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  ‘Now why would he think that?’

  ‘So you’ll head over to the apartment above Gator’s?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ll just ignore the tip and continue to feel my way around blindly. Yes, I’ll head over to the apartment. My wife’s been complaining that I’ve been having dinner with my family too much lately.’

  I love cop sarcasm. ‘Thanks, Royce.’

  ‘Actually, I was getting to the point where I was running out of avenues of investigation. This could get me back on track.’

  ‘So, me following up on this without telling you—’

  ‘Was still unadvisable. But in this case, I can see your reasoning.’

  Figuring that this was as close to a thanks as I was going to get, I said goodbye to the detective and said I’d see him soon.

  ‘I do not doubt that, Mr Donne.’

  Allison was upstairs putting away the dishes from dinner. Something smelled good and garlicky in the kitchen and I told her so.

  ‘There’s leftover pasta in the fridge,’ she said. ‘How was jail?’

  I laughed and grabbed a Brooklyn Pilsner from the fridge. ‘Good. That Jessica really seems to have her shit together.’

  Allison gave me a quizzical look. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. She’s not only doing her thesis on how journaling and other forms of writing affect incarcerated youth, she’s walking the walk.’

  ‘You sound impressed.’

  ‘I am,’ I said. Just to clarify, I added, ‘With her work.’

  ‘What did you think I meant, Ray?’

  I reached out, grabbed Allison by the waist and gave her a long kiss on the lips. ‘I don’t know what you meant by that question.’

  ‘You ever notice that when I ask you a question that makes you the slightest bit … I don’t know … uncomfortable, you give me a kiss?’

  ‘I did not notice that,’ I said. ‘And what makes you think your question made me the slightest bit uncomfortable?’

  She paused to look me in the eyes. ‘Never mind.’

  ‘OK.’ I told her about the info I got from Gator. ‘And you,’ I added, ‘are not to print anything until Royce acts upon that information and gives the OK.’

  ‘I don’t need Royce’s approval to print anything. As long as I didn’t break the law to get information, I can run with it.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant, Allie, and you know it. Right now, I’m treating Gator as a CI. We both need to respect that.’

  Allison shook her head. ‘I can see why you keep getting under Royce’s skin. You do not have confidential informants, Ray. You’re a dean at a middle school.’

  Oh, good. This argument again. And so soon after the last one.

  ‘I know that, Allie. I’m just saying Gator needs to be treated with the same respect cops give their informants. The last thing he needs is this blowing back on him.’

  ‘And you.’

  ‘And me. And by extension, you.’

  ‘We discussed this. I don’t need your protection, Ray.’

  No. Just my health insurance. Fuck.

  ‘Maybe your new friend Jessica should worry, but I’m OK, Mr Donne.’

  I hated it when she called me that and she knew it. Two more ill-conceived sentences and this was going to be a full-blown argument. I was too tired and not in the mood for one of those. Not that I ever was.

  ‘I’m glad to hear that, Allie.’ I took a long sip of beer as she turned around to the sink. The wall behind the sink was mostly windows and gave us a postcard view of the Manhattan skyline. I stared at it sometimes when frustrated. Like now.

  Allison finished up in the sink, walked past me into the living room. ‘Don’t forget the pasta in the fridge.’

  ‘Thanks. Can you help me with something first?’

  ‘Depends.’ She sat down on the futon and picked up the remote like she was threatening to turn the TV on and me off.

  ‘I need your opinion on something.’

  She thought about that, put the remote on her lap and said, ‘Hit me, tough guy.’

  Tough guy. We were on the way to good again. ‘Do you think it’s kinda odd that someone who’s just been released after eighteen months for possession with intent gets picked up less than a week later for the same offense in the same location?’

  ‘Depends on who it is,’ she said. ‘I assume you’re talking about Gator?’

  ‘Yeah. Again, not the brightest crayon in the box, but not the dullest, either.’

  She brushed the remote along her thigh. ‘What’re you thinking?’

