End of Watch

'Try me.'

'Chi di spada ferisce di spada perisce.' Annie laughed. ''He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.' We're interviewin' my mope, we get a call about a homicide. The vie turns out to be the mope's friend, the other guy we're lookin' for. The little girl's father shot the crap outta him. Mope looked like a friggin' colander by the time he got put outta his misery. You should see the blood. Someone's gonna make a fortune cleanin' that apartment.'

'Congratulations. Double-header.'

'That's not the best part. We take a Polaroid of the vie, show it to my mope and ask if he knows him. I swear, Frank, he turned whiter than me. I thought he was gonna toss his cookies all over the box. I tell him the vie gave him up while he was bein' shot, that he told the father where to find him, and I kid you not, he starts talkin' faster than I can listen. Figures his chances are better with a New York jury than the girl's father. And he's right. Only I didn't tell him we had the father in custody.'

'Sweet.'

'Yeah, no kiddin', huh? What are you, my good-luck charm? You blow into town and bada bing, I close two cases. So I was thinkin' while I'm on a roll here, I should head out to Canarsie with you tomorrow. How would that be?'

'That'd be great.'

'Good. Where you stayin' at?'

'Hotel Seventeen.'

'I'll pick you up around ten.'

'See you then.'

A few pages later the phone rang again. This time Frank recognized the number.

'Hey,' she answered.

'Hey yourself. How was your day?'

'Okay. Took the evidence to the lab with Annie, found a place—'

'Who's Annie?'

'She's the detective handling my dad's case. Annie Silvester. Did that, then I found a place to stay. It's funky, but like Annie said, 'It ain't the Crowne Plaza' but it'll do.'

'Sounds like you and Annie are getting pretty chummy.'

'Chummy.' Frank tasted the word. 'Makes it sound like we're going to the movies and hanging out together. We're workin' a homicide.'

'I see. How's that going?'

'Well, we got the candle and the vase delivered, so now we wait. Tomorrow we'll go out to the cemetery and see what we can turn up there. No pun intended.'

'How old is she?'

'How old is who?'

'This Annie.'

'I don't know. She's going to retire in nine months. She looks like she's maybe early fifties, give or take a couple years.'

'Hmm. How long do you think you'll be staying here?'

'No telling. I talked to Fubar. He's pissed. Told him it could be a couple more days, maybe a couple weeks. I don't know. It all depends on what we get back from the lab. Or don't. How about you? Going back tomorrow?'

'Yeah. From Manhattan to the morgue.'

'Sounds like a true crime title. So what are you going to do with your last night in the Big Apple?'

'I'm going to a play.'

'Alone?'

'No.' Frank waited for an explanation, but Gail continued. 'I'm finally going to see Phantom of the Opera. I've waited so long I hope my expectations don't exceed the reality.'

'Who you going with?'

'A woman I met at the convention. She's nice. We've had fun together.'

'Nice.' Frank couldn't resist. 'Sounds chummy.'

Gail giggled. 'A little.'

'So, where does this woman live?'

'Minnesota.'

'Good.'

'Why good?'

'Don't know. Nice place, Minnesota.'

'Have you ever been there?'

'Nope. You?'

'Not yet.'

Her jealousy kindled, Frank quizzed, 'Plan on going?'

'Maybe.'

'To see your friend?'

'Maybe.'

Gail sounded distracted and Frank asked, 'What are you doing?'

'Painting my nails.'

Frank let the silence stretch out. 'You never paint your nails.'

'I do sometimes.'

'This for your big date tonight?'

'It's not a big date.'

'All right. Your little date.'

'It's not a date at all. It's just a play.'

'Whatever.' Frank sulked.

'My, we sound jealous.'

'Oh, no,' Frank answered too quickly. 'Not at all. Should we be?'

'I don't know. You're the one who left, remember?'

'Of course I do. You remind me every time we talk.'

'Well, given whose idea it was to walk I'm not sure how your rather high-handed inquisition is justified.'

Frank bit down on her lip. Talking to Mary one evening Frank had called herself an asshole. Mary had corrected, 'You're not an asshole. You're just behaving like one. Now. Do you want to keep doing that or would you like to stop?'

Frank said, 'Look. I hope you have a wonderful time. I hope the play's better than you can possibly imagine. You deserve to have some fun.'

'You're damn right I do. And I'm having it. Would you like to know why I called you?'

'Love to.'

'Well, I was wondering, before you started your interrogation, if you'd like to have dinner when you get home.'

Frank cringed. She made a circle with her thumb and forefinger, flapping the other fingers in the universal gesture for a flaming asshole. 'I would love that.'

'Okay. Call me when you get back.'

'Promise you won't be in Minnesota?'

'This jealousy, Frank, is it a trait peculiar to sobriety?'

'I wish. I've always been an asshole. Forgive me?'

'As long as I don't have anything to worry about with you and Annie.'

'You care that much?'

'Let's just say I still have a proprietary interest.'

'I like that. I'll call you when I get home.'

'Okay. Good luck with your dad.'