Unleashed (10 page)

"They're still bootleggers?" I joked.

"Close.  We have liquor stores all over the region."

"Sounds like a fun family."

Declan laughed. "I guess we know how to have a good time."

"So how did you become a cop?"

Declan smiled. "How'd you become a dog walker?"

"Ah, I see, it's my turn." He bit his lip and nodded. "A friend of a friend knew of a friend with a dog-walking business for sale."

"It's that simple?"

"I guess," I shrugged. "Walking dogs is something I'm naturally good at. You should see me walk Blue. I'm excellent."

Declan laughed. He bit his lip again but didn't say anything. He was dead sexy, which raised alarm bells. Nice boys are not this sexy. "What about you? Coppery your life's passion?" I asked.

He laughed, a deep rumble. "Coppery, I like that."

"I like making up words."

"I bet. I'm very passionate about my work," he said, lowering his voice. "I absolutely love what I do."

"Wow. I don't know anyone who loves what they do." I leaned toward him, interested.

He closed the gap between us further. "It started out that I really wanted to help people. You know, step between the abusive husband and his wife, stop the burglary in progress. I pictured returning purses to pretty young ladies like you all day." He laughed softly and reached his hand out casually taking mine in his. He played with my fingers as he continued. "But, as you might suspect, there is a lot more paperwork than that." I laughed. "Now, what I love about it is working with my brothers and sisters in blue—the camaraderie, the collective will to do good. I really like working in that environment."

"Even working with guys like Mulberry?" I asked, remembering what Marcia had told me about his rumored violent behavior.

"Girl, you're going to get me in trouble."

"Why?" I asked.

"You really are gorgeous." He reached out and pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear and then left his hand resting on my cheek.

"Trying to change the subject?" I teased.

He sat back laughing and picked up his drink. I took a slug of mine too. It was cold but did little to cool me off. "Mulberry and I were partners," he said.

"Really?"

"Until the incident." He raised his eyebrows.

"I've heard rumors," I said.

"This was years ago, when I first joined the force. Mulberry was my senior officer. We shared a car. His father was a decorated officer, you know. He died a hero. A lot of people in the department give Mulberry leeway because of his dad. But I regret to say the son is nothing like the father."

"Did you know his dad?"

Declan shook his head. "Before my time. I was really excited to be working with his son though. But it didn't take long for me to see that Mulberry was crooked."

"Crooked? How?"

Declan leaned toward me and quieted his voice. "I never saw him take money from anyone, but the guy had a lot nicer things than his salary would afford."

"Said the man wearing the gold watch."

Doyle laughed and smiled at me. "The only difference is Mulberry's grandfather was a penniless immigrant, and mine was a multimillionaire who built a big, legitimate business."

"Oh," I said.

"But it wasn't the extravagant lifestyle that concerned me. I was young enough to ignore it. The thing is he wanted to be as great as his Dad, and sometimes that drove him to 'create a break' in a case."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't want to go into details. It's just a fact that the guy can be really rough on suspects. Eventually he did something so fucked-up I demanded that they move me. And that's how I became a mounted police officer."

"Was that a punishment?"

He smiled. "No, a reward. For protecting him."

"Jesus."

The waitress arrived with another pitcher of sangria. She filled both our glasses. Declan looked up to say thank you and then looked right back to me. "When I complained to my superiors, they offered me my present situation, which is pretty awesome." He reached out for my hand again. "I get to meet lovely ladies like you. And Mulberry is under much closer supervision."

"Oh, you meet a lot of ladies on the job?"

He laughed. "You're the first witness I've ever asked out."

"I bet."

Declan wound his free hand into my hair and, leaning forward, placed his smooth, warm lips on mine. He backed off an inch and then pulled me toward him. I did not protest. His tongue darted out and wet our lips. I pulled away, my heart banging in my chest.

He smiled at me. "Sorry, I just wanted to kiss you." He opened the space between us to pour some more sangria. As the waitress passed, he asked her for a charcuterie platter and two glasses of water.

