Brooklyn Bounce Page 3

  “He has a fiancée for crying out loud.”

  “So? You were there first; you have a dog in the fight.”

  “I just don’t how much fight this old dog has left in her.”

  “That’s just a lame excuse and you know it,” Abby replied.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah….. whatever”

  “Now I know, that you know, I am right.”

  “I hope that donut goes right to your thighs,” Alex said, crushing out her cigarette.

  “Such hate,” Abby said with a laugh, as she got up and headed out of the office. “Oh, don’t forget, you wanted to have a chat with Sheldon Abbott about that denial letter the board sent regarding the new computer system.”

  “My day is already ruined,” Alex replied, “I might as well share the joy.”

  She reached over, picking up one of the reports and began reading it. All in all there were eight reported cases of graffiti, the worst being the high school where they tagged a fifty foot section of the building. There was going to be hand wringing and gnashing of teeth from the board members, but she didn’t care. She would just make sure to remind them of the reason they needed to hire a replacement for Anderson and that all the little shits, who were ultimately responsible for the damage, were all members of their community. It always amazed her how the cops were perennially blamed for everyone else’s bad behavior.

  “If you wanted to be a hero, you should have become a firefighter,” she said dryly, signing off on the reports.

  When she was done, she lit another cigarette and picked up her cell phone, selecting the first number in the contacts list.

  “You’re up early,” Maguire said, when he answered the call.

  “I don’t have the luxury of a driver, Mr. Hotshot Police Commissioner,” she replied, “or a staff to fetch my coffee for me.”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch,………” Maguire said with a laugh, “Don’t you have anyone local whose balls you can break?”

  “Oh I have a long list, but you’re the only one who truly appreciates my talents.”

  “So what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “What? Now I need a reason to call up and harass my old partner?”

  “It’s never stopped you before,” Maguire said.

  “I was just wondering how you’re holding up,” Alex replied. “Becoming P.C. is a tough enough job, under the best of circumstances, let alone the way you inherited it.”

  “Some days are easier than others,” Maguire replied. “It’s still hard walking into this office. I keep waiting for Rich to come in and tell me to get the hell out of his chair; something I would gladly do in a heartbeat.”

  “I bet,” she replied. “I liked Rich. He seemed like a really stand-up guy. Not many of them left in the world, especially within our profession.”

  “Truer words where never spoken,” Maguire said.

  “Any progress on the killer?”

  Maguire paused, choosing his words carefully.

  He already knew the outcome of the manhunt, but it wasn’t for public consumption and that even included his own former partner. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her that Rich Stargold’s killer had been brought to justice; it was just that he couldn’t. The elimination of Gerald Spangler had been deemed a matter of national security and had come at the direction of someone else; someone much higher than Maguire’s paygrade. Eventually Spangler’s body would turn up in the desert and the case would be officially closed, but that would take a little while longer to happen.

  “James, are you still there?”

  “Yeah, sorry, just had someone come in for a signature,” Maguire lied. “No, we’ve sort of hit a road block with the investigation. We’re still chasing leads, but for now he has vanished. It seems he had a lot of resources at his disposal.”

  “That sucks, any thoughts on where he might have headed?”

  “West most likely,” Maguire said. “He has the survival training and, with all the heat on him, he would probably seek out the most remote area he could. For all we know he could be living in a cave in New Mexico or the mountains in Montana.”

  “That makes sense,” Alex replied, taking a drag on her cigarette. “Find a place to hide out where you can see anyone coming for miles. I wish there was more that I could do to help you.”

  “No need to feel that way, but I understand the sentiment. I have a cadre of detectives working on it, along with a bunch of feds, and I have to force myself to not get in their way.”

  “It’s tough, isn’t it?” Alex asked. “Being the boss, watching everyone else do what you feel you should be doing?”

  “Yeah, it is,” Maguire replied. “I remember right before Christmas Rich and I went out for lunch and ended up responding to a 10-85 in Midtown. Not sure whether the cop was happy to see the police commissioner and first dep backing him up or scared shitless.”

  “I’m betting a little bit of both,” Alex said with a laugh. “Talk about pressure not to screw up. Hell, I got nervous when just the sergeant would show up on our jobs.”

  “Remember that time we chased old Lazy Eye Wilson over on Belmont?”

  “Remember? I thought I was going to lose my job because of that Forest Whitaker looking motherfucker.”

  Maguire shook his head as he recalled the particulars of that little event.

  Jamal ‘Lazy Eye’ Wilson was one of the Seven-Three Precinct’s most well-known street dealers. Back in the day, Wilson had cut his teeth in the drug business working for one of Hip-Hop’s most prolific stars, back when running drugs was the up and coming singer’s primary source of income. Wilson didn’t really have a lazy eye in the traditional medical sense. His was the result of a gunshot wound to head, that he had suffered at the hands of some business associates, which caused his right eye to turn inward. The shooting also resulted in his middle-of-the-night relocation from the Marcy House’s to his cousin’s place in Brownsville. Lazy Eye didn’t think he needed to give them a second chance to improve their aim.

