couldn’t believe it! You don’t think I’m letting you pay that cheap rent for doing nothing, do you?”
“I’ve
“Cleaning? Your cleaning is shit. You think I’m paying you for nothing? You think I’m giving you charity? You think—”
I hung up on him. A few seconds later, the phone was ringing again.
“What is it?” I said, ready to pull the cord out of the wall.
“Yes, I’m trying to get in touch with Tommy Russo.” It was a man’s voice.
“Who’s this?”
“Detective Scott...it’s Mike, Tommy.”
“Hey, Mikey, I thought it was...never mind. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. I was wondering if you had some time today, if we could ask you a few more questions.”
“What’s up?”
“Not much,” he said. “We just have some more developments. This shouldn’t take too long and it’d really help us out.”
“What’s it about?”
“Just routine—we’re talking to everybody from the bar.”
“I’m kinda busy,” I said. “I gotta be at work by five.”
“It shouldn’t take too long—an hour tops. We’re over at the 19th Precinct on Sixty-seventh Street between Third and Lex. I’d appreciate it if you came by here around two o’clock.”
“All right, I’ll be by.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
I showed up at the precinct at two o’clock on the button. Mike came up front to meet me. He looked the same as he did last night—wearing what looked like the same shirt and tie. We shook hands and then he led me to a room in the back. There were three guys sitting on one side of the long table—the only one I recognized was the detective who was investigating the robbery. Mike sat down next to them and told me to sit down in the one seat on the other side of the table. It didn’t look like this was going to be “routine.”
One of the guys said, “I’m Detective Himoto, Mr. Russo. Thank you for coming down here today.”
Himoto was Japanese-American, but he spoke English without an accent.
“No problem,” I said.
“This is Detective Howard,” Himoto said, and the black guy next to him nodded, “and I think you’ve already met Detective Edwards. We just wanted to run through a few things with you, Mr. Russo, if that’s all right with you?”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” I said.
“First of all,” Himoto said, “we’d like you to take a look at this.”
He slid a sheet of paper across the desk to me. I picked it up and read to myself.
“Yeah,” I said, sliding the paper back across the table. “So?”
“These are lyrics to a song we found in Gary O’Reilley’s apartment last night.”
“Well it doesn’t sound like he’s gonna be the next Michael Jackson, huh?” I said smiling.
All the detectives smiled with me, except Himoto.
“The lyrics to several of his other songs also had homicidal themes,” Himoto said. “Did Gary ever talk to you about his homicidal fantasies, particularly ones involving his stepmother?”
“No, I told Mike—I mean Detective Scott—last night that I couldn’t imagine the guy killing anybody.”
“Sorry to be redundant, Mr. Russo, but we have to be as thorough as possible with our investigation. That’s how a police investigation works. At this point, we don’t know what’s important and what isn’t, so we just have to assume everything is important and work from there. So I’d appreciate your cooperation and patience.”
I didn’t like the way Himoto was talking down to me in front of the other detectives.
“No problem,” I said. “Like I said, I just wanna help you guys any way I can.”
“Has Gary O’Reilley tried to contact you?” Himoto asked.
“You kidding? He hardly speaks to me.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s just one of those things. I guess we don’t have a lot in common.”
“Do you know any friends of his he could be staying with?”
I shook my head.
“No friends of his ever came to the bar?”
“Yeah, once in a while, but I didn’t know any of them. I mean maybe if you showed me some pictures I could pick somebody out. Except, come to think of it, there was a guy from his band who came to the bar to meet him sometimes. He had a ponytail, but I don’t know his name.”
“We’ve talked to his band members,” Himoto said. “I was hoping you knew of somebody else. Maybe somebody who lives in Brooklyn.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“What about Gary O’Reilley’s relationship with his stepmother?”
“What about it?”
“Would you describe them as close?”
“No, not really. I mean the way Debbie drank it was hard for anyone to get close with her.”
“Is it possible that they were closer than they seemed?” Himoto asked.
“What do you mean?”
“A witness we spoke with said that he thought he once saw Gary and Debbie holding hands. Do you think it’s possible that they...something funny Mr. Russo?”
“Sorry,” I said, realizing I must’ve been smiling. “It’s just the idea of Gary and Debbie together like that is kind of sick. It’s impossible too.”
“Why is it impossible? We understand that Debbie was quite promiscuous.”
“That’s true, she was,” I said. “But let’s just say that I don’t think women are exactly Gary’s type.”
“Did you know that Gary O’Reilley has a girlfriend?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Well, he does. Let me ask you something else, Mr. Russo. Do you have something against homosexuals?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just seem to have a sarcastic-aggressive attitude about the subject. My son happens to be gay so I’d appreciate it if you put your personal feelings aside during the rest of this conversation. Do you think you can do that?”
“No problem,” I said, wondering why Himoto seemed to have it in for me.
Himoto let out a deep breath then said, “Detective Scott tells me you saw Gary at the bar on Monday night. Do you remember what time he left?”
“Jesus, lemme think,” I said. “It must’ve been a little after six o’clock.”
“And what did you do after that?”
“I stayed till closing time, then I caught some shut-eye. Tuesday morning I went to Vegas.”
“Was this a planned trip?”
“No, not really,” I said. “But I had a couple of days to kill so I figured I’d go away.”
Himoto looked at the other detectives, then he stood up and said, “I think that’s all we need from you for right now, Mr. Russo. Thanks for coming down.”
“I want you guys to know something,” I said.
Himoto turned back toward me. The other detectives were looking at me too.
“Gary O’Reilley hates my guts,” I said. “He thinks his father likes me better than him, which he probably does, and he’s pissed that Frank wants to let me manage the bar when he moves to Arizona. When you find him he’s gonna say all kinds of shit about me. I just wanted you guys to know that.”
