Too Quiet in Brooklyn (12 page)

“I’m hungry.”

Charlie must be awake.

“Not yet. Three more exits.”

Ralph smiled at Charlie when he’d placed the pillowcase over his head that morning, telling him that they were playing a game, and that calmed the boy, Ralph knew it did. He was a vital part of the operation, that’s what Arrow said. Arrow had given Charlie an extra dose of medicine. That’s why Charlie slept so long. But Ralph hadn’t liked the pillowcase, so he took it off Charlie’s head and felt Charlie’s smooth cheeks.

“Where’s my gran?”

“Oh, she’s …” For a second, Ralph didn’t know what to say and his hands sweated up good so he wiped each one, one at a time, on his pants so the steering wheel wouldn’t get slippery. He kept his eyes on the road, not looking at Charlie, because driving was a very important job. Do one important job at a time, and nothing else. That’s what his brother used to say. And he always did what his brother told him.

“She had a meeting downtown,” he said. “You were sleeping and she didn’t want to wake you, but she told me to give you a big kiss goodbye. That’s where we’re going now, to meet your gran.”

“Oh.”

Ralph thought for a while about giving Charlie a kiss for his gran. It felt so good, so soft, like touching the boy’s ears. He’d kiss him first on the ears, and he thought about that and it felt so good but someone started honking and he realized he was drifting into another lane.

“See? You bastard, you got distracted, almost got us killed. What the fuck’s wrong with you?” That’s what Arrow would say. So Ralph stopped thinking about Charlie and just drove, drove, drove.

“I’m hungry,” Charlie said again.

Ralph didn’t think anymore about the boy’s ears or kissing them, he couldn’t do it and drive straight.

“Okay, five more miles, see the sign? We’ll get off and drive to a nice place I know where they give kids crayons.”

There were a few bad parts to today. One had been the old woman. Ralph liked her. She’d been nice to him. She had kind eyes, but in the end, he’d seen that there was no other way. None. The boss wanted her out of the way. Like when it happened to his sister. She made it necessary so they could do their work. And their work was so important, he knew. He knew because Arrow told him. There were only a handful of men who knew the score, and Ralph knew the score, so he’d been hand-picked to be on the team.

Most of the work was easy. They took it one step at a time. Sure, there were tough parts to the job, but that’s why they hired Ralph, Arrow explained. They knew he could do the tough jobs. And now that he knew the score, he had no choice. If Ralph didn’t do what he was told, there’d be consequences. Ralph didn’t like the sound of that word, consequences. He’d not only be out of a job—worse than that—he’d have to answer to the big boss, and that would not be pleasant.

The big boss had men with guns around him. Big guns. He didn’t like to think about them. They’d make blood. Once when they were on the compound and Ralph met the big boss, he heard a couple of others talking about him, what he’d do if he was double crossed, what he did once to a guy saying they’d never, ever find the body. And there was no blood. Ralph didn’t hear everything they said, but he knew from the sound of the words that he didn’t want to make the boss angry. It gave him goose bumps remembering. So he had no other choice, he had to do what Arrow told him. Arrow warned him from the giddy-up there’d be tough jobs. So when the old woman saw what they were doing and told them to get out and not come back, she’d call the police if they didn’t, Ralph knew something was going to happen. She’d given them thirty minutes is all, and that’s when Arrow made the call and the big boss said it was time.

Ralph knew what “it was time” meant. He had to press his fingers around her neck until he heard the crack. Arrow made him practice it many times, so he’d know and be quick with it. He’d squeezed on a sock stuffed with old rags. “Don’t look at her face or nothing. Don’t think of her smile or nothing. Best to close your eyes.” But a sock was too easy and the stuffing oozed out and got all over the place, so Arrow got a squash from Key Foods. He named it Butternut. “Now squeeze Butternut’s neck. Go ahead, hard so it breaks.” And it had broken, all right, all over the floor, but he cleaned it up good. Just to make sure, he’d gotten two more. Same thing. Arrow being Arrow, he had to time it, less than thirty seconds each time. Ralph asked him if that was a long time and Arrow said it was fast, real fast, especially to squash a butternut. He laughed but Ralph didn’t.

