Johnny Porno

Chapter 19

It was still humid out when Detective Levin returned home at the end of his workday. A set of surveillance tapes waiting for review had been left in his mailbox. Levin set them on the kitchen table, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and began unbuttoning his shirt as he headed for the air conditioner. He turned it on high, removed the rest of his clothes, and finished his beer before using the bathroom.

He stood under a hot shower a full five minutes, his face taking the water full force until he turned and let it massage the back of his neck. It was how he preferred to relax, a hot shower followed with a cold beer in a cool room. He looked forward to sitting on his couch with his feet up.

He wrapped a towel around his waist when he was finished in the bathroom, then went to the kitchen for a second beer and frowned when he saw the tapes.

“Shit,” he said.

Levin grabbed another beer and brought the tapes into the living room. He smirked at the dates on the labels.

“A month old,” he said. “Lotta good these’ll do.”

He set up the recorder on the cocktail table, popped one of the tapes in, picked up his beer and a notepad and sat on the couch. He set his feet up on the edge of the cocktail table, leaned forward, pressed PLAY, and sat back again.

An unfamiliar voice narrated the first conversation:

“Regular health freak,” Levin said.

Levin wrote “Hastings.”

Levin wrote the name “Johnny Porno” on his notepad. He stopped the tape and referred to notes he’d taken off another tape, then drew a line connecting June 14 to July 3.

He hit the PLAY button.

“Murdered,” Levin said.

“Father of the year,” Levin said.

Levin listened to the rest of the tape and the next one. He hoped Detective Sean Kelly’s name would come up but it never did. There were two more tapes he could review in the morning if he woke up early enough, but for now he was too tired.

Tomorrow they would spend an entire day performing useless surveillance arranged by Kelly. He would use the opportunity to try and enlighten Detective Brice to their situation without revealing his own investigation. Levin liked Brice and didn’t want the kid entrapped in the net Internal Affairs had been weaving around Sean Kelly the last few months. It was Levin’s last thought before he fell fast asleep on his couch.

“That Jackie Brown guy, he’s headed for a fall,” Melinda said. “Dealing guns like that, at his age?”

John looked up from his coffee and smiled. She’d obviously started reading the novel he’d left for her.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I like it,” she said. “I read the first chapter during my break. I’m enjoying it.”

“Good. I’m curious to see what they do with the movie.”

Melinda pointed to his coffee. “Eating light tonight?”

“Please. I’m still digesting a Big Mac I had with my son about an hour ago.”

“Well, I’ll top you off in the meantime,” she said, then refilled his cup and set the pot back on the warmer. “Let me know if you need Tums or something.”

He watched her work the next half hour. They exchanged glances between her taking care of the customers at the counter. When there was a lull in the action, he waved her over.

“You ever work the tables?”

“Once in a while,” she said. “I prefer the counter. It’s a better turnover. People eat at the counter usually don’t spend much time doing it.”

“Ever have trouble?”

“All kinds. Comes with the territory, but it usually doesn’t go very far. All these diners, the owners make sure local cops get enough free coffee to keep them looking out.”

John noticed the time and told her he had to run.

“See what I mean about the counter?” she said. “You coming back?”

“You want me to?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“Then I’ll be back.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you later.”

He went to leave a tip.

“Don’t you dare,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, “but the next coffee is on me.”

He drove back to the bar in Williamsburg to meet with Eddie Vento. The wiseguy was on his way out when John got there. They walked to Vento’s Cadillac Coupe DeVille where John noticed Nick Santorra wasn’t sitting behind the steering wheel.

“So?” Vento said.

“I’m in for the extra stops,” John said. “But I can’t commit to anything more than that yet.”

“Meaning what?”

“Hanging around the bar,” John said. “I can’t do it.”

“When will you know when you can? Should I hold my breath?”

“I can’t say,” John said. “I don’t know.”

“Not the answer I was hoping for,” Vento said. “It’s good you showed up told me to my face, though. I can respect that.”

“I do appreciate the offer.”

“You do, huh? Should I throw a fuckin’ parade?”

John wasn’t sure what the wiseguy meant. He thought it best to not ask and stood silent as Vento sat behind the wheel of the Cadillac.

“There anything else?” he asked John.

“Just thanks, I guess.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Thank you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Vento said. Then he put the Cadillac into gear and drove away.

It was an uncomfortable moment. John wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried.