and Nevins?'
'Sure.'
'That's where we grew up, me and Petey. You'll find a lot of people from the Middle East in that neighborhood, within a few blocks of Court andAtlantic . Lebanese, Syrians, Yemenites, Palestinians.
My wife was Palestinian, her folks lived onPresident Street just off Henry. That's South Brooklyn, but I guess they're calling itCarrollGardens now. That coffee all right?'
'It's fine.'
'You want more, just speak up.' He started to say something else, then turned to face his brother. 'I don't know, man,' he said. 'I don't think this is going to work out.'
'Tell him the situation, babe.'
'I just don't know.' He turned to me, spun a chair around, sat down straddling it. 'Here's the deal, Matt.
Okay to call you that?' I said it was. 'Here's the deal. What I need to know is whether I can tell you something without worrying who you're gonna tell it to. I guess what I'm asking is to what extent you're still a cop.'
It was a good question, and I'd often pondered it myself. I said, 'I was a policeman for a lot of years.
I've been a little less of one every year since I left the job. What you're asking is if what you tell me will stay confidential. Legally, I don't have the status of attorney. What you tell me isn't privileged information.
At the same time, I'm not an officer of the court, either, so I'm no more obliged than any other private citizen to report matters that come to my attention.'
'What's the bottom line?'
'I don't know what the bottom line is. It seems to move around a lot. I can't offer you a lot in the way of reassurance, because I don't know what it is you're thinking about telling me. I came all the way out here because Pete didn't want to say anything over the phone, and now you don't seem to want to say anything here, either. Maybe I should go home.'
'Maybe you should,' he said.
'Babe—'
'No,' he said, getting to his feet. 'It was a good idea, man, but it's not working out. We'll find 'em ourselves.' He took a roll of bills from his pocket and peeled off a hundred, extending it across the table to me.
'For your cabs out and back and for your time, Mr. Scudder. I'm sorry we dragged you all the way out here for nothing.' When I didn't take the bill he said, 'Maybe your time's worth more than I figured. Here, and no hard feelings, huh?' He added a second bill to the first and I still didn't reach for it.
I pushed back my chair and stood up. 'You don't owe me anything,' I said. 'I don't know what my time's worth. Let's call it an even-up trade for the coffee.'
'Take the money. For Christ's sake, the cab had to be twenty-five each way.'
'I took the subway.'
He stared at me. 'You came out here on the subway? Didn't my brother tell you to take a cab? What do you want to save nickels and dimes for, especially when I'm paying for it?'
'Put your money away,' I said. 'I took the subway because it's simpler and faster. How I get from one place to another is my business, Mr. Khoury, and I run my business the way I want. You don't tell me how to get around town and I won't tell you how to sell crack to schoolchildren, how does that strike you?'
'Jesus,' he said.
To Pete I said, 'I'm sorry we wasted each other's time. Thanks for thinking of me.' He asked me if I wanted to ride back to the city, or at least a lift to the subway stop. 'No,' I said, 'I think I'd like to walk around Bay Ridge a little. I haven't been out here in years. I had a case that brought me to within a few blocks of here, right onColonial Road but a little ways to the north. Right across from the park.
Owl'sHeadPark , I think it is.'
'That's eight, ten blocks from here,' Kenan Khoury said.
'That sounds right. The guy who hired me was charged with killing his wife, and the work I did for him helped get the charges dropped.'
'And he was innocent?'
'No, he killed her,' I said, remembering the whole thing. 'I didn't know that. I found out after.'
'When there was nothing you could do.'
'Sure there was,' I said. 'Tommy Tillary, that was his name. I forget his wife's name, but his girlfriend was Carolyn Cheatham. When she died, he wound up going away for it.'
'He killed her, too?'
'No, she killed herself. I fixed it so it looked like murder, and I fixed it so he would go away for it. I got him out of one scrape that he didn't deserve to get out of, so it seemed fitting to get him into another one.'
'How much time did he do?'
'As much as he could. He died in prison. Somebody stuck a knife in him.' I sighed. 'I thought I'd go walk past his house, see if it brought back any memories, but they seem to have come back all by themselves.'
'It bother you?'
'Remembering, you mean? Not particularly. I can think of a lot of things I've done that bother me more.'
