Nasty Cutter Read online

  Dennis Murcer, my sister’s fiancé, was NYPD through and through. I couldn’t prove it, but my guess was he pissed blue. We had been in the same class at the academy. He started out as one of my uncle’s boys, got his detective shield, and was now months away from becoming the Chief of D’s nephew-in-law. Unless he screwed up big time – some in the know say you have to be caught with either a dead girl or a live boy – he had a golden career ahead of him. Of course, he’d have to put up with my sister as well. Whom I loved dearly.

  ‘Oh god, Rachel. Is that what you and Mom were talking about in there? How I’m still single?’

  ‘No, Ray,’ she said. ‘I hate to break the news to you, but not every conversation we have is about you and your love life.’ She paused for a few seconds before adding, ‘But it did come up. I mean, what the hell are you waiting for? Allison’s beautiful, smart. She’s got a great job. Am I missing something?’

  I shook my head. ‘You know we had some problems last year.’ I lowered my voice. ‘After the whole Ricky Torres thing.’

  Last summer, Ricky Torres, a good friend from my cop days, was shot and killed right in front of me. Three feet to my left, to be exact. It was pure luck I wasn’t killed as well. I got caught up in the case and was privy to certain details I could not share with my girlfriend due to her job. Allison took that as me not trusting her. That wasn’t exactly the case, but I’d be lying if I said her being a reporter had nothing to do with my relative silence about what I knew and what I had gone through. We’d spent so much time dancing around the thin line between girlfriend and reporter the whole mess had taken a pretty big toll on our relationship. We were just now getting back to something resembling normal. Whatever that meant.

  ‘It’s been over six months since the shooting, Ray,’ Rachel said. ‘You guys have been together for over two years now. That’s the longest you’ve been with anyone by … a lot of months. And just because she hasn’t mentioned it to you, her biological clock is ticking.’

  ‘Does that mean she’s mentioned it to you?’

  That caught Little Sister off guard. She rebounded quickly, though. ‘It’s come up. She’s not dwelling on it, but you can’t be in your early-to mid-thirties, dating somebody for two years, and not be thinking about kids.’

  I was about to say something when she added, ‘If you’re a woman.’

  I’m glad I stayed shut. Rachel had me, and we both knew it. This was a position I often found myself in when discussing life issues with her.

  ‘Can we have this discussion another time, Rache?’ I said. ‘Like, not now, and not thirty feet from where Dad’s old partner was murdered?’

  ‘I don’t want to have the discussion at all, Ray. You should be having it with your girlfriend. Of two years. Who’s thirty-four.’

  I pulled her into a hug and said, ‘Thanks for understanding.’

  ‘Whatever.’ She broke the embrace. ‘Hey, was that Bobby Taylor I saw walking out? The big guy in the blue suit?’

  ‘One and the same.’

  ‘What was he doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s a big supporter of Bridges to Success,’ I said. ‘Marty recruited Bobby to be a board member right after he left baseball and started his auto business. Smart guy. I think he’s even one of the mentors. His name still carries a lot of juice in some circles.’

  ‘Rich white people circles?’

  ‘Rich white people who like to have their picture taken with former pro baseball players, yeah. It’s amazing how much that helps some folks open up their checkbooks.’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘I’ve always hated these galas. They cost so much to put on, they might as well take that money and give it to the charity.’

  ‘I hear ya,’ I said. ‘But a lot of folks won’t donate to a cause – no matter how worthy – unless there’s something in it for them. Besides, I know Michael Barrett must have cut Marty and his group a deal for this shindig. Everybody comes out ahead.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Have you and Mom been interviewed by the detectives?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘We told them we didn’t see or hear anything.’

  ‘I’m gonna have to tell them pretty much the same thing.’

  ‘Pretty much?’

  ‘You know how cops are always asking witnesses to mention anything that comes to mind even if it seems like nothing?’

  ‘I’ve seen it on TV, yeah. Why? Did you see something?’

