Dead Red (5 page)

“Licensed?”

“I renew it every year.”

“Good. You never know. You got my card. Ya start getting bored, think you could use three hundred—
cash
—for half a day’s work, gimme a call.”

“Jack, I appreciate what you did for me and all, but you and I? We’ve kind of proved that we don’t work well with each other.”

“That’s the beauty of it, Ray. We don’t barely gotta see each other. You got a computer and a printer, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll send you a PDF of the inspection report. You fill them out and fax them to my office. I’ll send them off to the insurance companies. Whatta ya say, Ray? Put some extra bills in your pocket before summer’s out. Off the books, if that don’t offend you.”

“I’ll give it some thought, Jack.”

“You do that. Don’t think too long, though. I’m probably gonna need someone on Tuesday,” he added, closing his eyes. “If you can fill in until I get another regular…”

“I said, I’ll think about it.”

He raised his hands in mock defeat. “That’s all I’m asking.” He turned toward the door and stopped. “Can I have Ricky’s phone?”

“Nice try. You know I gotta give this to my uncle. It’s evidence, Jack.”

“Had to give it a shot. Can ya at least text the picture to my phone?”

I gave that some thought and looked at Rachel.

“Take a photo of the screen,” she said. Before Jack could respond, she added, “We’re turning the phone over to Uncle Ray. You don’t want a record of you receiving the photo by text from Ricky’s phone a few hours after the shooting.”

Jack gave that some thought and then did as my sister said. After taking the photo of the photo, he put the phone back in his pocket. I went into my bedroom and found my cell still sitting on the bureau. When I got back to the living room, I took my own picture of the girl on Ricky’s phone.

“Let me know soon about this week, Ray. I got three inspections coming up, and I haven’t even checked my e-mail today.”

“I’ll call you, Jack.”

“Looking forward to it, Ray.” He looked at Rachel. “I’ll see ya around.”

“I’ll try and wear my good boots next time.”

Jack laughed and shook his head. “Same wiseass as your brother.” With that, he turned and left my apartment.

“You’re not seriously considering working with him, are you?” Rachel asked as the door closed.

“You heard him. It wouldn’t exactly be working
with
him. More like a freelance gig where we won’t have to have too much contact.”

“
Any
contact with him is too much.” She accented her point with a fake shiver. She was quiet for a moment and then added, “He was involved in that Frankie Rivas thing, right? The part of the story you never told me?”

Bright girl, my little sister
. “Yeah.”

“You ever going to tell me the whole story, big brother?”

“Maybe on my death bed.”

“Let’s hope that’s a long way off.” She put her arm around me and gave me a gentle squeeze I accepted in spite of my pain. “A long way off.”

Chapter 4

“RAY,” SOMEONE SAID. “YOU IN there, sweetie?”

The question was followed by a long gentle kiss on the lips.
Nice.

“Mom?” I said opening my eyes.

Allison raised her hand to smack me, but thought better of it. “You’re lucky you got a concussion, tough guy.” She put her hand on my leg, leaned over, and gave me another kiss. “How’re you feeling?”

I looked at her hand on my leg. “Better now.” It was going to take a while to shake off the nap. “How long was I sleeping?”

“I got here an hour ago. Rachel told me you’d been out for an hour and to make sure I woke you up.” She picked up her hand and made a peace sign. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

I took her hand and brought it to my mouth. “Two.” I kissed the hand. “Two really cute fingers.” I inched myself up and waited for the lightheadedness to fade away. I looked around my living room. “Where’s Rachel?”

“She’s out on the back deck talking with your mom.”

I sat up straighter. “Fuck, she’s here?”

“Relax.” Allison put her hand back on my leg. “She’s on the phone. Has been for forty-five minutes. Judging from what I’ve heard so far? Your sister’s doing most of the listening.”

“Good. That means Mom’s not thinking of driving into Brooklyn.”

“She’s worried about you, Raymond. She’s your mother and you’ve been in a horrible … I don’t know … incident?”

