End of Watch

suffer, that people suffer all the time, for reasons we don't know why. And we endure and we go on and life goes on. And there's joy again and pleasure. It's all cycles and we take each day as it comes.'

'One day at a time.'

'Exactly,' Annie affirmed. 'One day at a time.'

Frank pulled the pizza toward her.

'Want I should warm that up?'

'Naw. It's good. I guess it's all good, huh?'

Annie nodded. 'All part of the mystery.'

Frank chewed. The pizza was good. She got up for a Coke. 'You mind if I talk to Cammayo?'

''Bout what?'

'His brother. Just some things I want to know. I wanna put a face to the man who killed my dad. I been trying to see it for a long time.'

'You okay with talkin' civil to him? I don't want you harassin' him.'

'I'm not gonna harass him. I just want to ask a few questions. Come with me if you want.'

'Nah. I got all the answers I want. Just be respectful, huh?'

' 'Cause he's a priest?'

'No. Because he lost somebody, too. You're not the only one lost somebody that night. You even said so yourself.'

Frank agreed. 'I'll behave.'

'Better.' Annie pointed a sharp nail. She pushed out of her chair, rising with a yawn. 'I'm bushed.'

'Yeah. Long day. Hey.'

Annie looked at her.

'Thanks for everything.'

'Forget about it. I'm happy. I closed a case, right?'

'Right. Sleep well.'

'Yeah, you too. Sweet dreams, huh?'

'Back at you.'

Frank was left with dinner as cold as her anger.

CHAPTER 42

'I know you've got a busy day but I need five minutes of your time.'

Cammayo protested, 'I've already told you and Detective Silvester everything I know.'

Frank squashed her irritation. 'Telling me everything I want to know would take months. All I want is five minutes.'

Cammayo bowed his head. He opened the door and Frank entered the familiar apartment. Seeing her, Cammayo's roommate retreated from the living room. Cammayo switched off the TV.

Frank said, 'Tell me about Pablo.'

'What about him?'

'Anything. Everything. What was he like? What was his favorite color? Did he have a nickname? Did he like baseball? Football? Everything.'

'He liked baseball. He was a Yankees fan. I don't know his favorite color. I do know he was good boy and I wonder every day what kind of man he would have been. If he could have kicked the dope.'

'You say that like you know he's dead.'

'I'm under no illusions, Detective. I know the kind of junkie my brother was. I know the odds of him being dead by now. But you asked what he was like. He was kind. That's what I remember most. He could be stern and sometimes he hit us but never without a reason. He punished to teach a lesson. But mostly he was affectionate. I remember my sister hugging him all the time. My younger brother, too. He'd sit with them on either side of him, an arm around each child. He smiled a lot and laughed. Pablo laughed like birds singing. I always envied him. I never saw humor in the world the way Pablo did. He was kind. He had a gentle soul. That's why it was easy to keep his secret all these years. He was easy to help. If you knew him, you'd want to help him. He was like that. A very kind young man. Very giving.'

Frank took an unoffered chair and Cammayo perched on the sofa.

'How old was he when he started using?'

Cammayo frowned. 'I was twelve so he must have been sixteen. I tried to get him to stop but he'd just laugh and tell me not to worry. Which of course I couldn't do, so I prayed for him. I prayed for all of us. With our father passed on, Pablo was the head of the household. My mother worked two, sometimes three jobs, so you see, it was Pablo who raised us. Until the drugs became more important and then it was my turn to wear our father's shoes.'

'Is that why he came to you that last night?'

'I suppose. And he knew I'd help him. I loved Pablo. I'd do anything for him.'

'And you did. For a long time.'

'Yes.'

'I never had a brother or sister,' Frank volunteered, 'but if I loved them I'd have probably done the same thing.'

'Maybe, maybe not. We're all different. I wrestled with my conscience a long time. For me, in the end, blood was thicker than water. It's ironic.'

'How so?'

'I wanted to be a priest so I would be freed from all corporal attachments yet I am bound to my brother by this invisible chain.'

'And you never told anyone?'

'Only God.'

'Why didn't you tell?'

'The better to protect him. I chose the lie that he owed a dealer money. It was certainly believable. It explained why he left in such a hurry and it protected him from harmful speculation. It was easily assumed he was in trouble over drugs and that was what I wanted everyone to think.'

'Where do you think he might have gone?'

'He didn't have any money. I managed to find a little over twenty dollars but I imagine that was quickly used on dope. He couldn't have gone far. I remember he said he might go to Panama and that he'd call me. But of course he never did.'

'What's in Panama?'

'Our grandparents were there. Our mother and father were from Panama City. They came to the United States when Pablo was seven. My mother always talked of going back. ..'

'Of everyone in your family, who do you think Pablo was closest to?'

'My mother. Well, before that, my father. I know it was hard on him. He didn't laugh a long time after my father died. None of us did, but with Pablo you noticed such a thing.'

'So if he was closest to his mother why didn't he go to her that night? Why didn't he ask her for help?'

Cammayo shrugged, stared at the carpet. 'Because he knew I'd help him. That I'd do whatever he asked. I don't think he wanted to hurt my mother any more than he already had. The drugs hurt her. He'd beg money from her and when she finally realized where it went each time, no matter how elaborate the story, she finally stopped giving it to him. Then he'd steal it. She had to hide whatever she had from him.'

'He was still living at home with you and your family, so what was he doing in the East Village that night? Why so far away?'

'I couldn't tell you. There were many nights Pablo didn't come home. More nights than not.'

'Did he have a girlfriend?'

Cammayo smiled for the first time. 'For a while he went with a beautiful girl named Alma. She was very quiet, very shy. Everyone called her Conejo—that means rabbit in Spanish. She was just like one. Soft and shy.' His smile faded. 'She started using when Pablo did. I heard she died about a year after he left. She was pregnant and went into premature labor, but the baby was crooked or something. It wouldn't come out right and she died in labor. Her heart stopped. I heard she weighed eighty-five pounds when she died.'

Frank couldn't help comment, 'For such a kind young man your brother sure spread a lot of misery.'