A Piece of the Action

other hand, are gonna stay here and keep your mouth shut. This is not a difficult thing, Stanley, but you might wanna take notes so you don’t forget. We’re looking for cooperation here and we’re not gonna get it by making the lieutenant sore. Remember, the captain ordered him to back off.”

Epstein spun around and marched back over to Rosten. “Look, lieutenant,” he said, loud enough for Moodrow to hear, “we’ve got a warrant to search the Leibowitz apartment. What’s the chance of getting in there?”

“Getting in there when?” Rosten answered. “The Medical Examiner won’t be here for another two hours. He’s working a multiple on East 72nd Street. Nobody goes in there until the M.E. clears the body. This you already know. After the M.E.’s finished, the lab boys take their turn. That’s standard procedure, which you also know. What I’m telling you is to get in line, because after the lab boys clear the crime scene, the detective in charge, John Samuelson, will conduct a complete search of the premises.”

“John Samuelson?”

“He was next up when the squeal came through. That’s the way it’s done, sergeant. Being a patrolman, I suppose you didn’t know that.”

“Yeah? Well, lieutenant, being a patrolman and not a detective, I do know where my first loyalties lie. Did the captain okay this?”

Rosten’s composure broke for the first time. “It’s not McElroy’s business. He’s not a detective.”

“He’s the precinct commander, lieutenant. In the Seventh Precinct, he’s accountable for everything. Look, I know we can’t enter the apartment before the M.E. and forensics finish up. Far be it from me to compromise a crime scene. But there’s no way Samuelson’s gonna go in there ahead of us. Not without the captain personally giving me his okay. Look at it like this. First, we’re in the process of gathering evidence on a man suspected of having committed four murders. Second, you already know who killed your unidentified DOA. You’ve got a statement. Third, this case is so fucking dirty, if you had half a brain you wouldn’t come within ten miles of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means if you don’t instruct Samuelson not to enter that apartment without Stanley or me looking over his shoulder, I’m gonna get McElroy down here to instruct him for you. Samuelson is completely compromised in this situation and you goddamned well know it.”

Rosten shook visibly. “I’ll tell you what, sergeant. Say the word and I’ll hand the case over to the jerk standing behind you.”

“No way,” Moodrow said before Epstein could take Rosten up on his offer. “The jerk has two warrants in his pocket. Both drawn up by an assistant district attorney and signed by the Honorable Judge Marone. He intends to execute the both of ’em and he doesn’t need any distractions. Maybe after the jerk gets that done, he’ll have time to enjoy the vacation Sal Patero forced him to take.”

Rosten turned away from them without another word and walked into the building. Moodrow started to follow, but Epstein held him back.

“Give it a couple of minutes, Stanley. Let him do what he’s gotta do in private. Remember, there’s still a warrant out for you.”

Moodrow stopped, then grinned broadly. “By the way, Sarge, I wanna thank you for the lesson in self-control. You really showed me the smart way to get cooperation. And I want you to know that I took detailed notes, just like you asked me to. You want a copy to give to the rookies?”

Rosten came down five minutes later. An infuriated John Samuelson trailed behind him. “I decided to take your advice,” Rosten said to Allen Epstein. “Paul Maguire’s gonna handle this investigation. He’s upstairs. I instructed him to cooperate and he agreed. That satisfactory?”

“Sure.”

“But there is one thing, sergeant. I’m going to have to see those warrants with my own eyes. I’d be derelict in my duty if I didn’t.” His gaze moved from Epstein to Moodrow, a thin smile spreading across his face. “You don’t hand them over, I’m going to bar you from entering the building.” He paused again. “If you want to call McElroy, there’s a phone booth in the candy store on the corner. I’ll lend you the dime.”

“Why should we get sore?” Moodrow said. He pulled the warrant from his pockets and carefully unfolded them. “Don’t touch, lieutenant. Just read and remember.” Moodrow knew what was coming. He also knew there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

“This warrant only mentions one victim, Luis Melenguez,” Rosten said after a moment. “You claimed there were four murders.”

“You can only fry a man once,” Moodrow responded. “No matter how many times you throw the switch.”

“You have a point there, Moodrow.” Rosten stepped back and stared directly into Moodrow’s eyes. “On the other hand, if you let the perpetrator live, you can hurt him every single day of his miserable fucking life. Now, what I’m gonna do is go back to the house and get an APB out on Leibowitz. And I’m gonna personally attend the next three roll calls so I can pass out Leibowitz’s photo and spur the troops on with a rousing pep talk. Of course, I’ll have to warn them, too. I’ll have to say that Jake Leibowitz is suspected of having committed four murders and that he’s extremely dangerous. Be quite a feather in the cap of the man who takes him down.”

“Especially if he shoots him in the back, right?”

Rosten didn’t bother to answer. He turned away and began to shout at the lounging patrolmen. “Let’s get these cars out of here. I want everybody back to work. This isn’t a holiday. There’s criminals out there. Let’s nab ’em.”

“Just great,” Moodrow muttered. “When you give your pep talk, do it just like that.” He watched Rosten walk away for a moment, then shook his head admiringly. Rosten had prepared a trap and he’d blundered into it like a stupid lumbering bear. He was now obliged to stay on the scene until the Medical Examiner and the lab boys finished working. Meanwhile, every cop in the 7th would be looking for Jake Leibowitz.

“What are you thinking, Stanley?” Epstein asked. “I can see the little wheels turning in your head.”

“Rosten thinks I’m after his ass. His and Pat Cohan’s. But that’s not the point at all. The Department is here to stay. If I want to keep on being a cop, I have to accept that. Which doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed. I wanted to arrest Leibowitz myself. You know what I’m saying, Sarge. I wanted to put the cuffs on with my own hands and that doesn’t seem too likely, now. On the other hand, before I came along …”

“It sounds like you’re taking this personally,” Epstein replied.

“Yeah, that’s just the word I would’ve used. Personal. It’s a good word, Sarge. Keeps you interested.”

Twenty-nine

What it is, is I’ve lost almost everything I value, Pat Cohan thought, and I don’t want to lose the little I have left.

It was really that simple. He’d known the truth of it as he’d handed his retirement papers to Deputy Chief Morton. It’d sunk into him like droplets of rain sinking down between grains of desert sand. He could still feel it in every pore of his skin.

“Pat,” Morton had said, “this isn’t necessary.”

But Morton hadn’t refused to accept them. No, he’d dumped Inspector Pat Cohan’s retirement papers in a desk drawer, then sucked on his pipe like the gutless fairy he was.

“How long have you been on the job, Pat?” Morton had asked.

“Thirty-seven years. Since January eighth, 1921. I’ve seen a lot over the decades, but I’ve never seen a deal as dirty as this. When the Department takes the word of a rookie detective with five years in the job over the word of a full inspector … let’s just say the force I joined in 1921, the force my father joined in 1898, the force my grandfather joined in 1867, has changed too much to include the likes of me.”

Pat Cohan watched Morton hem and haw. The situation, pleasing as it may have been to the deputy chief’s sheeny soul, had apparently taken him by surprise. “What makes you think we believe Stanley Moodrow?” he’d finally asked.