by E. R. FALLON
“Are you positive you were the only person out there, Henry?”
“Yeah. But I’m supposed to wear glasses.”
“Were you wearing them that day?” Dino asked.
“No,” Henry said. “Sometimes I don’t put them on. I don’t like how they look on me. I wish I could afford contacts.”
“So it’s possible that someone might have been out there, only you couldn’t see them without your glasses?” Terry said.
“Sure.”
“Do you drive, Henry?” Dino asked.
“Not anymore. I drink too much.”
“Did you hear anything when you were out there?” Rebecca asked him.
“Like what?
“People, maybe?”
“No. I wanted to give him my coat.”
“Give who the coat?” Dino said. “The boy?”
Henry nodded.
“But wasn’t he dead, Henry?” Terry said.
“He looked cold,” Henry said. He gazed at Rebecca. “I might have heard a car horn.”
“You heard a car,” said Rebecca.
“Yes.”
“Was it driving past you?”
Henry nodded.
“Which way was it headed?” she asked.
“Away from me.”
“Henry,” Dino said. “From where you were standing, could you see the car’s license plate?”
“I didn’t have my glasses.”
“I understand that, but was it a New Jersey plate? You grew up here so you know what they look like, right? They’re yellow.”
“Yeah, it was yellow.”
Dino reached into the folder he had in front of him and took out two pictures of Cadillac SUV brand cars. He set them out on the table in front of Henry. “Did it look like one of these, Henry?”
Henry stared at the photos for a while, and then pointed to both pictures.
“Those are pretty different in size, Henry,” Terry pointed out.
Henry shrugged. “I couldn’t see well.”
“Are you even sure the plate was yellow?” Dino asked.
“I know I saw the boy, but I can’t remember the car.”
“You’ve been a big help, Henry,” Dino said, not without sarcasm.
After confirming that Henry really did reside at the Second Avenue House, Dino arranged for a patrol car to drive him there, and made him promise that he’d return to the station the next morning to look at more photographs of cars and the license plates of different states.
* * *
Both Rebecca and Dino insisted that Terry go home to spend time with his wife and son. Meanwhile, she and Dino headed downtown to the Stygian area.
They planned to get a bite to eat while they were down there. When they’d left the station together in the early evening, Dino mentioned that outsiders didn’t often go into Stygian Town. It was an area populated by hardworking immigrants from places such as Slovakia, Russia, and the Ukraine, who mostly kept out of trouble with the law and who also kept to themselves. The police were rarely called into the area, and it was difficult for social workers to keep track of children in the community.
Rebecca drove deeper into the area. Various cuts of red meat were displayed in a glass store front. Awnings and signs were written in Slavic languages. Mysterious green herbs stood in wooden buckets on tables on the sidewalks in front of a few of the stores. Women with scarves covering their hair, wearing simple dresses and sturdy black shoes, made their way in and out of the stores. The area seemed less bleak than other parts of the city.
“I’ll park here,” Rebecca said as they neared a diner.
“Sure.”
Dino had wanted to drive, but she’d insisted. She was a better driver than him, and she parallel parked perfectly on the first try.
“Good job.”
“Thanks,” she said.
The awning read Красивейший момент, and Rebecca discovered that the place was more of a restaurant than a diner after they’d entered. She wondered if Dino thought it was a little too formal for what they wanted, but he didn’t complain.
The place was deserted. The restaurant’s tables were covered by cream-colored lace cloths. Dark drapes hung from the windows, and classical music roared out from the kitchen. The carpet was maroon and the lighting dim. Rebecca didn’t see any waiters or even a hostess. She suggested to Dino that they seat themselves at a table close to the front.
“Will the menus be in English?” Dino asked her.
“Probably not. But don’t worry. I speak a little Russian.”
“Russian? You do?”
Rebecca nodded.
A tall bald man emerged from the kitchen. He was smartly dressed in polished black shoes, dark slacks, a white shirt, and a red sports jacket with gold buttons. He carried menus in one hand and a bottle of fancy water in the other. He smiled and welcomed them using broken English in a heavy Russian accent.
“How does he know we aren’t Russian?” Dino whispered to Rebecca.
“It’s pretty obvious, Cooper,” Rebecca whispered back.
The man handed Rebecca a wine list and left them. It was in Russian. She opened the red and gold menu and discovered that the entire menu was in Russian too.
“Damn,” Dino muttered, promptly closing his menu.
“Do you want some help?”
Dino grunted and then, eventually, nodded. She sensed he didn’t like asking for help. Rebecca drew her chair close to Dino’s and breathed in his spicy aftershave. She leaned in, opened his menu, and translated the various choices.
“Say, this is fun,” Dino said as her shoulder brushed his.
Rebecca ignored his comment and continued translating. She’d come to Newark for her career, not to flirt with an attractive detective.
“And you speak only a ‘little’ Russian?” Dino interrupted her, seeming surprised at the degree of her skill.
“My mother was from Moscow. And I completed a minor in Russian at college,” she said. “My father is a retired cop.”
“Really? That’s great. So you can translate when we walk around and talk to the neighborhood. Where did you really come from anyway, the FBI?”
