see the lines at the corners of her lips and eyes. I liked that. She had lived a little and wasn’t trying to hide it. She wore a black leather coat, black stockings, and heels. The heels were high without being ridiculous. I found myself staring at her ringless left hand. I don’t know if she caught me staring.
“I’m so sorry. It doesn’t look like there’s any damage,” she repeated. “Come look.”
I did and she was right. There was no damage. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. If the car’s scratched, I’ll just throw it out and buy a new one.”
“You’re funny.”
“Sometimes.”
“I’m new to the city and it’s been kind of hard getting adjusted. Now this… not my day, not my month.”
“Really, don’t worry about it…”
“Mary, Mary Lambert.”
“Moe Prager.” We shook hands. “No offense, Mary, but if I don’t get to a restroom soon…”
“Go on. I’ll wait for you in case you decide you want to exchange information.”
“Fine.”
When I came out of the bar, she was still there.
“It’s nice that you waited, but I think we’re okay.”
“Well, Moe, here’s my business card anyway.”
I put it in my wallet, but didn’t offer her one of mine.
“So, Mary Lambert, can I ask you what had you so preoccupied that you missed the fact that my car was sitting right there in front of you?”
She blushed. “I got lost and I was pulling to the curb to try and get my bearings. I had an appointment on Court Street and when I left I got all turned around.” She looked at her watch. “And I have to get back to my sublet in Greenpoint in about a half hour.”
“You’re okay. You’ve got plenty of time and you’re not that lost. I’ll show you the way, but if you’re going to do a lot of driving in this town, invest in a GPS. Manhattan is easy to get around in because it’s laid out on a grid, but the other boroughs, not so much. You could ride around forever and never find your way to or from your destination.”
“I know, but I’m just a stubborn Bostonian. We figure if you can navigate those streets, you can find your way around anywhere.”
“Boston, huh?”
“Oh, Christ, don’t tell me you’re a Yankees fan.”
“Mets fan,” I said. “We’re united in our loathing of the Yanks.”
“There was ‘86, but I’ll overlook that.”
“I appreciate it.”
“So what kind of appointment did you have on Court Street? I used to have an office at 4 °Court.”
“You’re joshing me! That’s where I had my appointment,” she said. “I’m an IT consultant to law firms. My company moved me here for a few months because we’ve landed several contracts with big firms throughout the area. Don’t tell me you’re a lawyer.”
“God, no. I’m a retired cop and I was a partner in a security and investigations firm-4 °Court is where we had our offices.”
“A PI?”
“That was years ago, Mary, and it’s a lot less exciting than you’d think.”
She looked at her watch again and frowned. “Moe, I’m sorry, but I have to get back to my place and do a conference call with the home office.”
Shit! “ That’s okay. I’ll get you back onto the BQE.”
When I approached her to point the way, I noticed that she smelled as fine as she looked. Her perfume was grassy with grace notes of musk and honey. I pointed out how she should turn around, go left under the Brooklyn Bridge, and follow the signs to the BQE East. “Get off at McGuinness-Humboldt and you should be okay from there.”
“Thank you, Moe Prager. You’re a gentleman.”
I held my hand out to her. She took it, but held on to it a little longer than I would have expected. “Listen, Moe, I still feel like an idiot for hitting your car. Let me take you to dinner. My treat. I could use a friend in this city. Us New Englanders, we like to think of ourselves as a hardy bunch, but this city will test you.”
“How could I say no to that offer? And we can all use another friend.”
She smiled and it lit up the afternoon. “Tonight?”
“I can’t,” I said, “not tonight.”
“Then call me. You’ve got my numbers.”
“I will. I promise.”
With that, Mary Lambert let go of my hand and got back into her car. I watched it disappear under the Brooklyn Bridge and I suddenly felt very lonely. I wasn’t a monk by any stretch. I’d dated a lot since Carmella and I split, but the walls I’d built around myself were thick. Closeness was no longer part of the equation for me, which meant my relationships with women had a very limited shelf life. I only felt the loneliness when I met someone like Mary, someone with whom I felt immediately comfortable. It reminded me of what I no longer had and would probably never have again.
TEN
Jimmy Palumbo was happy for the extra work, even if this wasn’t exactly what either of us had in mind when we spoke at the museum. I met him in front of the same bar where I’d met Mary Lambert. It was easy enough to find and convenient to where we were going. The ex-jock came into the bar as quietly as possible, but it’s kind of difficult to fly under the radar when you’re six foot six, 270 pounds. People are just going to notice you. I was familiar with the phenomenon from walking the streets with my old running buddy, Preacher “the Creature” Simmons. Preacher was a former New York All-City basketball player who got caught up in a college gambling scheme and wound up throwing away his basketball career. He landed on his feet, running the security detail for several large housing projects in Queens. Believe me, when he walked in a room, everyone stared. Preacher was now retired and spending his time playing golf in Myrtle Beach.
Jimmy and I sat down at the end of the bar. I halfheartedly sipped a beer while he went with Diet Coke.
“Alcohol and me…” His voice drifted off. “My impulse control is for shit when I’ve had a few. My wife used that against me in court to take the kids.”
“Fine. So you understand what I’ve got in mind?”
“I got it.”
“If you’re having second thoughts, now’s the time to tell me.”
“No, I’m cool. Let’s get to it.”
We took my car over to the converted factory building and frankly, I wasn’t encouraged at our prospects for success. My plan, such as it was, involved lighting a diversionary fire in the Dumpster at the rear of Nathan Martyr’s building and getting the doorman-whoever was on duty-to vacate his post while Jimmy and I dashed up to the sixth floor. There was only one way it could’ve worked and ten ways it could’ve gone wrong, a few of them involving felony charges. This kind of stuff wasn’t one of my strengths. Carmella, now she could always come up with a way to get a guy out in the open and it was almost always a simple plan. It was never simple for me.
Then, just as we turned onto Martyr’s block, I caught sight of him coming out the maw of the old building. Planning might not have been one of my strong points, but at least I’d had the good sense to have found pictures of him on the internet so I wouldn’t get the wrong man. My original scheme was flimsy enough without us strong- arming the wrong person. But seeing him there under the streetlight only confirmed my initial thoughts about the guy. He was drug sick. He was skinny to the point of hollow, sweating so that his face fairly shined, and walking like he had chains around his ankles. He kept wiping his nose with the back of his coat sleeve and bending over in pain. It didn’t take a rocket scientist or even an ex-cop to figure out where he was headed.
“That’s our boy,” I said.
