The Finishing School

9

DAN O’REILLY WAS OUT running on the Rockaway Beach boardwalk at 6:00 A.M. when his pager went off. He decided to ignore it till he finished the route, despite the 811 after the callback number. The 811 code meant urgent; 911 you only used in life-or-death situations. But his boss was a little too free with the 811s, and Dan didn’t like to cut short his run for some bogus emergency. It was five below with the windchill and pitch-dark out, but still he stuck to his routine. That was how he kept going in life. He didn’t believe in sparing himself for weather, although he did let his dog sleep in today. Guinness was getting old. Poor guy’s paws couldn’t take the salt on the roads.

The pager went off twice more before he finally gave in and headed back.

Five minutes later he walked through the green door of the 100th Precinct building, told the girl behind the desk he was with the Bureau, and asked to use the phone.

“Sure,” she said, following him with her eyes as he pulled off his knit cap and shook the sweat out of his dark hair. She was a beat cop, thirtyish, alone out front here. She flipped open the barrier and motioned to him to come back.

“Aren’t you gonna ask to see my shield?” he asked.

“Nah, I believe you. You look like a cop. Besides, I seen you running out there sometimes. I can’t believe you go in this weather.”

“You should be more careful,” he said, flashing the shield anyway. Accept a favor and next thing they were offering to cook you dinner. It made him feel bad, saying no all the time, so he tried not to let it get to that point. Life was strange. All these women beating down his door, and he couldn’t feel a thing. Instead he gets hung up on a woman who made it clear she had no room for him in her heart. Nothing he could do about it either. She’d reached him somehow, that one, so much that he just couldn’t shake her.

He dialed his boss from the nearest desk.

“Yeah, Mike, what’s up?”

“Danny Boy. Listen, I got a request this morning for one of my best men to sign on for a real quick TOD. Naturally, I thought of you.”

You could always count on getting a stroke job with this guy. Dan missed his old boss, who’d retired last year. This one was a headquarters flack who talked out of both sides of his mouth. Still, Dan was curious.

“Tour a’ duty?” he said. “Overseas?” Things in this town had been so bleak for him lately that the idea of going far away, someplace dangerous, had an appeal.

“Nah, nothing like that. We’d detail you to the Elite Narcotics Task Force just for a few days. They got a pretty straightforward case they want worked real fast by somebody with a background in retail heroin. I remembered you did those Blades cases a few years back.”

There had to be a catch. It wasn’t like his boss to be generous.

“What’s in it for you, Mike?”

“Political shit. You know this motherfucker Vito Albano?”

“Sure. Heard of him anyway. He’s supposed to be pretty good.”

“Yeah, well, he’s up my ass. Turf-battle crap. I got a bunch of targets with clear terrorism links, and he’s claiming they’re straight drugs so we gotta keep our hands off.”

“Does Albano have dibs? Who dexed ’em first?”

“Well, okay, he did, but that was before we knew the background, see. Anyway, I’m engaging in a little bridge building, if you will. I’d really like your help, Dan.”

Mike walked on eggshells with him. He asked instead of ordered. Dan had the respect of the other guys on the squad. Mike didn’t, and they both knew that.

“What’s the case?” Dan asked, not committing yet.

“Two girls OD’d this morning. One of ’em’s the daughter of-”

“Yeah, that guy Seward. I heard it on the news. You want me to work an OD case, with the shit we’re juggling now? You got to be fucking kidding me. That’s just jerking off a rich guy, far as I’m concerned.”

“It’s only for a couple days. Develop a relationship with Albano, and it could really help us out in the long run. I’d owe you. They got a meeting set for nine over in the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

Dan felt suddenly short of breath, with a strange prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He knew, he just knew.

“Who’s the AUSA?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Hold on, I got the roster right here. Uh, AUSA’s a female. Melanie Vargas is the name. Oh, and you got a Raymond Wong and a Bridget Mulqueen from ENTF. So whaddaya say?”

A minute went by, then another. Dan forgot that his boss was on the other end of the line, waiting for an answer. He couldn’t believe the coincidence: getting offered a case with Melanie, when she was on his mind from sunup to sundown and every minute in between. And the dreams. Those were the worst, because in his dreams he was with her again, and he was so fucking happy it was pathetic. Now all he had to do was say yes, and he’d see her.

He told himself he should leave things how they were. He’d ended it for a reason. He saw how it was gonna go, just like with his ex-wife, and he couldn’t handle another relationship where he cared more than the other person did. If he had any doubt, he only needed to remember what he saw that time he watched her house. Melanie’d been calling him, and he was wavering. She sounded sad, like she was really hurting over the way they’d left things. So he broke down. He went by, planning to ring the buzzer. Even had some flowers in the car. Then he saw ’em, coming back from the park. Her and the husband, Melanie pushing the stroller. Dan felt like he was gonna choke, the way they looked like a family. He read the guy in a second, from his walk, his clothes, the tilt of his head. An Ivy League smart-ass in a fancy suede jacket, thinking he ruled the world with his twenty-dollar words. And the worst part was, by the way she looked at the asshole, the way she laughed at what he said, Dan had to think there was something still going on between them. Not that he blamed her. Who the fuck was he to go after the likes of Melanie Vargas anyway? A woman like her, with those looks, those smarts, deserved better than a cop’s salary, better than some hack whose idea of the good life was a patch of lawn to mow, some pizza and a cold one in front of the TV on a Saturday night. Still, it killed him the way that asshole treated her. One thing Dan would say for himself, if she belonged to him, he’d be faithful till the day he died. He had no choice. He couldn’t look at another woman if he tried.

“Dan?” his boss said.

Hell, maybe he should just go for it. He’d been numb since the last time he saw her anyway. Felt nothing. Might as well be dead.

“Yeah. Nine o’clock, you said?” he asked.

“Yup. So you’ll do it?”

“I’ll be there,” Dan said, and hung up.

Moth to the flame. How fucking stupid could you be?