The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel (3 page)

I
t was 8:06 on the digital clock when Paul opened his eyes. His gaze roamed his apartment as he lay there. He thought it was a pretty decent bachelor pad. Originally it was two small apartments when Paul had moved in five years earlier, but after two tenants in the other apartment had payment problems in quick succession, Paul suggested to Joey Z that if he made it one large apartment, he would stay for five years. Joey liked how conscientious Paul was in paying his rent, and having a regular customer in the restaurant who was a cop was only icing on the cake. It was safe to say that Joey Z considered Paul a man he could trust. He quickly revised the apartment to suit Paul.

As Paul continued to adjust his eyes and convince himself to get up, he looked at all the things in his room that shaped his personality. The CDs on his bureau consisted of Taylor Swift, Pink, Jewel, The Corrs, and Olivia Newton-John. He liked female voices when listening to music. He found he relaxed and enjoyed the songs more than when listening to a male voice. The photos on his bedside table were of his mom, who had passed away when he was 28, and his dad, who was forced to retire as a senior buyer at Woolworth when they closed the stores down in 1997. His father was full of anger when he lost his job at 48 and had to start over in middle management at K-Mart, where he worked until he was 60.

His dad, Anthony Powers, always liked to tell the story of what he felt destroyed Woolworth. He had planned to attend the stockholders meeting when the new upper management changed the name to Venator, which means
hunter
in Latin and a type of Roman gladiator. This proved to be a disaster, and eventually the name was changed to Foot Locker, after one of its successful specialty stores, in November 2001. Anthony Powers was a proud man, and it hurt him greatly to watch what was once a great company be completely ruined by “outside” management brought in by the chairman. Anthony claimed if he had the talent and patience, he would write a book of not only the fall of Woolworth but its secrets that lay dormant to this day.

Lying there in bed, Paul thought maybe arranging an interview with his dad and Rachelle might be good to facilitate a possible article for her to write and to allow his Dad to get things off his chest. But then again, it had been well over a decade, so maybe it was something to leave alone. Besides, would anyone really care, anyway? His eyes rolled over the far wall to a shirt hanging upside down from the corner of a picture, his pants on the floor from the day before. The coat stand in the corner of his room had the famous Ghost Face mask hanging from it. He loved horror movies and had received the mask as a gift on a routine visit to Fun World after a local Dunkin Donuts was robbed by someone wearing the mask. It was there that he met the owners, who were gracious enough to give him a souvenir. Paul smiled, thinking that he had no idea where his coat was, but he never took his mask off the rack.

He got up to take a shower, when he heard the knock and entrance of Bud Johnson, his partner of two years and a guy he had disliked immensely when he was first assigned to him. Bud grew on Paul, and even though his personality and looks reminded him of the actor Jack Black, in fact, if you put his photo next to one of Jack Black, the resemblance was uncanny. Paul respected his work ethic and considered Bud a man of great integrity. The only flaw Paul had to get used to was Bud’s language. He had the vocabulary of a truck driver, but somehow it fit him. Paul watched his language and rarely used profanity. His father raised him with the belief that the most intelligent people in the world never curse. It was something Paul never forgot and was conscientious about into adulthood.

“Hey , my partner!” Bud yelled as he ran up the stairs. Paul was five feet from the bathroom when Bud greeted him with a big bear hug. Paul learned to just smile and accept that this was Bud. Full of life, humor, half the time singing lyrics to songs that somehow he remembered with ease. He could hear a song from the past and tell you the artist and the year it was a hit. Once in a while he was off by a year or two, but it was rare. Bud was a bit chunky at 5’11 and 220 pounds, but he could still run with the rest of the slim guys. He proved many times during chases how deceptively quick he could be when he had to.

“Let’s go, my partner-in-law,” Bud yelled at Paul. “The world is a fucking mess, and we have to clean up some of it. Come on. There are assholes out there waiting to make us heroes.”

Paul turned to Bud as he closed the bathroom door. “Give me 10 minutes,” he said, shaking his head. Paul thought at least Bud would keep him young.

