Book Four: Part 8 - Rhyming Evil - Chapter 13
Friday – July 13th
The Squad Room – 8:34 a.m.
“That pretty much sums things up on the MDA drive. There will be three, four-hour slots during the drive. Whichever slot you sign up for, we ask that you be there every shift during those hours. You do a good deed and get double-time to boot. Captain also told me to say he’ll have a memo in your inbox about any personal contributions. It’s early, but please sign up for this. Jerry’s Kids need our help.
“Okay. Today is of course, Friday the thirteenth. No driving under any ladders, and don’t step on any cracks that will cause you to fall; and no wisecracks either.
“Just keep doing what you do. As to qualifying; Clauson and Klugston, you both made it, along with six others from the swing shift. Marchetti in Property, and our desk Sergeant, Spinelli, qualified. We are looking good.”
“Hey, Baker,” said Clinton.
She looked his way.
“I was watching the Mets, Phillies game last night. I could have sworn when that foul ball in the fourth inning went into the stands; some young guy caught the ball, when I saw you, Ed, and Stevie.”
“I confess. We were at the game last night. It might be the only one I get to see, but it was a good game.”
“Sure was. 5-3, Mets. You get any pictures?”
“A few. This weekend, I’ll print them off and try to remember to bring them on Monday.”
People started getting up.
“I take it there aren’t any more questions? Then do what you do best. Get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”
Baker’s cell phone rang as she was headed to her office.
“Baker.”
“sweet Janis, so wonderful to hear your voice once again. It seems ages since we last spoke. How is your head?”
“Cut the crap, Freddy. What do you want?” She quickly wrote a note, ran into Satchell’s office that read: Freddy on phone. Trace call.
“I want you split open from neck to belly is what I want, but have I ever told you how wonderful the word, but really is? It works for just about anything you want to say, but I’m getting away from the reason I called.”
“Why don’t you come into my office and we can talk.”
“You would love that, I’m sure. I know you are trying to trace this call, but it won’t do you any good.
“I wanted you to know there is someone in your lovely city planning to blow something up soon. I have a few friends who travel certain websites for, shall we say, professional endeavors. As you know, I.P.’s, get picked up and are sometimes tracked while others are intercepted for me. I know the name, but all I will say is that it is one of a family of three.”
“You are such a bastard. I don’t get you, Freddy. You’re a paid assassin for hire, yet you go out of your way to murder other people for other crimes; and now, you give me a heads-up clue.”
“Yes, sweet Janis. Those are the ones who really, deep down, need to feel the pain they inflict on others, as well as on their minds, and especially what they do to the soul of the unsuspecting. As to the clue, let us say the truly innocent need not suffer, but, then again, the rest is now in your hands.”
“Feel the pain? Like your brother?”
“Especially my brother.
“I must run, sweet Janis. I have a prior engagement to complete and another heartless monster to destroy.
“Give Stevie my best, though I doubt you will. Tell that prick, Ed, next time, I will slash off his other arm. See then if another piece of plastic and metal parts will help him.”
“One thing I’ve never understood is why you want to kill me so badly.”
“It is because I could have had in my life once, so very long ago, what you have now. And it pisses me off to see you so fucking happy.
“But … oh, there is that word again; before you die, I will take great pleasure enjoying the taste of your dying breath.
“Oh, I almost forgot about last night. So interesting to catch a baseball game, and there you are for the world to see. Bye-bye, sweet Janis. See you … soon.”
Dead air.
She raced into Satchell’s office.
Satchell was on a landline awaiting word of a location when he received a confirmation. He started writing the address on paper until he looked at what he was writing. He stopped and hung up the phone.
“What, Satchell?”
“The address is all wrong.”
Baker looked at it, then looked at Satchell.
“I don’t know how he does, Satchell.”
The address was Scotland Yard.
The Baker-Manning Home
111 Homestead Lane – 10:12 a.m.
Ed was again at the computer, searching for anything he could find that would be of benefit in legal affairs.
