Cemetery Dance

Chapter 46

When D'Agosta showed up at Marty Wartek's office, the nervous little bureaucrat took one look at his angry demeanor and rolled out the red carpet: took his coat, escorted him to the sofa, fetched him a cup of tepid coffee.

Then he retreated behind his desk. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" he asked in his high, thin voice. "Are you comfortable?"

Actually, D'Agosta wasn't especially comfortable. He'd felt increasingly lousy since breakfast — flushed, achy — and wondered if he wasn't coming down with the flu or something. He tried not to think about how poorly Bertin was supposedly doing, or how the animal control officer, Pulchinski, had left work early the day before, complaining of chills and weakness. Their complaints weren't related to Charrière and his magic tricks… they couldn't be. But he wasn't here to talk about comfort.

"You know what happened at the march yesterday afternoon, right?"

"I read the papers."

In fact, D'Agosta spied copies of the News, Post, andWest Sider on the deputy associate director's desk, poorly concealed beneath folders of official — looking paperwork. Clearly, the man had kept up on what was happening at the Ville.

"I was there. We came this close to a riot. And we're not talking a bunch of left — wing agitators, Mr. Wartek. These are regular law — abiding citizens."

"I had a call from the mayor's office," Wartek said, his voice even higher. "He, too, expressed his concern — in no uncertain terms — about the inflammatory situation in Inwood Hill Park."

D'Agosta felt slightly mollified. It seemed Wartek was finally getting with the program — or at least getting the message. The man's mouth was pursed more tightly than ever, and his razor — burned wattles quivered faintly. He looked exactly like someone who'd just been administered a Grade A reaming — out. "Well? What are you going to do about it?"

The administrator gave a small, bird — like nod and removed a piece of paper from his desk. "We've consulted with our lawyers, looked into past precedents, and discussed this issue at the highest levels of the housing authority. And we've determined that the right of adverse possession does not apply in this case, where the greater public good might be compromised. Our position is, ah, bolstered by the fact that the city is on record as having objected to this occupation of public land as far back as a hundred forty years ago."

D'Agosta relaxed deeper into the sofa. It seemed the call from the mayor had finally lit a fire. "I'm glad to hear it."

"There are no clear records as to exactly when that occupation began. As best we can tell, it was shortly before the outbreak of the Civil War. That would put the city's initial objection well within the legal window."

"No problems, then? They're going to be evicted?" The man's legal circumlocutions had a slippery feel to them.

"Absolutely. And I haven't even mentioned to you our legal fall — back position: even if they had gained some sort of rights to the property, we could still acquire it by eminent domain. The commonweal must take priority over individual needs."

"The what?"

"Commonweal. The common good of the community."

"So what's the timetable?"

"Timetable?"

"Yeah. When are they out?" Wartek shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We've agreed to put the matter before our lawyers to draw up the legal case for eviction, on an expedited schedule."

"Which is?"

"With the legal preparation and research, then a trial, followed by an appeal — I can only assume these people will appeal — I would think we could have this case concluded within, perhaps, three years' time."

There was a long silence in the room. "Three years?"

"Maybe two if we fast — track it." Wartek smiled nervously.

D'Agosta rose. It was unbelievable. A joke. "Mr. Wartek, we don't have three weeks."

The little man shrugged. "Due process is due process. As I told the mayor, keeping the public order is the function of the police, not the housing authority. Taking away someone's home in New York City is a difficult and expensive legal process. As it should be."

D'Agosta could feel the anger throbbing in his temples, his muscles tensing. He made an effort to control his breathing. He was going to sayYou haven't heard the end of this, then decided against it — no point in making threats. Instead, he simply turned and walked out.

Wartek's voice echoed out into the hall as he exited the office. "Lieutenant, we're going to have a press conference tomorrow to announce our action against the Ville. Perhaps that will help calm things down." "Somehow," D'Agosta growled, "I doubt it."