Once Were Cops (5 page)

shriveled his heart.

She had her own room, the room of a five-year-old

girl, childish pictures on the wall, a comforter on

the bed with the Care Bears, and a galaxy of dolls

on the shelf with nursery rhyme books alongside.

Her hair was in ringlets, her huge brown eyes, not

a trace of guile in them, and the button nose.

Barney was on the TV… and she was singing

along to the theme song.

Kebar hated that fucking purple dinosaur with all

his soul.

He said,

“How yah doing, hon?”

She jumped up, threw herself into his arms,

showering his face with kisses, he wanted to shoot

some fucker, now.

He gave her the bag of goodies and she shrieked in

delight, sat on the bed and said,

“Come sit beside me, Konny, we’ll count out the

Kisses.”

Every time, it wounded him anew. She asked,

“How is Daddy?’

The piece of no-good trash who’d beaten her

senseless so many times, he wanted to go,

“Dead, thank fuck.”

Said,

“He’s working real hard, gonna get you that

playhouse soon.”

The fuck worked like one week his whole whining

life. “And Mammy?” Tell the truth?

“Loaded before noon, progressed to margaritas

now and which with any luck will kill the bitch

soon.”

Sure, tell that.

He said,

“She’s knitting you a scarf for when the winter

comes and you can come home.” Same goddamn

lie he’d been telling for years. Lucia asked, a slight

frown between her innocent eyes, “They sure love

us, don’t they, Konny?” “You betcha.” And here

came the same question, every visit, every time,

“Tell me how much?”

This might be always the hardest lie of all, he

stretched his arms as wide as he could, said,

“To the moon and all the way back again.”

The words nigh choking him.

It did the trick though. She gave that radiant smile

that age would not wither, nor time erase.

She sang along with the end credits of Barney and

then yawned, said, “It’s time for my nap, will you

tuck me in?” He did and kissed her gently on the

forehead. She was asleep before he reached the

door.

He didn’t look back, that one step he could never

take, seeing her sleeping, her face like every

wonderful thing that never happened. In the

corridor, a nurse asked, “Leaving so soon?” He

was going to go, “The fuck does that mean?” But

said, “She’s sleeping.”

And got the hell out of there, checked his watch, he

might just make the appointed time. We’re exactly

like you cops. You have a profession—we have a

profession. Only difference is, you’re on the right

side of the law, we’re on the wrong.

—John Dillinger

SEVEN

TRAFFIC WAS LIGHT, AND HE YET AGAIN

FAILED TO SEE the Chevy behind. He was

pulling into a space near the bar as he saw the kid

saunter along.

Watched him for a moment, then opened his glove

compartment, took out his Glock, put it in the

waistband of his pants, closed his eyes for a

moment, then got out, shouted,

“Yo, Shea, wait up … buddy.”

If the kid was pleased to see him, he was hiding it

well, just nodded, noncommittal.

They entered the bar without another word.

The place had a pool table, a long wooden bar,

and lots of tables at the back. They moved up to the

counter. A tall girl, dark hair, eyes, an almost

pretty face, spoiled by a too large nose with a good

body, and a name tag … Nora.

Shea thought,

“Jaysus, not a bloody Mick, please?”

And tried not to stare at her neck, that white white

flesh, and soft… Jesus.

The last shite he wanted to hear was reminiscences

about the old country, the usual blarneyed lies. She

smiled, a good one. Asked, “Get you gentlemen?”

Kebar said, “Maker’s Mark, Bud back.” And she

looked to Shea.

He was so relieved to hear her New York accent,

he went, “Got any Jameson?” She smiled, like …

gee, what a surprise, said, ŤC ” “Okay, with a

Coors.”

She gave him an odd look and he thought, ‘Sure.

“What? … Like I’d frigging drink Guinness outside

Ireland, yeah, dream on, babe.”

She asked,

“You running a tab?’

Kebar nodded. They took their drinks to a rear

table, Kebar raised his shot glass, said,

“Here’s to partners.”

