I've Got You Under My Skin

2

First Deputy Commissioner Leo Farley of the New York Police Department had been rumored to be appointed the next police commissioner when he unexpectedly put in his retirement papers the day after his son-in-law’s funeral. Now, more than five years later, Leo had never looked back at that decision. At sixty-three, he was a cop to his fingertips. He’d always planned to be one until he hit mandatory retirement, but something more important had changed his plans.

The shocking, cold-blooded murder of Greg and the threat that the elderly witness had overheard-“Timmy, tell your mother that she’s next, then it’s your turn”-had been sufficient reason to decide to dedicate his life to protecting his daughter and grandson. Ramrod straight, average height, with a full head of iron-gray hair and a wiry, disciplined body, Leo Farley spent his waking hours on constant alert.

He knew that there was only so much he could do for Laurie. She had a job she both needed and loved. She took public transportation, went for long jogs in Central Park, and in warm weather often ate lunch in one of the pocket parks near her office.

Timmy was another matter. In Leo’s mind there was nothing to prevent Greg’s killer from deciding to go after Timmy first, so he appointed himself as his guardian. It was Leo who walked Timmy to Saint David’s School every morning, and it was Leo who was waiting for him at dismissal time. If Timmy had activities after school, Leo unobtrusively stood guard beside the skating rink or the playground.

To Leo, Greg Moran was the son he would have created for himself, if that had been possible. It was now ten years since they had met in the emergency room at Lenox Hill Hospital. He and Eileen had frantically rushed there after they received the call that their twenty-six-year-old daughter, Laurie, had been hit by a cab on Park Avenue and was unconscious.

Greg, tall and impressive even in his green hospital togs, had greeted them with the firm assurance, “She’s come to, and she’ll be fine. A broken ankle and a concussion. We will observe her, but she’ll be fine.”

At those words, Eileen, desperate with worry about her only child, had fainted, and Greg had another patient on his hands. He grabbed Eileen quickly before she fell. He never left our lives again, Leo thought. He and Laurie were engaged three months later. He was our rock when Eileen died, only a year after that.

How could anyone have shot him? The exhaustive investigation had left no stone unturned to find someone who might have had a grudge against Greg, unthinkable as that was to anyone who knew him. After they had quickly eliminated friends and classmates from consideration, the records had been scoured in the two hospitals where Greg had worked as a resident and staff director to see if any patient or a family member had ever accused him of a mistaken diagnosis or treatment that had resulted in a permanent injury or death. Nothing had come to light.

In the DA’s office the case was known as the “Blue Eyes Murder.” Sometimes an expression of alarm would come over Timmy’s face if he happened to suddenly turn and look directly into Leo’s face. Leo’s eyes were a light china-blue shade. He was sure, and both Laurie and the psychologist agreed, that Greg’s killer must have had large, intense blue eyes.

Laurie had discussed with him her concept for a new series, leading with the Graduation Gala murder. Leo kept his dismay to himself. The idea of his daughter gathering together a group of people, one of whom was probably a murderer, was alarming. Someone had hated Betsy Bonner Powell enough to hold a pillow over her head until the last breath had been squeezed from her body. That same person probably had a passion for self-preservation. Leo knew that twenty years ago all four young women, and Betsy’s husband, had been interrogated by the best-of-the-best homicide detectives. Unless someone had managed to make his or her way into the house undetected, if the series was given the green light, the murderer and suspects would all be together again-a dangerous proposition.

All this was in Leo’s mind as he and Timmy walked home from Saint David’s on Eighty-ninth Street off Fifth Avenue to the apartment, eight blocks away on Lexington Avenue and Ninety-fourth Street. After Greg’s death Laurie had moved immediately, unable to bear the sight of the playground where Greg had been shot.

A passing police cruiser slowed as it drove by. The officer in the passenger seat saluted Leo.

“I like it when they do that to you, Grandpa,” Timmy announced. “It makes me feel safe,” he added matter-of-factly.

Be careful, Leo warned himself. I’ve always told Timmy that if I wasn’t around and he or his friends had a problem they should run to a police officer and ask for help. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on Timmy’s hand.

“Well, you haven’t had any problems that I couldn’t solve for you.” Then he added carefully, “At least as far as I know.”

They were walking north on Lexington Avenue. The wind had shifted and felt raw against their faces. Leo stopped and firmly pulled Timmy’s woolen cap down over his forehead and ears.

“One of the guys in the eighth grade was walking to school this morning and some guy on a bike tried to grab his cell phone out of his hand. A policeman saw it and pulled the guy over,” Timmy said.

It hadn’t been an incident involving someone with blue eyes. Leo was ashamed to admit to himself how relieved that made him. Until Greg’s killer was apprehended, he needed to know that Timmy and Laurie were safe.

Someday justice will be served, he vowed to himself.

This morning, as she hurried out to work seconds after he arrived, Laurie had said that she was going to hear the verdict on the reality show she was proposing. Leo’s mind moved restlessly to that concern. He knew he would have to wait for the news until tonight. Over their second cup of coffee, when Timmy had finished dinner and was curled up in the big chair with a book, she would discuss it with him. Then he would leave for his own apartment a block away. At the end of the day, he wanted Laurie and Timmy to have their own space, and he was satisfied that no one would get past the doorman in their building without a phone call to the resident they claimed to be visiting.

If she got the go-ahead to do that series, it’s going to be bad news, Leo thought.

A man with a hooded sweatshirt, dark sunglasses, and a canvas bag on his shoulder, seeming to come out of nowhere, darted past him on roller skates, almost knocking over Timmy, then brushing a very pregnant young woman who was about ten feet ahead of them.

“Get off the sidewalk,” Leo shouted as the skater turned the corner and disappeared.

Behind the dark sunglasses, bright blue eyes glittered, and the skater laughed aloud.

Such encounters fed his need for the sense of power he felt when he literally touched Timmy and knew that on any given day he could carry out his threat.