better presented than he was presently. “Do you have news? An update on Sonny?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Before I begin the day…any word?”
She shook her head. Her eyes giving him a hopeful look, like he’d pulled a miracle. “You?”
“Nothing yet. But I learned a bit about Mr. Wu-Tin yesterday. Not someone to mess with.”
“Yet Ranuel did.”
“That’s the rub, as they say.”
If she was familiar with the expression, she didn’t say. “So what is the next step?”
“I’d like to talk to Lourdes.”
“Oh, she won’t say a thing. She’ll defend Ranuel, refuse to give up anything about him.”
“I have ways,” he said, offering up an encouraging smile.
“Come in, I’ll get you her address. It’s up in the Bronx. Would you like some coffee?”
Music to his taste buds, and Jimmy slipped in. He stood in the center of the apartment, still an array of boxes gathered about, some empty, some still sealed with tape. At least there was that sofa he’d slept on, a chair, and table filling the middle of the room, a home in the making. Just as she’d promised. So far, every word Carmen Ramirez had spoken held true. He hoped she kept up that pattern.
She returned with a mug of steaming coffee and a pad of paper. She handed the former to Jimmy, who began to drink right away, while she began to jot down information on the latter with a handy pen. Finished, she handed him the piece of paper, which he gazed at, then tucked away into his jacket’s inner pocket.
“Jimmy, you didn’t go to the police, did you?”
“Not about this case, no,” he said, trying to dance around his own brand of truth. “I did ask about Mr. Wu-Tin. The police can be a valuable resource.”
“You promised.”
She turned around, wrapping her arms around her lithe body. Was she mad, disappointed, or just afraid at what Jimmy might have revealed?
“They know nothing about Sonny, or you, or Ranuel. Nothing they can act on, fear not.”
“You are sure?”
He nodded. “If I could get information from the police without them suspecting my true motives, imagine how good my interrogation tactics will be with Lourdes. Carmen, it’s okay, it’s just standard procedure. You gather what you can, analyze what they say—and what they don’t—then you start to piece things together. Tell me, when did you last see Sonny?”
“Thursday morning. We had cereal together before I went to work. I hadn’t yet gotten him settled into his new school—this coming Monday was to be his first day—so he was staying home. Lourdes showed up around eight to look after him.”
“So you saw her.”
“Yes. I wouldn’t leave him unattended. As it was, I was twenty minutes late for work.”
“And when you came home, Sonny was gone. What about Lourdes, you never did tell me how the chain of events unfolded.”
Carmen shivered, gazing around the room, as though reliving the moment. Had she come home to an empty home, fear taking hold of her? How had she even managed to sleep since then? She seemed too calm for a mother whose boy was missing. Or was she just numb?
“No, Lourdes wasn’t here. She’d left a note. Said to call her.”
“So she didn’t bother to wait and tell you, or better yet, call you the moment she discovered Sonny was missing? That’s very strange behavior, Carmen. Makes me wonder. Do you think she was working in concert with her son? That she orchestrated a reunion between father and son?”
“Why would she do that? It only puts Sonny in jeopardy. What if I hadn’t met you and I went to the police anyway?”
“Perhaps Lourdes thought living out in the open here with no protection was dangerous in itself.”
Carmen grew quiet. As though she was reconsidering her move. Until then, at least Sonny was surrounded by family, too much of it if the boy was to be believed. “Oh, Jimmy, I just don’t know what to do now. Sonny, he’s so young,
he doesn’t understand any of this. He loves his father, looks up to him. If Ranuel came for him, he wouldn’t hesitate to go with him. As much as I don’t want the alternative, if Ranuel did this without telling me…”
Wanting to ease her fears, Jimmy set his coffee cup down on the table and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Best advice? Stay put, await word from me, from Lourdes, heck, maybe even from your wayward husband. The best scenario is having Sonny walk through that door, unharmed. Perhaps someone just meant to put a scare into you. You need to be here in case he returns.”
“How would that be possible?”
“If Sonny was abducted, perhaps it’s just a warning shot. Whoever took him decides to return him. But with the inherent threat that it could happen again, and at any time. It’s a way to intimidate the vulnerable. To drag Ranuel out of hiding.”
“That’s chilling, Jimmy. Diabolical.”
“If Mr. Wu-Tin’s people have Sonny, diabolical is the least of it. Let me go, see what I can find out. I’ll keep you posted. You have my number, and now I have yours.” He paused at the front door, turned back. “I’ll do my very best. And not just about returning Sonny home.”
“What else is there?”
“Reuniting an entire family. I believe in both parents raising their children.”
“Jimmy, to do that…”
“Yeah, I know. I might have to pay a visit somewhere. Good thing I like Chinese food.”
Carmen’s lips wavered, like she wanted to laugh but couldn’t. Too much was riding on his finding her son.
“Jimmy,” she said.
“Yeah, Carmen?”
“Bring my son home, please. If something happens to him, it will haunt me forever.”
Her words chilled him. They were far too much like his own feelings, his own private case that kept him awake in hours designed for sleep. He nodded affirmatively. It was the best he could do right now. Empty promises slid down his throat, churning inside him. He was unable to digest them.
Jimmy departed, heading outside into what couldn’t have been a worse day. Cold and raw, the wind whipped off the nearby river, sending the sheets of rain sideways. It was a steady, harsh downpour. Jimmy picked up his pace down a busy 10th Avenue, like running an obstacle course around all the people with their umbrellas up, some of them expansive enough to sell hot dogs under. Amazing how oblivious people were, hiding under umbrellas yet still texting.
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