Step On A Crack

Chapter 107

THE PHONE WAS RINGING on my desk when I came in the next morning.

I heard a familiar voice when I picked up, and certainly not one I was expecting.

“This is Cathy Calvin from the Times. May I speak to Detective Bennett?”

I debated between telling the hatchet-wielding scribe, No hablo inglés, or just hanging up.

“It concerns the hijacking,” she said.

“This is Bennett. I’m really tired of playing games, Calvin,” I finally answered gruffly. “Especially with you.”

“Mike,” the reporter said brightly. “Please let me apologize for that piece I did. You know how crazy it was. My editor was breathing fire down my neck and… What am I saying? No excuses. I screwed up, and I’m sorry, and I owe you one. I do. Make that ten, okay? I heard about the loss of your wife. My sincerest condolences to you and your children.”

I paused, wondering if the Times reporter was just playing up to me. She certainly sounded sincere, but I was wary, and I ought to be. She’d made me and the department look like fools. But then again, having a Times reporter owe me a favor could certainly come in handy.

“Accept my apology, Mike,” Calvin tried again. “I feel like a jerk.”

“Well, at least you’re self-aware,” I said.

“I knew we were going to be friends eventually,” Calvin said quickly. “The reason I called was I’m doing interviews with the celebrity victims. Well, I should say, failing miserably because I can’t get past most of their lawyers and agents. But I did speak to the civil rights activist, Reverend Solstice, and do you know what he told me?”

The race-baiting quasipolitician Solstice was famous for basically one thing, I knew. Hating cops.

“I’m holding my breath,” I said.

“He said he thinks the hijackers were cops,” Calvin went on. “I just wanted to call and let you hear. Also to tell you that I refuse to print such bullshit. Okay? See, I’m not all bad.”

“Okay,” I said. “I appreciate the call.”

After I hung up, I leaned back in my chair, thinking about Solstice’s accusations. Though he was known to court controversy, the man was savvy enough to realize he needed something-however outrageous-to back it up and get some attention. So what did Solstice know? Was it anything important? Was he involved somehow?

I called back Calvin and got the reverend’s number.

Solstice answered on the first ring.

“Hello, Reverend. This is Detective Michael Bennett of the NYPD. I’m investigating the cathedral hijacking. I hear you have an insight into the case. I’d like to hear it.”

“Ha!” Solstice said forcefully. “Insight my butt. I know what you’re doing. What you’re trying to pull. It’s starting already.”

“What is it you think I’m starting exactly, Reverend?”

“What you punks are best at. The coverup. Sweeping the truth under the rug. Listen, man, I know. I been inside. I know cops. Only pros like you could handle us the way you did. Oh, yeah, and then everybody just conveniently gets away. Just missed ’em, I bet. You cops pulled this off, and now you’re covering it up. Same as it’s always been.”

Could that be true? I sure doubted it.

But Solstice had raised two serious questions: How did the hijackers know so much about siege tactics? And how did they always seem to know what we were going to try next?