The Finishing School

20

BY THE TIME Melanie finished debriefing Trevor Leonard, it was after six o’clock. She needed to get on the stick if she wanted to sneak her team into Screen that night to do a heroin buy from Esposito’s people.

Melanie whipped out her cell phone, where she had her sister on the speed dial.

“Dígame,” Linda answered.

“Hey, chica, where are you?”

“Getting a pedicure and a wax. I have a date later.”

“You and Josh sure are getting hot and heavy. When am I gonna meet him?”

“Josh who? We broke up.”

“You’re kidding! When?”

“Mmm, yesterday.”

“And you’re onto somebody new already?”

“Why sit home?”

“Fast work, even for you. I’m impressed.”

“Get with the program, bebé. You should take a page from my book.”

“Yeah, right, I’ll give it some thought. So, listen, what time are you going out?”

“Uh-oh. I feel a request to baby-sit coming on.”

“If you’re volunteering, I accept, but that’s not why I called.”

“So you’re not working late tonight?”

“Well, actually I am, but-”

“Again? Your bodacious ass should quit that job, chica.”

“Right. As long as Maya and I can live with you, because then we’ll be destitute.”

“I’m serious. That boss of yours is a rhymes-with-witch.”

“You’re not the only one who thinks so, but this isn’t on her.”

“For God’s sake, it’s almost Christmas, Mel.”

“Tell it to the bad guys. They’re the ones making me work late. Anyway, I need a favor, and it’s not baby-sitting. It’s more in your skill set, sis.”

JUST AS MELANIE was grabbing her coat to run home and steal some precious moments with Maya, the phone on her desk rang. The caller ID displayed Bernadette’s extension. Melanie did the calculation in her head-how fast she could sprint to the elevator versus how long it would take Bernadette to get out to the hall and catch her. Drat!

She reached for the receiver. “Yes, Bern.”

“Hey, girlfriend, I need an update on the Holbrooke ODs case.”

“Okay, sure, no problem. We-”

“Not now. I’m on a conference call. Six-thirty, my office.”

And Bernadette hung up. Melanie kicked her desk in frustration. Why the helldja call me if you were already on the phone? Now she was stuck waiting around, using up what was likely to be her only personal time for days to come. She tried not to feel sorry for herself, but really, she missed her daughter. Linda was right-it was holiday season, December 18 at 6:10 A.M, to be exact. Not many shopping days left till Christmas. Shouldn’t she be home? Everyone else in the world was partying or decorating the tree or spending time with family. Wait a minute, though, not everyone. Not Carmen Reyes. Or Brianna Meyers or Whitney Seward. Melanie reminded herself why she did this job.

The thought of Christmas shopping made her crazy, though. Between work and Maya’s being sick, she hadn’t had time to get anything for her poor little daughter. She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes until Bernadette wanted to see her. Hmm, the miracle of the Internet. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but…

Melanie went online, searching for toys for Maya. She wanted a doll with dark hair and pudgy cheeks, one that looked like Maya. The selection on Amazon was vast, but nothing seemed to fit the bill. Dolls with bottles. Dolls that wet and cried real tears. Dolls that smelled like baby powder. Dolls with removable clothes to teach zipping and buttoning skills. None of them had the right look. Finally, time running out, Melanie started looking at storybooks instead. She didn’t spend enough time reading with Maya. Heck, she didn’t spend enough time doing anything with Maya.

“Melanie Vargas, what do you think you’re up to?”

Melanie nearly fell out of her chair.

“Bernadette, I-”

“Your office Internet connection is reserved for official government business!” Bernadette snapped, looming over Melanie’s desk.

“Yes, I know. I-”

“Yeah, since when is Dora the Explorer official business?”

“I’m sorry. I had a few extra minutes while I waited for you to-”

“I never hold this single-motherhood thing against you, Melanie. I even assign you a high-profile case. In exchange, I expect to see some discipline.”

“Look, Bernadette, I apologize. It won’t happen again. And you don’t need to worry. Everything is under control on the Holbrooke case. We have a promising new angle, a cooperator-”

Melanie’s phone rang. Saved by the bell! It was her boss’s secretary, Shekeya Jenkins, calling to say Vito Albano was on the line for Bernadette.

