He sat down next to me after his team got their asses handed to them.
“Whatchu want, grandpa?” Nugget asked, slapping the bench in frustration.
“Maybe I’m not from the five boroughs.”
“Nah, man, you all Brooklyn. I seen how you carry yourself, how you come in here. You police?”
“A long time ago.”
“So, whatchu think a my game?”
I told him. He was less than thrilled with my assessment of his defensive liabilities.
“Man, you seen how many balls I steal? Shit! You ain’t no coach is right.”
“Keep playing defense with your hands and not your feet, you’ll never get a full scholarship at a big-time school. You’ll score a million points at some NAIA school and never get drafted. You’ll wind up like the rest of these guys, playing ball when you should be out earning some money. You want that for yourself?”
“Das bullshit, old man. You don’t know the game.”
“Nugget,” I said, looking at him fiercely so that it made him uncomfortable, “I know a whole shitload about this game that you may never know. On the other hand, I never had one quarter your skills. You have what can’t be taught, but you don’t have what can be.”
He waved at me dismissively, “Later for dis!” And walked away.
I’d blown it. Whoever said the truth shall set you free didn’t gather information for a living. If I had kissed up to Nugget a bit, stroked his ego just a little, I might have gotten somewhere. But once I alienated him, I’d alienated the park. I was dead in the water. No one was going to talk to me now, but I had a way to remedy that. Maybe I’d be seeing Nugget sometime soon.
When I got back to my car, Carmella Melendez was sitting on the hood. She was in her off-duty duds: tight jeans and a silky black halter covered by a loose denim jacket with exaggerated shoulders and silver studs. Her hair was pulled back tightly and corralled into a pony tail with a red band. Expensive sunglasses with opaque lenses covered her eyes. She wore running shoes, but it didn’t kill the effect. Even if she were wearing my dad’s brown vinyl slippers, it wouldn’t have detracted from her raw beauty.
“Detective Melendez.” I nodded. “You working undercover?”
“I’m not working.”
“Maybe not officially, but you’re working.”
“So you gonna tell me what you were doing at the precinct the other day, or what?”
“Or what. Maybe it’s like you said, I was stalking you.”
“You didn’t even know I existed.”
“You’re wrong about that. I knew. I just didn’t know what you looked like.”
“You know, Mr. Prager, you talk in riddles a lot,” she said, sliding down off the hood. “That’s not polite.”
“I thought you were good at reading between the lines, Detective.”
“I said I was good at it. I didn’t say I enjoyed it.”
“If you’re really not working, then let’s call each other by our first names, okay? Mine’s Moe.”
“Carmella,” she said, offering me her hand.
It was all I could do not to bow and kiss it. My heart was actually racing as I grasped her hand, but I managed to shake it, not too firmly, and give it back.
“Come on, Carmella, you like walking on the boardwalk?”
“Sounds good.”
We walked east along the boardwalk toward Nathan’s. Maybe she was finally learning her lesson about the effectiveness of silence. I’d learned it a long time ago, but I spoke first.
“Where you from?”
“I grew up in Flatbush on Lennox Avenue till I was about eight. Then my mother took me back to Puerto Rico to live with my grandmother. When I turned eighteen, I came back with my
“From right around here. Ocean Parkway.”
We stopped and stared out at the Atlantic, much like I had with Larry the last time we were together.
“So why become a cop?” I asked.
“Always wanted to be a cop and do good.”
“Is that what you’re doing, good? I thought you were just following me around because you were bored.”
“Look, Moe,” she said, taking off her sunglasses and catching my eyes. “I had a case, a big fat, juicy fucking case and then it disappeared. Everyone, I think, is too happy about that.”
“Everyone except you.”
“Except me, that’s right.”
“Is that why you went and talked to Melvin’s mom on your own?”
If I thought I was going to get her off balance with that, I was wrong. “You blame me?”
“Not really, but I don’t know what detectives should or shouldn’t do. I don’t even play one on TV.”
“That’s almost funny. You mentioned something about making detective in the car. What really happened?”
“It’s not worth talking about anymore. That’s all in my past.”
“Suit yourself,” she said. “So how’s it you even know about Melvin?”
“The same way I knew about you.”
“Riddles again. Come on, Moe. We’re gonna need each other before this is done.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that, but I don’t see why.”
“All right, be like that.” Her sunglasses went back on and she turned to go.
“First Melvin gets whacked. Then Chief McDonald does himself in and everyone seems more relieved than sad. Makes you wonder,” I said. That stopped her in her tracks. “And you don’t like it, do you?”
“Hell no, I don’t.”
“Come on, walk me back to my car.”
As I started back across the street to where my car was parked, Melendez lagged behind to retie her sneaker. Suddenly, I was conscious of screeching tires, but I was distracted, turning back to see after Carmella. Instinct and engine noise made me stop and look to my right. A blur was coming at me and I froze. A split second is enough time to think of a thousand things. All I could picture were my knees being crushed beneath the weight of the car. All the long forgotten pain came rushing back in like an insistent sea.
“
“Ricochet. It’s not worth the risk. Did you get the plate number?”
“No rear plate.”
“Fuck!” I slipped my.38 into its holster. “You saved my life, Carmella.”
“I couldn’t afford to let you get killed. Not yet.”
“That’s a real comfort.”
“You seem to be the only fucking person who gives a shit about what’s going on, but maybe now you’ll share with me a little.”
“If I was a cynical bastard, I’d say you staged this. I mean that untied lace was pretty convenient.”
“Fuck you, Moe! Just go fuck yourself!”
“Did I say I was a cynical bastard?”
“Are you?”
“Yeah, but I don’t believe for a second you had anything to do with that.”
“Then why say it?” she asked, dabbing blood off her scraped knees with the sleeve of her jacket.
“Because you make me a little nervous.”