Shea clinked the Jay against it, said,

“Why not.” They took a swish of their beers, then

sat back. Neither one had a damn word to say.

Shea tried not to think about her neck.

KEBAR HEADED TO THE BAR TO GET

REFILLS AND THUS missed Morronni walking

in.

Morronni, delighted with his timing, went straight

up to Shea, sat down, put out his hand, sliding an

envelope on the table, bills protruding, said,

“Carmelo Morronni.”

Shea, taken aback, took his hand, and Morronni

said,

“Smile, you’re on Candid Camera.” A flash went

off, Morronni’s man smiled, put the camera away,

and Morronni put the envelope in his pocket. Shea

growled, “The fuck is that about?” Morronni said,

“Call it insurance.”

Kebar came back, his face a mask of fury at seeing

Morronni sitting there. Shea said,

“This guy took me photo, with a wad of money on

the table and me shaking hands with him.”

Kebar put the drinks down, carefully, looked to

Morronni’s man, said,

“Give me the camera.”

The guy smiled, pulled his jacket back to show the

Magnum in his belt, said,

“Come and take it, asswipe.”

Morronni cut in, said, 1, JOIU,

“Whoa, compadres, chill out, Gino, go get us some

drinks, bourbon rocks, how about you guys, you

good?”

Kebar was still standing, considering taking the

camera. Morronni said,

“Come on, K, have a seat and let’s fill your young

buddy in on the current state of play.” Kebar sat

and Shea asked, “What the fuck is going on, who

are these guys?” Morronni smiled, said,

“We’re your business associates, but K can

explain better, right, bro? Tell him how you work

for us and as Jackie Gleason used to say … how

sweet it is.”

Kebar was lost, couldn’t look at the kid, he gulped

the bourbon in one swallow. Shea looked from one

man to the other, realization dawning, said,

“You’re on the take … you … Jesus Christ, and

you brought me here, to what… suck me in …”

His rage was blinding him, as he saw the net

they’d thrown, he looked at Kebar, said,

“Fuck you.”

And stood up. Morronni said,

“Whoa, kid, calm down, no need to get riled up,

and we do have your picture, you don’t want that

on your boss’s desk tomorrow, do you?” Shea

leaned over, right in Morronni’s face, said,

“Screw you, bollix.” Then to Kebar, “Get that

fucking picture back.” And walked out. Kebar

wanted to go after him and say what? He stared at

Morronni, asked, “Why’d you have to involve the

kid?”

Morronni took a delicate sip of his drink and then,

using a dazzling white handkerchief, dabbed at his

mouth, said,

“Keep you focused.”

Kebar was trying to get his mind in gear, said,

“You have me, I’m doing all you ask, give me the

photo and we can forget this ever happened.”

Morronni stood up, threw a hundred on the table,

said,

“Drinks on me, and Gino, he doesn’t like you, K,

I’d advise against trying to force him to do

anything he’s not kosher with, that Magnum of his?

I’d say it balances out the bar you carry. We’ll be

in touch.”

And they were gone.

Kebar sat, the mess of glasses on the table

reflecting the total chaos of his mind. Nora came

over, asked, “They upped and left you?” He

nodded and she pushed, “The young guy, he

married?” Kebar looked at her, said, “The fuck

would I know.” She picked up the hundred, said,

“I’ll get your change.” Kebar was up, said, “Keep

it.”

She watched him slump out, the weight of the

world on his shoulders. The young guy, though, he

was kinda cute, first thing after her shift was done,

she’d ring Joe, her brother, tell him that just maybe

… there might be a guy on the horizon.

KEBAR WAS WAITING AT THE CAR FOR

THE KID, THE NEXT morning, he didn’t know if

the kid would even show. He did. Looking like

ferocity. Kebar tried, “We need to talk about that

whole fiasco last night.” Shea stared at him

contempt written on his face, said,

“I’ve asked for a meeting with O’Brien, I’m going

to ask for reassignment.”

Kebar was afraid of this, said,

“C’mon, don’t do that, let me at least explain.”