While Paul was in the shower, Bud walked around looking for something to read. He loved to read, because he loved trivia. He always told Paul that all his trivia knowledge was one day going to make him a rich man at one of the game shows. He picked up Paul’s CD collection. He laughed as he looked at CDs by Taylor Swift, The Corrs, Jewel, and Pink and began talking out loud to himself. “Cop in homicide, and this is what he listens to? What a disaster.” His attention turned to the clothes on the floor. “He’s a fucking slob!” As he laughed at his own statement, his eyes moved over to the corner of the room and saw the Ghost Face mask hanging on the coat rack. He smiled and pretended to take out his gun and pointed his finger at the mask. “Go ahead, fuckface, make it easy. You always wore that costume to hide your fat ass. Yeah,” Bud laughed at his own jokes and continued to amuse himself as he walked throughout Paul’s apartment. He found more CDs on his bureau and had a comment for every one. Jewel: “She’s hot”; Pink: “Wouldn’t want to get in a fight with you, baby”; The Corrs: “Don’t know you but would like to,” as he looked a little closer at the three sisters. At the bottom of the pile he found Olivia Newton-John and shook his head in disbelief.

As Paul came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, Bud held up the Olivia Newton-John CD and said, “You have got to be kidding me, man. What’s this about?”

Paul just shook his head and said, “When is the last time you heard her music? There’s some stuff she’s done you’d be surprised at. I don’t think anyone sold more music than her in the ’80s, so respect that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bud replied. “Man, I’m so jealous of your chest, look at you,” he said, as he went toward Paul.

“Stay away, you freak,” Paul snapped. “You are one crazy guy.” Bud laughed as there was a knock downstairs.

Bud yelled, “Come on up.” It was Rachelle, and she came up and was surprised to see Bud there.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Paul. I thought it was just you.”

“It’s OK,” Paul replied. “What can I do for you?” He still had only his towel on, so Rachelle was a little distracted, never having realized the good shape he was in. Detective Powers, at 29, was in peak physical condition. He worked out four times a week when it was possible, and when he did, it was intense. Paul was 6’3” and 200 pounds, with a six-pack stomach, and Rachelle was having a difficult time staying focused. Dark hair, blue eyes, and full lips made the scar on the left side of Paul’s cheek barely noticeable. The scar was from an altercation with a drunk who had suddenly pulled a knife on him and caught him on the side of his face. It was a mistake he would never make again.

Madison ran up the stairs yelling for Rachelle to hurry up. “I’ve got to go!” she said, mounting the stairs. “Oh!” she said, noticing Paul.

Bud, still holding up the CD, yelled, “What the fuck is this, Grand Central?”

Paul held up his hand, saying, “Wait, hold on, Rachelle. I’m sorry, Bud seems to create a circus wherever he goes.”

Rachelle seemed a little overwhelmed from Madison wanting to leave. She smiled and said, “Listen, I wanted to speak to you about Saturday, but there’s no time. Let me see you later. Is it OK to stop by later?”

Paul smiled and said, “I’ll be downstairs for dinner. Sit with me, and we can talk.”

“Oh,” she replied, looking a little disappointed.

“OK. I’ll see you later,” Paul said, turning to get dressed.

Just then there was another knock. It was Joey Z, who opened the door and yelled up the stairs, “Hey, Paul, if you don’t mind, the fire marshal is here. Can he take a look upstairs?”

“What the fuck?” Bud said. “This place is a damn zoo. I’m leaving. I’ll wait for you in the car. And get some fucking clothes on, will ya?” he said as he pointed at Paul.

As he went down the stairs Madison said, “He’s kind of cute for a chubby guy.”

“Come on, Madison,” Rachelle said as she grabbed her by the arm.

Paul smiled at Rachelle and said, “See you later.” Then he yelled down to Joey Z, “Let me get dressed, and you can bring him up, Joey. I’ve got to get to work.” He got dressed and ran down the stairs, and Joey went up with the fire marshal. He jumped in the unmarked police cruiser with Bud at the wheel.

“What’s going on?” Bud asked. “You got a fucking social club going on.”

Paul replied, “It’s quiet, really, it just seems to change whenever you’re around.”

“What’s up with the girls?” Bud came back with. “Rachelle’s sister is a cute one—tall, firm, nice ass.”

“Stop!” Paul yelled.

“And Rachelle,” Bud went on, “you have no clue. She wanted to stop by later, and you tell her you’ll see her downstairs when you have dinner? You’re working too much.”

“She’s a friend,” Paul answered.

