Once Were Cops

Ten

I’m not going to make excuses here, as the yanks say, it got away from me.

Lucia.

The darkness had been building in my head and I liked Nora, Jesus wept, I never liked no one me whole life and she was me shot at the other life but I was afraid if I didn’t get release soon, I’d go after her. Then I zoned, and I was outside the hospital, I could see meself, walking along the corridors, it was night and the dimmers were on and all I could see was that beautiful white neck, I’m not even sure if I knew who it was it belonged to anymore and a tiny part of me was saying,

“This is a good thing, going to see the poor girl, give her a bit of company.”

And then...

It gets all fuzzy here and next thing I was back in my car, the darkness lifting, and I was thinking of a nice place I might bring Nora for dinner.

I began to see Nora regularly, it started slow, but in jig time we were seeing each other about three times a week. I liked her a lot and thing is, she made me feel good about me own self and I don’t want to go on about it, but her neck... just waiting... after Lucia, I was... what’s the word, sated, she was my swan... didn’t know exactly what I was doing... that’s the best bit.

How rare is that?

The last thing I’d planned on was getting involved but it snuck up on me. The lovemaking was real fine and one evening, exhausted, she asked me, her head lying on my chest,

“You like me, huh?”

I smiled, said,

“Well, you’re not the worst.”

Then, of course, the woman’s question, the one that guys hate:

“So Shea, where are we going with this?”

I had her neck in me sights but no hurry... right?

I said,

“Let’s see how it goes.”

Wrong answer.

She was up, getting dressed, said,

“Fucking guys, all the same, you call me when you know what you want.”

And was gone.

I muttered the mantra of men all over the planet:

“What’d I do?”

Course I knew, I’d behaved like an arsehole... sorry, asshole.

I figured I’d give her a few days to cool off and then we’d be back on track.

Whatever track that was.

I was still riding the desk, desperate to get back on the streets. I knew Kebar was out there, doing his gig, and I missed it, and him. Whatever else, he was never boring. I was getting a cup of the burnt grains that pass for coffee with cops, adding lots of cream to kill the taste, when one of the old guys approached me, these were the beat cops, grizzled, bitter, but the very best if you needed backup, I’d been thinking of Kebar’s sister a lot, something about her really twisted me heart and I was sorry, well, a bit that I’d done such a number but like I’ve said, sometimes it got away from me, and I’d begun buying comics, books, videos, getting a whole care package together, make it look like I was... concerned, I couldn’t believe she had lived, and too, I wanted another look at her.

The guy asked,

“Got a minute?”

For these vets, you betcha.

He said,

“Let’s take it over here.”

We went to an office that was crammed with files, looked like they’d never been opened, he indicated my coffee, said,

“That will rot your guts.”

I put it down on the table, said,

“You don’t use it?”

He laughed, went,

“Gallons of it.”

He took out a pack of Luckies, a battered Zippo, fired up, coughed, said,

“No smoking here, I’m hoping they’ll pension me off.”

He offered the pack and I said,

“Don’t smoke.”

He gave a tiny smile, said,

“Stick around, you will.”

I waited for whatever it was on his mind and he finally said,

“You and Kebar, you were doing pretty good out there.”

I said,

“Just lucky I think.”

Shook his head, said,

“Luck has fuck all to do with it, you get a partnership, they sometimes jell and make us all look good.”

I asked,

“You’re telling me I should go back with him?”

He crushed the butt on the floor, said,

“Kid, my days of telling anyone anything are long gone, but I figure you know about his sister?”

I said I did and how much I liked her. He took a deep breath, then told me what had happened to her.

I acted out the whole grief/shock/horror gig, asked,

“How is she doing?”

He said,

“In a catatonic state.”

I asked,

“What are you suggesting I do?”

He headed for the door, said,

“Look out for your partner.”

I went to the car pool but they said he hadn’t come in, had called in sick... again.

I went back inside, found the grizzled cop, got Kebar’s address and headed out there, he lived in Queens and it took me two hours to find his place.

An old apartment building, six buzzers with no names, I rang them all and finally heard his tired voice go,

“Whatever the fuck you’re selling, I’m not buying.”

I said,

“K, it’s Shea, can I talk to you?”

A pause, then he pressed the buzzer. His apartment was on the third floor and the door was open.

