Lunch Date
Many many thanks to Jim for doing this with me. Without him, Jerry would still be a cipher! Thanks, Jim!--Maer
The day was more like spring than summer. The city seemed clean and fresh. Too nice to take a cab, or bother going down to a subway. The perfect day for walking.
At the precinct, the desk sergeant waved, the phone cradled into his shoulder as he listened to the sweaty business man with the loosened tie get angry about no one caring that his wallet was taken. The squad room was a bustle of activity, phones ringing, the click and clack of keyboards as reports were typed up, the smell of stale coffee and recycled air. The door to Lt. Grierson’s office was open, as he gave advice to two detectives standing in front of his desk.
“Talk to everyone in that neighborhood,” he was saying. “Someone saw something, and you’re going to find out what they saw.” Grierson looked past the two men in front of his desk, and smiled, straightening his tie. “Irina, hi. Must be lunch time. OK, flat feet, get out there and flatten those feet. Come back with some answers.”
“Ready for lunch?” he asked. “I’m going to leave my coat here, it’s a scorcher.”
Thursday, 07 Jul 2011
20th Precinct, 120 West 82nd
Manhattan, New York
1055hrs, local time
Irina pushed through the doors of her old precinct and checked in with the desk sergeant. He knew her and waved her through as a professional courtesy. Irina took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator and made it to Grierson’s door with a few minutes to spare. She leaned against the jamb and listened as he briefed the two detectives before dismissing them. She didn’t recognize them. They must be new. More and more new faces around here. And as luck had it, all her old faces were out. Which suited her fine. She didn’t feel like going over old times at the coffee machine. Not today.
“Sure,” she said at Grieson’s hail, stepping inside to let the detectives pass. “Got a twenty in mind?”
“What about the deli on the corner?” he asked. “Like old times.” He walked over to the elevator, nodding to co-workers. “So, how’s the agency taking off?”
“Corner’s fine,” Irina said, thinking a Reuben might go down well. Or maybe not. Forecast’s for rain later and it’ll get muggy before it breaks. Irina followed her old Lieutenant and walked beside him for the elevator. “As for the other, it’s still hanging in there. Was surprised to get your message. You got something for me?”
As the elevator doors closed, Grierson got serious. “Well, I was hoping maybe I could help you out. I still feel bad that we never caught those Russian mafia that... Well, I want to take care of my people.”
“Jerry.” Irina slipped an arm around him and hugged him hard. “Don’t go there. You’ve done more than enough. I’m okay. I’m doing well.” She released him and looked up at him. There was more silver in his hairline than he’d had three years ago. Silver he liked to claim she gave him. It was an old joke between them that they’d never dreamed would become reality. He’d visited her every day without fail when she’d been in the hospital, had sat with her parents and taken shifts when she’d lain comatose so they could eat and sleep. He saw her after she’d woken up, smuggled food from the outside when the jello and the broth had palled, kept her from going insane from inactivity by telling her about the cases running through their department. Afterward he’d done everything possible to see she continued on the job when she returned to the precinct, and came through for her again when he had to let her go. And now he’s taking you to lunch. God, say something before it gets too maudlin in here. “So, when are you telling the wife about us? We’re taking off for the Bahamas like you promised, right?”
Jerry laughed, and returned the affectionate hug. “Nah, I told her you and me were getting a summer place on Long Island. She and the kids can come visit.” As the doors opened, he pushed through the crowd in the lobby. Out on the sidewalk, he looked both ways and turned left toward the deli. “No cases I can refer you for, but I’ll keep an eye open and an ear to the street.” He held the door for her as they entered the deli, enjoying that LOOK she always gave when he tried to be to gallant.
“Better be the Hamptons. Nothing else is really worth having, you know?” She chuckled and walked with him for the deli, giving him a smile when he held the door for her. Estelle is one lucky woman, she thought. Her old man’s old school and perfect the way he is. She waited until they were seated and the menus were out before picking up the conversation again. “If there isn’t a case, then why am I here? Other than to empty your wallet for a twenty?”
Jerry didn’t lift his head from the menu. “Who said I was paying?” He looked over the menu slyly, his eyes smiling. “Well, since you’re still out of work, I’ll get it this time. Anything wrong with an old friend asking someone out for lunch?” He gave her a serious look. “I was hoping you’d have something by now. Starting your own business is serious. You know we can still get you RIFFED onto a desk job.” He held up his hands defensively. “No glamour, no glamour, but work beats not work.”
Irina swept the menu once to see if there was anything new on it. She and Grierson had lunched here often enough that she’d memorized it and the proprietor liked it enough that he never changed it.
“As a matter of fact, I do have something.” She looked up as one of the staff came over to take their order. “Diet Coke. Chicken salad san, grill the rye, fries. Thanks,” she said and handed the menu back. She waited until Grierson had ordered and the waiter left before continuing. “Got a position working in-house for an agency out of Natchez. Just got back from the interview on Sunday. Flew me down there and put me up on their dime. Wined and dined. Whoever they are, they really wanted me. Was debating on asking you to look into them from your side of the desk.”
Jerry ordered his steak and egg sandwich usual, with a large Mountain Dew. Things don’t change much, in the areas you can keep the same. “Natchez, huh? Better you than me, especially with August coming.” He leaned forward, spoke quietly. “Well, don’t have much contacts in Mississippi, but I can give you a lead with the sheriff down there. Chuck Mayfield. Recently elected sheriff. He did some work with us up here back in ‘07. Tracking drugs from the Gulf up to the City. Bit of a cracker, but he’s true blue.”
