her love affairs. But she didnât have to tell. It makes sense. You were her Dublin beau.â
âIâm sorry, Marsh ⦠it happened. We were going downhill from Eccles Street. We landed in a deserted lane and â¦â
âStop that. She would have gone after Dermott if you hadnât arrived ⦠Isaac, please find her for me.â
17
I SAAC thought and thought of Sylvia, and came to Jennifer Pears. He had his men shop for two women at a time. He wouldnât go near that ugly red fortress at 1 Police Plaza. He took a ride to Centre Street and sat in his old rooms. He shouldnât have fucked his mentorâs wife. Now he owed Marsh. His deputies were going gray in the head. Who were these two cunts that belonged to Isaac? Sylvia Berkowitz was on the loose. They didnât mind scrambling for her. But why did they have to shadow this Jennifer lady? Isaac demanded all her moves. The First Dep was reluctant to get Mrs. Pears on the phone. She might hang up on a prick like him. Isaac was a terrible suitor. He would snake in and out of a womanâs life. No one could stand him for very long. He was an uncivilized boy, fifty-one years old.
His deputies had no âbuysâ on Sylvia Berkowitz. She must have shrunk into the ground, like that big Irish ape, OâToole. Not the green-eyed one. Jennifer Pears was a piece of cake. Soon as she said goodbye to her doormen, Isaacâs deputies had her under control. These werenât dummy cops. They knew how to fatten a page for Isaac. Takes her boy to the Little Red Schoolhouse . (They posed as fire chiefs to follow Jennifer inside.) Plays with him up on the roof with his kindergarten class. She usually stays an hour. Then she goes to Fourth Avenue. The lady likes to buy old books â¦
Isaac was religious about reading the reports. It gave him a feeling of power over Jenny. He had her moments at his command. He could intrude upon them whenever he liked. Bookstalls werenât for him. He went to the Little Red Schoolhouse on Christopher Street. He didnât have a fire chiefâs hat. He had to bluff his way past the bulldog lady who stared at him from a cubicle inside the door. Was she the schoolâs concierge? Isaac had so many bumps in his forehead. He might have been a freak about to paw an innocent child. The concierge would have summoned the janitors to get rid of Isaac. But then he smiled, and the bumps went away.
âIâm Moses,â he said. âMoses Herzog Pears. My grandnephew is in your kindergarten. Alexander Pears. Iâm supposed to meet his mother on the roof. Thatâs Jennifer, my niece â¦â
Isaac climbed up to the roof. It was a playpen fenced around with wire. It had enough materiel to confuse an army: wagons, sandboxes, tunnels, houses and bridges made of cardboard walls and cinder blocks. He couldnât locate Alex in the muddle of kids. Jennifer stood near the fence. Her green eyes could have sucked in every wagon, tunnel, and bridge. The creep was in love with her. He had crazy knots in his legs. The worm didnât give him any flak. It curled up in Isaacâs belly, satisfied with itself.
Jennifer wasnât coy with him. She wouldnât crouch behind a tunnel because the schmuck had disappointed her, gone to Dublin to kill a man without any notice.
âYou donât look happy,â she said.
He wished her eyes had a more neutral color. Then he could have walked away from that roof without Jennifer Pears. He grunted the word cappuccino . Jenny understood. She couldnât leave at Isaacâs first grunt. She had responsibilities to the kindergarten. But she met him downstairs in the Cafe Borgia.
Isaacâs vocabulary was coming back. âDublin ⦠had to go ⦠howâs your husband Mel?â
âIsaac, what the fuck do you want from me?â
Sitting next to her terrified him. He licked the coffee with his head between his shoulders, like a
âIâm sorry, Marsh ⦠it happened. We were going downhill from Eccles Street. We landed in a deserted lane and â¦â
âStop that. She would have gone after Dermott if you hadnât arrived ⦠Isaac, please find her for me.â
17
I SAAC thought and thought of Sylvia, and came to Jennifer Pears. He had his men shop for two women at a time. He wouldnât go near that ugly red fortress at 1 Police Plaza. He took a ride to Centre Street and sat in his old rooms. He shouldnât have fucked his mentorâs wife. Now he owed Marsh. His deputies were going gray in the head. Who were these two cunts that belonged to Isaac? Sylvia Berkowitz was on the loose. They didnât mind scrambling for her. But why did they have to shadow this Jennifer lady? Isaac demanded all her moves. The First Dep was reluctant to get Mrs. Pears on the phone. She might hang up on a prick like him. Isaac was a terrible suitor. He would snake in and out of a womanâs life. No one could stand him for very long. He was an uncivilized boy, fifty-one years old.
His deputies had no âbuysâ on Sylvia Berkowitz. She must have shrunk into the ground, like that big Irish ape, OâToole. Not the green-eyed one. Jennifer Pears was a piece of cake. Soon as she said goodbye to her doormen, Isaacâs deputies had her under control. These werenât dummy cops. They knew how to fatten a page for Isaac. Takes her boy to the Little Red Schoolhouse . (They posed as fire chiefs to follow Jennifer inside.) Plays with him up on the roof with his kindergarten class. She usually stays an hour. Then she goes to Fourth Avenue. The lady likes to buy old books â¦
Isaac was religious about reading the reports. It gave him a feeling of power over Jenny. He had her moments at his command. He could intrude upon them whenever he liked. Bookstalls werenât for him. He went to the Little Red Schoolhouse on Christopher Street. He didnât have a fire chiefâs hat. He had to bluff his way past the bulldog lady who stared at him from a cubicle inside the door. Was she the schoolâs concierge? Isaac had so many bumps in his forehead. He might have been a freak about to paw an innocent child. The concierge would have summoned the janitors to get rid of Isaac. But then he smiled, and the bumps went away.
âIâm Moses,â he said. âMoses Herzog Pears. My grandnephew is in your kindergarten. Alexander Pears. Iâm supposed to meet his mother on the roof. Thatâs Jennifer, my niece â¦â
Isaac climbed up to the roof. It was a playpen fenced around with wire. It had enough materiel to confuse an army: wagons, sandboxes, tunnels, houses and bridges made of cardboard walls and cinder blocks. He couldnât locate Alex in the muddle of kids. Jennifer stood near the fence. Her green eyes could have sucked in every wagon, tunnel, and bridge. The creep was in love with her. He had crazy knots in his legs. The worm didnât give him any flak. It curled up in Isaacâs belly, satisfied with itself.
Jennifer wasnât coy with him. She wouldnât crouch behind a tunnel because the schmuck had disappointed her, gone to Dublin to kill a man without any notice.
âYou donât look happy,â she said.
He wished her eyes had a more neutral color. Then he could have walked away from that roof without Jennifer Pears. He grunted the word cappuccino . Jenny understood. She couldnât leave at Isaacâs first grunt. She had responsibilities to the kindergarten. But she met him downstairs in the Cafe Borgia.
Isaacâs vocabulary was coming back. âDublin ⦠had to go ⦠howâs your husband Mel?â
âIsaac, what the fuck do you want from me?â
Sitting next to her terrified him. He licked the coffee with his head between his shoulders, like a
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