Rebecca laughed a little. “No, Passaic. I grew up there and never left. I commuted to work when I was with the JCPD. The first time I actually ever left that place was when I came here.”
“Welcome to Newark,” Dino said with a smile. After a second he said, “I think I’ll have the steak thing you mentioned, the An-tri-tok.”
“An-tri-kot,” Rebecca corrected him.
“Right. An-tri-kot. What are you getting?”
“Dyushpara,” she said.
“Die us what?”
“Dumplings.”
“Oh.”
Rebecca chuckled.
“What kind?” Dino asked.
“What?”
“What kind of dumplings?”
“Mutton.”
“Mutton?”
“Yeah. Because why not?” Rebecca said with a shrug.
“It’s your stomach.” Dino chuckled. “What’s this place called anyway, in English—”
He paused when the waiter approached the table again.
The waiter appeared to be the only person working in the place, and Rebecca wondered if it was possible that he also was the chef. After they had placed their orders, Rebecca helping Dino with the pronunciations, and the waiter had finally poured the water into their glasses — they’d declined wine since they were working — Rebecca thought how much it felt like they were on a date, when, in reality, she was just getting a bite to eat with her colleague. She felt conflicted.
“Beautiful moment,” Rebecca suddenly said.
“It is, isn’t it?” Dino said, gazing into her eyes and smiling.
Rebecca laughed. “The name of the restaurant, Cooper. That’s what it’s called. You asked me before the waiter returned. Remember?”
Dino’s face reddened and he looked away. “Oh, that’s right.”
Rebecca drank some water, which was warm. She leaned back in her chair, and they made small talk while they waited for the food to arrive.
“What do you think of Henry Riley?” Dino asked her.
“He’s a little strange, but maybe harmless. Terry mentioned you knew him.”
“I don’t really know him. Not that well, anyway. We lived across the street from each other when we were kids.”
“And he had a younger brother who disappeared?”
“Yeah. Jake Riley. They never found out what happened to him.”
“Kind of makes you wonder,” Rebecca said.
“About what?”
“Call me crazy, but do you think we should call this guy a suspect? Two kids, one missing years ago, and one dead today, and he’s somehow connected to both of them.”
“I don’t know,” said Dino. He flushed. “It was his kid brother, for Chrissakes.”
Seeing that Dino wasn’t considering her idea objectively, she chose to drop the subject for the time being.
The waiter arrived, carrying their plates on one arm.
After giving them their meals, he turned to Dino. “A red rose for the lady?” he asked, gesturing toward Rebecca with a smile.
“He thinks we’re on a date,” Rebecca murmured to Dino.
Dino shook his head at the man. “Not right now, thanks.”
The man seemed disappointed and retreated to the back of the restaurant.
“I’m sorry about the way I acted before,” Dino said. “I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on you.”
“It’s no problem. I didn’t think you were. I’m not a rookie, I’m used to it.”
“Guys can be jerks, eh?”
“Yep, they sure can.”
He pushed his food around the plate with his fork. “What kind of meat is this?” he asked her.
“Beef.”
He hesitantly placed a forkful in his mouth.
She watched him chew, waiting for his reaction. “How does it taste?”
“Like chicken,” Dino joked.
She laughed and dug into her own meal.
“You’re brave,” he commented, as she sliced a thick dumpling filled with juicy mutton and boiled vegetables.
She shrugged off his compliment and shoved half of the dumpling into her mouth, chewing with glee. “I haven’t eaten these in years,” she said.
“How does it taste?”
“Delicious, except my mother’s were better.”
“Were. When did she pass away? If it’s all right if I ask,” Dino said quietly.
“Sure, it’s fine. She died a couple of months ago. She had ovarian cancer. Which is why I left and moved here. After she died, I just couldn’t stand to walk the same streets, you know? I felt like a different person.”
“I understand what you’re saying. My father died when I was a kid, but I never left here. He killed himself after he lost his factory job.”
“I’m sorry, Dino.”
“It’s okay. I’m over it by now. You know, I’ve never told any other cop about my father, except for Terry, of course,” he said. “But I know what you mean. You’re a whole different person after the death of someone close to you, and sometimes staying in the same place can feel wrong.”
“Why did you stay, then?” she asked gently.
Dino smiled. “I guess I was too lazy to leave.”
“Maybe not lazy, Dino, just set in your ways.”
Rebecca insisted on paying for the meal when they were finished. “I’m the new guy in town so let me treat you,” she’d said. “Next time, it’ll be your turn.”
Outside the restaurant, Dino complained of indigestion.
Rebecca handed him a box of Tic Tacs. “Here, maybe these will help. I’m sure they don’t sell Rolaids around here.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“No problem. Now where do you want to start looking?” Rebecca glanced around. It was nighttime, and it was cold. The streets were poorly lit, and besides her and Dino, she spotted only two other people on the sidewalk.
Dino pulled his coat closed, took his leather gloves out and put them on. “It’s too damn cold out here. Should we try some places inside? You can translate.”