“Yeah, and you are an ass,” Bud replied.

“Let’s drop it,” Paul answered.

Bud just shook his head and turned on the radio. Paul’s thoughts were on Rachelle. He liked her, but his problem was he was afraid of rejection. If she didn’t have the same feelings, their friendship would never be the same. He didn’t want to lose that. He loved how hardworking she was, between working at Z Pita, writing articles, and holding a mortgage for a home. She co-owned the house with Madison. They had lost their parents to lung cancer three years earlier. First their father, then their mother one year later. The sisters both worried about eventually getting lung cancer, but their parents’ doctor told them their mom and dad had died of smoker’s cancer, the result of smoking for years.

Paul’s thoughts were interrupted when Bud started singing a song by Lady Gaga when it came on the radio. It was something he loved to do with her songs. He just liked to sing, period. It seemed he knew all the words to so many songs. Paul was OK with Lady Gaga, but he thought he would like her better if Bud wasn’t so crazy about her.

They reached the precinct in Yaphank, and Kevin Cronin, the precinct detective lieutenant, was waiting for them. “Get in here,” he said, waving to Paul and Bud. As they entered Detective Lieutenant Cronin’s office, he didn’t even wait for the door to shut behind them. “Paul, I know we spoke about this before, but I want to reaffirm to stay off the Lance kidnapping case. Thanks to the FBI, we have enough problems.” It bothered Cronin that Paul just stood there without saying anything. As he continued to speak about the status of active cases, he knew Paul well enough to know that was going to be an issue.

“What’s up? Let’s hear it.”

“I know how they pulled it off,” Paul replied. Detective Lieutenant Cronin stood up and said, “Who are they?”

“That, I don’t know yet,” Paul replied, “but I rode the ferry five times since the kidnapping, and there is only one way it could have been done.”

Cronin looked at Bud. “And you? I guess you know about this?”

“Nah,” Bud replied. “I’m only his partner. This is the first time I’m hearing anything about this.”

“OK, sure,” Cronin replied. “Stay away from this,” he said, looking at Paul.

Paul left the office without assenting to the directive, and Cronin recognized it. He respected Paul’s instincts and thought he would give him a little time and see how this would play out for a few days.

“Bud, go take Paul to breakfast and see what’s going on.”

Bud answered back, “No problem. It’s my favorite meal of the day.”

“Always a comedian,” was Cronin’s answer. “Don’t forget about the bad guys!”

Bud and Paul drove to the local Coram Diner because there wasn’t enough time to go to Bud’s favorite place for breakfast, Maureen’s Kitchen. Paul ordered a cup of coffee and a bagel while Bud got a four-egg-white omelet with a side of sausage and bacon.

Paul looked at what he had and said, “Why don’t you get a side order of a rack of lamb with that?”

Without missing a beat, Bud answered, “No, no, no, I’m on a diet. You know, you can come to me if you want to know where the best food is.”

Paul sat there shaking his head as Bud went on about food. “Maureen’s Kitchen for breakfast, except for the whole-wheat pancakes, which are the best at the Station Coffee House in Port Jefferson Station. One of the servers there—Brittany is her name, but I call her Sunshine—is the nicest young lady who can make anyone smile.

Paul tried to interrupt. “Are you finished?”

“No,” Bud replied. “I can’t forget about the Greek Salad at Z Pita.” Paul began to laugh, as Bud was on a roll. “Café Spiga in Mount Sinai has the best Italian food and they have this female singer on the weekends with such a beautiful voice.”

“Her name is Cathy” Paul replied, “And she is the daughter of the owner Leonora, who is a great lady, always walking around checking to see how everyone is doing. The Giordano family has done a great job with the place”

Bud seemed surprised that Paul knew of the place.

“You really are an expert when it comes to female singers, you are a strange dude Paul Powers.”

Paul was amused and said. “Yes, and you are definitely the food expert, but this explains why you have so much gas in your system.” There was no comment from Bud as he just smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

There was silence for a few seconds until Bud spoke again. “Seriously, Paul, what the shit is going on? I know you’re up to something. We have a job to do, and you’re distracted with something else. Let me tell you, we need to discuss it, and don’t tell me not to worry about it, because I am. You never know when you need your partner to have your back, and if you’re falling in love with this chick, just move in on her and get it over with.”