  One afternoon, Alex and Maguire had spotted Wilson over on Belmont Avenue, doing some hand-to-hand deals from atop his construction cone orange colored Schwinn bicycle. As they pulled up a startled Wilson fell off the bike and took off on foot, with Alex giving chase. Despite the initial surprise, Wilson quickly kicked it into high gear, jumping fences like a gazelle being chased by a lion, as he made his way back to the safety of the projects. By the time Alex made it to Sutter Ave the fleet-footed felon was long gone.

  Furious, Alex returned back to the scene, grabbing the abandoned bike and tossed it into the trunk of the radio car. Upon arrival back at the station house she proceeded to dump the bike onto the ground and then ran it over, twice, leaving it a mangled mess. As she stood there admiring her handiwork, a shit eating grin on her face, the precinct commanding officer, who’d just arrived for his evening shift, walked up and asked her what was going on.

  Alex turned to look at the man, the grin fading from her face just as quickly as Wilson had disappeared, and fought to come up with an explanation for actions.

  “Found property?” she stammered.

  “From where?” the captain asked, a scowl clearly visible on his face.

  “Lazy Eye Wilson,” she said, “over on Belmont.”

  The man paused, considering what she had just told him, and then nodded his head approvingly.

  “Voucher it,” he replied gruffly, before turning to walk toward the door.

  Alex rested her hand on the fender of the car and exhaled softly, as she contemplated the career killing bullet she had just dodged.

  “Oh and Officer Taylor,” the captain said, standing in the doorway. “Let’s work on those parking skills, shall we?”

  “10-4, Sir,” Alex replied.

  Maguire chuckled, as he recalled the image of his partner, sitting in the car ashen faced, as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

  “You’re just lucky the old man had a major hard-on for Wilson,” Maguire said. “Otherwise you�
��d have been looking at charges and specs, along with a major case of highway therapy to contemplate your poor life decisions.”

  Highway therapy was what you got when the NYPD wanted to screw you as much as they could. Basically, they found the shittiest precinct furthest from where you lived, preferably one with tolls, and transferred you there. Depending on the shift you worked, some officers spent nearly as much time diving to and from work as they did actually doing their job.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” she replied. “I swear when I turned around and saw him standing there you couldn’t have driven a straight pin up my ass with a sledge hammer.”

  “God, those were good times,” Maguire reminisced. “Do you ever miss it?”

  “Only on the days that end in Y,” Alex replied, crushing her cigarette out in the ash tray.

  “So tell me, how are things up in Shangri-La?”

  “The usual,” Alex said. “It’s that awesome time of the year when you open the windows, to enjoy the spring breezes, and find out that even the birds are assholes at 5 a.m. I mean really, what they hell do they have to be so chipper about?”

  “At least pigeons only coo.”

  “God, I can’t remember the last time I saw one of those rats with wings,” Alex said nostalgically, “but I certainly don’t miss them shitting on my car.”

  “They do seem to have good aim, especially after you just washed it.”

  “Hey, James, while I have you on the line, can I ask you a personal question?”

  Immediately his mind went back to the conversation they’d share at the Christmas party. He was still trying to come to terms with Alex’s revelation about her feelings for him, as well as his own feelings for her.

  “Sure,” he replied, with a slight bit of hesitation. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, no, I’m fine. I was just curious. With all the cases you worked, did you ever have any nightmares?”

  “What, like the ones that got away?” he asked, with just a bit of relief.

  “Yeah,” Alex said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “The ones that got away, the ones you couldn’t get to in time.”

  “Everyone does,” he replied. “They are an occupational hazard in law enforcement. It’s like that one where you’re in a shootout and you can’t pull the trigger.”

  “I’d be happy if it was just that simple.”

  “Why, what kind of dreams are you having?”

  Alex paused, tapping out another cigarette from the pack and twirling it around in her fingers, as she argued internally about what to say.

  “I just keep having this dream about Cory Childers,” she said, lighting the cigarette up.

  “The boy you lost a few months back?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up too bad; there was nothing you could have done. I don’t want to say those dreams are normal, but after a case like that it is to be expected.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she replied.

  “Alex, let’s be honest for a moment, you swear like a drunken sailor and you wear that tough-girl persona like armor, but deep down inside you actually do care. So is it any wonder that when you’re asleep that you have dreams like this?”

  “Shut up about my feelings, rookie,” she said with a laugh. “Besides, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t boarding the train to looneyville.”

  “God no, you made that trip years ago,” Maguire responded.

  “That’s because they gave me you to train,” Alex replied sarcastically. “I’m surprised I didn’t go prematurely grey.”

  “That’d be a look,” he said. “Get yourself one of those black latex uniforms and you could be a comic book superhero, Ghetto Girl.”

  “I only wear black latex to social events.”

  “Speaking of social events, how you doing with the drinking?”

  “Been dry as Granny Gulch’s Gash,” Alex replied, “but thanks for asking.”

  “Now that’s an image I’m gonna need a therapist to overcome.”

