EDGE OF THE CITY
Chapter 4




Surprisingly, it had been a great night and an even better morning. It was 11:00 A.M., they were in New York, and somehow, getting along famously. Angelita had snapped out of her dark mood and McKenna attributed the welcome change to location. There was just something special about the Gramercy Park Hotel, something romantic in an old-fashioned way.
          From the outside there was nothing especially distinctive about the building. It looked nice, but all the buildings that surrounded Manhattan's only private park looked nice, from the brownstone private residences to the exclusive private clubs to the apartment buildings containing the mahogany-walled apartments with the very large rooms. Very old, very comfortable, and very nice, the Gramercy Park area was a little New York secret.
          Inside the Gramercy Park Hotel, however, the character was European, certainly not posh, but still European with an accent on service; not friendly service, American-style, but rather deferential service, which seemed better. The staff somehow always knew what the guests wanted and needed before the guests did themselves, making it difficult to complete a request to them with a full sentence. Three or four words into a request the staff person simply nodded, said, "Of course, sir," and then it was done. More than a few well-heeled guests first stayed there on a whim and wound up living there, too spoiled to live anywhere else.
          McKenna and Angelita had been led to their accommodations by an unsmiling bellboy who showed them around the suite, explaining everything. McKenna had been hungry, and the bellboy had known.
          "Is the restaurant . . ."
          "Of course, sir, it's open until ten. I understand the stuffed brook trout almondine is excellent tonight."
          Stuffed brook trout almondine? My favorite, McKenna had thought. Great, maybe we'll eat before we start this unpacking chore.
          "Good. We're a little hungry and tired, and-"
          "Of course, sir, I'll have your luggage unpacked while you're eating. Will there be anything else?"
          What else could there have been? It was then that Angelita had cracked her first smile since arriving in New York and, after all, there was something romantic about the place.
          After awaking refreshed, they had showered together and Angelita applied some ointment to those new little scratches on his back, right before they had some more fun. Afterwards, they had a good breakfast brought up to their room, dressed themselves appropriately in black, and by eleven-thirty the smiling was over for both of them. The ordeal had begun. McKenna bought a Post in the lobby and they went outside and hailed a taxi.
          The first twenty miles of the trip to Queens was easy. It was a bright, sunny day and traffic was light. Angelita had been raised in Queens and she looked out the window, keeping her thoughts to herself while McKenna read.
          The story was still page three and featured a quarter-page picture of Ray leaving the morgue after identifying the body of his son. He was unshaven, looking tired and quite a bit older than McKenna remembered. The story rehashed the crime with nothing new added except that the police had found the car on the Jersey Turnpike and the city had added $100,000 to the reward, boosting it to $300,000. The article ended with the information that police would like to talk to anyone who had seen anyone leave the car on the turnpike.
          After half an hour their taxi exited the Cross Island Expressway at Northern Boulevard. It took their driver fifteen minutes to negotiate the next ten blocks, then traffic stopped altogether. McKenna paid the unhappy driver with a good tip, leaving him to find his own way back to the world, and led Angelita four blocks down Northern Boulevard to the funeral home. It was a large place, possibly the largest funeral home in Queens, but it was nowhere near adequate in size to receive the friends and acquaintances of Ray Brunette. Also there were hundreds of people who had never even met Ray or Dennis, but they came anyway to make a statement by their presence, hoping to show their appreciation for the family's sacrifice and loss. Most would be there for hours before they even got in. The line of people ran four abreast for three blocks from the front door of the funeral parlor.
          Confounding the situation was the presence of the politicians, closely followed, naturally, by the cameras. Each of these frequently-elected representatives of the people had awakened that morning feeling inspired by the opportunity as they hastily memorized excerpts from their best law-and-order campaign speeches, all of which had been written by somebody else. They were everywhere, their official cars scattered about, and they found to their chagrin upon comparing notes that many of their words of wisdom had been written by the same person. They didn't know who'd said what before they arrived, and they were terrified of being exposed by making the same speech that someone else had already made. They all wanted to leave, but didn't dare. It was tacitly decided among them that, for once, sympathetic silence was the best policy.
          Still, they were beside themselves. Although a separate line had been established for the politicos, they were waiting in line like ordinary people with nothing to say as they concentrated on affixing their best sad faces while the cameras were rolling.
