He gurgled and Alice knew it was almost done. This was the most exciting part. She kept steady pressure on the garrote.
She had a tinge of regret, because he was cute, in a nerdy kind of way. But they’d already wasted enough time. She hated to be fooled twice by the same person.
She kept the pressure on until his body started to sag. One knee dropped to the filthy asphalt. She took a second to glance in every direction. No one was close by.
He finally stopped moving completely, hanging in the air with his arms dangling almost to the asphalt. His head drooped forward, and a line of spittle mixed with blood dribbled out of his mouth, but Alice did her traditional ten count, just to be sure.
Janos was still in front of her. He nodded, she released the wire, then she pulled it away from Tommy Payne’s lifeless body. Janos pushed Tommy next to the restaurant wall, behind the racks of cars. His throat was raw and lacerated, but not ripped open. Alice liked it when things went that way. She wasn’t big on a lot of blood.
They walked quickly in the opposite direction they had come from. Janos put an arm around Alice’s shoulders to make it look more casual. He said, “You okay?”
She worked her shoulders and said, “Sometimes that’s more of a workout than I expect. Did you get the photos?”
Janos let out a laugh and said, “I like how you always think about business. I got the photos and will send them to Henry whenever you want.”
Alice said, “Did you figure out the next target on our list?”
“We can start first thing in the morning.”
Alice smiled and felt a little more spring in her step.
CHAPTER 14
WHEN YOU’RE USED to getting up early for work every morning, you don’t change just because you’re on suspension. Like any officer-involved shooting, mine was under investigation, and standard procedure dictated that I could not go in to work. I read that to mean that I could not work at the office.
Having gotten out of bed early, I thought I might as well do something useful. I had a couple of ideas. As long as no one found out, I figured I’d be okay.
I heard Chrissy talking in a weird voice and poked my head into her bedroom. She was on a yoga mat, trying to model a downward dog pose for our cat Socky.
I asked, “What cha doing, beautiful?”
She didn’t change position. “I was wondering if a cat could learn a dog position. It’s really more of a science experiment.”
I chuckled and said, “You keep up the good work in the name of science, but be ready to leave in a few minutes.”
Jane, one of my high schoolers, struggled with a three-foot-by-two-foot folder and her regular textbooks.
“What’s this?”
Jane acted like it wasn’t awkward to hold the giant folder. “My portfolio for art class, with Bridget’s help. I thought I’d do a retrospective of fashion since the nineties.”
I said, “Wow, all the way back to the nineties. How’d you even find photos from back then?”
“Funny, Dad.”
I thought it was.
I walked past the small TV in the kitchen with the sound off. I knew what the story was just by the image. The Reverend Franklin Caldwell was standing behind a mound of microphones. I didn’t need to turn up the sound to know he was screaming for my head.
I kissed Mary Catherine, who was straightening up the mass of dishes following the feeding frenzy known as breakfast. The kids were scattered around the apartment, getting ready for school.
I said, “I’ll go get the van. Tell the kids to meet me out front.”
“You don’t have to drive them. I can do it today.”
“What else do I have to do? Besides, I have a few errands to run later. My city car is at the office. I’m not supposed to drive it on suspension anyway.”
She caressed my face with her hand. “Have a cup of coffee and relax. Watch TV for a change.”
I looked at the silent screen displaying Reverend Caldwell and decided I wouldn’t be following her advice today. “I’ll go get the van.”
Going down in the elevator, I kept telling myself to make this a normal day. It felt right so far. I usually caught the shift change of the doormen at this time of morning. They were both army vets, regular guys doing a regular job, and I enjoyed hearing their stories. I appreciated their humor and perspectives.
They were standing together out front on the sidewalk when I came through the door. I had surprised them; otherwise one of them would have jumped to open the door. But they greeted me like an old beer buddy.
“Hey, Mike,” called the larger of the two men. He was about fifty-five and still hit the gym every day.
The other man, Lou, was a little younger and not nearly in as good shape. Lou held out his hand and said, “I’m glad you’re safe.”
I said, “Thanks,” as I shook his hand. It was always awkward after a shooting. People never knew how to react.
We all chatted for a few moments. Then the taller man, Johnny, said, “Mike, what really happened yesterday?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but did you really need to shoot that kid?”
I briefly considered an answer, then just walked toward the van. What can you say to a question like that? I guess I didn’t really need to shoot RJ. I could’ve let him shoot me in the face. Then I wouldn’t have to answer stupid questions.
When I got to the van I realized I hadn’t answered any stupid questions. I had just walked away.
Son of a gun, is this what maturity felt like?
CHAPTER 15
SOMEHOW ALL THE kids were waiting out front when I pulled up in the van. Johnny, the doorman, couldn’t look me in the face when I stopped at the curb. I’d said stupid things before. I knew how he felt. I wasn’t going to make it any worse. But I wasn’t going to make it any easier, either.
The kids filed in as always: youngest in the back, leading up to the oldest in the most comfortable, forward seats. You see, when you have so many kids, you can’t leave things to chance. You buy a big-ass van, like this Ford Super Duty twelve-passenger monster, and then assign seats. It was a microcosm of the country. When you allow for too much choice, it always leads to some form of chaos.
For a change, we weren’t racing the 8:45 deadline at Holy Name. Sister Helen, who had been taking over more of the early morning duties, looked shocked to see the van pull up almost six minutes early. A new record!
She even walked over to the van and leaned in the door as the kids scooted past her. “And how are you this morning, Michael?”
“Fine, Sister Helen. And you?”
“Like everyone else around here, thanking God you’re safe.” She wandered off without another word to me. It may have been the sweetest thing anyone from a Catholic school had said to me since I was six years old.
It gave me a little jolt to get my day started.
I burned up my phone on my ride north. After I stashed the van in a parking lot in Washington Heights, I had my first meeting in a Starbucks. I hate the chain restaurants and coffeehouses. I also hate that I like Starbucks coffee. But I had to go where people were willing to talk to me, and this was where Detective Teresita Hernandez wanted to meet. The eight-year veteran was waiting for me as I stepped through the front door, sitting alone at a two-person high-top in the corner, where no one would hear us.