| I found Marcus
sitting at a small table toward the back of Donovan’s.
As its name implies, it was an Irish joint, complete with
Guinness on tap and the same wood bar that seemed to be
in all Irish-influenced watering holes. The place was
fairly busy for a Thursday night, with what seemed like
a bunch of regulars seated at the bar watching a soccer
game on the three televisions behind the bar. I walked
past them and over to where Marcus was sitting. I noticed
he wasn’t drinking anything.
As if he’d read my mind, he said, “Person
getting the information gets the drinks.”
I had no problems with that, even though I have been accused
of receiving far more drinks than I bought. “Still
drinking that single-malt sissy crap?” I asked.
Marcus smiled. “Good taste never changes. Glenlivet,”
he instructed.
“On the way.”
I walked over to the bartender, a surly man who stood
somewhere in the mid-sixes, with a protruding beer gut
and bright white hair. He noticed me—actually he
noticed the twenty I held in my hand—and walked
over.
“What do you need?” he asked in a heavy Irish
accent.
“Dewars and soda and a Glenlivet, clean.”
He gave me a sideways look, this probably stemmed from
my ‘clean’ statement, then went to get the
drinks. I could smell Southern Comfort around me somewhere,
a scent that almost immediately gives me the gag reflex.
I met Southern Comfort at a bachelor party in my twenties
and we certainly didn’t hit it off.
Thankfully, the bartender was quick with the drinks and
brought them over. He took my twenty, trading it for a
five and two singles. Thirteen bucks for two drinks in
a run down Irish bar. Only in New York. I left him a single
and walked back to Marcus.
I handed Marcus his drink and his took a sniff first,
then a small sip.
“Nothing tastes better than a free drink,”
he said, smiling.
“I can think of a few things,” I said.
“Yeah, but some of us have never had to pay for
such things.”
“Not from what I hear. Rumor has it a woman is walking
around with a rock that put a dent in your checking account.”
“She’s got the gold band to match it now,”
Marcus said.
I raised my glass. “Congratulations, as odd as that
sounds.”
We clinked glasses. “Thanks,” Marcus said.
I caught his eyes. There was something there I hadn’t
noticed right away. Marcus was one of those guys who let
just about everything slide off him. He’d seen his
share of problems, that I knew, but he never let it get
into him. Something had penetrated that defense, and I
hoped he’d tell me what it was.
“Alright, I paid the price of admission. Spill it,”
I said.
Marcus looked around the room, an automatic reaction when
you’re about to discuss a case. “Like I said,
not a lot to spill.”
“Well, you’ve got to give me some value for
my dollar. Make that six dollars.”
“Price you gotta pay,” Marcus said. “You
know they found the body yesterday.”
I nodded.
“Girl. Woman. Thirties.”
“Rape?” I asked.
“Looks that way. Dirty job, too. Couple of scratches
here and there. Knife wound. What did the final job seems
to be a heavy, blunt object. This was an angry kill, if
you ask me.”
I could tell there was more behind what Marcus told me.
Something sinister, perhaps, or just something that makes
your stomach turn. We homicide boys have pretty strong
stomachs or we wouldn’t be doing what we do, so
when something gets us feeling queasy, it sure can’t
be pretty.
“Go on,” I said.
Marcus took another sip of his drink. “They caved
the whole left side of her head in. Guys at the ME office
don’t think the first few shots did her in, and
they think the last few were for posterity. Some of the
rape might be the same way.”
“Nice to know we have such upstanding people in
the neighborhood.”
“They weren’t smart, and if you ask me, they
wanted to send some sort of message. Leaving the body
in Central Park’s gotta mean something too, but
I just can’t figure it out.”
“Little early to be worrying yourself about that,”
I said. “Now, why the tight lid?”
“She’s the daughter of someone with some clout,”
Marcus said.
“What sort of clout?”
“Dollar-sort. Her father does some pretty good numbers.”
“Someone I know?” I asked.
Marcus shook his head. “Doubtful. Doesn’t
make the papers or the celebrity list, but he’s
made a name for himself in his own sector.”
“What sector is that?”
“Science. Works with some sort of physics. Engineer
sort who turned an idea into a windfall. Keeps a low profile,
though.”
“You meet him yet?”
“No. He’s out of town, out of reach. Supposed
to be back tomorrow. I don’t even know if anyone’s
told him yet. Gonna be a tough one to take,” Marcus
said.
Marcus still looked preoccupied. I knew better than to
press. He was the sort that would tell me in due time,
if he wanted to. We were the same in this respect, and
I think it is why we got along. Marcus was one of those
people you tell yourself you should hang out with more
but never do. At least, that’s how I felt about
it. He might have thought I was a complete moron.
“Worst part, being the one who has to tell him.”
“I won’t be doing that,” Marcus said,
“That’s the wife’s job.”
“How’d she take it?”
“Initially, in stride. Think it was shock. Couple
of hours later, I hear she’s at the ME office, demanding
to see the body again. They let her in, then had to haul
her out. Probably got her on something to kill the pain.”
