Tanya raised her chin. “He probably wants to help you out of that sweater.”
Maureen sighed. Pushing wasn’t getting her anywhere. “Okay, promise me you’ll call him in the morning.”
“Oh my God,” Tanya said. “What if he wants to search Dennis’s place? What if he finds the videos? Jesus. Maureeen. Please come with me tomorrow. We’ll just get the camera and go. Can’t we do that first?”
Maureen raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll go. If you agree to talk to Waters, I will go with you to get the camera. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Call me in the morning and we’ll go to Dennis’s place. We’ll get the camera first. We’ll delete everything and leave it where it is. After that we’ll call Waters and make plans to meet him. If you want, I’ll go with you there, too.”
“What do I tell Waters?” Tanya asked. “What about the videos?”
“Stick to Dennis’s bad debts and Sebastian’s trying to squeeze it out of you, that he’s making threats.” Maureen feigned a smile. “I think this cop is a soft touch. Make sure you cry at least once.”
“That won’t be hard.” Tanya checked her cell again. “I gotta go. I gotta meet someone.” She shrugged. “Told you I didn’t want to be alone.”
Maureen couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.
“It’s not like that. Just some company. Junk food and Cartoon Network.” Tanya gathered her jacket and purse, sliding toward the end of the bench. “You shouldn’t be alone, either.”
Maureen almost told her about spending the night at her mother’s, but suddenly the idea felt embarrassing and ridiculous. Maybe she should go home. Do TV and junk food her own damn self. Then she thought of her TV. Well, junk food maybe. And vodka.
“Don’t worry about me,” Maureen said.
“I won’t.” Tanya was on her feet, her arms held out for a hug. “I betcha no one ever does.”
Maureen rose from her seat.
Tanya’s face was blank and cold, but her body vibrated in Maureen’s embrace.
“So I’ll see you Tuesday,” Tanya said. “Back at work.”
“Tomorrow,” Maureen said. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Right,” Tanya said, backing away. “That’s what I meant.”
Maureen watched Tanya walk out of the bar, stop on the sidewalk, think about which way to go, and finally disappear from view. When she turned to the bar to signal Tracy for another drink, Maureen saw every face in the room staring at the empty space outside where Tanya had paused. Everyone except for John and Molly. They watched Maureen, their faces unreadable.
Maureen grabbed her smokes, her phone, and Waters’s card and headed outside, turning the corner around the side of the building, where she wouldn’t be seen.
11
Her back against the bright Caribbean-blue wall of the Cargo, her phone glowing in her hand, Maureen sucked down a smoke, shivering in the cold wind off the harbor. She thumbed Waters’s cell number into her phone. She had to do her part. To do that, she had to trust someone, and that person was not Tanya. There was a good chance Tanya had forgotten their plans before she got three blocks away.
Phone at her ear, Maureen watched a city bus roll by, the blank faces turned toward her clear in the window, the riders looking right at her and seeing nothing.
“Nat Waters.”
“Nat.” Jesus. What’s wrong with me? “I mean, Detective Waters. It’s Maureen Coughlin.”
A long yawn. “Everything okay?”
“It’s all good,” Maureen said. “I’m getting ready to head over to my mom’s.”
“Good.”
A headache starting behind her eyes, Maureen lit another smoke. “I thought of someone you should talk to, another waitress. Her name is Tanya Coscinelli. I got her number.”
“Gimme a second.” Maureen heard the slamming of drawers and the shuffling of papers, some muffled swearing. “Awright, go ahead.” Maureen recited the number. “How’s Tanya holding up? I’m figuring she left you—what, five minutes ago?”
Maureen stepped quickly to the corner, looking up and down the street. Was Waters watching her? Had he been around all night? The thought made her feel better and creeped her out at the same time. She heard a gruff chuckle over the phone.
“I’m home, Maureen,” Waters said. “Relax. I’m like you. I’ve been doing what I do and not much else for a long time. And let me tell you, covering your tracks with your co-workers doesn’t help me any.”
