In the Nick of Time (97 page)

His watery eyes, rain over the storm, made her blush within. He opened the black box he held, revealing a large snowflake shaped diamond ring. She gripped her chest, certain she may just fall out and have a heart attack right then and there.

I never knew! He gave no indication he was up to this!

“Taryn, I wanted to know if… uh, if…” His cheeks reddened as he looked down, then back into her eyes. “I was wondering if you’d marry me? Become my wife… ’Cause I kinda need that. I want to be with you forever, in every sense of the word.” The room burst out in awwws, drawing a reluctant audience in the romantic, chaotic scene but her heart beat too damn loud within her to fully take it all in. She ran her hands nervously together as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“You kinda need that, huh?” She smiled. “Well, I kinda need that, too…”

The room burst out in applause as she flung her arms around him and kissed him hard and strong. Reluctantly releasing him, she immediately blinked away tears but relished his ear-to-ear grin as he took her hand and slid the gorgeous engagement ring upon her finger. People jumped up from their seats, laughing and applauding.

“I swear you guys, I didn’t know
anything
about this!” she protested, causing many guffaws. Taking a hold of her, he placed a kiss upon the crown of her head… just as he had done one day so, so long ago…

“I love you, apple head. I could just sink my teeth in that cute, tiny thing.” He playfully jetted his tongue out at her.

“Ass!” She giggled, and then he placed another gentle kiss on her cheek.

“All right!” He threw his hands up, walking backwards, away from her, towards the doors. “I apologize for the interruption.” he smirked. “I’ll let you all get back to what you were discussing. Baby.” He pointed at her, winked in her direction. “I’ll see you later on this evening and it was nice, a real pleasure tellin’ all of you strangers my business! Enjoy the rest of your day!”

Laughter rang in the room one more time. With another wink and a wave, he was gone. Congratulations rang out from varying voices in the room.

“Oh my God!” She turned from side to side, joy flooding her, and slumped back down in her seat. Her hand trembled. Had she dreamt the whole thing up?

Jules approached her, looking vexed.

“Oh shit…” she murmured under her breath.

Please don’t kill my vibe…

She grimaced. When the man reached her, he slowly dropped down to one knee and in his thick, sultry French accent whispered in her ear, “Yes, you had someone at home alright… what a lucky man!”

She laughed and shook her head.

“I have no idea if you lied and knew about this or not—doesn’t matter, but it served you well… Fern wants in! Congratulations!”

“Stack these up
there.” Officer Tomas handed Nick the whopping, dusty files, all seasoned with the odor of time.

“You think I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs? I’m not your damn secretary.” Nick scoffed at his previous patrol partner.

“You’re not
good
enough to be my secretary!” the man taunted him. “Come on, help me out. I’m behind on my paperwork.”

Nick huffed, gave it a thought or two, and swallowed down his protests.

“You think you’re a big shot now, huh?” Tomas teased. “Mr. Detective! Mind sharper than a stick of butter.” He burst out laughing, causing Nick to do the same.

“For somebody that needs a damn favor, you sure talk a lotta shit! Uhh…” he heaved one stack of the old, brown files and set them inside a file cabinet.

“Man, I got all this shit. It’s been so crazy around here lately,” Tomas explained.

“You’re in Tim’s old spot now, right?” He placed another stack inside the drawers.

“Yeah… there’s no telling how long he’ll be out and by the looks of stuff, he hadn’t cleaned that crap out in years.” Tomas shook his head in disgust as he flipped through a series of papers stacked on his desk. “Lucky bastard. Damn gallbladder surgery.”

“Doesn’t sound like any kind of vacation
I’d
want.” Nick grinned.

“Vacation? You don’t even take vacations… make the rest of us look bad. Now that you’re getting married, maybe you’ll chill with that just a little.” He cracked a smile.

“You wish.” Nick blew him a kiss, causing the guy to throw a wadded up piece of paper in his direction. Minutes passed, and they continued about their business until several trashcans were full and his fingers were covered in stinging paper cuts.

“A, Nick.” Tomas paused. On the desk he had a folder cracked open, exposing yellowed papers, some of which seemed to be sticking together. He attempted to pull at them, separate the damn things. “This guy’s named Vitale, too… I know that last name isn’t uncommon, but he kinda looks like you… ’specially the eyes.” Nick looked over Tomas’ shoulder at the damn thing. A faded photo lay paper-clipped to a stack of papers, more than likely an old report.

“Hey, let me see that.”

“Yeah…” The man handed it to him, turned his back, and continued with his chores.

Nick looked at the photo long and hard.

He looks kinda like the guy I saw walk in here a long time ago…

He flipped the photo out of the way, pushing it upward with the side of his thumb. He squinted at the words, and he got a tick at the edge of his mouth as he quickly scanned over the thing…

Case No.:
0178032521

Date:
August 15, 2010

Reporting Officer:
Deputy Bernard

Prepared By:
CPL Inez

Incident Type: Robbery and Homicide

Address of Occurrence: 1620 St. John’s Place

Victim: Franco S. Vitale

Witnesses: William Alexander. Male, 52, pedestrian

Adam Hernández. Male, 49, storeowner

Evidence: Closed-circuit surveillance footage.

