Once Were Cops (17 page)

Led him a block away to where his battered Chevy

was parked and said, “Don’t suppose you can fix

my parking tickets?” Got the look and laughed,

said, “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

They got in the front and from under the seat, Cam

produced a McDonald’s bag, opened it, the smell

of fries and burgers emanating, took out a Glock,

and a clip of ammo, said, “Just like you guys carry

on the job.” Joe took it, asked, “Is it clean?” Cam

laughed, said, “We at McDonald’s pride ourselves

on our hygiene.” Joe reached for his wallet and

Cam said, “Give me a hundred bucks and we’re

even.” As Joe got out of the car, Cam said,

“No offense but don’t come down here no more,

cops aren’t real popular.”

Joe said, “Ex-cop.” He was closing the door when

Cam added, “Once a cop …”

It was late when Joe got back to his room, he got

inside, turned on the light and nearly had a heart

attack.

Sitting on his bed was a black guy, chewing a

match, looking relaxed, a lazy smile on his face,

Joe had the Glock in his jacket but he hadn’t

loaded the sucker.

Fuck.

The guy said,

“Sorry for startling you but we need to talk, I’m

Rodriguez.”

Joe was sure this was it, Shea had sent him to do

the job, and as if reading his thoughts, the guy said,

“I’m here to help you … help you get Shea.”

THE GUY REACHED DOWN, PICKED UP A

BROWN PAPER bag, asked,

“You drink Wild Turkey?”

Joe got his mug and a water glass, handed them

over and then realized, said,

“You were Internal Affairs?”

Rodriguez poured freely, handed the mug to Joe,

said, “Wrong tense.” “Excuse me?’

“Am Internal Affairs, never left, it was a snow job

to get Shea, hell, he even believed I had Peters

sideswiped, pure accident, a situation we took

advantage of to get me tight with Shea, we’ve been

planning this operation for nearly two years, we

know Shea is the strangler, but no proof, and we’re

going to bring down a shitload of cops with him,

he’s got them in his pocket.” “Does McCarthy

know?” Rodriguez sighed, said, “No, he’s a drunk,

how it goes.”

Joe took a deep swallow and the stuff burned, he

was trying to bite down on his anger, asked,

“You knew this guy was killing women and what,

you’ve had your finger up yer ass, waiting for

what, him to do it again?” Rodriguez stuck another

match in his mouth, said, “I understand your

anger.” Joe nearly went for him, said, “The fuck

you do.” Rodriguez took it with that slow smile,

said, “I’ve been on the guy, 24/7 … hell, I even

went to Ireland with him.”

Joe put the mug down, lest he fling the contents in

Rodriguez’s face, asked,

“And when he took out the girl in Sligo, were you

on him … 24 fucking 7?”

Rodriguez let out a low whistle, not easy with a

match in your mouth, said,

“You’re good, did your background, but he got

away from me, this guy is the iceman, the ultimate

predator, but we have a shot at him now.”

Joe reached for the bottle, poured, asked about the

shot they had at Shea now.

“Yeah, how’s that?”

Rodriguez leaned against the wall, almost a lazy

pose, said,

“Lucia, his partner’s sister, he tried to off her but

got interrupted, now if she were to come around

and identify him?” Joe stared at him, said, “I don’t

think that’s too likely to happen.” Rodriguez gave

the lazy smile, no warmth, said, “But if he thought

she had?” Joe suddenly got the gig, said, I “And

I’m the guy to tell him?” Rodriguez said, “He

killed your sister, don’t you want to bring him

down?”

Joe said,

“You’re IA … like I’m supposed to trust you?”

Rodriguez filled his water glass but the booze

seemed to have little visible effect on him, said,

“And what do you call your partner, Jay, right…

who sold you out to Shea … you think he’s better

than me?” Joe lost it, near screamed, “He’s a

treacherous son of a bitch.” Rodriguez looked at

him, said, “There’s that I guess.”

you police an armed society, you learn to shoot

first or you’re dead.