  I sat down next to her and put my beer on the coffee table. ‘It’s a relatively small offense. It was a smaller weight than last time. It’ll keep him on the Island for at least a few weeks, but I’m wondering if Gator got set up.’

  ‘By his friend?’

  ‘Acquaintance,’ I said, and gave her the Reader’s Digest version of Gator’s story.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Pretty small-time set-up.’

  ‘Unless someone wanted Gator out of the hood for a while.’

  ‘Someone like …?’

  I grabbed my beer and shook my head. ‘That is the question.’

  THIRTEEN

  The small memorial service for MoJo was already in full swing by the time Allison and I arrived a little before nine. It was being held in this small old-timer bar on a corner in Greenpoint. Outside the window, you could see both the small park where MoJo’s kid would be playing someday and the Catholic church he would not be attending. This was not a bar I went to often, but I remembered watching the snow fall here one Friday some winters ago before I met Allison and wasn’t in the mood for The LineUp.

  She and I joined Edgar, who was nursing his usual under one of the two TV sets above the bar. I grabbed Allison and myself a couple of pints and we settled in next to our friend. I realized I’d have to start the conversation.

  ‘How ya doing, Edgar?’

  He straightened his glasses. ‘OK. I don’t know why they call these things memorials. Like it’s supposed to help me remember MoJo? I’ll never forget MoJo, Ray. I can be at The LineUp doing this.’

  ‘This is just a way – another way – to show support for Lisa. It may not make a lot of sense, but there are a lot of people here who haven’t seen her or MoJo for a long time and this helps them process what happened.’

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw Lisa Joseph with two women I assumed were her mother and sister. They were in the corner greeting folks who were coming by to pay their respects. Lisa looked like she had gotten some rest since I’d seen her on Saturday. Her mother and sister seemed to be doing most of the talking, though, as if protecting Lisa from too much attention and expenditure of energy.

  ‘Have you said hello to Lisa yet?’ Allison asked Edgar.

  He nodded. ‘Then it got real busy around her so I grabbed a seat over here.’ He turned to me. ‘How long do I have to stay, Ray?’

  I took a sip of beer. ‘There’re no rules, Edgar. I think as long as you’ve spoken to Lisa and maybe met her mom and sister, you’re good. Just drink your beer and relax. You’ve fulfilled your responsibility. Now we’re just like movie extras. The more people around her right now, the more positive energy.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ Allison said, ‘let’s take advantage of the lull and head over and express our condolences.’ She gave Edgar a tap on his upper arm. ‘I don’t like these things either. The sooner we can do our duty, the better.’ She grabbed my hand. ‘Let’s say hello, Ray.’

  I had just seen Lisa so there wasn’t much for me to say to her, but she introduced me to her mother and sister, who both thanked me for helping Maurice and being there for Lisa. I introduced Allison, who’d only met Lisa once, and she seemed pretty much at ease for someone who didn’t like stuff like this. Like me she had grown up Catholic and had spent a lot of time visiting dead relatives in funeral homes with the guest of honor on display. I appreciated not having MoJo’s body around. Other relatives came b
y, so we excused ourselves and went back to Edgar.

  And that’s when we ran into two guys in suits who looked out of place. It turned out they were Eddie Price and Denny McLain, who told us they were from Newer Leaves. We all shook hands.

  ‘Nice of you both to come down all this way,’ I said.

  Eddie Price said, ‘Maurice was kind of special to us, Mr Donne. It’s a tough loss for the program. For all of us.’

  Price looked familiar to me but I couldn’t figure out why. Before it could come to me, McLain said, ‘Maurice was doing good work for us down here at our support group meetings. He was a living example of continuing the work of the program after your two years.’

  ‘I’d like to hear more about that, Mr McLain,’ Allison said and then explained she was a reporter. ‘I could see a piece on the post-program aspect being of interest to our readers and maybe even others in need.’

  ‘I’ll have to think on that, Ms Rogers,’ Eddie said, but I could tell by his voice that the possibility made him uncomfortable. ‘We take the confidentiality of our clients quite seriously, you understand.’