Feeling foolish, hoping no one inside the bar had seen her dash to the corner, Maureen stepped back into the shadows. “She called me after you left. I didn’t know about her problems until a few minutes ago. I’m not hiding anything.”
“Tell me what’s worrying you,” Waters said. “About Tanya.”
“She’s got problems of her own with Sebastian,” Maureen said. “Tanya should tell you about it herself. You should meet up with her. I gave her your number, made her promise to call you in the morning.”
“But?”
“But she’s flighty. So maybe you can call her if she forgets to call you.” She paused. “Just to be sure. We would’ve called you tonight but Tanya had to go meet someone.”
“Did you explain to her that dealing with Sebastian might be more important than her social life?”
“I tried,” Maureen said, “but I only work with the girl. I’m not her mother.”
“Okay, if I don’t hear from her by mid-morning, I’ll call her.” He paused. “I’d appreciate a call from you, too, in the morning.”
“In case I remember anything else that might help?”
Another chuckle. “I wish there were fewer cop shows on TV. If you remember anything I’d love to hear it. Mostly, I want to know you’re okay.”
Maureen put her free hand to her warming cheek. Even her mother hadn’t said that to her in a long time. “Okay.”
“Good night, Maureen,” Waters said. “Take care.”
“There’s something else,” Maureen said. “Something Tanya mentioned.”
“What’s that?”
Maureen took a long drag on her cigarette, trying to figure why she was so nervous about asking a simple question. She didn’t want to sound accusatory, but she wanted to know, needed to know the answer before things went any further. “Did you know that Sebastian used to be a cop?”
Now, it was Waters’s turn to pause and think. “I did, though I can’t see how that matters. It was over twenty years ago.”
“Could he still know people on the force?” Maureen asked. “People that would do him favors?”
“I can’t say,” Waters answered. “I haven’t been keeping tabs on him. It’s possible he’s got friends on the job. Lots of people on Staten Island have friends who are cops.”
“Are you one of them? One of Sebastian’s friends on the job?”
“What are you getting at?” Waters asked, his tone shifting. Maureen could tell that he was getting aggravated with the inquisition and knew she was holding back on him. “Tell me where you are. We should talk about this in person.”
“Answer my question,” Maureen said. She heard Waters draw a deep breath. He didn’t like it much, she figured, the big bad police detective being interrogated by the little ol’ waitress. Well, that was too damn bad. She had her own safety to worry about, so too bad for his fragile male ego.
“No,” Waters finally said. “I can guarantee you Frank Sebastian and I are not friends. And if he’s got friends who are cops, I don’t know them. Anything else?”
He did it, Maureen thought, a bit shocked. He didn’t hang up or pull an attitude on her. There was no I’m the man, I’m the cop, I’m in charge here bullshit. Instead, he had answered her question. She didn’t give a rat’s ass if he was nice about it. He wasn’t a customer at one of her tables. As long as she could trust him she could forgive him a lack of manners. “Thank you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Do that.” Waters hung up.
Ma
ureen closed her phone. She would definitely call Waters tomorrow, as soon as she and Tanya were done at Dennis’s place. She’d lay everything out for him: her landlord, the message from Paul, the guys with guns. Maybe she could get Paul talking to Waters as well, find out for real who those guys were and who they worked for, the city or a more private employer. If we get enough information, she thought, between the two of us, Waters and me, maybe we can back Sebastian off some, off me, off Tanya.
She noticed her hands weren’t shaking. She had no kind of shakes right then and felt pretty damn good about it. I know people, too, she thought, Mr. Silver-haired Hero-cop Politician Man. Better watch your back. Maureen leaned against the wall of the Cargo and took her time finishing her smoke.
All everyone had to do was make it through the night.
Out on Bay Street, another bus passed, this one heading in the opposite direction. Maureen swore she was seeing the other side of all the same faces.
When she went back inside the bar, nobody turned to look. John was nowhere to be seen. Probably in his office doing whatever managers did in there: nap, get high, skim the tips, screw up the next week’s schedule. Maureen headed back to the booth she’d shared with Tanya. After a few moments, Molly met her there, gestured at the vacant bench.
