In This Rain (20 page)

“So you’re saying

”

“All I’m saying is, chances are good Sonny O’Doul knew how much weight he needed on that tarp. And he knew he didn’t have it.”

“He’s only the assistant super.”

“In charge of scheduling and logistics, isn’t that what you said? That includes moving bricks around.”

“What about his boss, the guy who was fired? Wouldn’t the responsibility have been his in the end?”

“In the end, yes.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Ann said. “Before I go see Sonny. Anything else?”

“No,” Joe said. “It’s late, Ann. I have to work in the morning.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. As soon as I find anything new I’ll call you again.”

“Great.”

His sarcasm made her smile. She said, “Good night, Joe,” but he was gone already.

Sutton Place

Early Tuesday morning, Ann searched the files she’d inherited. She frowned over her latte and reached for the phone.

“This can’t be you,” Dennis Graham said, answering his cell. “Much too early.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf. Did you see Edgar Westermann’s press conference yesterday?”

“On the news. You lucked out, huh?”

“You think so too? Got to be.”

“I agree. That why you’re calling?”

“No, no. Though as long as I have you: you know anything about that Block A site?”

“In Harlem? Not a thing.”

“No, I don’t suppose anyone does, yet. Listen, Dennis, I’m looking for Three Star’s site super. I’m reading your file here. He left the country? What do you mean, he left the country?”

“Mike Statius? Tried to talk to him myself, Saturday. My last official act,” Dennis said cheerfully. “Before Greg moved me here and gave you that mess.”

“The guy wasn’t even fired until Saturday!”

“Morning. And escorted off the site. And apparently to the airport.”

“Escorted to the airport?”

“I’m exaggerating. But by the time I called Saturday afternoon, he was on a plane to Curaçao. Where he’s from.”

“You didn’t find that peculiar?”

“He goes back and forth a lot, they tell me. His family’s there. NYPD— Luis Perez?— talked to him. They cleared Statius to go because they had nothing to hold him on. But we alerted the authorities down there. If we need him, they’ll pick him up for us. If he tries to go anywhere else, we’ll know about it. Or,” he added, “you will. Me, I don’t have to care anymore.”

“Try not to be so depressed. Does Greg know?”

“That the guy’s gone? He wasn’t happy, but there’s nothing he could do. And like I say, you can get him if you need him.”

“Is there a number in— ” she looked at the file, “Fredrickstown?”

“I didn’t find one. But you can call the cop down there I was dealing with. Lieutenant van Drost.”

Ann hung up and let Dennis get back to his task force. Call the cop in Curaçao? Oh, well, why not? It had a nice ring to it.

“Lieutenant van Drost.” He had a nice ring to him, too, Ann thought. Clear tenor, slight Dutch accent, and friendly, for a cop. She explained who she was and what she wanted.

“Yes, I was told someone from New York might be calling. Do you want me to pick him up for you?”

“I just want to talk to him. Maybe you have a phone number?”

“I’m afraid he doesn’t have a telephone. I’ve already checked.”

“Very efficient, Lieutenant. Yes, then, please.”

“It’s possible to be as efficient here among our soft island breezes as up there in the asphalt jungle. Though more difficult.”

“Then you deserve even more credit. Call me anytime.”

She gave him her phone numbers and hung up as Greg Lowry walked into the office. He headed straight for her desk, grinning. “You’re here early,” he said. “You catch Edgar Westermann’s press conference yesterday?”

“Sure did.”

“Ever get the feeling a politician’s speaking directly to you?”

“Rarely. But you think this is it, too?”

“The other site? How could it not be? Have you called Westermann yet?”

“I was about to.”

“Keep me in the loop. As soon as you talk to him.”

“Yessir.”

Still grinning, Lowry rapped her desk with his knuckles and strolled to his corner office.

Ann called the Bronx Borough President’s office, checked the Cavalier out of the DOI garage, and headed uptown.

Harlem: Frederick Douglass Boulevard

“Wait!” Yvonnia stopped Ford as he strode past her desk on his way into his office.

“Don’t stop me, I have to call Edgar and yell at him before I find a way to put it off.”

“Later.”

Yvonnia’s tone made Ford halt. “What’s up?”