          Inspector Edward Keller was officiating at the door, the right man for the job. An imposing giant, he was in full uniform and had a row of medals over his shield that ended at his ear. He was talking to a state senator who was next in line when he saw McKenna and Angelita in front.
          "Wait here, Senator," he said as he descended the steps, took McKenna's and Angelita's arms, and guided them past the politicians, through the crowded lobby, and left them at the door of the chapel.
          Ray and his wife, Ann, were there, standing near the head of the closed casket. There was a picture of Dennis in uniform propped on top of the casket, with the Medal of Honor at the base of the picture. The room was full of seated chiefs and politicians, silently watching the people in line approach the casket, say a short prayer, and give their condolences to the parents on their way out. It was an assembly-line wake.
          Ann saw McKenna and Angelita before Ray did, and she tugged at his elbow and whispered in his ear. He looked up, smiled when he saw them, and rushed over.
          McKenna was shocked at the change in his friend. Ray and Ann had been down to visit them in June and he had looked the way he always looked: like an older, more distinguished version of his kids, with the trademark Brunette black hair and a smile that produced two dimples at the corners of his mouth and a twinkle in his eyes. He had always been in shape and appeared the perpetual forty-five, although he was fifty-five.
          Now his eyes were red and as he smiled the dimples seemed like two scars. He looked sixty-five.
          Brunette hugged Angelita first. "Don't say you're sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I know you are and I've heard it enough already." He kissed her on the cheek and then hugged McKenna. "And don't say I look like shit. I know I do and I've heard that enough already."
          "Okay, I won't say it," McKenna said.
          "Good. Now both of you go over and get the prayer thing over with and say hello to Ann. She's still glad to see you."
          "You're not coming?" McKenna asked. "Ray, you know I don't handle these things too well and I won't know what to say to her."
          "Don't worry, she understands. Turns out she's stronger than I ever thought she was, much stronger than me. I'll wait here, then we'll get outta here for a while. You understand, don't you?"
          "No, but I'm not in your shoes, amigo , and I hope I never am," McKenna said. "We'll be right back."
          McKenna and Angelita walked over, knelt in front of the casket, and said their good-byes. Ann was waiting for them and gave them each a kiss. "Wipe your eyes, Brian," she whispered in his ear. "I'm glad you're here. I need you both to help us."
          McKenna rubbed his eyes with his hands. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.
          "Just help him get through this, any way you can," she said, looking directly into his eyes.
          "Is it true he's been drinking again?" McKenna asked, not sure if he should.
          "That's not what I'm worried about. After all, he drank like a fish for ten years before anyone even knew he had a problem. He'll get through the show today just fine. Just straighten out his mind a little, if you can."
          "What about tomorrow?"
          "Tomorrow's just family and close friends. You're going to have to do something before then to get him back for us."
          "Any suggestions?"
          "Of course. Don't you see it?" she asked. "Just get him interested in the case. You go with them, Angelita."
          "What can I do?" Angelita asked. "Police work isn't really my thing anymore."
          "Just keep them both strong and keep the common sense flowing. That's what we do, you know. Now get going. You're holding up the line."
          Ann gave her first smile of the day to Angelita and sent them back to Ray, who was at the door talking to Sheeran. Sheeran nodded at McKenna and Angelita, then stood waiting like he had something to say.
          "Get back to work, Dennis," Brunette said to Sheeran. "I'll talk to him about it."
          "Yes sir, but we need some weight here," Sheeran said, catching McKenna's eye as he left.
          "What's that about?" McKenna asked.
          "We'll talk about it upstairs," Brunette answered, motioning for them to follow. He led them to the manager's office and made himself at home behind the desk. "You two aren't gonna give me any problems, are you?" he asked as he opened up the bottom desk drawer.
          "Have we ever?" McKenna answered.
          "Good." Brunette took a bottle of Chivas Regal and two glasses from the drawer and put them on the desk. "Just this once, care to join me?"
          McKenna stared at the bottle for a moment, then at Ray. "I can't, Ray. You know me. One is too much and ten is never enough. You'll be okay by yourself, but if we both get going this day will be worse than it is already."
          "Then pull up some chairs, at least. You make me feel like I'm sitting in the electric chair."
          McKenna and Angelita sat while Brunette poured a drink. He took a sip, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "I know everyone's been grabbing your ear, Brian, but I'm gonna be all right. It's just gonna take some time."
