HYDE
Chapter 2

Wednesday, January 31st Midtown Manhattan


It was even colder the next morning when Detective First Grade Brian McKenna got out of the taxi in front of the 17th Precinct on East 51st Street, but the cold didn't bother him. Looking out-of-place with his deep tan, he was bundled in his overcoat, scarf, and gloves, ready for the weather. After a frustrating year of working in police headquarters, followed by a month on vacation, he was also ready for his new assignment in the 17th Detective Squad.
     The headquarters people had thought he was out of his mind when he'd opted to give up his large office with a view and his fancy title of assistant commissioner in order to be a detective again, but for McKenna it was the only way. He had found that pretending to work was harder than actually working. He would be happy never to hear another word about management surveys, cost analysis studies, integrity review boards, supervisory ratio formulas, administrative rule reviews, and promotional screening standards. In the entire year he had stopped no crimes, solved no cases, and made no arrests; those tasks simply weren't done by an assistant commissioner, he had been told many times. It got so that sometimes he forgot his gun at home and his handcuffs were always on his desk holding down a pile of reports he somehow never found the time or interest to read.
     The worst part of it was that nobody in headquarters noticed what he did. They complimented him at every turn and thought he was performing splendidly, just like they were. They could have been, for all McKenna knew. He had no idea what they were supposed to be doing, but was sure it had nothing to do with police work. To keep his self-respect, McKenna knew he either had to quit or get his hands dirty being a cop again.
     But not too dirty, at first. He knew he was rusty, so he had chosen the 17th Squad. He figured it would be a slow start because the 17th Precinct was a far cry from some of the war zones he had worked in over the years. It covered the East Side of Midtown Manhattan, encompassing some of the most expensive real estate on earth and most of the Fortune 500 companies, the United Nations, the best hotels, and the trendiest restaurants in the most expensive city in the United States.
     As far as McKenna was concerned, there was only one minor drawback in starting out in the 17th Detective Squad. Everything that happened in the precinct was deemed important and invariably made the papers, so that a purse-snatch on Fifth Avenue in Midtown was a page-two event while a triple homicide on Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn would get a paragraph on page thirty-six, if it was covered at all. Press coverage aside, McKenna figured he would start with the mundane stuff like burglaries and car break-ins. There were enough stars in a squad like the 17th to handle anything heavy that came along, so he could take his time while he relearned the ropes.
     Just then, another reason McKenna had chosen the 17th Squad got out of a cab in front of him, impervious to the cold with her overcoat over her arm. Detective First Grade Maureen Kaplowitz was primly dressed in a business suit, as always, was smiling, as always, and looked to be in good physical condition for a woman in her mid-forties, which was one of those matters of speculation in the detective bureau that had taken on a life of its own. Only McKenna and Police Commissioner Ray Brunette knew she was actually fifty nine, though neither of them would ever admit to the knowledge. Maureen had been in the detective bureau for nineteen years and she had learned all the tricks of the trade. A master at paperwork with an uncanny memory for names and faces, she was one of the few detectives who actually had done that feat of police work they all lied and claimed they had accomplished: More than once she had arrested a bad guy on the street because she recognized his face from a wanted poster.
     But Maureen's greatest asset in any investigation was that she always seemed to know what everyone around her was thinking, a skill that made her the perfect interrogator. Looking prim and proper and being so nice, suspects just had a hard time lying to her, and when they tried to pull it off, she always knew. In those cases she would put that hurt look on her face and say something like, "Young man, you don't really expect me to believe that..." Then the suspect would realize how silly he was being and either yell for his lawyer or give it up. "It's like trying to lie to your kindergarten teacher. It can't be done," one prisoner had complained after confessing to Maureen that he had killed his girlfriend.
     Maureen made it to the station house door before she turned around and saw McKenna. At once, she bounded across the street like a schoolgirl and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him like he was her long-lost son. Then she held him at arm's length while he stood for inspection. "You look adorable with that tan," she said. "Florida?"
     "Yep. A whole month."
     "Good for you. Been working out, I see."
     "Whenever I can," McKenna said, knowing what was coming next, but hoping she wouldn't.
     She did, anyway, grabbing his chin with one hand and tousling his hair with the other. "Still got enough on top, but it's getting a little gray on the sides," she observed.
     "Maureen, I don't care what color it is, as long as it's there."