“You mind?” Molly asked.
“Not at all,” Maureen said, though she did. She’d really just come back inside to gather her things. She had a long bus ride across the island to her mother’s.
“John told me,” Molly said, sitting, “what Waters found in your apartment. Scary. You handling it okay?”
“It’s disturbing,” Maureen said, “but I’ll be fine. The more I think about it, the more it seems like a dumb prank.”
Molly rubbed her hands on her thighs, looking out the window, pretending to believe the lies Maureen told. Through her tight, long-sleeved white T-shirt, Maureen could see the rough lace of Molly’s bra. She looked solid, tough. She made Maureen a little nervous. “Still, it’s best to be careful,” Molly said. She plucked a French fry from the basket, ate it. “Yuck. These are ice cold. Mind if I dump them?” She got up, basket in hand. “Split a burger with me?”
“Yeah, why not?” Maureen said. She needed something of substance. One French fry for every cocktail wasn’t going to sustain her. And it wasn’t like there was a home-cooked meal waiting for her at her mother’s house.
“We’ll get the works,” Molly said. “Bacon, cheese, whatever they got to throw on it. I’ll be right back.”
Maureen watched as Molly walked to the bar, leaning over it to order from Tracy. Molly had a good-looking body, Maureen thought, even if she did carry something extra in her backside and thighs. Not that it seemed to bother John any, or Molly either, for that matter. She wouldn’t be wearing pants that tight if it did, or ordering loaded cheeseburgers. Maureen rocked on her own sit-bones, lamenting the lack of flesh between them and the wooden bench. Those cords Molly’s packed into would fall off me, she thought. She knew she should celebrate being thin, that most women, normal women, would prefer struggling to add on instead of fighting to take off.
Part of her, though, felt cast back to those high school days when every girl but her, the Mollys, the Tracys, and the Tanyas, day by day traded in their angles for curves. And Maureen knew full well what pert, perky Tracy saw from across the barroom, what healthy, curvy Molly saw sitting across the table: slumped shoulders; eyes big, blue, and terrified; deadly straight, cornflake-colored hair that frayed at the ends and fell flat on Maureen’s shoulders. She twirled a dry lock around her finger. I’m a scarecrow, she thought. A winter scarecrow that bleeds hay every time she moves.
Molly returned to the booth with a condiment caddy and silverware. She set the table. “That girl,” Molly said, sliding back into the booth, “the one who just left, she a friend of yours?”
“I suppose,” Maureen said, knowing she was really saying no and feeling a twinge of guilt about it. “Her name is Tanya. We work together over at the Narrows. She’s having some problems.”
“I gathered that. What is she on?”
“Something for anxiety, or so she says. To be honest, who knows what she’s popping. She’s been high as long as I’ve known her. Never seen her eat anything but pills.”
Shifting her eyes away from Molly’s, embarrassed at her quick, decisive betrayal of Tanya, Maureen raised her glass to her lips to stop herself from talking. I’m picking sides, Maureen thought. I’m using Tanya’s secrets to gain Molly’s confidence. Why? Because she bought me a cheeseburger? Sellout. Maybe Sebastian had a point. Suddenly she couldn’t keep her mouth shut about anything.
“I shouldn’t tell tales out of school, I guess.”
“I teach teenagers,” Molly said. “High school. In any given class I have ten kids doped up on something: doctor’s prescription, bought on the corner, or both. Half of them get it from their parents. They get that same glazed look, like the whole world is some television program and they’re home on the couch watching it and they lost the remote.”
“Tanya gets by,” Maureen said. “She’s young. And she’s got her reasons.” She stared down into her drink, swirling the melting ice around with her straw. She couldn’t deny the fact that, telling secrets or not, it was a relief talking to someone who wasn’t high or a cop. “Tanya was involved with Dennis, the manager from the Narrows who got killed by the train. She’s having a really hard time with it. We all are. There are all these…repercussions.”