“First of all, the mayor called last night. After hours.”

“After Edgar was on the six o’clock news?”

“That’s right. Hizzoner left a message. He’s not happy.”

“I don’t blame him. Okay, what’s second?”

“Shamika Arthur. She called three times.”

“Is she coming in?”

“I don’t think so. She’s in Georgia.”

“Georgia?”

“Crawford County, Georgia. She has people there, her mother’s kin. But she wants you to call her. Said she’d stay by the phone.” Yvonnia handed him the message slips.

Do you suppose it’s a sign you’re getting tired of public life, Ford asked himself, when making a long-distance call to a grieving teenager who’s lost her first love is more appealing than speaking to the Borough President or the mayor? He plugged in his teakettle, sat down, and dialed the number in Georgia.

A “Hello?” came right after the second ring, but it was a man’s voice.

“Shamika Arthur, please.”

“Ain’t no one here by that name.”

Ford checked the message slip and the readout on his phone. They were the same. “I’m sorry. I was told she called me from this number.”

“That so? And who would this be?”

If she’s not there, Ford thought, what do you care who this is? He gave his name again. He heard it repeated into the room, and in answer, a girl’s fainter voice. A moment later Shamika came on.

“Mr. Corrington! Hello.”

“Hello, Shamika. What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“I’m— I’m okay. I’m sorry I run out on you like I done.”

“Where are you? Who was that? Are you all right?”

“I’m staying with my cousins. That was Ralphie you just spoke to. Don’t mind him, he’s just looking after me. I

I

”

“I understand, Shamika. Sometimes when tragedy happens we feel like distance will help.”

“No! I mean, yeah. But it ain’t just that.”

“Not just what?”

“T.D., him— him dying like that. Yeah, I feel awful. He wasn’t bad, you know, Mr. Corrington. He was just

sorta like a kid. He was sweet when he wanted to be. He had big plans.”

“I know that. I liked T.D. I wish things had turned out differently.”

“His mama— she okay?”

“I think she will be. She’s a strong woman and her faith is strong. Right now she’s suffering.”

“You tell her— I mean, her and me, we didn’t always see eye to eye, but I wouldn’t of run out on her, leave her alone at a time like this. You tell her I’m sorry?”

“I will. Shamika— ”

“Because, thing is, I, like, I had to go.”

“Had to?”

“Yeah. Yeah, ’cause I was scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“See, and that’s why I’m calling you. ’Cause T.D., see

”

“Shamika?”

“One thing, like, most people don’t know about T.D.? He’s a very

like, he could dance, you know? But not just that. What I mean, he could climb, like in the playground, even up a tree

”

“He was athletic, you mean?”

“Mr. Corrington? Ain’t no way, no matter how stoned he be, ain’t no way T.D. gonna fall by accident off no roof!”

“Shamika,” Ford began gently, but she didn’t let him go on.

“No, see, and what he told me,” she insisted, “what he told me, he was making good money, he was doing jobs, working for this guy Kong. You know Kong?”

“Huge man, light skinned, shaved head?”

“That him! I told T.D., that Kong, he a nasty fucker— oh, sorry!”

“Don’t worry about that. What do you mean, doing jobs?”

“I told T.D., I said you don’t want to be working for no one like Kong, wasn’t gonna be nothing but trouble. But T.D., he just kept on. And he was— he was making accidents.”

“He was what?”

“I knew it wasn’t right! I told him he better stop. There was this place he would go, up to the Bronx. They was building a building. He’d just do little sh— little stuff, and make something go wrong. Just to cost them some money. I told him, that ain’t right. But he say some rich white man building it, who cares, he got to spend more money? I ask him how come Kong give a— how come he care? And T.D., he say that ain’t none of his business, he just do what he be told, he gonna come out with enough cash money for him and me to get our own place.”

Ford suddenly realized he’d been hearing his kettle whistle for a while. He reached over and clicked it off. “Shamika? Are you sure about what you’re saying?”

“Yeah. T.D. bragged on it. You gotta understand, he was, like, proud. He was sneaking around, climbing stuff couldn’t nobody else climb, getting in and out without no one seeing him. Maybe I should of told someone, or made him stop. I mean, I know it was bad, what he done. But T.D., mostly he felt bad about himself. You know? He didn’t have no self-respect. And it wasn’t hurting no one, except some rich white man.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she blurted.