Shea let that hover for a moment then said,

“You’re a bagman, isn’t that the term, you sell cops

for money, what’s to explain.”

Kebar said,

“Get in the car, I want to show you something.”

For a moment, it seemed like the kid wouldn’t but

Kebar went,

“Please.”

He did.

Drove out to Long Island, no talk the whole trip,

each man buried in his own shell. They got to the

nursing home and Shea asked, “What the fuck is

this?” Kebar got out, said, “Come on.”

Led him to Lucia’s room, she was watching the

Teletubbies. Kebar said,

“Hon, this is my partner, his name is Shea, will

you mind him for a moment?”

Before Shea could object, Kebar was gone and he

was left alone with this lovely-looking woman

who had the eyes of a child.

She gave him a radiant smile, asked, “Would you

like a kiss?” Then laughed, said, “A chocolate

one.”

Shea didn’t know what to do so he took the

Hershey’s Kiss and she watched him, said,

“Aren’t they dreamy?”

He nodded, all his speech seemed to have dried

up.

He was fixated on her neck, the whitest, most

beautiful he’d ever seen.

Then he managed,

“What’s your name?”

She gave him that child’s look of disbelief, like,

was he so dense? Said, “I’m Lucia, Konny’s

sister.” Konny? She took out a notebook, asked,

“Want to play tic-tac-toe?” He didn’t. But did.

Trying to get a handle on what the deal was.

Kebar was looking for a coffee machine, and

Kemmel, the proprietor of the home, came along

the corridor, wearing a very expensive suit. Kebar

knew expensive gear, as he could never afford it.

This was one of those suits, you could sleep in it

and it would still be up before you, looking

wonderful. He had a bright red tie with some

goddamned crest on it. He asked,

“Ah, Mr. B, I wonder if I might have a word?”

“Make it a quick one.”

Kemmel indicated his office and Kebar followed

him in, noticed a percolator on the shelf, hot coffee

simmering, didn’t ask, went and poured himself a

mug. Kemmel, in his best therapeutic tone, asked,

“Need a doughnut, bagel, to go with that?” Kebar

said, “I need anything, you’ll know, what’s eating

you this time?”

Kemmel sat on the side of his desk, keeping it

informal, carefully adjusted the crease in his pants,

and Kebar, to his fascination, noticed the prick’s

socks were held up by straps.

Jesus.

Kemmel cleared his throat. Kebar usually reached

for his piece when a guy did that, meant he was

about to make a play.

Kemmel said, “We try to keep our patients as

content as we can and not to unduly alarm them if

that’s possible.”

Kebar was familiar with shit sandwiches, first the

savory then the crap, he waited.

Kemmel continued, his voice faltering a little,

“So, you visiting, and don’t get me wrong, we love

to see how often you do, but um … would it be

possible for you to … ahem, leave the uniform at

home … gun belts … they, uh, upset the status

quo.” Kebar stood up, said, “No.” Walked out.

He could hear Lucia laughing as he approached the

room, knocked and went in. Shea was actually

smiling and Lucia was clapping her hands in

delight. Kebar asked, “How you guys getting

along?” Lucia crooned, “He’s lovely and such a

good sport.” Kebar gave her a hug, said,

“We got to roll, hon, but I’ll be back later.” She

smiled, asked, “And will you bring Shea?” Kebar

looked at him. Shea said, “I’d be honored to

come.” She threw her arms round him, said, “I’m

going to marry you when I grow up.” Shea had to

bite down not to put his hands on her neck.

A vulnerable cop is a dead cop.

— Street dealer in the projects THEY DIDN’T

SPEAK TILL THEY GOT TO THE CAR, SHEA

looked up at the building, asked, “How long has

she been here?” Kebar stopped, then, “Too long.”

They’d been cruising for about ten minutes when

Kebar said, “Now you know.” Shea didn’t answer.

They got through their shift, a relatively quiet day,

rounding up hookers, busting the balls of some

street dealers, penny ante stuff. The end of the shift,