The place was small, one sitting room, tiny bedroom, miniature bathroom, he was sitting on a worn sofa, dressed in a torn NYPD sweatshirt and old jeans, cleaning a gun, using oil to shine the barrel, he didn’t look up, asked,

“What’s on your mind?”

I said,

“I just heard about Lucia, I’m so sorry, and... if I can help?”

He put the gun down, said,

“I got it under control.”

Dismissing me.

I asked,

“But some backup wouldn’t hurt, right?”

He let out a long weary breath, said,

“Go away, kid, this gig is a no-brainer, it’s a career killer, so take off, go become supercop.”

I tried further.

“K, I want to help.”

He finally looked at me, asked,

“What is it you don’t understand about fuck off?”

I took off, stood outside for a few moments, then understood what it was I had to do.

Back at the station house, the sergeant said,

“The goon squad is waiting on you.”

Fucking Internal Affairs.

I said,

“Again?”

He gave a rueful grin, said,

“Hang tough and don’t forget, you can have a union rep with you.”

They used the interrogation room this time.

McCarthy was wearing a fifty-dollar suit, and even at that he was robbed, I suppose it was meant to say, This proves I’m not on the take.

Mainly it proved he had shite taste.

The black guy was leaning against the wall, chewing on a stick, that bemused smile going, took me a minute, then I remembered... Rodriguez.

McCarthy indicated the seat on the other side of the table, the perp’s one, and then sat opposite me, asked,

“How’re they hangin’, kid?”

I considered this, said,

“In a sling, I’d say, if you get your way.”

He laughed, was going to be the good old boy today, said,

“I like you, kid, you have spirit and I’d hate to see you go down.”

I waited and he riffled through some papers, then:

“Morronni, Kebar’s paymaster, he has a sidekick, named Gino, seems somebody did a number on him.”

I hadn’t anything to say to this, so didn’t.

He shrugged, said,

“We’re not the bad guys here, kid, you take down a piece of shit, gets our vote, we can cut you a bit of slack.”

Pause.

“However, you refuse to cooperate, this could be turned into a vigilante cop gig and that’s not good, not good at all.”

I made a show of looking at my watch, asked,

“Is there a point to this and are you ever going to get to it?”

Another laugh, less jollity this time, he said,

“A scumbag named Fernandez did a real number on your partner’s sister and we know Kebar is going to take the fuck down, we want you to tell us when.”

I asked,

“That’s all?”

He was surprised, went,

“You’ll do it?”

“Sure.”

He looked at the black guy, who nodded, and then:

“Don’t even think about screwing with us, got that?”

I said,

“Loud and clear.”

McCarthy sat back, said,

“I’m a little skeptical at your change of attitude, what’s the reason?”

I sighed, loudly, said,

“Kebar is finished, I realize that now, I don’t want to go down with him.”

He decided to push a bit more.

“And if we want you to wear a wire, get Kebar talking about the money, how are you on that?”

My turn to smile, said,

“I’m always wired.”

McCarthy handed me his card, said,

“Call either of those numbers, let us know where and when he goes after Fernandez.”

“Yes, sir.”

He said I could go, his whole expression saying he didn’t believe a word of what I’d said.

As I headed out, he added,

“Your fellow cops, they’re not going to like you giving up your partner.”

I let that hover for a moment, then said,

“Shit happens.”

The black guy followed me out into the corridor, said,

“IA isn’t the bad guys, think of us as the housekeeping department.”

I gave him the look, said,

“Back in Ireland we call them something less flattering.”

He gave me an odd look, then said in a quiet tone,

“You and me, maybe we could have a talk sometime, I think we might be on the same page.”

I let that sit, then said,

“You’re Internal Affairs, out to screw cops.”

He maneuvered the stick in his mouth to the other side, said,

“Oh, I think, you know, you and I might be more alike than you want to admit.”

I was curious, asked,

“In what way?”

He had been leaning against the wall, moved languidly off it, said,

“Lots of shit coming down the pike, gonna be a lot of casualties, and you and me, be nice if we came out on top.”

I stared at him, asked,

“A rat cop, you’re offering to have... as you Yanks say, my back?”

His cell shrilled and he began to move off, said,

“Two-way street bro, time to see which way you want to go on it.”