Drugs. For some reason, doctors give them away like candy
during such times. Guess they figure it is better than
letting someone grieve in their own fashion. Can’t
let people do things for themselves. There’s no
money in that.
Marcus finished his drink. “Need another?”
I asked.
“No. You know what they say about cops hitting the
hard stuff.”
“Yeah, it gets them drunk.”
Marcus laughed. He had a deep voice and a deeper laugh.
If you don’t know him, the laugh can actually be
frightening. Coming from a guy who stands about six-two
with a face that looks like it is carved from stone, a
laugh like his can go right through you. Personally, I
thought it was funny.
“How’re things going for you, Keegan?”
Marcus asked.
“They haven’t killed me and they still let
me carry a gun.”
“Two of the atrocities of life. Any action by you?”
I assumed Marcus knew about what I’d been through
a while back, so I didn’t recount the story for
him. “Dead.”
Marcus laughed again. “I’d be turning down
cases if I were you. You seem to always get the bad ones.”
“The others just aren’t enough fun,”
I said, finishing my drink. If Marcus would have gone
for a second, I would have done the same. I really wasn’t
in the mood for drinking, so the fact that he didn’t
was welcome.
“You’d fight for this case if it was in your
juri, wouldn’t you?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nah. I don’t believe in
tipping the scales.”
“Bullshit. You called me as soon as you found out,
didn’t you?”
Nailed. “Only because the park interests me. I think
if I worked in your spot, it would have lost its allure
a while ago.”
“Maybe,” Marcus said.
“You request this one, or have it stuffed in your
hands?”
“Little of both. I was next on call, but Witherspoon
told me he knew I wanted it, so he lobbed it my way to
avoid any conflict.”
“You flying solo?” I asked.
“No. Cooper’s with me. Know him?”
Paul Cooper went to the academy with me. He was a vanilla
type, so middle-of-the-road that I had absolutely no opinion
about him, which was a rarity.
I nodded.
“Not a bad guy,” Marcus said.
“About all I can say about him.”
“I’ve worked a few with him. Good paperwork,
decent ideas, and he never fights his position strong
enough to piss you off. Sort of like not having a partner.”
“Wish I had someone like that in South,” I
said.
“Calhill back?” That’d be Rick Calhill,
my sometime partner and friend.
“Sort of.”
Marcus shook his head. “Amazing he came this far.”
“He’s doing it for the kids,” I said.
Calhill had to go through a tragedy unlike any I could
have ever imagined. He lost his wife, almost lost his
job, and got a suspension to boot. I was one of the few
that gave him even the slightest chance to make it back
to the job.
“Gotta hand it to him. They pair you guys up again?”
“Not yet. Think it’s coming soon. He’s
different. I think I’ll even like working with him
this time around,” I said.
“Calhill’s a good man,” Marcus said,
“and a good detective. I’d work with him any
day.”
“A year ago, I’d have told you to take him.
Now I just hope I can help.”
“That’s big of you,” Marcus said sarcastically.
“I’m not all asshole. Just part of me.”
“More than one part.”
“What else is going on with this case?” I
asked.
“Not much else. Got nothing in the way of motive.
Despite the dirty job, the scene was empty. They knew
what they were doing, if you ask me. They might have been
stupid, but yet they seemed to have a handle on this sort
of thing.”
“Father involved you think?”
“Doubtful. He’s a scientist.”
“What does the mother do?”
“Runs a small bookshop on the east side. Nothing
there either.”
“What do you know of the girl?”
“Out of work. Took some time off to write. Was an
editor for a magazine for six years. Think she might have
burned out.”
“Yeah, magazine writing’s gotta be tough.”
“Just a hunch on that one. She ran a feminist magazine.
Well, they didn’t call it exactly, but that’s
what was implied,” Marcus said.
“They never have any good pictures in those rags.”
“I guess they do if you are a feminist.”
“What do they like to look at, men with needles
sticking our of their dicks?”
Marcus laughed again, and this caught the attention of
a few people at the bar. This made me laugh, something
I never do, so you know.
“Been reading them lately?” Marcus asked.
“Your wife left one at my apartment the other night.”
“You could never satisfy my wife.”
“Hey, I do have some Italian in me,” I said
in my defense.
Marcus chuckled. “I didn’t mean it that way.
She needs someone to talk to. You probably just roll over
and go to sleep.”
“Sometimes I fall asleep right on top of them. Keeps
their upper body in shape when they have to push me off.”
“Your sickness knows no boundaries.”
“Some, but not many.”
I could tell by Marcus’ mood that he didn’t
want to talk about the case anymore. I’d gotten
what I came for, some details to go along with the pictures
in my mind. I needed them. I really don’t know why.
I guess it really doesn’t make a difference. Something
drove me to meet Marcus.
We talked about nothing for a little while, and then he
said he had to get back to his wife. I walked out with
him and decided against taking a cab back to my apartment.
Judging from the extra layer around my stomach, I needed
a little exercise. The walk home cleared my mind. I had
no idea how full my head was going to be real soon.
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