I
'm a fan of Sundays. Usually there is not much to do, and I laze around in bed for at least an hour reading whatever happens to be on my side table. I was going through an old
New York Magazine
when Blue, sick of my Sunday style, started whining by the door.

I ignored him at first, but I swear the dog pitched his whine to the exact note necessary to explode little pockets in my brain. I finally got out of bed with an exasperated, "Fine."

I took Blue over to the coffee shop and ordered an iced latte, then we wandered the neighborhood. I looked in at store windows sipping my deliciously creamy beverage while Blue sniffed the cornucopia of scents littering the sidewalk. He managed to find an abandoned half slice of pizza and scarfed it down. I figured it was time for real breakfast.

As I chewed a piece of toast and looked out my window, I thought about Declan. He was not like other guys I'd dated. First of all, he was a police officer and dedicated to his job. He ordered things for me, while I was very used to ordering my own drinks. There was a part of me that liked it though. Maybe I could be the kind of woman who enjoyed being taken care of. He certainly took care of me last night, I thought with a sly little smile.

We went back to his place after dinner and enjoyed each other like only people who barely know each other can. I'm not saying I screw every stranger who crosses my path, but the fun thing about such quick sex is you can be whoever you want to be in bed. They have no idea who you really are. That first night with Doyle, I was a lamb to his tiger, and I liked it.

I caught a cab home just as the bars were letting out. He wanted me to stay (or at least he said he did), but I needed to get back to Blue (or at least I said I did). I like catching a town car home late. I like sitting back in the leather and watching drunken people fill the streets after final call is over. They are all looking for a fight or a fuck. And, Lord Jesus, they are not going home until they get it. The late night crowd knows what they are living for. Sometimes I wish I had their clarity.

The rush to find an outfit the night before left my bedroom in a state of disarray. I had not gone through my closet since moving into the apartment a year-and-a-half before. I decided this was the perfect Sunday to take it on.

I put on NPR and listened to the news while I pulled out all of my clothing and started dividing it into piles. I heard an interesting story about a large private corporation that owned tons of supermarkets under all different brand names. That made me wonder what it would be like to come from a family of supermarket magnates. I was picturing myself on a large yacht with servants to clean out my closet (and bring me fresh produce from my very own supermarkets) when my attention was again drawn to the radio.

"The mayor is hosting a party for the Biltmore Club tomorrow evening at Gracie Mansion. This is the second gala event the mayor has hosted since coming into office. It raises money for underprivileged New Yorkers. Joining me is Laura Piper, the events coordinator for Gracie Mansion since 1995. Thanks for joining us..."

That was the second time this week I'd heard about the Biltmore Club. Weird I'd never heard of them before. I picked up the phone and called James. "Hey, you ever hear of the Biltmore Club?" I asked when he picked up.

"No, but let me ask Hugh." I heard James calling out to Hugh but didn't hear his response. "Hold on, he's coming over."

"Hey Joy," Hugh said.

I asked him about the Biltmore Club.

"I don't know a lot about them, but when I did that stint with that private chef agency a couple of years ago, I heard some rumors."

"Rumors?"

"Yeah, crazy shit."

"Really?"

"The only thing I know for sure is membership is coveted. All the major power brokers are into it."

"Really?"

"A shit-ton of the people who could afford our services were members of the society."

"What? Seriously? How have I not heard of these people?" I asked.

"They don't want you to hear about them."

"Hugh, come on."

"Joy, I'm serious. The world has little resemblance to what most people believe."

"How can you say that?"

Hugh laughed. "Come on Joy, you don't see things the way most people do. You know you can make yourself invisible. We all can."

"What are you talking about?"

"Think about when you're on the subway. No one looks at you, right?"

"Yeah?"

"If you do something crazy like, I don't know, scream 'fuck' at the top of your lungs, does anyone look?"

