by Tim O'Mara
The street seemed unusually empty for a Friday night, most of the locals safe inside their apartments. I hoped we had no window gawkers up there tonight. Edgar came back out of the alley a minute later, crossed the street, and walked up the block to where we had parked. He opened the back passenger door of his car, slid in and said, “No one home.”
“What were you doing in the alley, Edgar?”
“Making sure there was no one inside,” he said. “You wanted me to be sure, right?”
“And what if there had been, and you’d gotten caught?”
“I’d act drunk and speak a little Spanish,” he smirked. “Fit right into—”
“I don’t want you taking chances like that, Edgar. You hear me?”
“Yeah. Okay.” He paused and then added, “There’s a window off the alley. I think you can get in that way.”
I pushed the redial button for the church again and listened to the ringing.
“I didn’t see an alarm system,” he said. “Pretty sure of himself, this guy.”
“He’s a pillar of his community. Who’d want to break into his church?”
“Besides you?” Edgar leaned forward and rested his head on the back of his hands between the two headrests. “So, what do we do now?”
“We wait.” I closed the phone and put it on the passenger seat. “I want to make sure no one’s coming back.”
“You wanna tell me what we’re doing here?”
“The less you know about this, the better.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “What’s the story with you and Billy?”
“We partnered for a time before I left the force.”
“The guy comes riding in on his white horse when you call, and you guys haven’t seen each other for years? You don’t hang out?”
“No,” I said. “We don’t.”
“Why not?”
I let out a deep breath. “We live in different worlds, Edgar. Cops and schoolteachers don’t usually make for good running buddies.”
Edgar considered that for a while and then said, “Bull.”
“Excuse me?”
“Bull. You don’t wanna tell me, Ray, say so. Don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t wanna tell you.”
“Come on, Ray. What did he mean when he said he owed you? Please.” He sounded like he’d go on until he got what he wanted. I decided to give it to him. Shit, he’d earned it.
“About a year before I left the job…”
Edgar leaned over more. “Yeah?” He might as well have been sitting up front with me.
“I testified on Billy’s behalf in a departmental hearing.”
“What happened?”
“Some local scumbag. Corner boy. Said Billy roughed him up, planted evidence on him. Got the ear of some assistant DA hoping to make a name for himself by busting a cop. If the hearing didn’t go in Billy’s favor, he was looking at dismissal and criminal charges.”
“So … you testified…”
“I testified that Billy hit the guy only after the guy hit Billy. Twice. And the only reason he was making these bullshit charges was that he was carrying enough weight to put him away for the better part of ten years.” I took a breath. “The brass looked at my record—shit, they all knew my uncle—and dropped the charges.”
“Billy was lucky you had his back, huh?”
Edgar loved this stuff. Stories from the streets. Brothers in blue and all that shit.
“Yeah,” I said. “Real lucky.”
“I can see why he owes you, but why the rift? Why don’t you guys—”
“I lied,” I said.
It took a little while to sink in, and when it did, Edgar said, “What?”
“I perjured myself,” I said, using the more accurate verb. “The guy never touched Billy. He was just a loudmouth piece of shit who picked the wrong cop to give lip to.”
“Yeah,” Edgar said, “but—”
“But nothing, Edgar. I lied under oath in an official departmental hearing.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever said that out loud before. “I put my job on the line to protect Billy’s ass. Mine, too. I was there when Billy roughed the guy up and did nothing to stop it.”
“Did Billy plant the evidence on him?”
“If he did, he’s a goddamned magician, because I didn’t see him do it. The perp owned up to carrying some coke for his own use. Said the extra stuff wasn’t his, that Billy put it in his sock after he’d knocked his ass to the ground. Actually thought it would help his case to point out that he kept his coke in a plastic bag and the coke he said was not his was in vials. Upped the stakes from possession to possession with intent, turning a two-year bit into ten. Enough to make a scumbag corner boy lie about his own mother.”
“Scumbag corner boy,” Edgar repeated with a smile. “Hey, the way I see it, he got what was coming to him. Sooner or later, he was going away.”
“That’s not the way it’s supposed to work. I didn’t become a cop to jam people up.”
“C’mon, Ray. You did what you thought was right. You—”
“No,” I said. “You see? That’s just it. I knew it was wrong and did it anyway. I looked at my choices and made the one that was best for me. Just like that.” I looked back at the front door of the church. “I was becoming the kind of cop I told myself I’d never be.”
“And then you got hurt?”
“About ten months later, yeah.” I looked at my watch. “Okay, storytime is over. You want to hook me up?”
“Absolutely.” He opened his case, which contained the equipment we’d used to break into Roberts’s travel agency. The stuff was coming in handy, and Edgar could not have been happier.
“Okay,” I said as I slipped the headset on. “You know the game plan.”
“Anybody or anything looks like trouble, I give you a holler. Your knees okay?”
I ignored that. “I want to be in and out in five minutes. Keep an eye on the clock.”
“How about I give you a countdown? You know, ‘You now have four minutes.’”
