Disturbed Earth (26 page)

"What old man?" I said. " Was his name Farone? Was the old man's daughter-in-law your friend Genia Farone? Was he named Shank? Ivana? Tell me his name." I held onto her arm.

She didn't remember. She didn't answer me. She broke away and started running. Tall and agile, she ran fast in spite of the wind. She ran into the wind, towards the water.

Stop, I yelled at her, but the wind seemed to push my words back at me and Ivana kept running, down the beach, her feet seeming to skim the sand, her arms pumping, and I followed her but she was too fast and my feet stuck in the snow and sand like in a bad dream.

A tall, graceful figure in jeans and a red jacket and pink sneakers, she ran as if she'd been released from everything in her life that she hated and was suddenly free. I could see the flash of her pink sneakers, All Stars, like Billy's, only pink. As she went, she shed the jacket, I could see it, bright red, on the sand. She kicked off her pink sneakers and pulled off her jeans and now she sprinted towards the ocean and for a second I thought crazily: she's going for a swim.

"Stop!"

Stop, I yelled, it's too cold, you can't swim in this weather, I said.

By the time I got to the edge of the water where the surf came up and made foam on the hard packed sand, she was already in up to her waist. She plunged forward into the water and started swimming. Even in the ice cold water, she swam, gliding through the waves, with long strong strokes.

The surf was around my ankles; it poured into my boots; it was freezing. I felt my feet go numb. I kept swimming.

Ivana pulled away from me. She swam towards the horizon. She was swimming fast, and the crazy thought came into my head again: she likes swimming in the winter; she joined the Polar Bears; she was a swim champ in her Moscow school.

The water was up to my waist and I was yelling, half English, half Russian, and somewhere in the back of my mind I was thinking: I have to get to Florida. I have to get to old man Farone. Maybe Billy was down there, maybe that's where he was.

Still shouting for Ivana, the salt water filled my mouth and nose. I choked. My feet slipped. I started falling backwards, but I kept yelling. It didn't matter. By then, Ivana's head had stopped bobbing above the waves.

Part Five

33

I opened my eyes and realized I had no sensation in my feet. From somewhere I could hear a dog barking. It was next door. I was in my own bed. Sonny Lippert was looking down at me. For a few seconds while I struggled to get awake I thought I was still in a bad dream. I pushed against it as if I'd been caught in a plastic cocoon and couldn't get out. I couldn't breathe. I sat up suddenly.

"What happened?" I said.

"You're at home," he said. "You're OK. A couple of guys running on the beach pulled you out of the water, man, and you were out, you swallowed a gallon of water, they had to get you warm, you understand. You were two minutes away from hypothermia. They took you to the hospital."

I sat up. "What day is it?"

"It's Saturday."

"Shit." I'd lost three days. "Billy?"

"No news."

"Ivana?"

"Dead. Drowned."

"How did I get home from the hospital?"

"That Maxine Crabbe brought you home. She sat with you. You were frozen. You almost could have lost a hand. Also you had a fever and you were delirious."

Again I said, "What about Billy?"

"Nada," Sonny said. "No body, no kid, no nothing. I'm sorry, man. I am." Sonny sat on the edge of a chair next to the bed.

"You said you wanted me in a clean space, Sonny, you were thinking there were dirty cops involved? Someone like John Farone, Sr., Johnny's father? What about him? What about Stanley Shank?"

"I don't know. Farone, we had the house in Florida checked. He's there OK. He can't move. He's a sick old man, lousy lungs, attached to an oxygen tank he schleps everywhere. Billy's not with him. Farone and Shank, they were partners, you knew that, right? The old guy, the younger guy, they were tight, they liked to control their territory, even after they retired."

"Shank said he hated the Russians."

"It's an act," Sonny said. "It was perfect. They could do business because everyone thought they hated each other. And there were rumors, since the Howard Beach beatings. You remember? You remember the black kids that got beat up bad? Shank was always a suspect. Farone protected him. Shank's a creep."

"It's mutual. He hates your guts. He wants you out of Brooklyn. And me."