          "I think it would help if you'd get yourself involved in this case."
          Brunette sat up in his chair and shook his head. "Why should I? I've surrounded myself with competent people. It'll get done right. Besides, it wouldn't look good, especially if something went wrong and those dirtbags wound up getting killed instead of arrested. It would look like revenge, and we'd have the Justice Department breathing down our necks for a long time. If I were there when it happened, maybe we'd deserve it."
          "Maybe," McKenna said without agreeing. "Now why don't you tell me what was Sheeran talking about?"
          "He's going off on the gun thing. The Marine Corps had promised Tavlin a complete list of all the stuff they're missing, but we don't have it yet. Sheeran thinks they're dragging their feet, thinks maybe there's some kind of cover-up going on. He wants me to talk to the attorney general about it."
          "Can you?"
          "I think so. The president called me last night to offer his condolences and wanted to know if I needed anything. But I could call him back and have a chat."
          "Maybe you should, especially if Tavlin doesn't get anything by tomorrow."
          "Tomorrow? How's that?"
          "Because if Tavlin doesn't get a call from one of the bad guys by tomorrow, then there's more to this thing than meets the eye."
          "Sheeran told me you were making some Sendero noises, but it doesn't make sense to me. There's too many holes in it and you know it. They would have bragged about it by now, and it wouldn't have been this elaborate. But explain to me anyway what tomorrow's got to do with it?"
          "Look at it this way. We're supposed to think Dennis was killed by a gang of purse-snatchers. Vicious, sure, but still petty thieves, and at least four of them. Now there's a three-hundred-thousand-dollar reward and nobody's telling us nothing? That can't be. One of them should be talking to a lawyer by now and asking some advice."
          Brunette leaned across the desk. "Which one?" Then he answered his own question. "The guy who made the phony call."
          "The likely candidate. He wasn't at the scene, so he doesn't go for the felony murder. If he says he didn't know they had guns, what would he get? Conspiracy to commit Robbery Second Degree, only a D felony? Makes a deal, and Lord knows what he'd get, if anything. But he would get three hundred thousand dollars and he'd be willing to do a little time for that."
          Brunette took another sip of his drink, deep in thought. Then he stood up and said, "If nothing breaks by tomorrow, you may be right. It could be Sendero and, if it is, they must have something else up their sleeve."
          Then Angelita piped in. "Ray, please pour me a drink," she said, surprising both Brunette and McKenna. Brunette had never seen her drink, and McKenna only saw her have one drink in the three years he knew her, which had made life easy for him.
          Brunette stood up and poured her a stiff drink. She took a long gulp, made a face, and put down her glass. "Ray, think about it. Do you know what all this means if it's them?" she asked.
          Ray had thought about it. "Yeah, if it's them, then it didn't make any difference that Dennis was a cop," he snapped back, smiling sardonically. "If it was part of their plan to kill him, they would have done it whether he was an architect, a street sweeper, or the president of Chase Manhattan."
          Brunette sat down again. McKenna and Angelita watched him intently as he followed his thought pattern to the logical conclusion. "C'mon Ray," Angelita said. "Say it and get it over with."
          "Okay. Fortunately Dennis was a cop, and a pretty good one, I guess. He managed to get one of them before they finally killed him and because of that we've got the gun."
          McKenna was ready. "If he wasn't good, we'd have nothing to go on, which could be real important if it is Sendero ."
          "Exactly," Angelita said, following up in McKenna's tracks. "Let's not waste the opportunity he gave us by sitting on our hands. Ray, you better make that call to whoever you gotta to get that inventory."
          Angelita finished her drink while they watched her. Then she put down her glass and stared hard at Brunette. He still wasn't convinced, so she glanced at McKenna with a raised eyebrow.
          "It's only common sense," McKenna said. "If it's them, we gotta know what weapons they might have and figure out what they're planning to do with them. After all, they're not smarter than us, are they?"
          They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Keller came in and announced, "Commissioner, the mayor's downstairs. Mrs. Brunette says you have to come down and schmooze with him or he won't go away."
          "Tell her I'll be right down," Brunette said. Keller left. Brunette picked up his glass and stared at it, thinking. Then he poured the rest of his drink back in the bottle, screwed on the cap, and put it back in the drawer. "No, they're not smarter than us," he said as he straightened his tie and went to the door. "And neither is His Honor, thank God."

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