“You got it. But we’ll leave the car parked here. It’ll look less threatening to the people we talk with if we’re on foot.”
“Where is everybody?” said Dino. “There’s so many parked cars, but no one’s walking around.”
“They’re probably home. Eastern Europeans are family oriented, as I know from experience.”
Rebecca had her jacket halfway open and hadn’t bothered with gloves. A tolerance for cold weather was in her blood.
They walked to a small one-story cement building that looked like a garage. A handmade wooden sign on its door said ‘community center’ in Russian. Rebecca translated.
She knocked but, when no one had come to the door and finding it was unlocked, she and Dino went directly inside the building. The light was on inside, and the place looked like a basement with a concrete floor. It smelled damp like one as well. In the middle of the cool open room were a half dozen card tables with metal folding chairs arranged around them. A piano stood in one corner. Colorful strands of ribbon hung from the ceiling. Out of the corner of her eye, Rebecca noticed a door behind the piano. It appeared that they were alone in the room.
“What is this place?” Dino said.
Rebecca placed her hand over her gun. The room had a strange feel to it, as if it had been full of people a few seconds ago, who had disappeared when they’d knocked.
Rebecca walked around the piano toward the door. “It’s a community center, you know, where people socialize.” She came to a halt in front of the door.
“What is it?” Dino said.
“Shh.” She placed her ear against the door. “I think I hear a sound in there.”
Dino walked up next to her and listened through the door as well. “Someone’s definitely in there.”
Rebecca drew her gun, so did Dino. She knocked on the little door and said hello in Russian. “Pri-VET?” She explained that she and Dino were the police.
The murmurs behind the door ceased and a woman began whimpering.
“Police. Open the door,” Dino shouted.
Believing that someone was in danger, Rebecca kicked at the door. The knob turned. A frail voice cried out, “Please. Please.”
She and Dino stepped back a little, with their guns still aimed at the door. An old man and an old woman ventured out from behind the door, and Rebecca breathed less heavily.
“Please,” the old woman had a heavy accent. She dried her eyes.
“Are you all right?” Rebecca asked her in Russian.
The woman spoke to Rebecca.
“She says she’s okay,” Rebecca told Dino.
“Why was she crying?”
“I think she’s afraid of us. The police can be pretty brutal in the old country.”
Both detectives lowered their guns. Rebecca spoke to the elderly couple in Russian. “How many of you are there?” she asked.
The couple talked to Rebecca, gesturing with their hands as they spoke. The old man was missing most of his teeth, and the woman wore some kind of apron over her simple dress and had a white handkerchief tied around her head.
“They say it’s only them, and they are husband and wife and they volunteer here, but we’ll take a look,” Rebecca explained to Dino.
She asked Dino to keep an eye on the elderly couple, and she cautiously opened the door that the woman and man had just come out of. She crouched down and found a light switch and flicked it on. The small room was filled to the brim with large cans with labels in Russian. There were also piles of winter coats and clothes, and rows of shoes.
“It’s full of clothes and canned food,” she shouted to Dino, and then let out a sigh of relief.
Rebecca watched the couple so that Dino could take a look at the small storage room. When he returned he said to Rebe
cca, “Ask them what that stuff is for, and where they got it from.”
“Do you think it’s stolen?” she asked.
“Possibly.”
The man and woman spoke to Rebecca in the same rushed tone they had previously used, and she could tell they were nervous.
“The items are donated. They hand them out to the community,” Rebecca told Dino. “Many of the people here are poor, immigrants like themselves. They don’t have green cards, and they were afraid we were here to arrest them and send them back to Russia. That’s why they hid.”
“Tell them we’re not INS,” Dino said. “We don’t give a damn whether or not they have some card. We just want to ask them a few questions about missing children in their community.”
Rebecca translated for the couple and then spoke to Dino. “They said they will talk with us. There was a child missing, but it was a long time ago.”
“Ask them how long ago.”
Rebecca spoke to them in Russian for a few minutes. “They say that one, maybe two years ago — they aren’t quite sure — a child disappeared, a boy,” she told Dino. “Hold on a second, let me ask them if anyone reported it.”
She translated their answer, “There was a boy who disappeared. Lev was his name. The only people who know are the people here in the community. His parents live on Delaney Avenue in an apartment. Their last name is Ilyin. They will be afraid to talk with us, though, at least that’s what they,” she said, gesturing to the couple, “are saying.”
“What’s the number of the apartment?” Dino asked.
“They don’t remember the number, but the building’s red,” Rebecca told Dino.
Dino rolled his eyes. “Terrific. All right, I’m driving this time.”
Rebecca thanked the couple. Outside there were more people around than before. Dino insisted on stopping at the restaurant where they’d had dinner so they could peek in the window. The place now had a few patrons.
“Wait a second,” Dino said. “Do these people only come out at night?”
Rebecca laughed faintly as she handed Dino the car keys. “Haven’t you heard? We’re all vampires.”
* * *
Delaney Avenue wasn’t difficult to find. Stygian Town was so small, in fact, that Delaney was two blocks from where Rebecca had parked the car.
There were ten row houses on each side of the street, and two were red.