“Sure wasn’t an accident.” I reached up and touched the lump on my head again. I wouldn’t swear to it, but I thought it had gone down in size. I flashed back to the loud pops, and the white, and the black. I closed my eyes to make them go away. “Jesus, Ally. How’d you find out?” I realized too late I should have called her myself. “Your editor call? Someone else from the paper?”

“Rachel. She called me while she was waiting to pick up your breakfast. She said you had a friend here with you.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call Jack a friend. Guy I used to work with at the nine-oh. We … haven’t seen each other for a couple of years. He’s a PI now and was having Ricky Torres help him out with some local jobs.”

“Ricky was working for a private investigator and ends up being shot? I hope you asked the obvious questions, Ray.”

“Of course. And the cops will ask him again, but he couldn’t make any immediate connection. Ricky was doing routine incident reports and…”

“And what?”

“And now with the other cab shooting…”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s what I was doing before I got here. I was down on the waterfront in Long Island City talking with the cops and some locals. No one saw a thing. Just like in your case. Jack doesn’t think there’s more to Ricky’s case than the other?”

I paused before answering. “Not really.”

“I don’t know what that means, Ray.”

I reminded myself my girlfriend’s a reporter. “Jack said Ricky was asking around about another case, but he didn’t go into details. Something about client/PI confidentiality, but he didn’t see a connection there, either.”

“You trust this … not-exactly-a-friend guy?”

Good question.
“I don’t think he had any reason to lie to me. Maybe he’ll think of something when he talks to the detectives.”

Allison thought about that and nodded. “You know,” she said, “the media is gonna make a big deal out of this. We’re still looking into the background of the other victim, but Ricky was an ex-cop and Middle East vet, shot and killed on the mean streets of Brooklyn that aren’t supposed to be this mean anymore.”

I sat up a little more. “By the media, I guess you mean your paper?”

“And the others,” she replied, trying not to get defensive. “And local TV.” She looked over at my landline. “They’re going to want to hear from you. Anybody call yet?”

“Not that I know of. Maybe when I was napping, but I haven’t given an official statement yet. Maybe they don’t even know I was there.”

“Someone does, and the others won’t be far behind. How’d they let you out of the hospital without—” She caught on quickly. “Your uncle.”

“Yep. He’s even arranged it so that he’s the one who’ll take my statement.”

“He can do that?”

“He’s Chief Donne.” I looked over at the clock on my cable box. “And he’s coming over in a few hours. Can you stay for dinner?”

“Until I can’t.” She stood, walked over to the window, and looked out. After a while, she turned back. “I’m kind of on call at the paper.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” she began, “when a big story breaks and they have to put a lot of reporters on it, we all have to pitch in and work overtime to cover the regular stuff that happens in the five boroughs.”

“Don’t they have freelancers for that?”

“Yeah, Ray. And little boys and girls still deliver the newspaper by bike early in the morning before Dad leaves for work.” She rubbed her eyes. “They’re not even paying us for doing this, but we can’t complain. I get one more speech about how lucky I am to have a job in the print media, I’ll wring my editor’s neck.”

“Which,” I leaned forward into a sitting position, “
would
be a big story and
would
result in more work for your coworkers.”

Allison laughed, which did more good for me than any pill.

“Yeah. They’d forgive me for killing the boss. Probably even take up a collection for my defense. But fuck with their off time?
That
would incur their wrath.”

She came back to the futon and sat next to me. Instinctively our hands found each other’s, and we sat in silence for half a minute.

Allison squeezed my hand. “Whatta you need, Ray? Right now, what can I do?”

“You’re doing it,” I said. “I’m gonna need a shower before Uncle Ray gets here, but I think I can handle that myself.”

She ran her thumb across the back of my hand and leaned into my ear. “You sure about that?”

I must have been getting better, judging from the feeling spreading across my groin. Too bad the increase in blood flow started my head throbbing again. I leaned back.

“Easy there, Ally. Too much of a good thing might not be the right approach at the moment.”

“Oh, sure. Whenever I’m in the mood, you’ve got a headache.”

