Once Were Cops

Nineteen

Jay grabbed his arm again, said,

“Whoa, slow down, hothead, did I say I wouldn’t help you, you hear me say that? Let’s get the fuck outa here, go and have some dinner and lemme hear what you’re planning.”

They went to a diner around the corner, you got a cop bar, you got a nearby diner, coincidence?

Sure.

They ordered up a mess of eggs, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, toast, and of course coffee.

Jay said,

“You’re gonna go after a star like Shea, you got to procede with caution, he gets a sniff of you, you’re gone.”

Joe eased on down from his rage and even ate the food with an appetite, Jay asked,

“You still listening to Van the Man?”

Joe smiled, Christ, he’d forgotten that... Astral Weeks, he’d played that like a zillion times and he remembered how much Nora loved Enya, now that he didn’t get, all that airy fairy shit and celestial longing, the fuck was with that?

But thank God, he’d never said it to her, just acted like he was a devotee, we always lie to those we love.

Guess it’s why it’s called... an act of love.

Act as if...

They pushed their plates aside and Jay said,

“You want to get the dirt on the golden boy, track down a guy named McCarthy, he used to head up Internal Affairs and had a serious hard-on for Shea. Then Shea’s star rocketed and word is, Shea got McCarthy smeared, the guy is working as a private dick now, his partner, a black guy, get this... he went to work with Shea, so much for loyalty.”

Joe didn’t mention he was already planning on McCarthy, said that was a great lead.

Jay yawned, said,

“Bro, I’m beat, gotta get some shuteye, here’s my cell number, stay in touch and hey, be careful out there.”

They’d been major fans of Hill Street Blues.

Outside, they did a brief hug, nothing too intimate but warm enough.

Jay watched Joe trundle off in search of the train and then he got on his cell, rang Shea, said,

“Houston, we got a problem.”

What a trip.

The past eighteen months have been a fucking roller coaster like I couldn’t have planned.

Oh yeah, I planned and in ferocious detail.

Bring ’em all down.

And I did.

That shrink, back home, he’d said to me,

“I want you to act like you’re a decent upright citizen and we can literally change your behavior and the mind might well follow.”

Didn’t I do all that good shite in the first part of this, wasn’t I like a good guy?

Okay, I wasn’t completely coplike, like certain things that might be... not kosher... putting the blame on that bollix Fernandez, and I have to say, that Lucia, she sure fought back.

When I went to the hospital after, put my medal round her neck, I was so zoned and had the green beads in my pocket, was going to strangle her right there in the bed but that bloody nurse was watching me.

But it worked out, kept Kebar off balance and nobody, no-fucking-body pushes me in the dirt, I knew I’d kill him right then but a little agony along the road seemed right.

When we went to off Fernandez, Kebar took me by surprise, I had him figured too dumb, he’d said before we left,

“...I know who you really are, kid... what you are and the girls... the beads... I searched your place, found them green mothers but I can get you help, we’ll do this thing now, and after, I’m going to bring you in, make sure you get the very best treatment.”

Stupid bastard.

Like that was going to happen.

I think he cut me some slack because I was good to Lucia.

I wanted him to know that and whispered it in his ear... I was the one who did your sister... his howl of sheer agony before I pulled the trigger, ah, memories.

Then like freaking dominoes:

Gino.

Morronni.

McCarthy.

Brought them all down.

McCarthy’s sidekick, that black guy who was always smiling, he was a whole lot sharper, he came to see me after I screwed McCarthy, said,

“Nice work, kid.”

Before I could argue, he laid it out, most of what I’d achieved... I waited, then asked,

“You going anywhere with this?”

And that smile again.

He said,

“I want back in the real force, I was never cut out for this IA snake stuff and you, you’re untouchable, you can make it happen.”

I looked at him, debated, then asked,

“Why should I bring you along?”

He put a toothpick in his mouth, I wondered how it would look in his right eye, and he said,

“This way, I don’t blow the whistle on you, and with my knowledge from IA we can go all the way.”

I took the risk, mainly because I like that rush, to be out there, on the precipice, it’s the business and what an asset he turned out to be.

Using his inside info and my status as hero cop, we were two steps from running the department.

As for my little peccadillo, he only once ever referred to it, said,

“Drop the green beads, you need a new act.”

Cold.

Fucker could have been my psychic twin.

McCarthy I’d planted dope on, and the day he was marched out, lucky not to be doing jail time, he strode straight up to me, hissed,

“Oh you’re good, better than I ever expected but mark this you sick fuck, I’m going to nail you.”