  ‘It’s probably nothing,’ I said. ‘But Marty was kinda getting into it with his son, Marty Junior.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘I wasn’t close enough to hear, but it wasn’t about baseball, I can tell you that. It’s not like they were being loud, just a lot of speaking through their teeth, you know?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘You’re right. It was probably just family shit. Mom told me that Helaine wanted Marty to start cutting back on his time at the office and with the charity. He and Dad always had that in common, didn’t they? Measured their success by how much time they weren’t at home.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I remember thinking as a kid that Dad didn’t like us that much.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I think he equated being a good father with working a lot. That’s what his generation did. But kids need their fathers around.’

  ‘You talking as a teacher?’ Rachel asked. ‘Or an ex-cop?’

  I smiled. ‘You’re the second person to ask me that question in the past hour.’

  ‘And what does that tell you?’

  I smiled and shook my head. This was another typical conversation with my sister. After what had happened to Marty, I was not in the mood to have it, though.

  ‘Put me on the couch some other time, Rache,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna head upstairs and see if Allison’s here yet. She may need some help getting in.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to put you on the couch, Ray, I just—’

  I held up my right index finger. ‘I’m going up. You got Mom?’

  Rachel looked at me like she wanted to say more. She thought better of it.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I got Mom. Don’t I always?’

  FOUR

  As I had expected, Allison was at the upstairs door showing her press credentials to Officer Virdon, explaining who she was, and why she should be allowed to enter the premises. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but the words ‘First Amendment’ came through loud and clear. Virdon didn’t seem too impressed or much interested in the civics lesson. She hadn’t noticed me yet, so I waited a few moments to see if she’d use the magic words. I didn’t have to wait long.

  ‘Raymond Donne is expecting me,’ she said. ‘He just called me.’

  That got Virdon’s attention. ‘Chief Donne called you?’

  ‘Raymond Donne,’ she repeated. ‘Yes.’ She pointed to the shoulder clip on the officer’s walkie-talkie. ‘Just call him, please. Tell him it’s Allison Rogers.’

  I took this as my cue to climb the stairs. Virdon touched the button on his clip and said, ‘This is Virdon. Anyone got a twenty on Chief Donne?’

  ‘He’s still downstairs,’ I said, as I approached Virdon from behind. I stuck out my hand and said, ‘I’m his nephew. I think we met earlier.’

  I knew we hadn’t, but he wouldn’t admit to it. He shook my hand.

  ‘You’ll vouch for her?’ he asked. ‘I let her in, I’m not gonna be buying new underwear tomorrow, am I?’

  ‘You know my uncle well, I see.’ I reached out and took Allison by the hand. ‘I’ll take full responsibility, Officer. But don’t let any other reporters in unless you hear it directly from the chief.’

  It took Officer Virdon a little while to decide which was the greater risk: letting in a reporter without hearing from my uncle or not listening to the chief’s nephew when he said it was OK. He looked like he’d had a long day and just wanted to be on his way home. I felt for him but also knew I’d score major points w
ith Allison if I could get her inside. Virdon shook his head, made his decision, and waved us along.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, as we were halfway down the stairs. We both turned back. ‘I’m only doing this ’cause I saw what you did for that Gray kid. No one’s gonna hear it from me. Good looking out.’

  I smiled and waved good-bye as we made our way down the steps to The Tippler. When we got to the bottom, I gave Allison a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said and gave me a hug. ‘Who – or what – is a gray kid?’

  ‘Someone who just needed a little diversion earlier. Anyway, Uncle Ray’s not gonna be exactly thrilled that I got you in here. I think your best move is to talk to some of the guests and maybe get a quick quote from one of the detectives before he senses your presence. I can probably get you a quote from Officer Gray. He found Marty.’

  ‘How about I just hand you my notepad and you do my job for me? I’ll just hit the bar and drink some high-end vodka.’

  Shit. ‘You’re right,’ I said quickly, realizing I was going to have to say it anyway so I might as well get it over with. ‘Sorry. I’ll distract my uncle while you make your way around the place. And be careful.’