"You're one of them now, man? You're passing messages. You're so desperate about the kid that you're willing to be their messenger boy?" Lippert buttoned his coat.

"How come you always want to break my ass, Sonny?"

"I just came by to see you were alive and also to tell you that the girl drowned herself, OK? You tried to save her, you stupid bastard. You almost died." He looked at me. "I need you. I don't like it that you almost died, you got it?"

By now I knew the case wasn't only about Billy Farone; it was about the way business was done on the coast of Brooklyn. It was about fear. And money. If you made people afraid, you could own them.

Old man Farone, Stanley Shank, maybe others, they were retired cops who wanted the place for themselves. I didn't know yet if they were dealing meds, sex, kids, probably all of them. But they worked in tandem with some of the Russian creeps, overt, covert, it didn't matter so long as they made the dough. With some of it, Stanley Shank bought a party boat and named it
Just a Fluke.

"Maybe it wasn't me they wanted out of the way. Is that what you're thinking?" Lippert could always read me. "Maybe it was you. Maybe they knew you were the kid's godfather, maybe they wanted to draw you in. Someone who knew you. Knew how you think. Buy you, own you, in return for Billy. Someone who knew you'd do anything for the kid."

I said, "You're saying someone set up Heshey Shank to snatch Billy Farone because they knew I'd get involved? Because they knew Genia's my cousin and I'd end up working the case one way or another, and I'd trip up and they'd be rid of me?"

"Hey, why not? They want you, they got you, they want me, they get me through you, either way, man, they win. I mean you're my boy, aren't you?" Lippert said.

"Get out."

"So, the girl, Ivana. You fucked her, man?"

I knew Lippert was upset I almost died and his way of dealing was dumping on me, but I felt lousy and I just said, "Get out of my place."

There were a million places Heshey Shank could have hidden Billy. His brother Stanley had a boat. He knew his way around the waterways out by the coast of Brooklyn. I knew, deep down, he had already unloaded the body. I knew that Billy was at the bottom of the marina, under the ice; until the ice broke up, no one would find him.

After Sonny finished breaking my balls, after he left, somehow I got up and took a shower and got dressed. I put on three pairs of socks. My legs trembled but I fixed some coffee, drank it, got downstairs, car keys in my hand. I had lost time. I had to get back to Brooklyn. I needed Zeitsev's help.

As I fumbled with the car door, Maxine appeared. Wrapped in a pink down coat, knitted hat pulled low, scarf twisted around her neck, her feet in old-fashioned red galoshes, she looked about twelve. In her arms was a bag stuffed with groceries.

"Where the hell are you going?" she said.

"I have to find Billy," I said. "Listen, thanks. Thank you for being with me." I kissed her and took the groceries. "I'll take them upstairs. How come you bothered with me? If I was you I would have let me suffer."

"It's mysterious to me, honey." She followed me into the building. "I have something for you," she said.

"About Billy?"

"Yes."

In my apartment, I put the groceries away and started for the door.

"I'll come with you," she said.

"I can't ask you to do that," I said.

"Why not? We're friends aren't we? You're in trouble aren't you? Who the hell else can you ask?" She grinned. "Come on, let's get the fuck on the road. I'll tell you while we drive."

I looked at Maxie with her long loose limbs like a rag doll's and her pretty, humorous face. She was warm as toast. She could keep quiet. She could keep things to herself if you were troubled.

With Lily it was different. I had been obsessed with her, but Lily always told you what was on her mind and sometimes it was like a slap with an open hand. But she was never coy, never unsure. When she almost died, later when she went away, I felt like someone cut off my oxygen. She loved the music I loved, she was a real grown-up, she called me on the stuff where I was stupid, I loved being in bed with her.

With Max it was different. She felt like a younger sister. She was crazy about me and had been for years. She was completely transparent, and suddenly I thought: I could make a life with her. I loved her twins. I was getting sick of being alone and getting older and looking at myself in men like Sonny Lippert who spent nights at the gym. I was stupid. I still don't know why Lily left me, not really. She didn't say. She just said she was going. She couldn't stand New York anymore, she said.