“I’ll take it in my office,” Bernadette said. “You, come with me. I swear, I have to watch you every second.”

Melanie’s face went hot with indignation, but she held her tongue and followed Bernadette down the hall to her corner suite, which sat at the intersection of the two corridors housing the Major Crimes Unit. BERNADETTE DEFELICE, CHIEF, screamed the brass nameplate, all in caps. Why did it seem like every time she walked into her boss’s office, Melanie’s stomach was upset for one reason or another? She wasn’t alone in this: Everyone else’s relationship with Bernadette was the same way. Yet as much as she resented her boss, she admired her, too. Bernadette was exciting, dynamic, and good at her job. She got things done. She had the best Rolodex in the business and therefore brought in the best cases. She recruited talented prosecutors and demanded the best work from them. Too bad she accomplished all that by wielding a stick instead of a carrot, but still, Melanie wouldn’t trade the experience for anything less dramatic or interesting.

“Wait here!” Bernadette commanded as they entered the anteroom.

Shekeya Jenkins looked up from her computer screen, contemplating Melanie sympathetically. Shekeya had been Bernadette’s secretary for years, the only one who’d ever lasted in the position. A big woman with elaborate braids bleached orangey red, long, gem-studded fingernails, and a sharp tongue, Shekeya was one of the few people in the office who could do battle with Bernadette on equal terms.

“What she on you about now?” Shekeya asked, blowing a bubble with Day-Glo pink bubble gum.

“She caught me doing my Christmas shopping online while I was waiting to meet with her.”

“Girl, don’t listen to that bullshit. I shop online all the time and e-mail my psychic, too. The boss don’t so much as look cross-eyed at me.”

“She’s probably afraid to, Shekeya.”

Shekeya laughed and slapped her knee. “You got that right! Get back in her face is all is takes. And I know you know how if you want to.”

“So what are you still doing here at this hour?” Melanie asked. Shekeya was normally gone by 4:55 at the latest.

“I can’t do a little overtime if I feel like it?” she asked, working the bubble gum with her tongue.

“Oh, I get it. Christmas and all. I could use some extra cash myself.” Unfortunately, attorneys didn’t get paid overtime for putting in additional hours the way support staff did. Melanie’s base salary was significantly higher, but she was expected to work as hard as it took to get the job done without additional compensation.

“No, it ain’t even about that,” Shekeya was saying. “You’ll be seein’ me around here all hours from now on. Khadija just got accepted in private school starting next semester. Public schools in my neighborhood suck. I want to give her the best possible chance in life, you know?”

“I’m with you there. I feel exactly the same way.”

“Got to pay for it somehow. So I went in to see the boss, told her I was picking up a night job cleaning, and she say to me, why not do the extra hours here? There’s always some filing or some shit needs doin’.”

Since all the lawyers on the unit pretty much did their own word processing, Shekeya’s job was limited to answering Bernadette’s telephone, filling out the occasional requisition form, doing her nails-and, apparently, online shopping and psychic consulting. Obviously Bernadette had just been trying to help Shekeya out. That was the thing about Bernadette. Just when you were most disgusted with her, she’d do something truly humane, and you’d say, Oh, if only she’d act like that all the time, how much better would life be?

Speak of the devil. Bernadette poked her head out into the anteroom. “Come on in, girlfriend,” she called. “I’ve got Lieutenant Albano on the line.”

Melanie walked in and sank into a guest chair, feeling utterly drained. The sky beyond Bernadette’s window was already ink dark. Melanie felt about a million years old, and like the day would never end.

“Vito?” Bernadette said.

“Still here, hon,” Albano’s voice squawked from the speakerphone.

“Melanie’s with me now. Melanie, can you please explain what the hell the deal is with this new cooperator?”

Melanie sat up straighter. “You mean Trevor Leonard?”

“That freaky kid I saw leaving your office an hour ago.”

“Yup, that’s Trevor. He was a close friend of Brianna Meyers. Trevor says Brianna and Whitney Seward were working as drug couriers for Jay Esposito, the nightclub owner. Esposito’s been investigated-”

“Jesus,” Bernadette exclaimed, dropping her head into her hands, “you were right, Vito.”

