Chapter 10
Jessica and Byrne spent the next hour separately canvassing the neighborhood for a second time. They learned a great deal about cheating spouses, lazy landlords, illegal parking, possible international drug cartels, alien invasions, more illegal parking, and — a fan favorite — government conspiracies. In other words, nothing.
At three o'clock Jessica met Byrne back at the corner of Fifth and Federal to compare notes.
'Jess,' Byrne said, pointing down the street.
Jessica turned and saw two figures sitting in a vacant lot, sandwiched between a pair of old row houses. The detectives were being observed.
Jessica and Byrne walked a half-block up Federal. David Albrecht, who had just returned from getting some high-angle shots from nearby rooftops, followed, but kept his distance.
Iwo older men sat on lawn chairs across the street from the ball field. They had racing forms on their laps, along with the sports sections of that morning's Inquirer. They were in their late seventies and had their chairs positioned in such a way that each could see what was approaching but still be close enough to converse. Jessica had the distinct feeling they didn't miss much.
One of the guys wore at least three cardigans, each a slightly different shade of maroon. The other wore a fishing hat with a button saying Kiss Me I'm Italian on it, a button so old that most of the letters were rubbed off. Now, from a few feet away, it looked like Kiss It. Jessica wondered if that wasn't on purpose. She showed her badge, introducing herself and Kevin Byrne.
When the men saw they were police officers they sat a little straighten
Jessica asked: 'You fellows out here every day?'
'Every morning, every afternoon,' Cardigans said. 'Rain or shine. 'Cept when it rains, then we sit over there.' He pointed to an old storefront with a metal awning.
'In winter we meet at Mulroney's,' added Fishing Hat.
Mulroney's was a tavern on the other side of the playground, a fixture that had been around since sometime during the Truman administration.
Jessica asked the men what, if anything, they had seen the previous day. After a brief rundown of the day's events — a Philadelphia Inquirer delivery truck got a flat tire, some idiot on a cellphone was yelling at his wife or girlfriend and almost walked into the traffic on Federal, a dog came up and snatched one of their lunch bags right from under the chair — they got around to what they had seen at or near the crime- scene building.
Nothing.
'You didn't see anybody doing anything suspicious, anybody you haven't seen in the neighborhood before?' Byrne asked.
'Nah,' Cardigans said. 'We're the only suspicious characters around here.'
Jessica jotted down the meager information.
'You guys got here pretty quick earlier this morning,' Cardigans said.
'We were on a donut run around the corner,' Jessica said. 'It was on the way.'
Cardigans smiled. He liked her.
'Not like the last time,' Fishing Hat interjected.
Jessica glanced over at Byrne, back. 'I'm sorry?' she said. 'The last time?'
'Yeah. That other one?'
'The other one.'
'The other dead one they found in there.' Fishing Hat pointed to the crime-scene building, saying all this like it was common knowledge, worldwide.
'There was another victim found in that building?' Jessica asked.
'Oh, yeah,' he said. 'Place is a slaughterhouse. A regular abbytwar.'
Jessica figured he meant abattoir. She stole another glance at Byrne. ' This was getting better by the minute. Or worse. 'When was this again?'
'2002,' Fishing Hat said. 'Spring of 2002.'
'Nah,' Cardigans said. 'It was '04.'
Fishing Hat looked over, as if the other man had just told him the pope was a woman. '2004? What are you, drunk? It was 2002. March 21st. Mickey Quindlen's grandson broke his arm on the playground. My wife's brother came in from Cinnaminson, rammed his fucking car into the house.' He looked at Jessica. 'Excuse my German.'
'I speak German,' Jessica said.
'Uniforms came around noon. Suits didn't show up until midnight. I believe I can say all this without fear of contraception.'
Cardigans nodded, acquiescing.
'Uniforms? Suits?' Jessica asked. 'Did you used to be a cop?'
'Cop? Nah. I worked the docks, forty-one years. I just like that Law and Order show. The guy with the big teeth says that kind of stuff all the time.'
'He's dead now,' Cardigans said.
Fishing Hat looked at his friend. 'He is? Since when?'
'Long time now.'
'He ain't dead on the show.'
'No. Not on the show he ain't. Just in real life.'
'Damn.'
'Yeah.'
A respectful silence fell over the group for a moment.
'He was a longshoreman, too,' Fishing Hat said then, crooking a thumb at his buddy. 'Back in the day, we were all over. All over. Oregon Avenue, up to South Street, Front Street, Third Street. Not like now. Now I got a lawyer living next door to me. A lawyer. There goes the neighborhood.'
Jessica made a few more notes as Cardigans looked closely at Byrne. 'You look familiar,' Cardigans said. 'You ever work the docks?'
'My father did,' Byrne said. 'Thirty-five years.'
Cardigans snapped his fingers. 'Paddy Byrne.'
Byrne nodded.
'You look just like him.' He turned to Fishing Hat. 'Did you know Paddy?'
Fishing Hat shook his head.
'This guy was a legend on Pier 96.' He turned back to Byrne. 'How is he these days?'
'He's good,' Byrne said. 'Thanks for asking.'
'So how come you didn't follow in his footsteps? Get an honest job?'
'The docks are too dangerous for me,' Byrne said. 'And I prefer a higher class of criminal.'
Cardigans laughed. 'Yeah. You're Paddy's boy.'
'So, what else can you tell me about this other victim?' Jessica asked, trying to bring the conversation back around.
Both men shrugged in tandem. 'Not much, 'cept that it was a woman,' Fishing Hat said. 'They locked the place up for years. Guy who owned it couldn't even go back in there. Said he was afraid of ghosts or something. He sold it to some guy from Pittsburgh, who sold it to someone else.'
Jessica looked around. 'What's the neighborhood, guys?'
'Some say Queen Village but they don't know shit.'
'What do you say?'
'We say Pennsport. Because it is Pennsport. We're south of Washington, for Chrissake.'
'Did a detective talk to you guys about that case back in '02?' Jessica asked.
'Just me,' Cardigans said.
'Do you remember their names? The detectives?'
Cardigans shook his head.
'He don't remember his kids' names,' Fishing Hat said. 'And he's only got four of 'em.'