  ‘I know how to handle cops at a crime scene, Ray.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I was talking about my mother. She’s around here somewhere.’

  She laughed. ‘Maybe she’ll give me a quote I can use.’

  ‘She’ll definitely let your readers know how the food was.’ I heard my uncle’s voice behind us. ‘Go,’ I whispered, pointing to the bar area. ‘I’ll see you in a few.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  As soon as she was gone, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see my uncle.

  ‘I’m glad to see your girlfriend made it here OK, Nephew.’

  I looked into his eyes. He didn’t seem nearly as annoyed as I thought he’d be. Maybe he was softening up a bit in his old age. Maybe it was all the Jack Daniel’s and Diet Cokes he’d had that afternoon.

  ‘She’s just—’

  ‘She can talk to the guests we’ve already interviewed, Ray. Those that are still around. She’s not to talk to any of the detectives or the ME until I clear it. Understand?’

  ‘You sound like you think I can tell her what to do.’

  ‘You want me to escort her out now?’

  ‘I’ll talk to her.’ I looked over to where she was speaking with the same waitress who Gray and I had run into earlier. Even from across the room, the server seemed quite upset now that she’d heard the news. She’d make for a good quote or two. I turned back to Uncle Ray. ‘So what the hell happened? One minute we’re celebrating Marty Stover and the next he’s lying dead on the men’s room floor.’

  My uncle gave me something close to a shrug. ‘We’re still piecing that together. Right now it looks like he went to the head to take a leak and someone followed him inside and stuck him in the upper thigh. I’m guessing they got him in the femoral artery, based on the amount of blood on the floor.’

  I grimaced. ‘They check the security cameras yet?’ Shit. That was the second time in less than five minutes I told someone how to do their job. Uncle Ray let it pass. ‘I mean, were the cameras any help?’

  ‘They woulda been,’ he said, ‘if they had any outside the men’s room. And the ones in the back – down the hallway where you and Gray were – were not on. Down for maintenance or upgrading or some shit. The only ones working are the ones inside behind the bar area. Crime Scene’s checking them as we speak. And before you ask your next question, don’t.’ He paused to make sure I got his point. ‘I’m not going to tell you what kind of weapon was used or even whether or not we recovered one. I’m not going to tell you if we found anything on Stover’s phone of any importance. In short, I am not going to tell you anything I don’t want showing up in your girlfriend’s newspaper tomorrow morning that’ll possibly screw with an ongoing investigation.’

  ‘Can you tell me why there was no blood outside the men’s room?’

  I couldn’t help it. The point was bugging me.

  ‘Keep it up and there will be, Raymond.’

  I was about to press the issue but then realized he’d just made my life easier. I couldn’t tell Allison anything I didn’t know, which meant I wouldn’t have to withhold information from my reporter girlfriend. I could just blame Chief of Detectives Raymond Donne. At the moment, that worked a whole lot better for me than getting my own sense of curiosity satisfied.

  ‘Have you reached Marty’s family yet?’ I figured that was a safe question.

  ‘I called a friend in the Nassau County PD. He’s going to meet Helaine and Marty Junior at the house. I don’t think this is the kind of news you give someone over the phone while they’re driving on the Long Island Expressway.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘I have one of my guys heading out there now. He’ll bring Helaine and Junior back into the city, and they’ll have to make a positive ID.’

  ‘They have to do that tonight?’

  ‘Better that than waiting around all night at home, not getting any sleep, and not being any use to each other except as shoulders to cry on.’

  My uncle looked like he needed another drink. I’d almost forgotten that Marty Stover was a friend of his as well. Not that they were close, but back when my dad was alive, all three were at many of the same social functions. My uncle had even offered to get Marty Junior into the academy before Junior decided to follow his dad’s footsteps and become a lawyer. My father had similar hopes for me. The road not taken and that shit.