Weapons/Objects used: Pistol/Firearm

Details of Event: On August 15, 2010, at approximately 15:38, one unidentified male approached Happy Go Lucky Grocery Store on 1620 St. John’s Place. Franco Vitale, age 58, was exiting the store. He was placing his credit card back into his wallet when the unidentified suspect saw him and reached for it. A verbal argument soon escalated into a physical altercation, at which time, the unknown assailant pulled out a gun and shot Mr. Vitale three times in the chest. The store’s security camera recorded the incident, including the gunman removing the wallet from Mr. Vitale’s hand and running south down St. John’s Place.

Two witnesses who were inside the store, William Alexander and Adam Hernández, describe the suspect as being in his early twenties, Latino, and wearing a black T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and black Nike sneakers. No other witnesses have come forward with any additional information.

Deputy Bernard arrived on the scene at around 15:51, responding to a 911 call from witness William Alexander. After reviewing the security footage, Deputy Bernard concluded that this was an unplanned robbery and, based on speaking with Mr. Vitale’s wife and adult children later that evening, neither the suspect nor the victim knew one another prior to the incident.

The suspect is still at large.

Nick’s hand trembled as he re-read the text over and over. In his mind, he could see the incident clearly, envision the blood oozing out of Vitale’s chest, the sheer panic he must’ve experienced, and the pain as he hit the ground then died, staring up into the summer sky. He looked at the picture; his heart seized up, damn near ceased to work, refused to beat. Those were
his
eyes…

His
lips…

His
hairline…

People were mugged, robbed, and killed every day. He certainly didn’t know about each and every case, and sometimes there were so many incidents, especially in the summer when criminal behavior seemed to thrive, the news couldn’t cover it all. He’d slipped…right through the cracks.

…The father that got away.

The man who’d stood inside of that same precinct years ago, reporting his car being torn apart like chicken meat from a bone, was now facing him in that photo, one more time. He seemed frailer, older, but it was
definitely
him…

Officer Tomas tossed another wad of papers in the trashcan.

“Any kin to you, man?” he asked. “He looks just like you!” He chuckled. “Anyway, what happened? What the report say?” He grabbed another stack of old files and plopped them on a nearby chair.

“No, no kin to me… Said it was a robbery, assault, and homicide…”

“This damn place! It’s a shame, ya got old people that can’t even walk the streets anymore! I betcha the fucker that did it wasn’t even caught, was he? I love my job, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes, Nick, I swear, this place is nothing but a big ass, stinking hellhole.”

“Yeah…” Nick could barely speak, barely utter another word, but he tried, he tried hard. “Just one big hellhole…” he repeated softly.

“Sometimes I think about just walking the hell away, Vitale, I’m serious. They don’t pay enough for all the bullshit we go through. Brownsville is just one big ass square mile of Hell, overrun by rats! Just the other day a damn florist got robbed, man! A man delivering flowers! Now they need a police escort to drop off some fuckin’ tulips!” Tomas continued to rant, his back turned as he moved to and fro, frantically trying to clear the cubicle area.

“Yeah…tulips, like pushing up daisies.”

Suddenly Tomas slowed, looked over his shoulder.

“Hey, you alright, man? You look kinda pale, like you saw a ghost or something.” His lips kinked in a slight smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Nick rubbed his face. “Just a little tired is all. Uh, is there anything else I can help you with?” He pulled himself together, set the file down, and placed his hands on his hips. “I need to get back to work.”

“Thanks man, no… I’m good. You helped a lot. Hey, you wanna go to the gym this weekend? I’m tryna get back in shape!” The guy swung his fist about as if he were a prized boxer.

“Yeah, we can do that. Just call me.”

“Will do!”

He made his way back over to his cubicle, sat down in his chair, and pulled up several cases he was working on. He dove deep into them, refusing to move out of that seat until he’d made several phone calls and crossed off plenty more on his ‘To-Do’ list. One case was over ten years old and irked the hell out of him—seemed damn near impossible to solve. Regardless, he reviewed the evidence, making notes to call the victim’s daughter and touch base with her, announce that he was the new detective on the case and he would keep an eye out.

Minutes passed, then hours…

Tick… tock…

Franco Vitale…

…Three shots to the chest…

It’s in the numbers, Vitale…

Nicky… you’re a bad boy! Why can’t you be good, huh?!

’Cause I’m a monster, Ma…

Before he knew it, the sun had set, and left the place darker and busier than ever. Derelicts and criminals broke free in the nighttime, multiplying, inviting their friends out for a romp and a rousing round of pandemonium. This was the time when bullshit on top of bullshit popped off, and he’d receive those calls at two and three in the morning that pulled him out of bed, away from his fiancée…

Taryn… I don’t deserve Taryn… I don’t deserve anything!

He gritted his teeth and balled his fist up tight as sweat ran down the side of his face, while a bitter, disgusting flavor coated his tongue. Breakfast marched backwards from his gurgling gut and up his throat, leaving a burning swamp along his taste buds. He got up, grabbed his coat, and headed out of there without as much as a goodbye. As he drove home, he cursed; the road rage that overwhelmed him wouldn’t let loose. He ran to the mental zoo, went ape shit, screaming at people as they got in his way.

Barely getting a hold of himself, he slowed at a stop sign, taking note of the enchanting insignia of a business he used to happily frequent—the Vodou Bar on Halsey Street. Jerking the steering wheel into the far right lane, and causing another vehicle to honk at him, he crossed over and barreled down the way. He could see nothing but the place in his view; everything else seemed to evaporate into thin air, like cigarette smoke churning embers into bar rooftops, sourcing from an ashtray set next to an empty shot glass…

Yes… that’s what I need. That’s what will make it all better…