Jerry couldn’t help teasing her. “You’ll like him fine. You’re pale blue.” Laughing at his own joke, he leaned back. “I’ll call Chuck, ask about this agency down there. What’s the name? Who’s with them? I can also get you a letter of introduction, let him know you’ll be in the area for a while. It’s always good to show respect.”
Irina pulled the pertinent facts from memory and told him what she knew. How she’d received Ray Walker’s email out of the blue two weeks before, what she’d managed to dig out of open sources on the Agency and its officers. Her impressions of Walker and his boss, CEO Marcus Stone.
“It looks legit, Jerry. But the records are light in a few places where they should be deep. Walker, for instance. Wears a Marine Corps ring, walks like Force Recon, smiles like a Southern gentleman, has an accent that doesn’t quite fit the South. Pale, though, more than you’d expect for someone living in the tropics. I thought everyone down there was born tanned.”
Her sandwich arrived and she peppered her fries and squeezed a puddle of ketchup at one end of her plate. The rye had been grilled and was a perfect foil for the chilled salad filling. Grapes gave it just the right amount of sweetness to offset the sourdough of the bread. Irina dragged a fry through the ketchup and devoured it before saying, “Marcus Stone ... records are light on him too. Nothing shady looking. Just light. All of them are. There’s only four of them working that place. They’re in the business of helping people who can’t afford help otherwise. From what I’ve seen of Natchez, they’d have no shortage in clients but when they showed me the office, it was dead. Mind, it was ten p.m. when they gave me the tour. Stone interviewed me over dinner.” Irina sipped her soda and mugged a face at her friend that said are you shittin’ me? “Dinner. At a fancy hotel restaurant. Who the hell conducts job interviews over dinner? High priced escort girls maybe, but private investigators? Tellin’ you, Jerry, there’s something hinky going on. Not sure what. I’m still not sure if I said yes because I wanted the job or because I wanted to bust whatever they had going wide open.”
She snorted softly and stared out the window for a moment. Yeah. And you’re gonna leave all this for a steambath stint down south. You really have gone insane.
“That letter of introduction would be a Godsend, Jerry. If I need to blow the whistle on these mooks, it’ll be good have someone in my corner.”
Jerry gave Irina THAT look. “I’ll get you that letter, and I’m calling Mayfield when I get back to the office.” He scratched his greying temple. “Fancy restuarants, late night job interviews, no-charge detective work. Hinky isn’t half of it.” He wolfed at his sandwich, but it was obvious looking at him that the gears were turning. “They want a New York cop, huh? And what about you? They plan to pay you, or are you supposed to work for fancy dinners?”
“Pay.” And Irina waited until he’d swallowed before quoting the generous figure they’d settled on. No spit takes or Heimlich Maneuvers, thanks.
Jerry did a double take. “They still looking for help?” He shook his head. “This doesn’t add up, Irina. You be careful down there, and check any bag they ask you to take back to New York with you.” He grinned. “I’m thinking old Mayfield is the perfect contact for you. He was DEA before he went local. Only thing that makes sense is drug running.” Grierson took the check from the waitress, and pulled out his credit card. “You let Mayfield know about any strange flights coming in at odd times of night, that sort of thing, and make sure your nose stays clean. You don’t want to be caught up in whatever it is they are doing to make that long green.” Jerry signed the slip and left a generous tip.
He rose from the table, and leaned forward to throw an arm around Irina where she sat. “Before you leave, you come by the house, ok? Estelle will skin me alive if I let you get out of town for a long trip without getting you to come by so she can see for yourself you’re not carrying my baby.”
Irina laughed and returned the hug, then tapped his hip.
“Better leave me a twenty, then. I may be eating for two.” She sobered, adding, “Gonna be hard leaving you and Estelle behind. Mom and Dad. Everything. But ...”
I’ve got to get out of here. Before it eats me alive. She cleared out her own condo when she’d moved back in with her parents. Sold off everything she owned that she couldn’t reasonably take with her. The proceeds and the income she’d netted from renting it gave her parents a little extra and it went far to assuage her worry for them over her absence. It had taken a year for her to admit it but however much she loved this city, the memories it generated were poison to her now. If she stayed, they would kill her by inches. I don’t mean to die, dammit. I mean to win. “Sometimes the cases don’t come to you, you go to them. Follow the leads, no matter where. You know?”
“Yeah, kid,” Grierson said, smiling down at her. “If the job is legit, and you stay down there, Estelle and I might come visit for vacation. We aren’t coming that far south until October or November, earliest, though.” He laughed. “So, if they are hinky, investigate S-L-O-W-L-Y. Natchez sounds nicer than the in-laws for Thanksgiving.” Jerry checked his watch. “Well, I’m on city time now. I’ll go make that call, and have Mayfield look into this Franklin Agency. Remember, you check with him first thing when you get down there, ok?” With a final wave, the Lt. headed out the door, back to the grind.
“I will, Jerry. And thanks.” Irina lingered to suck down the last of her soda before leaving the deli. The library would be open for some hours yet and she decided an afternoon doing records research would be time well spent. Nothing like free internet and AC, she thought. She pulled her phone from her pocket to tell her parents not to hold dinner for her and turned her steps for the subway. She checked her watch. If she hoofed it, she could catch the next train for Fifth Ave without having to wait.
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