"Artie? Honey? Come on."

I put my arm around Maxie's shoulder and for a second, while we stood in the street, she leaned on me, just listed in my direction. I liked her a lot. I kissed her. I knew it was a big deal, her helping me, after she'd said she was in love with me and I'd responded like a jerk. The generosity of her coming by made me love her. Maybe I was in love with her, after all. Maxie Crabbe would take care of me. She was still young, she was only thirty-eight; maybe we could even have a kid.

"You know what?" I said.

"What?"

"Let's get married."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah. I am serious. I really am. Is that OK?"

"You thought about it?"

"I thought a lot."

She smiled and kissed me. "Get in the car."

We got in and I turned the engine on. My mind was racing, the clock in my head ticking, the heater coming on in the car, the news radio blasting out details of another alleged kidnapping, this one on the Upper West Side. I forced myself to pay attention to Maxine. It was how I'd lost Lily, obsessed with work, not paying attention. I wasn't going to do it again. I couldn't afford it.

"Maxie, listen..."

"They pulled you out of the ocean half dead, you're feeling desperate about Billy, so let's wait until the case is over, OK? I don't want you saying anything you have to go back on later, OK? Just think about it. If we're OK with each other when this case is done, and then if you still want to, so maybe I'll meet you at City Hall." She was breathless. "Give me a smoke."

I handed her the cigarettes and said, "I thought you'd want a church."

"I did the church thing with Mark. I had the white dress. I had six bridesmaids in peach charmeuse. I had all of it. Once was enough. Anyway you don't believe in God."

"I told you once, if you want a church, I'm good with that. I will wear a tux and a ruffled shirt and the girls can throw rose petals."

She smiled. "Gosh, for being in the middle of a case you're very eloquent. I mean, wow, Artie. That's really nice. I like that."

I glanced at my phone; there was a message from Tolya.

"You know my friend from Moscow, Tolya Sverdloff, right?"

She looked uncomfortable.

"What's the matter?"

"He's friends with Lily Hanes, isn't he?"

"So?"

She tried to smile. "I don't really live up to Lily, I mean, she was a very smart woman, educated, gorgeous, high flying," she mumbled. "You know."

"Don't be ridiculous. You live up to anyone. More than." I leaned over and kissed her.

But she was right. I'd introduced her to Tolya once and he was cagey; he was polite, he shook hands, he smiled, he exuded charm, but he did it on automatic pilot, and she knew it.

"You want to hear what I have? I'm very good on blood."

"I know you are." Forcing myself to concentrate on her, I said, "Are you alright?"

"I'm good." Waiting for me to drive off, she pulled some notes out of her purse. "Look, I came over because I found something out. I had to sneak it, but I got there." Softly, Maxie added, "It's not his blood."

"What?"

"On the clothes. It's not Billy Farone's blood."

"How could they make that kind of mistake?"

"The blood on the clothes. Some of it was Billy Farone's, according to the blood type his mother gave, but most of it wasn't. Once they knew he was missing, and his mother ID'd the clothes, they assumed it was his. No one paid attention. Everyone was too busy. It was like 9/11, you know? People doing the minimum."

"Anything on the blood?"

"Some of it was an animal's," she said. "The blood."

"What?"

"That's why I had to come," she said. "Slow down. You'll kill us."

"I'm sorry." I was thinking about Billy.

"I don't understand, but maybe you will. I just want it all to end. I hate it. I have two girls I'm afraid to let go out of the house. I walk them to school. Another woman brings them home. I can't leave them for a minute."

"Listen, Maxie, look. I want you to go home and get the girls and go back up to Mark's mother, or stay home with them. I don't think this is random, this thing with Billy. Even if he's dead, and I think he is probably dead, I think I'm involved, and I don't understand how, not yet." I forced myself to say it. Billy was dead. Billy dead. "I'll drop you."

"How are you involved?" she said.

"I'm not sure, but go home and be with your girls. Please. I'll drop you at the subway."

"You can always call on the cell," she said. "I'm always there for you."

"I love you for it, I really do," I said. "What kind of animal?"

"Probably a cat."