plan.”
Jennifer glanced at the wall clock. “I have a few minutes. Tell me. What’s your plan?”
He shrugged. “Well, it’s nothing new. What we’ve always done with the girls. All three of ’em. The truth. My plan is the simple, friggin’ truth.”
She leaned in over the table, closer to him. “Meaning what?” she asked.
“The Daily thing, for one,” Rizzo said. “That whole mess me and Mike stumbled into. The tape I got stashed in the basement. The whole fuckin’ mess. And that other business, the internal affairs thing that drunk Morelli got me jammed up with. That whole rotten ball of crap. I’m gonna tell Carol about it. All of it. How I.A.D. was squeezin’ me to rat out Morelli; how I played Councilman Daily to use his juice to squash it. I’m gonna tell her how me and Mike are sittin’ on that tape—withholding evidence, riskin’ an accessory charge, all because we couldn’t trust anybody, couldn’t go to the bosses with any confidence. And let’s face it, to grease our own wheels, too. To get Mike to the Plaza, get Cil her gold shield, get me some pensionable overtime. I’m gonna tell her that to fight them, to do what she would consider the ‘right’ thing, we had to become them, no great difference between us. Not in Carol’s world, anyway. I’m gonna lay it all out for her. Make her see that her daddy’s not some knight on a white horse. No, Daddy’s just a street fighter, fighting both sides of every battle. And in the real world, that’s what makes a good cop. The fire to fight the fire and still survive. It’s not right, it’s not wrong. It just is .”
Now Rizzo paused, allowing himself to calm down. “The fire to fight the fire,” he repeated. “That and the blanket. Always the blanket.”
He sighed. “To cover up the bodies,” he said softly, nodding. “To cover up the fuckin’ bodies.”
LATER THAT morning, Rizzo sat sipping coffee and looking into the bright, animated eyes of his youngest daughter, Carol.
“Nice place,” he said, eyeing their surroundings. “I always liked it here.”
“Yes,” Carol answered, reaching for her own container of coffee. “It is pretty cool.”
The Student Activities Center sat squarely in the middle of the Academic Mall on the sprawling Long Island campus of Stony Brook State University.
Now Carol smiled across the small round table at her father, her light brown eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lighting.
“So,” she said casually. “To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit from my father.”
Rizzo nodded slightly. “Fair question, I guess,” he said.
She put her coffee down and twisted her lips as she spoke. “Bet I can guess,” she said.
Rizzo laughed. “Yeah, I bet you can.” Then, after a small pause, his face grew somber. Leaning inward on the table, he interlocked his fingers, laying his hands atop the table’s cool surface.
“The test,” he said. “Next week.”
Carol sighed. “What about it, Daddy?” she asked, her voice firm.
“Would you have been right?” he asked. “If you had guessed, I mean?”
Carol, without amusement, nodded. She waited for him to continue.
After another pause, he did. “There’s no reason for you to take it, hon,” he said. “Why sit through a couple a hours of a police entrance exam for a job you’re not gonna take anyway?”
Carol shook her short brown hair. “Except I am going to take it,” she answered, her tone clipped. “As soon as I clear the medical and physical and psychological.” She paused, holding her father’s cool gaze. “I am going to take it,” she repeated. “It’s what I want.”
Rizzo shook his head, the carefully rehearsed and chosen words of his argument fading to a slight, panicky anger.
“It’s a bad idea,” he said.
“Is it?” Carol said, more forcefully than she had intended. “For who? Me . . . or you?”
Rizzo’s anger rose. “For you,” he said, his voice cold.
Carol shook her head sadly.
Jennifer glanced at the wall clock. “I have a few minutes. Tell me. What’s your plan?”
He shrugged. “Well, it’s nothing new. What we’ve always done with the girls. All three of ’em. The truth. My plan is the simple, friggin’ truth.”
She leaned in over the table, closer to him. “Meaning what?” she asked.
“The Daily thing, for one,” Rizzo said. “That whole mess me and Mike stumbled into. The tape I got stashed in the basement. The whole fuckin’ mess. And that other business, the internal affairs thing that drunk Morelli got me jammed up with. That whole rotten ball of crap. I’m gonna tell Carol about it. All of it. How I.A.D. was squeezin’ me to rat out Morelli; how I played Councilman Daily to use his juice to squash it. I’m gonna tell her how me and Mike are sittin’ on that tape—withholding evidence, riskin’ an accessory charge, all because we couldn’t trust anybody, couldn’t go to the bosses with any confidence. And let’s face it, to grease our own wheels, too. To get Mike to the Plaza, get Cil her gold shield, get me some pensionable overtime. I’m gonna tell her that to fight them, to do what she would consider the ‘right’ thing, we had to become them, no great difference between us. Not in Carol’s world, anyway. I’m gonna lay it all out for her. Make her see that her daddy’s not some knight on a white horse. No, Daddy’s just a street fighter, fighting both sides of every battle. And in the real world, that’s what makes a good cop. The fire to fight the fire and still survive. It’s not right, it’s not wrong. It just is .”
Now Rizzo paused, allowing himself to calm down. “The fire to fight the fire,” he repeated. “That and the blanket. Always the blanket.”
He sighed. “To cover up the bodies,” he said softly, nodding. “To cover up the fuckin’ bodies.”
LATER THAT morning, Rizzo sat sipping coffee and looking into the bright, animated eyes of his youngest daughter, Carol.
“Nice place,” he said, eyeing their surroundings. “I always liked it here.”
“Yes,” Carol answered, reaching for her own container of coffee. “It is pretty cool.”
The Student Activities Center sat squarely in the middle of the Academic Mall on the sprawling Long Island campus of Stony Brook State University.
Now Carol smiled across the small round table at her father, her light brown eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lighting.
“So,” she said casually. “To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit from my father.”
Rizzo nodded slightly. “Fair question, I guess,” he said.
She put her coffee down and twisted her lips as she spoke. “Bet I can guess,” she said.
Rizzo laughed. “Yeah, I bet you can.” Then, after a small pause, his face grew somber. Leaning inward on the table, he interlocked his fingers, laying his hands atop the table’s cool surface.
“The test,” he said. “Next week.”
Carol sighed. “What about it, Daddy?” she asked, her voice firm.
“Would you have been right?” he asked. “If you had guessed, I mean?”
Carol, without amusement, nodded. She waited for him to continue.
After another pause, he did. “There’s no reason for you to take it, hon,” he said. “Why sit through a couple a hours of a police entrance exam for a job you’re not gonna take anyway?”
Carol shook her short brown hair. “Except I am going to take it,” she answered, her tone clipped. “As soon as I clear the medical and physical and psychological.” She paused, holding her father’s cool gaze. “I am going to take it,” she repeated. “It’s what I want.”
Rizzo shook his head, the carefully rehearsed and chosen words of his argument fading to a slight, panicky anger.
“It’s a bad idea,” he said.
“Is it?” Carol said, more forcefully than she had intended. “For who? Me . . . or you?”
Rizzo’s anger rose. “For you,” he said, his voice cold.
Carol shook her head sadly.
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