“You should be having a hard time,” Molly said. “It’s okay. It is hard. We all grow up thinking dying is for old people, for sick people. That suicide is for star-crossed lovers and Roman senators. It’s a shock, always, when we lose one of our own. It feels like it’s the first time in history that it’s ever happened. But it’s not, and it won’t be the last, either.” Molly swept a thick curl from her face. It fell right back. “It’s hard, Maureen, harder than people think, being one of the ones left behind. Believe me, I know. Give yourself some time. To sort everything out.”
The conversation paused when Tracy arrived, and they both sat silent as Tracy set down their food. Maureen sat wondering what she was supposed to believe Molly about. She’d obviously lost someone important, and the bitterness over it lingered. Who had left her behind? Did John know? He had to. The loss, it wasn’t something that Molly hid real well.
Before Maureen could ask any questions, Molly spoke. “I need your help with something, speaking of sorting things out.”
“Shoot.” Maureen picked at the new pile of steaming hot fries. Even after eleven years of a bar and diner diet, was there anything better than piping-hot fries? At least that never got old.
“I need you to explain to me,” Molly said, swirling a trio of fries in a huge pool of ketchup, “where it is John fits into everything that’s going on.”
“I’m not sure he does,” Maureen said. “I’m grateful for everything he’s done.” She watched as Molly cut the burger in half, jalapeños and mushrooms tumbling down the sides. Her mouth actually started watering. “I appreciate him putting me up, getting me in touch with Detective Waters. I mean, we hardly know each other and he really came through for me. I appreciate it, but I don’t know how much more help from him I’m gonna need.”
“John’s good like that,” Molly said. “He likes to help.”
She set half the burger on an extra plate that she slid across the table. Maureen attacked her food immediately. She’d had no idea how hungry she was until there was food in front of her. Warm blood trickled down her fingers to her wrists. Molly had ordered it medium rare, exactly how Maureen liked it. She thought right then she might be a little in love with John’s girlfriend. Either that or she was just OD-ing on protein.
It wasn’t until Maureen was down to her last couple of bites that she realized Molly wasn’t eating. Instead, she gazed out the window, focused on something in the night sky outside that Maureen couldn’t see. “What’s on your mind, Molly?”
&n
bsp; “These repercussions surrounding Dennis’s death, what are they exactly?”
Maureen set down her burger and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. She drained the last of her cocktail. “I’m not sure. I’m kind of still waiting to see for myself. There seems to be a lot of interest in it, is all. From people you wouldn’t expect to be interested.”
“You, this Tanya girl, Dennis. Death, cops, repercussions. All these things on my boyfriend’s doorstep.” She turned her full attention back to Maureen. “I’m not comfortable with it.”
“Tanya was here for my help,” Maureen said, “not John’s. I’m not looking to involve him in her problems or anyone else’s. The cops, they do what they do. You and I can’t do a thing about that.”
“But you have to admit that whatever’s happening at the Narrows is no good, and you’re right in the middle of it, and now you’re bringing it in here.”
Maureen sat back, stunned. “Thanks a lot, Molly. Just call me a fucking disease, why don’t you?”
“Call it what you want,” Molly said, “as long as you understand that I will keep John at a safe distance from anything that might get him hurt.”
“As long as you understand,” Maureen said, now feeling ambushed, “that while you’re looking out for John, I gotta look out for myself, so no offense and your concerns are duly noted, but your boyfriend is your problem, not mine.”
“My problem is not John,” Molly said, nostrils flaring. “It’s you hanging around under his wing like a foundling waif waiting to be rescued. No offense.”
And here I sit, Maureen thought, seduced with a cheeseburger—shit, with half a cheeseburger. What the hell has happened to me? Molly had seized the given ground over the table, her arms crossed over her puffed-out chest, her chin tilted up, her shoulders set forward of her hips. Telltale signs of someone digging in for a fight. You know, Maureen thought, I don’t know if I could take this broad. This one doesn’t scratch and claw and pull hair; this one throws fists. Should’ve known. No way John dates a priss.
The Devil She Knows Page 11