“Fine,” I said. “Give me a sound check.”
He did. Everything worked fine. “You got your cell?”
“Check.”
“And the camera?”
“Got it. See you in five minutes,” I said, slinging my book bag over my shoulder.
*
Five minutes later, I got in the back of Edgar’s car and said, “Let’s go.”
“That was quick.”
“Drive.”
Chapter 35
WHEN WE GOT BACK TO EDGAR’S, Billy was already waiting for us. We went inside.
“Your man King’s a miracle worker,” Billy said. “Had the job done in no time.”
Edgar came into the living room with three cans of Diet Pepsi and a bowl of pretzels. After handing out the drinks, he placed the pretzels on the coffee table and sat in the recliner.
“What?” Billy said. “No dip?” Edgar was about to jump out of the chair when Billy raised his hand. “Just shittin’ ya, Emo. Chill.”
Edgar leaned back and smiled at Billy’s use of his nickname. “I knew that.”
“My boat’s a go,” Billy said. “Still waiting on some feelers I put out there, but I ain’t getting any bites. Maybe if you were still on the job…” He let that idea float for a bit. “I hate to do this to you, but I think we’re gonna need your boy here.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, standing up. “I’m not going to put—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Billy said. “Why’d you call me in on this, partner?”
“What kind of question is that?” I asked. “I need your help, and you’re one of the few people I could trust with this. Why else—”
“Then do what I say. If I say we need Emo, we need Emo. This ain’t a two-man job. Not when one of the men is gonna be in the presence of unfriendlies.” He looked at Edgar, who was now getting so excited he was practically falling off the recliner. “Take it easy, boy. I just need you behind the wheel of a ca
r. Case I gotta be picked up from the river.” To me he said, “Just wheels, Ray. He picks me up, I drop him off. No line-of-fire shit. I promise.”
I looked at Edgar, sitting on the edge of the recliner, sipping from his can of soda and doing his best to stay under control.
“I don’t like it, Billy.”
“Hey,” he said, “there’s a whole lot I don’t like about this, but you have to let me do what I do, and you don’t gotta like it.”
I walked over and glanced out the window that looked up to the driveway separating Edgar’s house from his neighbor’s. I’d go nuts living in a basement.
“Okay,” I said. “He drives. That’s all.”
“And maybe not even that,” Billy said. “We’ll play it as it lays.”
“Right.”
Billy stood and drained the rest of his soda.
“What’re your plans for the rest of the evening?”
“I don’t have any,” I said. “Except waiting.”
“You might wanna think about catching a few hours’ sleep. You look like shit.”
“Thanks. I’ll consider it.”
*
The next morning, we met Billy not far from the bridge, in the construction area across from Roberts’s travel agency. We got there just after three thirty. Edgar pulled up alongside Billy’s Jeep so the vehicles were facing opposite directions, the drivers’ sides almost touching.
“You good to go?” Billy asked.
I leaned across Edgar and said, “I think so. You?”
“As much as I can be, considering it looks like it is gonna be just the three of us.”
“Looks like?” I asked.
“Got one more possible out there, but it doesn’t look too good.” He looked over at the exit ramp off the bridge. “Last time I was sitting under this bridge at three thirty in the A.M., I was backing up a buy-and-bust. I got the same feeling in my gut now. Not good.”
“I hear you, Billy. But … what are you going to do?”
Billy reached into his backseat and pulled out a bag. He took out three red baseball caps and handed two of them to Edgar.
“Put those on,” Billy said.
Edgar handed one to me. “St. Louis Cardinals?” he asked.
“Color of the day,” I said.
“Gotta be able to make out the players from a distance,” Billy said. “That Yankee cap of yours ain’t gonna do the trick.”
“Why does Edgar need one if he’s just going to drive?”
“Just covering all the angles,” Billy said. “Besides, he’s part of the team, right?”
Edgar took off his hat and put on the Cardinal’s cap. He checked himself out in the rearview mirror and smiled. “Color of the day,” he said.
“When you are with Cruz,” Billy said to me, “you feel you need immediate assistance, take off the hat. If I gotcha in my sights, I’ll be coming.”
“What kind of immediate assistance?” I asked.
“Depends on the situation.”
“I don’t want any shooting, Billy. Especially if Frankie’s there.”
“I hear you,” he said. “You walking from here?”
“Yeah.” I put my new cap on. “Not a good idea to be seen getting dropped off. Edgar’ll park a few blocks over. He’s got his cell on, and he gave me this—” I lifted my shirt to show Billy Edgar’s phone. “GPS,” I said. “You guys should be in constant contact. I can’t be seen talking on a phone unless it’s with Cruz.”
“Good point.”
“Actually,” Edgar said, “I got some walkie-talkies.” He reached over into the glove compartment and pulled out a pair, handing one to Billy. “I got it set for channel three. It’s a four-mile range, so don’t go too far.”
Billy looked at the walkie-talkie in his hand. “Right.” He gave me a thumbs-up. “Good luck, partner.”
“I’ll see you in an hour,” I said.