“I don’t see what the big tragedy is,” Albano said. “Sounds like a promising lead. We know about this Expo character from way back. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’s the supplier.”

“Supplier, fine. But did you hear what Melanie just said? The last thing I need is an allegation from some slacker freak that James Seward’s daughter was muling heroin.”

Albano was silent.

“Vito?” Bernadette said.

“Yeah, okay, I see what you mean. It’s a little sensitive.”

“Sensitive, my ass. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Am I the only one who worries about the big picture around here? Think, people. What if the tabloids get ahold of it and then it doesn’t pan out?”

“So don’t tell ’em,” Albano suggested.

Melanie plucked a copy of that morning’s Daily News off Bernadette’s desk. It was the same one Brad Monahan had in court earlier, with the word “Suspect” emblazoned beneath Carmen Reyes’s photo on the front page.

“It would be better if nobody talked to the press,” Melanie said. “About anything.”

“Oh, what’s that supposed to mean?” Bernadette snapped.

“Leaking this thing about Carmen Reyes being a suspect-”

“Leak? Watch your language. ‘Leak’ means you disclosed confidential information without proper authority. I’m authorized to tell the press anything I damn well please, so by definition I can’t leak. I apprised the taxpayers of how we’re spending their money. They’re entitled to know. They pay our salary.”

“Fine, whatever you want to call it, but the point is-”

“And you seem to forget that Ray Wong found heroin with the Golpe stamp in Carmen Reyes’s locker. That’s why she’s on the lam, not because her picture’s in the paper. But instead of trying to locate a girl who’s obviously involved, you’re spending your time debriefing this highly problematic witness about potentially libelous allegations.”

“I am trying to locate Carmen, Bern. Believe me, I’m very concerned about her. And Trevor’s not problematic. Young, yes, but he’s quite credible when you talk to him. Like you always say, nuns and schoolteachers aren’t the ones with inside information about drug trafficking.”

“One look at this Leonard kid and anybody can see he’s gonna tank in front of a jury. He was probably on drugs when you debriefed him, for crying out loud.”

“He was not. Pretrial Services screens all defendants before arraignment and reports dirty urines. Trevor was completely clean. Besides, we’re not taking his word for anything. We’re doing a full investigation to corroborate him, including a buy tonight at Esposito’s club.”

“Yes, okay. That’s what we wanted to speak to you about. Vito, are you still there?” Silence from the speakerphone. “Vito?” Again silence. “Christ, so much for him,” Bernadette said irritably, and punched the button to hang up the line.

“Don’t worry, Bernadette,” Melanie began.

“What do they pay me for if not to worry about you hotheads screwing up? I can’t believe you’re actually sending this Leonard kid out to do a buy.”

“Bridget Mulqueen is doing the buy. Trevor’s just making the introduction to Esposito’s people.”

“That’s hardly better. I want you in there personally supervising, Melanie Vargas. Do you understand me?”

“Well, I was planning to meet the agents later to give them instructions on getting into Esposito’s club. But going in myself? Isn’t that their job? I thought you said no cops-and-robbers stuff this time.”

“Don’t quote me to myself! I said that in a completely different context. I’m not suggesting you personally make a drug buy. Just keep an eye on things and make sure they don’t fuck it all up, excuse my French. I don’t trust Mulqueen, and I don’t trust your cooperator.”

Melanie shrugged. “Okay.”

“I’m giving you some rope here by letting you explore this angle. Don’t hang yourself with it.”

“I won’t. Really, Bern, I appreciate your confidence in me.”

Shekeya buzzed Bernadette with a phone call. “If it’s Vito, he better have a damn good explanation for why he hung up on me,” Bernadette muttered, picking up the receiver. “Who?…Well, did you tell them she’s in a meeting?…Oh, all right, put it through.” Bernadette’s top line flashed red. She pressed the button and picked up the receiver, holding it out to Melanie with the tips of her fingers as if it were radioactive. “It’s for you.”

Melanie stood up and grasped the receiver, pulling the cord taut across Bernadette’s desk. “Hello?” she said tentatively.

“Melanie? Shavonne Washington from the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office. Sorry to interrupt your meeting, but I thought you’d like to know that we just completed the autopsies on Whitney Seward and Brianna Meyers. You should get down here right away.”