  “How do you think I feel,” she asked. “Hey maybe if we go together we can get a discount.”

  “We would need an entire mental health practice to address our issues, partner.”

  “What’s life without a little crazy?”

  “Boring,” he replied, “and speaking of which, I have to go over to City Hall for some bullshit, diversity in city government, meeting.”

  “Better you than me,” she replied.

  “I’ll catch up with you in a few days.”

  “Sounds good, go do that ass-kissy thing you do so well.”

  “Be safe,” Maguire said, ignoring the barb.

  “You too, James,” Alex replied and hung up the phone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Good morning, Candi, is Sheldon in?”

  “Hold on, Chief Taylor, let me check,” the woman replied, before putting the call on hold.

  Check? The fucker sits in the office next to you, what’s there to check?

  It was a mind game that Sheldon played with everyone; in an effort to make himself seem more important than he actually was. No one ever got through right away and if you went to his office the door was always closed because he was in a meeting.

  Alex had a mental image of him sitting there, with a big blow-up doll of himself, talking about his favorite topic: Sheldon Abbott.

  Nah, that’s not the blow-up doll he probably has, she thought.

  She waited impatiently, drumming her fingers on the desktop, as her overall mood just continued to deteriorate.

  For Christ’s sake, Juggs, did you get lost? she wondered, as she watched the second hand slowly tick away.

  It was a well-accepted, if little talked about, fact that Candice ‘Juggs’ Montgomery hadn’t gotten her job as Abbott’s secretary because of her stellar skills behind the desk, as much as she had for her stellar skills under the desk. Alex didn’t actually have a problem with the woman because of that, she was a firm believer in to-each-his-own, but she was reasonably sure that the woman could get lost inside of a closest.

  She reached over, snagging another cigarette and lit it, as she waited for Abbott to pick up. A full minute passed before she heard him come on the line.

  “Good morning, Alex,” Sheldon said in his typical cheery politician voice. “How are you this fine day?”

  “Angry, cranky and armed, so cut the bullshit, Sheldon and explain to me why you denied me my new computer system.”

  “I didn’t deny you, Alex,” the man corrected, “the board denied you.”

  “Jesus Christ, Sheldon, you are the board,” Alex said angrily. “The village idiots sit in their chairs, but they wouldn’t know when to take a piss unless you told them.”

  “You give me way too much credit, my dear.”

  “Oh please, cut the crap,” Alex replied. “I’m not in the mood for it today. I don’t even want to know why it was denied, I just want to know when it is going to be approved.”

  “The board can’t seem to understand why you need a new computer system,” he replied, “when you already have a perfectly good one.”

  “Sheldon, the current operating system for the rest of the world is like Window’s gajillion, our computers are running Wooden Shutters 2.0,” Alex replied. “We can’t even connect with most of the state police programs because our system is so damn old.”

  “It’s just that money is so tight right now,” Abbott replied. “There’s sewer and road repair work that has to be done up on the north end of town. Then there are improvements on the marina that have to be completed before the summer boating season gets under way. Maybe next year we can do some incremental upgrades for your office.”

  It was always the same story. The folks up on the north end of town, the rich end, bitched and the board members tripped over themselves to do their bidding. She acknowledged that it made sense. After all, the folks up in the north end had the money and the votes, so they held all the power.


  “Sheldon, I don’t give a rat’s ass what direction the shit flows up in the north end of town,” Alex said. “What matters to me is that my guys have the tools they need to do their jobs safely. So if the board wants to play who has the biggest balls on the playground then game-on.”

  “What are you going to do, Alex?”

  She didn’t understand why they had to do this tango every time she wanted to make improvements. It was like the whole rifle debacle. She eventually got her way, but not without first threatening to make it her mission to find new employment for his beloved secretary. Now it seems she would have to up the ante and hit him where it would really hurt: his wallet.

  Maybe he just likes being verbally abused, she thought.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Sheldon,” she said. “After this next season you won’t have to worry about making any more improvements on the marina, because after my enforcement blitz, everyone will be heading to Lake Francis.”

  “Alex, you don’t mean that,” Abbott said in an exasperated tone.

  “I do and I will, so help me God,” she replied. “One or two asset forfeitures of boats, being driven by some pill-pushing spoiled college brat, and I’m pretty sure that I will be able to pay for my own computer system. Hell, looking at some of those boats, that those north-enders love so much, I might even be able to hire my own IT guy.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Abbott replied.

  “I might even be able to get the state boys to come up and play with me,” she lied. “There’s this really cute looking sergeant in the marine division, down in Gilford, I bet he’d love to spend the summer with me on the lake showing off maritime enforcement abilities.”

  “Let me talk to the board,” Abbott said. “Maybe I can convince them to reallocate some money from the discretionary fund.”

  “You’re so good to me, Sheldon,” Alex said, in an overly sweet tone. “What would I ever do without you?”

  “You really need to learn to play well with others, Alex,” he cautioned. “One day I might not be around to make things run smoothly.”

  “Sheldon, this town will burn to the ground before you ever surrender power.”