  ‘Completely,’ Allison said. ‘No names, just stories. Hopeful and helpful.’

  ‘I like that,’ McLain said. ‘Hopeful and helpful,’ he repeated as if it would become their new slogan. ‘We’ll get back to you.’ When he saw Allison’s confusion, he explained that he was the lawyer for Newer Leaves. ‘Everybody needs a lawyer these days.’ To prove his point, he pulled out a card and handed it to Allison.

  She looked at it. ‘Thanks.’ To me, she said, ‘I’m going back to Edgar.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll be right over, then we’ll go.’

  ‘You’ve been here awhile, Mr Donne?’ McLain asked.

  ‘Just a beer’s worth, I guess, and long enough to give my regards to Lisa’s family. You guys drive down, I guess?’

  ‘Our … associate drove us down,’ Price said. ‘He’s looking for a place to park, but I don’t expect him to come in. He’s awkward in these situations.’

  ‘Memorials?’

  ‘Social,’ McLain said. ‘He’s one of our more … fragile former clients. But he does great work upstate on the property.’

  ‘That’s good.’ I shook their hands again and said, ‘I’m going to finish my beer and head out. Nice seeing you both.’

  ‘Same here,’ they said in unison.

  Allison and Edgar were putting the finishing touches on their drinks so I did the same. ‘You both look ready to go home,’ I said.

  ‘I gotta head off to work,’ Edgar said. ‘That store over the bridge I was telling you about. It closes soon and I gotta work on the surveillance system.’

  The three of us headed out. Just as we hit the street, I saw a guy getting out of his car across from the bar. I recognized him right away, but didn’t want Edgar to see him. I steered him and Allison the other way as the guy leaned against his car.

  ‘Edgar,’ I said, ‘can you drive Allie home?’

  ‘Why? What are you doing?’

  ‘Yeah, Ray?’ Allison said. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I want to talk to Lisa and her family again,’ I lied. ‘Make sure they appreciate what MoJo was doing at the school. How much the kids liked him. Shouldn’t take long but I might wanna stay for another beer. Catch the end of the Yankees game.’

  They gave me questioning looks but chose not to push it. It’s nice to have people in your life who know you so well. I kissed Allison. ‘I’ll be home soon.’

  She hugged me and whispered in my ear, ‘With an explanation?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said and thanked Edgar for taking her home.

  As they walked away, the guy I had recognized crossed the street and said, ‘I thought that was you. I was hoping we’d run into each other again.’

  ‘Mr Henderson,’ I said, sticking out my hand, willing to pretend for the moment that running into each other was not on purpose. ‘David. Why’s that?’

  He shook my hand, harder than the last time we had met. ‘I believe we have a conversation to finish.’ He punctuated that sentence by opening his wallet and showing me a badge. I couldn’t see much in the low light of the street. That would soon change.

  ‘The FBI? And there I was insulting you by thinking you were just a cop.’

  Henderson smiled at me. We were sitting at another bar, just a few blocks away from where MoJo’s memorial was being held. This one was on the Avenue, situated just right for people getting off the bus and not wanting to go straight home.

  ‘Two things I was told about you, Mr Donne,’ he said. ‘You’re quicker than most people think and not as funny as you think.’

  I took a sip of the beer he had insisted on buying me. It was the least I could do. It’s not every day the federal government springs for drinks. ‘I’m going to say fuck you to the first,’ I said. ‘And too bad to the second.’

  He pointed at me. ‘There might have been a third thing. Something about you and authority figures.’

  Enough bullshit. ‘What were you doing with MoJo, David?’

  ‘First,’ he said, ‘just so I know for the future. What led you to believe that I was not exactly who I said I was?’

  I laughed. ‘You just give off a vibe. Kinda like a cat person at a dog park.’

  ‘But not quite an unaccompanied bachelor at a playground?’

  ‘Not that creepy. No. You and MoJo?’

  I was drinking a Six Point Crisp and he was having a Bud Light – the beer of choice when you’re buying on the federal credit card.

