A Piece of the Action

“I think you believe him, boyo, because you stepped all over my authority. Because you put the heel of your shoe on my head and ground me into the sidewalk like you were disposing of a cigarette butt.”

“Aren’t you being overly dramatic, Pat?” Morton’s head had wobbled on his skinny neck as he denied Cohan’s statement. “Believing Moodrow has nothing to do with the situation. In our best judgment, he has enough information, be it true or false, to make the Department very uncomfortable. What I’m trying to say is you don’t have to protect your pension by retiring.”

The little bastard may have been surprised, but it’d hadn’t taken more than a few seconds to figure it out. If he, Pat Cohan, was dismissed from the force as the result of a departmental investigation, his pension would fly out the window like an escaped canary. If, on the other hand, he retired before the investigation, they’d have to get a court conviction to take his money away.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there, Milton. I’ve handed in my papers and you’ve accepted them. The only thing left is for me to warn you about Stanley Moodrow, which I intend to do whether you’ve got the time or not.”

Morton, resigned, had puffed out a little sigh, then settled back in his chair. “Go ahead, Pat. Tell me.”

“Moodrow’s a vicious dog. He deliberately seduced my daughter, then left her like you’d leave a prostitute on the street. He stalked her, waited until she was vulnerable, then took her innocence. I know this to be true because my daughter told me. When I confronted Stanley Moodrow, he invited me to come out behind the house and settle matters. When I refused, he swore he’d get even some other way. Sal Patero’s statement was forced, Milton. It’ll never stand up in court.”

“Just a minute, Pat. We’re under the impression that you pulled Sal Patero out of the Seventh Precinct before he, shall we say, confessed. By the way, I don’t actually know what Patero said. The only one who’s seen this so-called confession is a sergeant named Epstein. I did call Patero into the office, but he refused to talk to me. I might add that Lieutenant Patero seemed fit as a fiddle. There wasn’t a mark on him.”

“You don’t have to leave bruises to get a confession, Milton. I realize you never had much street experience, but you ought to know that much. A cocked thirty-eight will do just fine.”

But that’d been that. There was nothing more to be said. He’d left and come home to Bayside. To his house and his wife and his daughter. And to the money, of course. He’d done quite well over the years. That had to count for something in a man’s life. He’d taken care of his family and put enough away for a comfortable old age. It had to count for something.

He was making himself a cup of tea when the front door opened. Quickly, while Kate was shrugging out of her coat and pulling off her galoshes, he added a shot of Bushmill’s to the tea, then hid the bottle in a cabinet beneath the sink.

“That you, Kate?”

“Yes, Daddy, it’s me.” Kate bounced into the room, smiling.

“Yer a sight for sore eyes, darlin’. A sight for sore eyes.” She’d always had that bounce. As far back as he could remember. A tomboy to her bones. “Kate, do ya remember the time I had to pull you out of the oak in the back yard?”

“Yes, Daddy. How can I forget when you remind me at least once a week?”

Pat Cohan ignored the comment. He’d begun knocking down shots the minute he’d walked through the door. Not that he was falling-down drunk or anything close to it. No, he was on the kind of jag that glues you to the barstool. That makes your thoughts spin through your mind until you have to reach out for an anchor. Or another shot, which is the same thing.

“You couldn’t have been more than ten years old.”

“I was eleven. And if you hadn’t panicked, I’d have gotten down by myself.” She walked over to the stove, lit the right front burner with a match, then hefted the teapot. “Is the water hot?”

“Almost. I just poured meself a cup.” He raised the cup to his mouth, sipped a little, spilled more. “B’Jesus,” he muttered. “Now I’m after foulin’ meself.”

“Daddy, have you been drinking? It’s only three o’clock.”

“I’m sober as a judge.”

“Then why are you putting on that Irish accent? You only do that when you’ve been drinking.”

“Well, I may have had a drop, darlin’. It’s in the way of a celebration.”

Kate turned back to him, smiling. “That’s swell, Daddy. What’s the event?”

“I’ve retired from the New York Police Department. Did it this afternoon. Just walked in and handed my papers over to the sheeny in charge …”

“Don’t say that word.” Kate turned back to the stove. The teapot was whistling madly. “You must be drunk. You know how much I hate that kind of talk.”

“Now, darlin’ …” He could see the gears turning in her head. The questions were going to fly and he didn’t have any good answers.

Kate took her time, dipping the teabag, then pressing it dry against the spoon before tossing it into the garbage. “Daddy,” she said, coming back to the table, “what made you decide to retire? Didn’t you always say, ‘They’ll have to rip the uniform off my back’?”

Pat Cohan put his cup on the table, noting, with satisfaction, that he hadn’t spilled a drop. “When the time comes, the time comes,” he proclaimed. “You don’t have to pull on the rope to hear the bell toll.”

“And Stanley? Has Stanley been arrested?”

Damn, but she was persistent. There had to be some way to talk about Moodrow without looking like a criminal. There had to be. “You saw the warrant yourself, Kate.”

“Has he been arrested, Daddy? Is Stanley in jail?”

“No, he hasn’t been arrested and he’s not in jail.” He wanted to lie, but he couldn’t take the chance that she’d call him and find out for herself.

Kate stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her tea, then blew the steam away before sipping delicately. “What are they waiting for?”

“They’re trying to find him. The charge is simple assault, remember? That doesn’t exactly make him public enemy number one. Eventually, he’ll come in on his own.”

“And Stanley had nothing to do with your retirement?”

Pat Cohan took a deep breath. It was ‘do or die’ time. “Kathleen, do you know when the first St. Patrick’s Day parade was held in New York City?”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“Please, darlin’, indulge your father on the day of his retirement. If you don’t know, give us a guess.”

“All right, March seventeenth, 1892, that’s my guess.”

“You’re off by a hundred and thirty years.” He noted her surprise with satisfaction. “The first St. Patty’s Day parade was held in 1762. Think about it, Kate. There were enough Irishmen in New York before the Revolutionary War to hold a parade. Do you know how they got here? They were indentured servants. They were brought here to serve the Brits and the Dutch. To wait on ’em like good Irish slaves. Well, we kept on coming, even though we didn’t get anywhere. We came to work the railroads and the coal mines and the factories. We dug the tunnels, built the roads and the bridges. Our reward was to be treated like dogs for a hundred years. Have I ever spoken of the Five Points? Or the Fourth Ward? There were years when the cops didn’t enter the Five Points at all. Whatever happened in the Five Points-murder, rape, robbery-the residents were on their own. Now, add cholera, flu, smallpox and the like …”

“You’ve made this speech before, Daddy. Many, many times. I don’t get the point. What has this got to do with Stanley?”

Pat Cohan drained his cup. “We were talking about my retirement, were we not, darlin’?” He waited until she acknowledged his point with a resigned shrug. “It took us a long time to fight our way out, but we finally did it. We took over New York, made it our own. You wait and see, Kate. One day soon we’ll have ourselves a president. Only, by the time it happens our day in New York will be over. That’s happening as we speak. Robert Wagner will be the last Irish mayor.” He stopped for a moment, dropping his eyes to the tabletop. What he wanted was a stiff drink, but the timing was all wrong. “I’m a fossil, girl. It’s not my Department anymore. The Jews and the Italians run the city now. That’s why they brought in the Puerto Ricans. That’s why they give them