Tracking Time

Twenty-three

Lieutenant Mike Sanchez was having a bad day. He had a hangover and the guilts on two fronts about the love of his life, April Woo. First thing was April had messed up big time on this Maslow Atkins case and wasn't backing off to save her ass as she should. Out of kindness and concern for her future, he felt he had to be straight with her.

On another front, he wasn't looking so good himself. He'd made his own little blunder and had to confess, because keeping secrets from the girl he intended to marry was not his style. It all started last night when he went up to the Bronx to have dinner with his mother, Maria. She still lived on Broadway and 236th Street in the Bronx in the apartment where he'd grown up. After dinner, he'd gone down to the Van Cortlandt Bar and Grill to meet up with his old partner, Devon, for a few beers. Tuesday had been a hot and steamy night, the air conditioner was working overtime, and he hadn't been there for thirty seconds when Carla Diverso came over.

"Where have you been hiding yourself?" she asked. "I was about to give up on you."

"No kidding. What's up?" He didn't want to get involved with her, but he didn't want to be mean either. The kid's life was nothing but trouble.

"You never talk to me on the phone anymore. I've been hanging around for weeks, hoping you'd stop by," she complained, then gave him a big smile to soften him up.

"Okay, so talk."

While he waited for Devon to show up he'd let Carla tell him her troubles, which turned out to be legion. She wanted him to be her "friend." Of course he knew what that meant. It got later and later, and Devon never showed up at all. Mike had a few too many beers and explained that he couldn't be anybody's friend, he was going to marry April.

"That's great. I'll help you choose a ring," Carla told him excitedly. "I'll go with you tomorrow."

He had no idea why, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Carla ended up spending the night at his place, but all they'd done was talk about April the whole time. Now he felt like a great jackass for letting Carla worm into his life, even for ten minutes, let alone a whole night. He'd intended to tell April the whole story this morning. Then the jogger thing came up.

April was in trouble with everyone. She was late. And he was getting impatient. He rang her on the cell phone to see what was keeping her. She picked up right away.

"Querida, where the hell are you?" he demanded.

"Uh, Maslow's office. Any news?"

"No. What about you?"

"I'm just finishing up."

"Well, finish fast. I need to talk to you," he said.

"I'm on my way," she said.

He felt a little better. If he got her a really nice ring, maybe she wouldn't be so upset about losing the case.