“Shamika, what did you mean when you said T.D. wouldn’t fall off a roof?”

“Because he wouldn’t! That morning. Sunday? Him and me was gonna go down to the park. Sort of like a picnic. He was gonna call me, soon as he went and did what he had to do.”

“Up in the Bronx?”

“No, uh-uh. Somewhere close. He was hooking up with Kong.”

“Did he call?”

“No. And after

what happened, I’m like all upset and nervous. I’m over to my girlfriend’s house, fixing to go up to see T.D.’s moms, and my mama call. She say, this big shaved-head dude come over, he be asking where I was, and she take one look at him and tell him she don’t know. He say he a friend of mine, name of Kong, and when I come home, maybe I can call him? He give her his cell phone number. He say he think I got something belong to him, he want me to give it back. My mama say he say please.”

“What do you have?”

“Nothing! That belong to Kong? I ain’t never had nothing of his!”

“So what did he mean?”

“I don’t know!”

“All right, Shamika. Go on.”

The girl sniffed. “He real polite, my mama say, got gold teeth when he smile. And my mama say to me, ‘Girl, you know I don’t never ask you your business. And I ain’t asking now. But I’m telling you: Get your skinny ass out of town.’ ”

*

Ford hung up the phone and clicked the kettle back on, waited for it to whistle again, and poured. He went to the window, holding the mug in both hands as he would have on a winter morning. When the tea was brewed he sipped at it, but it didn’t warm him.

Sutton Place

The Manhattan Borough President didn’t keep Ann waiting.

The minute his receptionist passed her name and business along, Edgar Westermann popped out and ushered her into his glass-walled office. Seeming not at all put out that she hadn’t called for an appointment, he waved her grandly to a chair.

“I won’t take up much of your time,” she began, but Westermann cut her off.

“No, no! Whenever the city’s crime fighters are on the job, I’m happy to help. Crime in Harlem’s down eleven percent the last three years, did you know that? And that’s despite how we don’t get our fair share of city services.” He looked at her severely, in silent reprimand. Then he smiled, giving her a second chance. “All right then. Tell me, what can the Borough President’s Office do for DOI?”

“I saw your press conference on the news last night. I’d like to ask you some questions about some of the things you brought up.”

“Go right ahead. About time the city looked into how development contracts get awarded. How it is that the same old boys’ club of wealthy white men gets their hands on prime city-owned sites over and over, while community groups get left out in the cold. Whose pockets are being lined? That’s the question you have to ask yourself, you see Donald Trump, Larry Silverstein, Walter Glybenhall, all walking off with contract after contract at the expense of the communities, the people who built those communities, the people who made them what they are! People who never— ”

“Sir?” She held up a hand. “Can we keep to this specific issue? You said yesterday the city had turned down a community group’s bid on the site known as Block A.”

He gave her a pitying look. “You think this is an isolated issue, you’re wrong. This is a problem with the system, can’t be solved without a thorough investigation, a complete overhaul! But maybe I’m expecting too much, thinking the city’s about to look at itself for real. No, most likely you’re here to say you came here. Westermann’s shooting off his mouth again, best look like we’re taking him seriously. All right, let’s get it over with.”

“That’s quite a set of assumptions.”

“Years of experience, Inspector. I’ve seen it all before.”

“Sometimes, Mr. Westermann, you see what you’re looking for, not what’s there.”

“Oh, now, is that a fact? You come here to lecture me?”

“No. I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded. But you’re assuming I’m not taking you seriously, and I assure you, I am. Can you please answer my question? Did the city turn down a community group’s bid on that site?”

Westermann snorted. “Charlie Barr didn’t give them so much as a how-dee-do. Threw them right out.”

“Who is this group?”

“Garden Walls. A consortium.”

“Who are its members?”

“People and organizations who have a stake in this neighborhood, whose roots and families and businesses are here— ”

“Can you give me some names? Are you a member?”

“Wouldn’t be right for the Borough President to be involved. Block A’s city-owned property. But my office supports Garden Walls. We’d like to keep the ‘neighbor’ in ‘neighborhood’!”