     "Nonsense. No need to look old when you don't have to. You should dye it."
     "Dye it?"
     "Everybody does here. This is Midtown," she explained to him as if he just got off the boat. She let him go and said, "Now do me, and be honest."
     McKenna made a show of looking her up and down before his verdict. "Perfect. Getting younger every day."
     And she heard that every day. "Okay, don't be honest," she said as she grabbed his hand. "Come on. Thomas must be waiting for you."
     "Thomas?"
     She looked pityingly at him, then remembered that the slow children needed special attention. "You know. Lieutenant Ward. He's a nervous wreck. Got everything spic and span yesterday."
     McKenna made the attempt to pull himself out of remedial kindergarten, remembering that there was no rank in Maureen's life. The squad commander was Thomas just like the police commissioner was Ray . They were her boys and she had helped to put many of them into the best positions. "Why's he nervous?" he asked.
     "Because you're an assistant commissioner. He's very impressed with titles."
     "Was an assistant commissioner. Now I'm just another detective working for him."
     "You'll know he believes that when he sends you out to get him a sandwich," she said, pulling him across the street and into the station house.
     A young cop was sitting at the reception desk, reading his paper. He glanced up at Maureen and McKenna before returning to his sports. Then he looked up again and did a double-take as his eyes went wide. He popped up straight and yelled "Attention!" so loud that McKenna came to attention himself. Everything stopped in the large room, with every cop standing straight with eyes front. Everybody, that is, but the two astonished prisoners being booked at the desk. But even they got into the act and began earning their time off for good behavior, snapping to attention.
     Good God! was all McKenna could think. He felt warm and knew he was blushing when Maureen started giggling. He didn't know what to say, but she did. "Everybody, this is Brian," she announced. "He's a friend of mine and he's going to be working here," she announced.
     The desk lieutenant was the first one to relax and the others quickly followed his lead. McKenna read the room. A friend of Maureen's? So he's not a problem?
     The lieutenant hurried from around the desk and offered his hand. "Sorry, Commissioner. Nobody told us you were coming."
     McKenna self-consciously shook his hand. "It's just detective now, Lieutenant. We don't all have to go through this every time I come in or go out."
     "Detective?"
     "Yeah. Detective. I'm coming back to work," McKenna explained, but saw he wasn't getting through.
     "Why?" the lieutenant asked.
     "It's a long story," seemed to be the best explanation for the moment.
     "But what do I call you?"
     "Brian if you like me, McKenna if you don't."
     "Oh! Okay, Commissioner. I'll be right here if you need anything. Name's Lieutenant Leavey, but you can call me Jay."
     This is gonna be harder than I thought, McKenna told himself, glad Maureen was dragging him toward the stairs. Still, he felt the need to say something. "Okay, Jay. I'll be upstairs if you need me for anything."
     "Welcome aboard, Commissioner," he heard as the stairwell door closed.
     In the Squad Office on the second floor things were different, but not much better. They obviously knew he was coming, which led McKenna to conclude that detectives aren't necessarily smarter than their uniformed brethren, just better informed. Three detectives were pecking away at the typewriters on their neatly arranged desks in their immaculate office, each one pretending he was so busy that he didn't notice the new arrival. All their shirts were whitest white, all top buttons buttoned, and all ties snug at the neck.
     McKenna had never seen anything like it, especially at ten to eight in the morning. All hands present and accounted for, busy as beavers ten minutes before their tour of duty officially began. Although he had memorized the roster, he couldn't fit the faces with the names.
     "Don't mind them. They think this is a trick," Maureen said to him, then shouted, "Everybody, let's not forget our manners! This is my friend Brian McKenna."
     McKenna smiled like the new kid in class and looked from one to another, but nobody said a word. He focused on the one he perceived to be the senior man and searched his mind for a name. It came to him: Oldest one here, has to be Detective Second Grade Billy Mercurio, twenty-one years on the job, a real star. McKenna walked over and held out his hand. "Billy Mercurio, right?"
     Mercurio responded with suspicion as he shook. "Brian, right?"
     "All the time."
     "What's this all about?"
     "Simple. Ever notice how every time you go to headquarters, you get a feeling like you have to pee?"
     "Yeah?"
     "Well, I just spent a year there and I'm all pissed out. I've had enough of the clown show."
