A Piece of the Action

brute, Stanley, and always making remarks to the girls about coming into the storeroom. He went crazy for your mother. Every minute he was standing by her machine.”

“Wait a second. My mother was married at this time? Or single?”

“Married. And practically a newly wed. You can believe me when I say Nancy Moodrow had no use for Kawitzski. But what could she do except laugh it off? It was common for men in the garment business to makes passes at the girls. Bosses? Foremen? They strutted like Cossacks in a peasant’s cottage. A few of the girls went along, too. It means a lot to get the better jobs when you’re doing piecework. But that’s neither here nor there. One day this Kawitzski touched your mother in a way he shouldn’t have. It was not a thing you could throw off with a laugh. When your mother left work, she was so mad that she told your father what happened the minute he got home.”

“Pop always had a temper. What’d he do, kill the guy?”

“Killing is what he wanted to do, but like I already said, this Kawitzski was a brute. He saw your father coming and hid behind a door. When your father walked past, Kawitzki jumped out and hit him a tremendous punch. Down goes your father and Kawitzki starts to jump on top, but Nancy has a little trick of her own. Five rolls of pennies in a tiny purse. She hit Kawitzki such a blow I don’t think he woke up to this day. Then we all ran out before the cops came. Your father was so mad he didn’t talk to your mother for a week. Everybody was laughing at him for hiding behind a woman’s skirts.”

Moodrow blew on the steaming coffee, then sipped carefully. “I never got to know my father. He was always out working and he died before I was old enough to really talk to him. It was different with my mother. Especially after my father passed. I was serious about my boxing at that time, so I didn’t go out much. Between school and training, I had no time for a social life.” He hesitated for a moment, took the mug in his hands, then set it down. “I think what I’m trying to say is that I miss her. Things fall away and you can’t get them back. It makes you crazy if you think about it too much.”

“I miss her, too, Stanley.” Greta took the blintzes out of the oven and set them on top of the stove. “To tell you the truth, the way I feel this morning, pretty soon I’ll miss myself.” She crossed to the refrigerator, took out a bowl of sour cream and put it on the table. “Nu, so tell me. With the case, what’s happening?”

“I kind of messed it up.” Moodrow dug out the sketch of Santo Silesi and laid it on the table. “This guy’s first name is Santo. He’s a small-time heroin dealer. The men who killed Luis Melenguez work for Santo’s boss. What I’m trying to do is locate Santo so I can ask him a few questions, but I think I’m going about it the wrong way.”

“You’re going about it how?”

“The story I got from O’Neill …”

“O’Neill?”

“O’Neill ran the house of prostitution where Luis was murdered. The killers were there to teach O’Neill a lesson and Luis Melenguez walked into the middle of it. O’Neill gave me a statement, but you can forget about him testifying in court. He’s running for his life.”

“You’re a cop, Stanley. You could protect him.”

“I could if there weren’t other cops protecting his killers. You think those blintzes are ready?”

Greta forked several blintzes onto a plate and passed them over. “Stanley, would the cops doing this protecting be somehow related to your father-in-law?”

“I’m not married, Greta. I’m engaged.”

“Don’t be technical. Answer the question, please, or tell me I should mind my own business.”

“Yes, my father-in-law is protecting the killers. And you should mind your own business.” Moodrow cut a blintz in two, covered the half on his fork with sour cream and popped it into his mouth. “I spent most of yesterday knocking on doors in the projects where I think Santo works. I didn’t run into anyone I know and I didn’t get anywhere, either. I’m gonna go about it a little different today. I’m gonna visit some of the guys I grew up with and some of the guys I met when I was boxing. Even if nobody recognizes the picture, I’ll still be ahead of the game, because at least I can be sure I’m not being lied to.”

“To me it sounds good.” Greta said, shoveling blintzes onto Stanley Moodrow’s plate. “And I hope things work out with Kate. It’s not your fault her father’s a crook.”

The phone rang before Moodrow closed the door behind him. What he wanted to do was let it ring, to grab his gun, badge and coat, then get on the street where he could work. Unfortunately, the caller, almost as if he could read Moodrow’s mind, refused to hang up.

“Yeah?”

“Stanley, it’s Allen Epstein. I been phoning every ten minutes. Where you been?”

“I been having breakfast with my girlfriend.”

“Is Kate there?”

“Just kiddin’, Sarge. What’s up?”

“The pimp and his wife are dead. The cops in the Tenth found them last night. The way I hear it, the apartment was a slaughterhouse. There was blood in every room, even the toilet.”

“Sounds like somebody put up a fight.”

“Yeah, but not the pimp. He was sitting on the couch when the killer sliced his throat. It must have been his old lady. She was stabbed twenty-seven times.”

“Any chance the killer was injured? Any chance some of that blood was his?”

“It’s too early to know. With that many samples, the lab’ll need at least three days to separate them out. Anyway, I got something better than blood. There was a witness.”

“You’re bullshitting.”

“Oh, so I got your attention, eh?”

“Don’t play with me, Sarge.”

“Awright, I don’t have a name or an apartment number. I don’t even know if it was a man or a woman. What I do know is the witness lives in the building. Apparently, the killers made a lotta noise and the witness opened the door as they were leaving.”

“Ya know somethin’, Sarge,” Moodrow said after a moment, “this doesn’t have to work in our favor. If Patero and Cohan find out there’s a witness, they’re gonna pass the information on to Accacio. Any idea who caught the squeal?”

“Not yet, but soon.”

“So we don’t know if the witness is being protected or not.”

“Protection can work both ways, too. Whatta you lookin’ for, a guarantee?”

“No guarantee, Sarge. But I’m not gonna sit on my ass, either. I’m heading out to work.”

“Can’t wait to get busy, right?”

“Right.”

“It’s kinda funny you haven’t asked me about getting a look at the mug shots.”

Moodrow hesitated for a moment, then laughed. “You should’ve been a cop, Sarge. You got natural suspicion.”

“Forget the bullshit, Stanley. What’s goin’ on?”

“I already have what I need. I went to an artist I know and had him make a sketch. It’s not a photo, but it’ll do for a start.”

“I take it you don’t trust me, Stanley. Being as you didn’t mention this before.”

Moodrow took his time answering. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold. “Up until right now, I didn’t trust anybody. Not you. Not anybody. But if you were in bed with Patero and Cohan, you never would’ve told me about this witness. Or about the O’Neills, either. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I know what I have to do and I’m gonna do it the way I see it.”

It was Epstein’s turn to think it over. He waited a long time, until Moodrow was ready to hang up, before he finally spoke. “I guess I can’t blame you. The way you went from walking a beat to the bullshit you’re in now would shake anybody up. Most likely it would’ve worked out better if you’d spent the first five years of your career learning the politics of the job instead of waltzing around a boxing ring. But what’s done is done. You still wanna get inside the precinct?”

“It depends on whether I have any luck on the street. What I’d like to do, assuming I can’t find Santo by