"No, but that's not me making myself invisible. That's those other passengers ignoring me. I'm sure they see me."

"Really? How do you know they just plain never see you?"

"I see people on the subway do crazy shit, and I don't say anything."

"Sure, but you turn your eyes to look at them. You have a reaction. I'm telling you Joy, there is all sorts of shit happening around you all the time that you don't want to see, so you don't. Here, try this tomorrow. When you get on the subway, sit down and really look at everyone in your car. I mean check out the creases of their skin, the sleep in their eyes. Do your best to make eye contact. See how much more becomes visible to you."

"You're blowing my mind, Hugh."

He laughed. "Just try it."

"How do you know these Biltmore Club people are into crazy shit?"

"I was single at the time, Joy."

I laughed. "So?"

"These people like to party. And I mean party."

"Crazy?"

"Seriously."

I heard James in the background saying something. "Hey Joy, I've got to go. We're headed to the farmers' market to pick up dinner."

"OK, thanks."

"Sure, we can talk more later."

James got back on just to say his good-byes, and then I was alone in my bedroom surrounded by piles of clothing, no closer to a clean bedroom or a solution to the mystery before me.

I spent another hour on my closet and managed to get almost everything I wanted to keep put away. That left two bags of donations. I hefted them a couple of blocks to the clothing drop-off box. It was a painfully hot day, and by the time I got back to my place, I was drenched with sweat.

I took a shower and spent the rest of the day on my couch watching TV, doing my nails, and generally being a good-for-nothing. I ordered take-out Chinese. When the guy came to the door, he handed me my food, and I passed over a twenty. After he left, I realized that if you put that guy in a lineup, I wouldn't be able to point him out. I ordered food from the same two places most days of my life, and there was no way I could pick out the different men who brought it to my door. Maybe Hugh was right.

I ate my food watching bad Sunday-night TV. There was a show about some vampires who lived in a gated community and were constantly pulling guns on each other. Why they needed the guns was the most burning question of the whole series, at least that's what I thought.

M
onday morning it felt like everyone in Yorkville was talking about the arrest. The name Jacquelyn Saperstein permeated the air. I passed a pair of women, hunched with age, wearing hats appropriate at church or a horse race, as one said, "I never liked her. You can't trust a woman that thin." The other nodded sagely.

There was no one to hold the door for me at the Sapersteins' building. A worried-looking maintenance man stood behind the concierge desk. "What's going on?" I asked. He motioned with his head to a door behind him marked Employees Only. I could hear soft weeping inside. "Who's in there?" I asked.

"Julen," he said.

I tried the knob, but it was locked. "Julen," I called. "Open the door."

"Go away!" he yelled, his voice thick with tears.

"Julen, if a resident of the building walks through the lobby, you are going to be in some deep shit."

"I have nothing left to live for," he cried back.

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

Julen let out a highly dramatic wail. My friend of few words held up a key. "Skeleton," he said. Inside, we found Julen huddled in the corner of a very small employee lounge. When he saw me, he scrambled to his feet.

"Leave me alone. I want to be alone," he said wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

"Then you shouldn't have shown up for work. You need to pull yourself together and get back out there."

"But they have accused my one true love. The only woman I have ever or will ever care for." He fell back against the wall and slid down it with a moan.

"Julen, you are going to lose your job," I said. My skeleton-key-holding friend nodded behind me vigorously. Julen covered his face with his hands. "Locking yourself away in an employee lounge is not going to help her," I said.

"You are right," Julen said looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. "I must help her." He paused and stared down at the floor. "I will confess," he said in a small voice. "Yes," he said louder. "I will go to the police and tell them." He started to stand up. "I'll tell them that it was me. I wanted him dead."

"Julen, that is a really bad idea," I said. More vigorous nodding from the maintenance man. "The police will not believe you, and it will only make her look more guilty."

Ignoring me, Julen started for the door. My new friend and I blocked his path. "Let me out," Julen demanded.