“Let’s do that.” Billy shifted his Jeep into drive and eased out of the lot.
“All right, Edgar.” I picked up my bag and opened the side door. “Thanks for the lift.”
“I’ll only be a few blocks away. Anything you need, I am there in a blink.”
“That’s good to know.” I got out, slid my arms through the straps of the bag, and shut the door. “Thank you.”
“Hey,” Edgar said. “Thank me later.”
“You got it,” I said and started walking toward the park.
*
Except for a few trucks, a slow-moving station wagon, and a pair of dogs that strayed on the other side of the street, I was the only one out at this hour. Most of the bars were over by the L train and not too many people lived on this block, so I didn’t expect a lot of company. Across the river, the skyline was asleep. The buildings turned their show lights off around midnight. I could make out their silhouettes in the darkness of the early-morning sky. Another breeze was coming off the river, reminding me that the weather folks had predicted some early rain for today.
I got to the park fifteen minutes ahead of schedule and walked over to the rocks. The waves seemed higher and louder than they had the previous day. I guessed the tide was coming in. I looked out under the Williamsburg Bridge and saw a boat—one bright light on deck—hanging out closer to the Manhattan side. Billy? Cruz?
I went to the pay phone and did some stretches as I waited for it to ring. It wasn’t long.
“You’re early,” the voice on the other end said.
“Yeah.”
“You were told not to deviate from your instructions.”
“Who is this?” I asked. “Vega?” No answer. “I know what I was told. The point is I’m here, and I’m ready to do business.” I waited a few seconds. “Are you?”
More silence. After a while the voice said, “Take down this number.”
“I don’t have anything to write with.”
“You have a cell phone. Punch the number in.”
I unclipped the phone. “Go ahead.”
He read it off, and I entered the numbers.
“Now,” the voice said, “hang up the phone and call that number.”
“That wasn’t what we decided on.” Edgar was listening in on the conversation. I needed to stay on this line. “Cruz told me—”
“You … decided on nothing. And now you are being told something else.” The line went dead, and I looked at the useless receiver in my hand.
“I’m switching to the cell,” I said to Edgar. I dialed the number I had punched in, and the other end rang once.
“Now walk to the river. You may stop when you get to the rocks.”
“Thanks,” I said, and did as I was told. When I made it to the rocks, I said, “Now what?”
“Do you see the boat under the bridge?”
“Yeah.”
“Wave good-bye to your friend, throw the phone into the water, and then turn around and start walking east.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not going to repeat myself, Teacher.” He hung up.
I looked behind me. He was around somewhere, but where? I didn’t see any parked cars—I looked up—or movement on the rooftops above me. I turned back to the water, and the only boat out there was still idling under the bridge. Without waving good-bye, I tossed Edgar’s cell phone into the East River. One more look around, and then I headed east, away from the river.
The streets were still empty, but the closer I got to the residential area, the more parked cars I passed. After about two minutes, I spotted the white van on my side of the street. I slowed down as I passed it. The driver’s window was down, and behind the wheel was Suit. Vega.
The sliding door opened, and he said, “Get in.”
After looking around, I got in. As the door closed, Vega stepped on the gas, sending me skidding into the back, just like the first time I was in this van. If not for my book bag, I would have hit the back door hard. We drove for about ten minutes before he pulled over. He got out, opened the side door, and told me to step outside
. I looked around and had no idea where we were. He ran his hands over my body, checked my bag, and, when satisfied I was unarmed and had no more cell phones, said, “Get back in.”
“Where’s your partner?” I asked.
“Shut up and move.”
We drove for another ten minutes and then stopped. Vega got out and opened the back door. I knew where we were now: McCarren Pool. Blocks away from where we had started.
He grabbed my arm and escorted me to the front gate, unchained and opened it. We stepped through the high weeds and grass and entered the pool area. With the small amount of light coming off the street, I could make out three shapes in the middle of the pool. Vega pushed me down the steps and into the pool toward the group.
“Mr. Donne,” Elijah Cruz said, standing next to Ape, who had one hand on Frankie’s shoulder and a laptop computer in the other. Frankie looked like he hadn’t slept since I last saw him. “You have what belongs to me?”
“Like we agreed,” I said.
“Good. Then this should not take much time.”
He stuck out his hand. I reached into the book bag, removed the discs, and offered them to Cruz. Vega came over and took them. He stepped over to Ape. Vega opened the laptop and slid the first disc in. The screen lit up, illuminating Vega’s face. He pressed some keys and nodded. He took the second disc and repeated the process.
“These are the discs,” he said.
“Good,” Cruz answered. “And the money?”
I took the bundle out of the bag and tossed it to him.
“That’s what’s left of it,” I said.
“Of course,” Elijah said, taking the cash and handing it to Vega. “I understand the boy had certain expenses the last few weeks.” Cruz stared at me. “That is a new hat for you.”
“I have a lot of baseball hats.”
He stepped over to me and took it off. “The Cardinals?” he said. “No. A true fan does not show allegiance to another team.”