My new black bro, leaning against the wall, said to him,

“Don’t bang the door on your way out.”

Gotta love that mad iceman.

Then the trip to Ireland, took him with me, couldn’t let that sharp fuck out of my sight and I said as we arrived at Shannon,

“You’re gonna love the black stuff.”

The dreamy smile as he answered,

“So the babes keep telling me, white bitches that is.”

Then to Galway and a hero’s reception, the mayor even gave me a civic gig and I went into shy gee-shucks humble mode.

Fuckers bought it.

Managed a sideshow to Sligo and had me some there, used a silk scarf...

Okay, okay, it was green.

Old habits die hard, like that bitch did, die hard.

The shrinks, they want to put deep significance on the green.

Here’s why:

I like the color.

What did you expect, some childhood shite where I was mistreated with something green?

Cop on.

Went to see my politico who’d gotten the green card for me, I had made sure my personal file from Templemore was sealed.

A minor incident with a woman Guard and why I’d been keen to get to America.

He was seated behind the large desk as usual but apart from a new potbelly, he seemed the same, then I detected something else... fear.

Oh how sweet it is.

He was scared of me.

Back in New York, I began to build on my rep, with my black angel at me back, we carved out a power base that few were willing to fuck with. The task force on the strangler had been disbanded.

Case closed.

Oh Jesus, that makes me want to laugh out loud, and that prick who headed it up, he’d been giving me the cold eye, I knew he was far from finished with me. I had a little chat with my black dude, laid it out, and he said in that sleepy way he had,

“Sounds like it’s time for him to retire, let him go out in a blaze of glory.”

I liked it, a lot, asked,

“What had you in mind?”

The slow smile, then:

“Best you don’t know... boss.”

He let a trace of sarcasm leak all over boss and I was cool with that, let him have his mindfuck, when the time came, I’d show him serious mindfucking.

Gee, guess what, a week later, the task force leader got sideswiped, and was invalided out. The profiler they’d had, I went to see him as he was cleaning out his desk, asked,

“Mind if I pick your brain a bit?”

I’d brought two cups of Starbucks, gave him my best choirboy smile. Jackson was his name and he had those eyes that reveal nothing, my kind of guy, he flipped a thick book into a cardboard box, said,

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

I had to tread carefully, this guy was a pro, so I said,

“I’m hoping to someday apply for Quantico and I’m fascinated by what makes up a crazy like the strangler.”

He sat in the swivel chair behind the desk, took a sip of the coffee, said,

“Perfect, how’d you know exactly what I like?”

Loaded... right?

I said,

“Lucky guess.”

He considered that, then:

“Lucky... maybe, I have you down as a guy who knows every move way in advance, but a guess.... no, guessing is not your MO.”

I didn’t like the MO crack but winged it, asked,

“So?”

He put his hands behind his head, Mr. Laid Back, said,

“Gino... the guy they put away for this, he doesn’t fit the profile I’d drawn up, the guy I outlined is a sexual sociopath, completely lacking in empathy, or indeed any of what we call human emotions, but like all sociopaths, you’ll find he’s utterly charming, on the way up in... whatever career he’s chosen... and very very dangerous... he’ll kill again... and again, he’s unable not to.”

He was watching me closely.

Maybe he might have to have a little drive-by his own self. I asked,

“But what spurs him on, why is he for example... using... rosary beads?”

Jackson smiled, said,

“You tell me.”

Jesus.

I reined in, asked,

“What?”

He said,

“You want to get into this field, now’s your chance, give it a shot.”

Minefield.

I said,

“Some religious nut, ex-priest maybe.”

His eyes closed for a minute, then he said,

“Hmmm... I’d hazard a guess it’s something deep buried in his childhood, a childhood trauma, connected to the rosary, and his rage, suppressed for so long, uses the symbol of his... hurt.”

I couldn’t let that sexual sociopath slur go, I knew I should steer clear but fuck, I asked,

“You’re sure he’s a sexual... whatever you called him, couldn’t he just be one highly intelligent individual... playing with the cops?”

He stood up, said,

“You know better than that, and the one thing I know for sure, this guy, he’s a deviant, a predator of the worst sexual type.”

The fuck was playing with me, I’d swear it, but I’d lost the control, and that never... fucking never... happens, so I said,

“Thanks for the help.”

I was at the door when he said,

“You didn’t touch your coffee.”

I paused, said,

“I guessed wrong on my own taste.”

I might be wrong but I think he sniggered, he said,

“Shea, you don’t mind if I call you that?... The one thing you’re sure of is exactly what you like.”