     Apparently, that made sense to everyone. The ice was broken and the introductions commenced. "Steve Birnstill," a well-built and well-dressed detective said. "I don't know how you stood it for so long with them slimeballs."
     "Kenny Bender." This one looked like he jumped into the office straight from the front panel of a box of Wheaties. "Welcome aboard, but I have to tell you, you must've been out of your mind to spend a year with them low-life, do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do, hypocritical, back-stabbing, make-work phony fucks."
     McKenna was glad to hear that the relationship between headquarters and the field was still intact and exactly as he remembered it. It was apparent to him that detectives were still expected to be profanity proficient and he had grown a little rusty hobnobbing with all those whatever-they-call-them types in headquarters.
     "The lieutenant's been waiting for you," Mercurio said. "He asked me to tell you to go in whenever you're ready."
     "Then I guess I'm ready." McKenna went to the squad commander's office and knocked on the door, feeling very much like a kid caught smoking in the boy's room summoned to see the principal.
     "Come in, please," Ward's voice immediately sounded from the other side.
     Ward was one of those tall, thin men who always managed to look meticulously correct while having more fun than anyone else. His posture was formal, his jacket was buttoned, his tie was up, and both of his hands were in front of him on his desk as McKenna entered.
     It was to be a real job interview, McKenna surmised, and he knew if Ward didn't want him, then he wouldn't be staying. "Been a long time, Brian," Ward said, pointing to the chair opposite his desk.
     McKenna took it. "Yeah, Lieutenant, a long time and I guess you've got some questions."
     "Lots of them. I assume you sent yourself here?"
     "Yeah, my last act as a big shot."
     "Had enough of the headquarters crowd?"
     "I got really comfortable there until one day it occurred to me that I couldn't stand the place."
     "I figured that would happen to you sooner or later, but you're not making a real common move. It's a big cut in pay, isn't it?"
     "More pay, more taxes. As a first grader, I'm doing okay. Lieutenant's pay without the headaches. Besides, I wasn't earning what they were giving me."
     Then came the big question. "You and the commissioner still tight?" Ward asked.
     "Best of friends, but that doesn't mean anything here. I'm no spy and Ray wouldn't ask me a thing about what was going on around here. He put you in that chair, so he'd ask you."
     McKenna could see that his answer sat well with Ward, but he wasn't in, yet. "Why'd you choose a precinct squad?" he asked. "Why not something more glamorous like the Major Case Squad?"
     "Their office is in headquarters and I wanted out."
     "Why not a homicide squad?"
     "I'm sick of bodies."
     "Robbery Squad?"
     "I'll leave that to the young breed. I've had enough shooting in my life for a while."
     "You've toned down a bit, I see. Good. Makes me happy to know I'm not gonna be spending half my time documenting McKenna adventures."
     "Not for a while, I promise you that. Not `till I'm sure I know what I'm doing again."
     Ward took it in stride. "Fair enough," he said. "Last question. Why this particular squad?"
     "You and Maureen, mainly. Besides, it's Midtown, it's close to home, and it's a good place to ease back in."
     "So you're here to stay a while?"
     "If you want me," McKenna said.
     Ward liked McKenna's answer. He loosened his tie and extended his hand across his desk. "Welcome aboard, Brian," he said. "It's good to have you."
     "Thanks," McKenna said, shaking Ward's hand before he loosened his own tie.
     "You know, when I heard you were coming it made me a little nervous," Ward admitted, waving his hand at that foolish concern when McKenna gave him his best hurt look. Then the phone on Ward's desk rang. "Calls before eight o'clock are never good news," he observed as he picked up the receiver.
     It was a short call, with Ward mostly listening while leaning back in his chair. McKenna surmised from the conversation that it was the precinct commander calling with a problem. "I've got just the man for the job, Captain," Ward said before he hung up, and McKenna knew he was in trouble.
     "You still one of the press's glamour boys?" Ward asked with a sardonic smile.
     "I guess so. I haven't stepped on their toes recently and a few of them owe me dinners."
     "Good, because I'm gonna put you right to work. The precinct CO's pulling his hair out and dodging the press. Another one of our homeless citizens froze to death last night at Thirty-first and Second."
     "Another one?"
     "Second one for him this week, so the captain's in real trouble since Plan B is in effect. He's not a bad guy, so take Maureen with you and do what you can for him."

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