And it worked on the old woman, too. When Arrow gave him the nod, Ralph picked her up and let her kick and squirm and pound his shoulder. He carried her into the shed. Ralph squeezed, didn’t have to squeeze as hard as he did with Butternut. He heard the crack and he was done, he could let go now, that’s what Arrow said, but they hadn’t bargained on Charlie.

See, it’s this way, Ralph is all right when he does just one thing, but he’d forgotten about Charlie. They had to chase him. Couldn’t see him for a while. He hid behind the coat next to his gran’s body, the smart little bugger, that’s what Arrow called him.

When Arrow opened the shed and saw Charlie in there, he told Ralph to bag the old lady and lock the shed. That was the second bad thing that happened, because Ralph had to plead with Arrow. “Don’t let him stay in there. You said I could have him.” But Charlie was smart, he started wailing and screaming, and Ralph squeezed Arrow’s shoulders so Arrow changed his mind and told Ralph he’d been right. Arrow said, “Yes indeedy, you’re right, Ralphie,” and told him, “Good job.”

Then he pulled the needle out of his pocket and that’s when Ralph almost lost it. He went rigid like he used to do late at night when his sister brought the men home. Arrow said his eyes got bugged. He told him not to hurt Charlie and then Arrow goes, “It’ll make him sleep, that’s all Ralphie, just for a little while until we get rid of the body.”

He’d shoot Charlie up with the stuff first thing in the morning, then in the afternoon. More and more and more of the stuff and pretty soon Charlie’d be dead, Ralph knew it. So he pulled Arrow up by his collar and Arrow, he gets his clown’s face on him, like, who, me? And Ralph said to himself, No, no more, that’s it. So he had to do it to Arrow, don’t you see? He had to.

The Smell of Cordite

When I gave him a fresh cup of brew, Denny stretched, took the mug, mumbled thanks and went back to the screen. He was mesmerized by the stuff. I couldn’t see the desktop, but thought he must have opened Excel, Calculator, Word, Stickies and Notes, all of them working together and he was tabbing rapidly through the applications. The title of the spreadsheet made me freeze.

“That’s Heights Federal Bank?”

He nodded. “For an old broad, Mary Ward Simon knew her stuff. Got links and cross references in every folder, an amazingly organized mind. And all her personal stuff’s in another profile. Nothing out of place.”

“You saw her house.”

“Not really.”

I told him about the condition of each room that I’d seen during my walk-around with Barbara. I thought of my study upstairs. “Unreal. I mean, how could anyone live like that?”

“Like what?”

“Everything so organized.”

He shrugged, shot me a rueful grin.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about your study.”

I changed the subject. “What are you finding out?”

“Stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Not ready to tell you yet. Got to get all my ducks in a row first. Got to make sure I’m right. It may have a bearing on the case. May explain why she was killed, but right now I think it’s a long shot.”

“Ready to take a break?”

My phone vibrated. It was Cookie, talking so fast she sounded like a buzz saw. I asked her to repeat and slow it way down. She told me she’d been talking to one of the neighbors on College Place. Kind of a nose, she called him. He was in the crowd gathering around the police vehicles behind Mary Ward Simon’s mews. “He said he didn’t know her too well, but spoke to her from time to time. He tends the garden in back of the building and he bent my ear forever when I had so many people to get to and now he wants to talk to you and I talked to another lady, too, who wants to—”

“Cool your jets, Cookie.”

Dead air in my ear.

Fifteen minutes later, Cookie was ringing our front doorbell. Her breath smelled like cinnamon pancakes and banana, one of her favorite take aways from Teresa’s.

“Ok, so I stopped to pick up food and ate it on the way but it took so long getting here, I was finished before I got to Tillary Street. Got any coffee?”

She gave Denny a peck. He hugged her in return, but his eyes moved back to the computer screen.

“Denny’s in the midst of going through the victim’s computer.”

“Why?”

“Combing for clues. Her daughter told me she was a CPA. Retired, but still did the odd job.”

I poured us each a mug. “Let’s go upstairs to my study. And I don’t want to hear squat about my housekeeping. I thought you had a date tonight.”

“Pushed it to next week.”

When we were settled in the futon chairs and I’d turned the lights up, Cookie told me her story, how she’d talked to people who were outside Mary Ward Simon’s house and knocked on doors while I sipped coffee and took notes. Most of them weren’t home or didn’t respond to the knock, so she’d have to return.