  ‘I guess they’re going to have to be interviewed anyway, huh?’ I asked.

  Now he gave me the look. ‘Yes, Raymond. It’s a new technique we’ve been working on when your spouse or parent has been murdered. We’re finding it quite useful in ascertaining pertinent information.’

  There are two times when my uncle uses ten-dollar words: when he’s had a fair amount of drink or when he’s being overly sarcastic. This moment fit both.

  ‘Just thinking out loud,’ I said and shook my head. ‘Still can’t get over this. I was literally talking to him minutes before it happened.’

  ‘Not like this is the first time that’s happened to you, Nephew.’

  Now I needed another drink. The Ricky Torres thing stayed fresh in my mind to this day. I still woke up from the occasional nightmare, swearing that I heard gunfire, and I don’t think I’ll ever watch a movie shootout without cringing again.

  ‘You’re not officially on-duty are you?’ I asked.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I was thinking of hitting the bar again and don’t want to drink alone.’

  Uncle Ray grinned. ‘And me being on-duty would affect that how?’

  I waited for a wink that never came. Instead he said, ‘Why don’t you get yourself interviewed first? Then you can join me at the bar.’ He looked around. ‘Hell, by then maybe your girlfriend’ll be done working and we can all have a drink together.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ I said. ‘The detectives. They’re in the coatroom?’

  ‘Yeah. It shouldn’t take long.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Make sure you leave out the part about your little stroll with Officer Gray, though. That might lead to more questions than you wanna answer.’

  Damn. If my uncle didn’t know everything, he had an amazing way of making it seem like he did.

  Fifteen minutes later, I came out of the coatroom and saw Uncle Ray at the bar talking with Allison. She was holding a notepad in one hand and a drink I was pretty sure contained vodka in the other. I honestly couldn’t tell if she was working or not. Maybe she was plying my uncle with more alcohol in hopes of getting a great quote from the great man. They were both very good at what they did.

  Before approaching them, I looked around and didn’t see my sister or my mother anywhere. As I got closer, I could make out somewhat of what my uncle was saying. His words came out as clear as a polit
ician on the stump even though I knew he’d been drinking since early afternoon.

  ‘Marty Stover was a good man,’ he was telling my girlfriend. ‘Maybe not a great man. I’m not going to say he didn’t have his bad side or any enemies. I mean, shit, the guy was a lawyer. The job description comes with a bad side and no shortage of people who don’t like you. You win a case, you’ve made an enemy. You lose a case, you’ve made an enemy.’

  Allison wrote something in her notebook and said, ‘Damned if you do …’

  ‘Something like that. But I will tell you, Marty won most of his cases or at least got the best deal for his clients. That you can quote me on: Marty Stover always had his clients’ best interests at heart and knew how to use the law to achieve those interests.’

  My uncle was on a roll now, so I stepped to the side in order not to interrupt, and I got the bartender’s attention – we were the only customers left as the cops had ordered The Tippler closed for the night – ordered a Smuttynose Porter for myself and another round for my loved ones. With the amount we were all drinking, it occurred to me that this was starting to feel like a wake. Of the Irish sort.

  ‘What can you tell me about his charity?’ Allison asked.

  ‘Bridges connects needy kids with mentors in the business world. Marty never forgot where he came from. He spent a lot of time and effort giving back. He was telling me earlier that he was in Williamsburg at least once or twice a week making sure Bridges was running the way he envisioned it. He was even thinking of expanding the program to the Island. Getting some of the local colleges involved.’

  That must have pleased his wife, I thought. Helaine was already annoyed at all that time he was in Brooklyn, and now there he was thinking of bringing on more work with the charity? Marty Stover was not much for downtime. Just like my father. Maybe that’s what he and his son had been arguing about.

  The drinks arrived and that diverted my uncle’s attention enough to realize that I had joined them at the bar.

  ‘Thanks, Nephew,’ he said as he picked up his new Jack and Diet Coke. ‘Just having a nice chat with your lady friend here. You done already?’