— Chief Constable John Alderton

I WAS SITTING AT ME DESK, A STARBUCKS

VANILLA-flavored latte before me and the

frigging beads in me right hand. Where did he get

it? And, as if on cue, the phone rang, I picked up,

heard, “Lieutenant Shea, we may have a major

break in the case.” The fucking writer. I kept me

voice neutral, asked, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, Lucia, your partner’s sister, she’s

regained consciousness and I’m meeting her

tomorrow, she might be able to tell us who

attacked her and if it wasn’t that guy … Gino … ?”

I tried to stay calm, said,

“Wow, how about if I come along with you

tomorrow, make it official?”

“That would be great, around nine o’clock… that

suit you?”

“Perfect.”

Click.

Fuck … fuck … Jesus, if she was able to talk … I

swept the damn paper cup off me desk… I hate

fucking vanilla … then began to calm down, hey,

I’d the evening free, and man, I sure wanted

another shot at her, and who knew, maybe the

stuck-up nurse would be on duty, do her too …

I grabbed my jacket, ran into Rodriguez in the hall,

who asked, “What’s up?” I said, “There’s a mess

in my office, get it cleaned up.”

Come night, I go to the hospital, wearing doctor’s

scrubs, even a stethoscope, and fuck, I was so

zoned, pure energy flying me on.

Found her room in jig time and there she was.

Radiant. In that half light they use in hospitals. Her

white neck … gleaming. I pulled the blankets back.

Odd? She looked fairly fucking comatose.

Probably the drugs.

What the fuck ever.

Snapped my medal off her neck and then got out the

beads, wrapped it round her gorgeous throat and

then … heard the sound of a gun being racked.

Turned to face Rodriguez, the fucking writer

behind him, and in the corridor a whole bunch of

uniforms, he said,

“Back away real slow, asshole.”

I wasn’t going to let the prick take me beads and

moved to get them and was slammed against the

wall. He shot me? Me? The blood was gurgling in

my throat and I tried to say, “But I’m a cop …”

The writer was staring at me with pure

malevolence and I wanted to tell him, “I did the

others but not Nora … I swear.” Heard Rodriguez

say, “The fuck is begging for help.” I didn’t see

any of them rush to get it. The fuck is with that?

AFTER, AS JOE STOOD OUTSIDE, HIS EARS

STILL RINGING from the gunshots, he was joined

by Rodriguez. He stared at the cop, his anger

barely controlled, asked, “Why did you have to

take him out?” Rodriguez shook his head, said,

“You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a cop?” Joe

didn’t get it, said, “I don’t get it, what’s that got to

do with you wasting him?” Rodriguez faced him,

his eyes a hard hue, said,

“The police department has enough bad press, you

think we wanted Shea in a courtroom, the hero cop,

on view to the whole world, best for all if he went

down.”

Joe wanted to wallop him, felt his fists curl, and

before he could reply, Rodriguez said,

“I thought you’d be happy to see your sister’s killer

buy the farm?”

Joe took a deep breath, said, “That was an

execution.” Rodriguez turned to move away, said,

“No, it was expediency.”

EPILOGUE

Joe was back in Miami a month now and couldn’t

settle, dammit all to hell, he had New York back in

his blood, despite the cold, the traffic and all the

usual stuff.

Plus, he couldn’t get Maria off his mind, he’d

given her his cell phone number and she promised

to stay in touch. He was glad that his scenario

about her might not be that far-fetched after all, just

maybe she felt something too.

He was trying to put together a piece on all that

had happened when his cell shrilled, he flipped the

cover open, said,

“Yeah?”

“Joe, it’s Maria.”

God, he couldn’t believe how happy he was to

hear her but before he could say anything, she near

screamed, barely containing her hysteria,

“Joe, Dios mio, one of the nurses has been

strangled, the police say it is a copycat but he used

a green rosary and last night when I got home, on

my pillow was a gold ring, it had two hands

holding a heart, I am so scared.” Joe, stunned for a

minute, realizing it had to be Nora’s ring, they’d

never found it. He said, “I’ll be on the next flight.”

She asked, “But your job?”

He nearly smiled, said,

“Screw the job.”

The End.

• EPILOGUE