“Sources at the
Eagle
say folks are beginning to call in, most of them wanting to get information. They’ll call me if they get something legit, but I got some leads from a couple of neighbors.”

“Great,” I said, scribbling. “One at a time, okay?”

“This one guy kept yakking on about the vic’s shadows. He didn’t know what to call them. They looked just like bums to him, but they seemed like they did odd jobs for her. He talked about their dumping grass and leaves, weeds, branches, that kind of thing. Said they used to hang out on College Place all the time, in and out of the garbage bins two, three times a day, but he got the distinct impression that they were up to no good.”

“Did he say anything to Mrs. Simon?”

“He said Mary told him they were all right, a little on the down and out side, but they were recommended by a good friend, they’d done some yard work for her.”

“Hold on, Cook, let me get this stuff down.”

While she waited for me to catch up, she reached into her bag for the mirror, spread the lipstick thick, pursed her lips, and took a look at her teeth. She held the cup to her nose smelling the steam and taking a swallow, gunking up the rim with lipstick.

“His name?”

“Hector Pool, and he lives on College Place. He’s an older guy with a beak for a nose. Got to be sixty if he’s a day, but he seemed legit to me. He told me he heard unusual noises this morning, a loud bang coming from somewhere on the street close to his house, but he wasn’t dressed yet, and by the time he got down there, no one was around, just something smoldering in one of those large bins or whatever they are—not the kind we put our garbage in, more like an old rusty oil drum. Hector showed it to me. It’s the kind they have around the abandoned buildings in Dumbo. He said it appeared one day on College Place near the far side of the fence. He doesn’t know how it got there.”

I thought of the cordite I’d smelled earlier and the torched van. “Text me his phone number,” I said.

“And I also found a neighbor who knows the Simon woman from committees and stuff. She was shocked to hear of her death. She wants to talk to you. She said Mary Ward Simon and the daughter never got along, especially after Barbara’s divorce.”

Cookie handed me the woman’s name and phone number. I called both neighbors and told them I was investigating Mrs. Simon’s death and wanted to see them as soon as possible tomorrow morning, preferably before eight-thirty. I couldn’t commit to an exact time because something might break in the case that would demand my immediate attention. They understood and said they’d be ready to talk to me anytime after seven.

La Piazza

La Piazza was Arrow’s favorite restaurant. It was in New Jersey where Arrow grew up and where he met the boss. Every once in a while, when he was off the beer, Arrow would get this funny look on his face. He’d say there ain’t nothing like the country and he needed it now. Then they’d drive to Allentown just for the pizza and a ride on a country road with the windows down and the grass smelling good and Arrow saying as how he could hear the corn growing.

Ralph remembered how to get there. He was good with directions, his sister used to say. He remembered to go east on 195 toward the shore, exit and drive down a country road until you couldn’t drive no more.

In the dusk, Ralph could see the lit-up sign and smell the food, hot tomato and cheese and spices. The parking lot was crowded and he had to inch into a small place, too small for Charlie to get out and anyway, Ralph didn’t think the little guy could manage it on his own, so he had to haul Charlie up and over to the front, holding him underneath his little arms. He didn’t mean to do it, Ralph would never hurt Charlie, but he banged him on the cheek with his chin.

“I want my gran!” Charlie said. He was crying because of the bang to his cheek but Ralph held him and said, “There, there,” like his sister used to say. Ralph could feel his heart beating fast. Charlie smelled like talcum powder and vomit from when he got sick in the shed. Ralph held him tight to his chest and they squeezed out the door into the cool New Jersey evening. The country, Arrow called it, nothing like the smell, he’d say, and he’d take a deep breath.

Ralph held onto Charlie’s hand, small and soft, and opened the door to the restaurant. There was a line and he heard glass and metal trays clanging together and people talking and waiters calling to one another in the kitchen. The pizza smell made him hungry and made him miss Arrow. The line didn’t move. There was a metal newsstand inside the door and Charlie pointed to it and said, “Boy,” and Ralph told him it was a newsstand.

“Will my gran be inside?”

Ralph didn’t know what to say but he squeezed Charlie’s hand. “Think so. Let’s eat first and after, we’ll try to find her. You hungry?”