Now it was my turn to laugh and that hurt, too, but I didn’t give a shit. I found myself thinking how nice it would be to spend my last two weeks of summer vacation sitting on my futon with Allison. I was never much for the beach anyway. We could order in takeout, watch bad TV, save money by showering together. I was about to suggest that, when Rachel came back into the apartment. She was looking at the phone, smirking, and shaking her head.

“Mom says hi,” she said. “She’s having some friends over for a late lunch, so we had to keep the call to…” She looked at her cell. “… An hour and six minutes.”

“What’s she serving?” I asked, knowing my mother’s habit of turning every conversation to food.

Rachel slipped her phone into her pocket and very seriously said, “Roast beef, salami, American
and
Swiss cheese, and some
really
nice macaroni salad that was on sale at the deli counter.”

“So, she’s doing okay?”

“Yes. And you’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“For talking her out of coming over here tonight.”

“She hates driving at night. Even to go a few blocks.”

“Yeah, well, this is the first time her son’s been shot. Or shot
at,
I guess.” My little sister’s eyes filled with tears. She walked over to the window and turned to look at the skyline.
What was up with the women in my life and that window? Were they embracing the view of the skyline or turning away from me?
She took a few moments before speaking. “You need to call her tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” I got up from the futon and took a few steps toward her. “I’m okay, Rachel.” I reached out with both hands and she came over and took them. I brought her into a hug. “I’m fine, kiddo. I got the shit shaken out of me, but I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Just don’t get shot at anymore, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

She squeezed me one more time. “You’d better.” She let me go, took a step back, and wiped away some tears. “I need your bathroom,” she said as she crossed the room.

Allison came over and slipped her hand into mine.

“You realize,” she said as my sister closed the bathroom door, “how lucky you are to have Rachel, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I don’t think about it every day, but, yeah, I know I’m lucky.”

“Good.”

I squelched an impulse to tell her I was grateful for her, too. Then the moment passed, and my buzzer buzzed. I looked at the clock on my DVR. It was just after four-thirty, too early for my uncle. Allison went over and pressed the Talk button. “Who is it?”

“Rachel?”

“No,” Allison said. “Who is it?”

“Raymond’s uncle. Who the—?”

Allison shut him off by releasing the Listen button and buzzing the door open. She then stepped over, unlocked my apartment door, and opened it a crack. My guess was Uncle Ray rushed through whatever meetings he had at One PP—One Police Plaza—and then had his driver take him straight here. Part of me was pleased that my uncle cared enough to come early. The other part—the part that gets nervous when you’re called to the principal’s office—knew he was also here to take my statement. I didn’t think I’d have much to say, but my uncle had a well-deserved reputation for getting more information out of an interviewee than the interviewee knew he had.

A minute later, there was a knock. I steadied myself as I opened the door and saw Uncle Ray had changed into a dark blue suit with a white shirt and loosened green tie. He took the suit jacket off and placed it on the back of my futon.

“Allison,” he said. “Good to see you. Are you here as a … journalist, or as Raymond’s paramour?”

“Always the charmer, Chief Donne.” She surprised him by stepping over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m a girlfriend today.”

“Then,” my uncle said, recovering from the kiss, “it
is
good to see you. You may call me Ray. Or Uncle Ray if that keeps you from confusing me with your boyfriend.”

“Thanks. Uncle Ray.”

He turned to me. “Nephew. How’s the noggin?”

“Good. I ate, slept, and woke up with an angel watching over me.”

“Save the greeting card shit for your sister. I’m assuming you’ve got some adult beverages in the fridge?”

“I just picked up a nice assortment of Brooklyn beers, but I really don’t think I should be drinking with a concussion, do you?”

“Nice to see you still think you’re funny. That’s a good sign. Don’t worry yourself. I’ll get it myself. Allison?”

“No, thank you.”

My uncle went into the kitchen and quickly reappeared with a bottle of Brooklyn Pennant just as Rachel came out of the bathroom. He looked from Rachel to Allison, then raised his bottle to the two of them. “Thank you both for being here. I don’t know what my nephew ever did to deserve either one of you, but here you are anyway.”

“As are you, Uncle Ray,” Rachel said.

“Yes. Now, both of you. Get out.”