wondering if you had heard anything.”
I was about to say something like
How the hell would I know?
But I stopped myself. I didn’t want to start lying today.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” I said. “Right now I think I need a little air.”
I left him standing there, walked back out to the lobby and out the front door. I stood in the parking lot, closing my eyes against the bright sunlight. My hands were hurting like hell now. They felt like they were on fire.
I opened my eyes and watched the cars go by on Broadway, finally noticing that it was another beautiful summer day in the Hudson Valley. Just perfect. But all I could see was Marlene in her apartment, theway she put her hands on my chest. Marlene on the ground, looking up at the stars.
I took a walk up the street to the little park in front of the old Governor Clinton Hotel. I sat on one of the stone benches there, watched over by the three statues of great New Yorkers. Peter Stuyvesant with his peg leg, George Clinton, the first governor, and Henry Hudson, who supposedly found the whole place to begin with. It was almost lunchtime when I finally went back to the office. Larry was waiting by my door.
“There you are,” he said. Then he took a better look at me. “What happened to your hands?”
“Let’s go in my office.”
“Chief Brenner wants you to come down to the station as soon as you can.”
“Is that all he said?”
“He told me about what happened,” Larry said. “I mean, about the case. There haven’t been any developments, but apparently there’s some BCI guy from Albany…”
“He’s there already?”
“He is, and he’s waiting to talk to you.”
“I’ve got appointments starting at twelve thirty.”
“We’ll cover them,” he said. “You’d better go.”
That look he always had on his face, like he wasn’t sure quite what to do with me—that look had just gone a level deeper. I’d probably see it for the rest of my natural life.
“Tell everybody I’ll catch up to them when I can,” I said. “Don’t just rubber-stamp them. I’ve got a couple guys I really need to get after today. The Perry kid, for instance …”
“We’ll take care of everything,” he said. “Just go. They’re waiting for you.”
“All right. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I left before he could tell me to take my time, that everything would be just fine with Charlie or somebody else trying to handle my appointments. I went back outside, got in my car, and drove down Broadway to the police station.
I parked in the back again, went in the same door as I had the night before. It felt strange to be back there. The regular day-shift sergeant was sitting at the desk now, a big man named Avery.
“Is Howie around?” I said.
“Haven’t seen him.”
That didn’t make any sense, I thought. Avery always knows where every single cop in Kingston is, at any time of the day. If he’s in the bathroom, Avery will tell you which stall he’s in.
“Is Chief Brenner in his office?”
“Yes. He’s waiting for you.”
I thanked him and went up the stairs. The receptionist motioned me right through, so smoothly I didn’t even have to break stride. I went down to the end of the hall and knocked on his door.
“Joe,” he said as he opened it. “Thanks for coming down.”
“Where’s the BCI man?”
“Down the hall. He’s setting up in one of the interview rooms, making himself at home.”
“Where’s Howie?”
“Detective Borello’s not here at the moment.”
“Chief, I get the feeling he’s not here for a reason.”
He took a peek down the hall, first left then right. “Look,” he said, his voice a little lower. “Howie and this guy from the BCI have a little history. There was a case a couple of years ago—you remember that kid that was missing? The one they finally found up in Syracuse?”
“I remember.”
“Howie was working it, but I felt like we needed some outside help. It turned out to be the
I was about to say something like
How the hell would I know?
But I stopped myself. I didn’t want to start lying today.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” I said. “Right now I think I need a little air.”
I left him standing there, walked back out to the lobby and out the front door. I stood in the parking lot, closing my eyes against the bright sunlight. My hands were hurting like hell now. They felt like they were on fire.
I opened my eyes and watched the cars go by on Broadway, finally noticing that it was another beautiful summer day in the Hudson Valley. Just perfect. But all I could see was Marlene in her apartment, theway she put her hands on my chest. Marlene on the ground, looking up at the stars.
I took a walk up the street to the little park in front of the old Governor Clinton Hotel. I sat on one of the stone benches there, watched over by the three statues of great New Yorkers. Peter Stuyvesant with his peg leg, George Clinton, the first governor, and Henry Hudson, who supposedly found the whole place to begin with. It was almost lunchtime when I finally went back to the office. Larry was waiting by my door.
“There you are,” he said. Then he took a better look at me. “What happened to your hands?”
“Let’s go in my office.”
“Chief Brenner wants you to come down to the station as soon as you can.”
“Is that all he said?”
“He told me about what happened,” Larry said. “I mean, about the case. There haven’t been any developments, but apparently there’s some BCI guy from Albany…”
“He’s there already?”
“He is, and he’s waiting to talk to you.”
“I’ve got appointments starting at twelve thirty.”
“We’ll cover them,” he said. “You’d better go.”
That look he always had on his face, like he wasn’t sure quite what to do with me—that look had just gone a level deeper. I’d probably see it for the rest of my natural life.
“Tell everybody I’ll catch up to them when I can,” I said. “Don’t just rubber-stamp them. I’ve got a couple guys I really need to get after today. The Perry kid, for instance …”
“We’ll take care of everything,” he said. “Just go. They’re waiting for you.”
“All right. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I left before he could tell me to take my time, that everything would be just fine with Charlie or somebody else trying to handle my appointments. I went back outside, got in my car, and drove down Broadway to the police station.
I parked in the back again, went in the same door as I had the night before. It felt strange to be back there. The regular day-shift sergeant was sitting at the desk now, a big man named Avery.
“Is Howie around?” I said.
“Haven’t seen him.”
That didn’t make any sense, I thought. Avery always knows where every single cop in Kingston is, at any time of the day. If he’s in the bathroom, Avery will tell you which stall he’s in.
“Is Chief Brenner in his office?”
“Yes. He’s waiting for you.”
I thanked him and went up the stairs. The receptionist motioned me right through, so smoothly I didn’t even have to break stride. I went down to the end of the hall and knocked on his door.
“Joe,” he said as he opened it. “Thanks for coming down.”
“Where’s the BCI man?”
“Down the hall. He’s setting up in one of the interview rooms, making himself at home.”
“Where’s Howie?”
“Detective Borello’s not here at the moment.”
“Chief, I get the feeling he’s not here for a reason.”
He took a peek down the hall, first left then right. “Look,” he said, his voice a little lower. “Howie and this guy from the BCI have a little history. There was a case a couple of years ago—you remember that kid that was missing? The one they finally found up in Syracuse?”
“I remember.”
“Howie was working it, but I felt like we needed some outside help. It turned out to be the
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