  ‘Understand,’ he began, ‘I can only tell you so much. I really shouldn’t be telling you anything at all, but since I started this and—’

  ‘And lied to us in the process,’ I interrupted. ‘Don’t forget that part.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘There is that.’ He paused and said, ‘I was using Maurice Joseph as a CI in an ongoing investigation.’

  I experienced my normal reaction when someone comes out with surprising information: I got silent and processed it. An FBI agent had just told me that he was using my friend and colleague as a confidential informant. I hoped he was not going to try and make me believe that his investigation had nothing to do with MoJo’s murder.

  As if reading my mind, he said, ‘I know. The reasonable conclusion is that his involvement with me led to his death. But I gotta tell you, Raymond, I don’t see how. We had just started, and we had the situation under control.’

  We’d get back to that, I thought. ‘Does your investigation have anything to do with Duke Lansing?’ I asked.

  It’s a good thing David Henderson did not play poker for a living. He didn’t even try to hide the look on his face. ‘How the fuck did you know that?’ he asked in one of the loudest whispers I’d ever heard. He looked around to see if anyone had heard him. Satisfied that no one had, he continued. More controlled this time. ‘What the hell did he tell you about Duke Lansing?’

  ‘MoJo,’ I said, ‘didn’t tell me anything, David. His wife found a recording device in his office that she thought belonged to her husband and Edgar. When she found it, she called Edgar and we looked at it.’

  ‘We?’

  I decided to keep Allison out of it. ‘Edgar and I. Edgar knew nothing about it and, in fact, was quite upset that MoJo was doing something without telling him.’

  ‘So you saw the recording?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where is it now?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘With the detective in charge of the case. James Royce, Brooklyn North.’

  He looked as if I’d just told him I’d secretly put arsenic in his Bud Light. I thought he might throw up at the bar. Instead, he said, ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ He drained what was left of his Bud and called the bartender over. ‘Let me get a double of your best bourbon,’ he requested. He looked at me. ‘You good?’

  I told him I could use another, but no whiskey for me on a school night.

  His bourbon came. I could smell its smoky goodness f
rom where I was sitting. I made a mental note to have one on Friday night. He drank half of it in one sip. He tightened up his face and stayed silent for a few moments. When the bourbon started doing its job, he spoke again.

  ‘You’re telling me,’ he said, ‘that evidence from an ongoing federal investigation is now in possession of the New York Police Department?’

  ‘They are investigating the murder.’ I didn’t have a lot of experience working with the feds when I was a cop, but what little I did have taught me they sometimes lost sight of the little picture while laser-focused on what they were trying to accomplish: The Big Picture. ‘The recording was in the belongings of the victim. When Edgar and I realized what it was, we had no choice but to give it to Royce.’ I took a sip of my fresh beer. ‘Part of an active murder investigation.’

  ‘Goddamn it,’ he said. ‘Did Maurice tell you anything about what he was doing for me, Mr Donne?’

  Didn’t I just answer that? ‘I knew nothing about it until you just told me. And you didn’t tell me much. All we knew was that he had a recording in his possession of one of the more popular White Nationalists. If you told MoJo he was working for you confidentially, he would have taken that very seriously. Edgar told you that.’

  ‘I expect so.’

  I lowered my voice to an almost conspiratorial volume. ‘What did you have on Maurice, by the way? He came to my school highly recommended from one of the best rehabilitation centers in this part of the country.’

  ‘You know I can’t tell you that, Mr Donne. That’s also confidential.’

  And convenient for you. I thought back to what Allison’s friend at the ME’s office had told her. ‘Was MoJo clean?’

  ‘When he started working for me – us – he was,’ he said. ‘Beyond that, I can’t comment. Let’s just say he agreed to work with us, based on what was best for him.’

  ‘So now that he’s dead, what happens to your investigation?’

  Here’s where he was supposed to say something along the lines of that’s where Edgar and I came in. He came back to Williamsburg for one reason: he still needed help in his investigation. He did not disappoint.

  ‘How well do you know Mr Martinez?’