One year left of law school he never finished years ago, but with any luck, within a year, he could be working with Alan Blackstone, a no-nonsense, take-no-prisoner type prosecutor that never settled for less than guilty, and as much of a maximum sentence as possible. Still, Blackstone’s ideals also fit with his own; argue for what time they deserve.
Ed would represent the law. No vendetta’s, no matter how serious the crime, but if the time fit the penalty, then by all means, go after as much as he could get.
Outside in the yard, Stevie was riding the lawn-mower, which after that, he would turn on the sprinkler system to keep the grass from burning up. Here it was, nearly 10:30, and it was ninety degrees.
Stevie was a happy young man. Earlier that morning, he spent a good hour with Ellie on the phone, and the more they talked, the more time they spent together, the more Stevie knew that one day they would get married. That would make his mom happy, but he would have to talk to Ellie sometime, about the number of grandchildren his mom wanted. Would Ellie really want to have ten kids?
Captain Page’s Office – 11:08 a.m.
“Yes, I’d like a reservation for two. Under the names Page, and Baters. Can I get a two o’clock? Thank you.”
Satchell then dialed the Stanhouse PD and asked for Don.
“Homicide, this is Baters.”
“Hey there, you white dough boy. You hungry?”
“Starving. Haven’t eaten for two days waiting on this call. So where and when?”
“Clancy’s. Two O’clock. Western Room.”
“I’ll be there. You okay, John?”
“I’m fine, Don. Really, I am.”
“All right. See you at two.”
Satchell hung up the phone, smiling.
Clancy’s Restaurant – 2:06 p.m.
Satchell was seated just moments before Don was.
Their waitress, dressed in a dance-hall dress, brought them a menu and each man asked for coffee. She walked away and returned a minute later to set a carafe at their table. In two more minutes, she had taken their order.
“What’s up in your part of the world, brother John?”
“Nothing, really. It’s been a while since we last sat around and spit together. And after the other day, and when the tornado hit, I got to thinking we should do this more often. As then, as right now, is when I think we need more oftens. You, Maureen, and your family. It’s just that life can be gone in a single blink, and we end up not saying what we’ve always wanted to say.”
“I can appreciate that, John. Way back when we met, seventeen years ago, there you were, the only black man in the Academy, and the oldest. If you had waited two more months, we wouldn’t be here talking. As it stood, you were running circles around our asses back then.”
“They sure were good days, Don. And I can still run your ass in a circle. But, the best part was meeting, June. Best damn graduation present I ever got was her.”
“Fact.” Don paused as the waitress returned with a fresh carafe of coffee. “What amazed me was not only how easily I accepted you as my brother-in-law right away, but how the whole family did as well. Then it hit me. It was never a color issue. It was how you treated June, my parents, and me. Simple respect.”
“It always was about respect. And I’ve been envious of you.”
“How so?”
“June and I tried having kids before she died, and it never worked out for us.”
“John, June was murdered. She wasn’t given the chance yet.”
“I know, and her killer was sentenced and is still sitting in Attica, and will be there until he dies, but Don, there were so many nights she would cry herself to sleep in my arms when she would get a test result back. It was the one pain I could never protect her from. But murdered or simply died; she’s at peace, and so am I.”
“I miss her, John.”
“I know you do. Me too.”
There was that unspoken moment of quiet as both men locked eyes and it was that one second in time that spoke volumes.
Don broke the silence.
“Hey, do you remember that day we went to Standing Room Lake, and we tried lifting June onto your shoulders in the water?”
“Do I! I never laughed so hard in my life when she started climbing up your body to reach over for me, and her foot hit your privates and you yelled out, 'Get off my balls! We fell in the water laughing so damn hard.
“It’s those times, those moments that keep me going, Don. Those memories, large and small, that keep me from being angry at a man who killed June, not on purpose, but because of a drive-by. For June, it was wrong time, wrong place.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over my personal anger, but I can try. And maybe with more sessions like this; who knows?”
The waitress walked to their table and sat their food in front of them. Prime Rib for Don, and a Porterhouse for Satchell.
“More like BS sessions if you ask me. But don’t get the wrong idea here, Don. Next time, you’re buying lunch.”