A Long Line of Dead Men Read online

Page 22

 

  "He was ridin in front. "

  "You dont mean he was driving, because they found Cloonan behind the wheel. "

  "Didnt say drivin, said ridin. In the passenger seat, cept they should be callin it somethin else, cause you a passenger in a cab, you ride in the back, Jack. But he was ridin up front with the driver. "

  "How far away was she?"

  "Two, three doors down the street. She showed me the candystore they was standin in front of, her an her friends. Splained to me how Melissa Mikawa could do a stand-up interviewin her in front of the store. Man, she coulda been Melissa Mikawas assistant, all the media trash she was talkin. "

  "What did he look like?"

  "White. "

  "Tall, short, fat, thin, young, old-"

  "Just white. But dont forget-"

  "It was four years ago and she was a kid, right. You think Id get anywhere putting her together with Ray Galindez?"

  "So Elainell have another picture to hang up in the shop? I can see her gettin into it, but what comes out might be more imaginin than rememberin. Shed swear he had tits an a tail if itd get her on New York One. "

  "I probably ought to talk to her. "

  "Like you a cop? Or like you workin for Miss Mikawa also?"

  "Ill be an assistant news director," I said. "Hows that?"

  He considered, then nodded. "Ill go get my polo shirt and my khakis," he said. "An my penny loafers. I meant to bring em anyway sos I can leave em at Elaines. " He eyed my clothing. "Maybe you could dress up a little yourself," he said, "so we dont start no rumors about New York Ones on the skids. "

  I put on a blue blazer, and New York Ones sartorial reputation stayed unsullied. We rode uptown on the A train and spent forty minutes finding Sombrita Pardo and another half hour getting her story between bites of sausage pizza at a pizza parlor adjacent to the candy store in front of which shed been standing four years earlier. She was a little dumpling with glossy black hair, olive skin, Indio features, and surprising light brown eyes. Her name meant Little Shadow, she said, which was kind of silly and she used to hate it, but now she was beginning to like it because it was like different.

  Her story didnt change. The man who got out of the metered cab was white, and that was as much of a physical description as she could provide. And hed emerged from the front passenger seat, and shed had the feeling that he was going to run an errand and return to the cab, but he walked around the corner and disappeared. And then she had to go home, and she forgot about it, and the next day she heard that there was all this commotion, police cars and everything, and it turned out the driver was dead. Hed been shot, or so they said, but couldnt he have just had a heart attack or something? And maybe the friend had gone for help, and-

  And just forgot to come back?

  Well, she said, maybe, you know, he ODd, the driver, that is, and the friend decided he didnt want to get involved, so he, like, 911d it in and went home. Except she knew they found bullets in him, or at least thats what she heard, but you heard lots of things, and how did you know what to believe?

  How indeed?

  Fifteen or twenty minutes in TJ excused himself to go to the john, at which point Little Shadow grew at once older and younger. She straightened up in her seat and said, "Be honest with me? Im not gonna be on TV, am I?"

  "Im afraid not. "

  "Are you cops? You could be a cop, but no way Mr. T. J. Smiths a police officer. Course, I never thought he was Melissa Mikawas assistant, either. "

  "You didnt?"

  "Hes too young and too street for that. You got to go to college to get a job like that, dont you? He never went to college. "

  As I said, older than her years. Then I asked her why, if she saw through his act, shed been so cooperative. "Well, hes real cute," she said, and giggled, and looked about twelve years old.

  "Im an insurance investigator," I said. "Mr. Smiths a trainee. No need to let him know that you, uh, saw through his act. "

  "Oh, I wouldnt," she said, and sucked the last of her Coke through her straw. "Insurance? I hope I didnt get anybody in trouble. "

  "Certainly not. "

  "Or keep someone from getting their money. "

  "Its really just a matter of getting the paperwork straightened out," I said, "and maybe saving the company a few tax dollars. "

  "Oh, well," she said. "Thats good, isnt it?"

  15

  We got on the A train and split up at Columbus Circle. TJ was on his way to the shop to show Elaine how he looked in his Young Man of Promise costume. I walked over to Midtown North to look for Durkin. I caught him at his desk, eating a sandwich and drinking bottled iced tea.

  "Thomas Cloonan," I said. "Playwright, part-time cabdriver, shot and killed four years ago, Audubon Avenue and 174th Street, guy they tagged for it never went to trial-"

  "Jesus," he said. "What am I, the central figure in a granny-dumping? You figure me for no short-term memory at all?"

  "I just wanted to refresh your memory. "

  "It hasnt had time to get stale. We just talked about the son of a bitch the other day. "

  "What did Cloonan do to become a son of a bitch?"

  "Not Cloonan, for chrissake. The shooter. " His eyes narrowed in concentration. "Mims," he said. "Hows that for memory, considering its a case I got no reason to give a shit about?"

  "You want to try for the first name?"

  "Obadiah. "

  "Try Eldoniah. "

  "Well, fuck, I came close enough. What about him?"

  "The guy who shot Cloonan was white. "

  I gave him what I had. It wasnt his case- it wasnt anybodys case at this stage- but he was too much of a cop not to take an interest, sifting data, proposing and discarding theories.

  "Front-seat passenger," he said. "Who rides up front?"

  "In Australia," I said, "when you get a cab, you automatically sit in front next to the driver. "

  "Because the rear springs are shot?"

  "Because theres no class system, and youre all mates. Getting in back would be a snub. "

  "Yeah? Whats the chances you got an Australian shooting cabbies and robbing them?"

  "Well, it makes a refreshing change from Norwegians. "

  "All that aside, implications the shooters a friend of the driver, right?"

  "Known to him, anyway. "

  "Front-seat passenger, meters not running, no entry on the log sheet. He had a pickup in Midtown, long haul up to Columbia Presbyterian. Hows the shooter know hes gonna be there?"

  " Tommy, next fare you get anywhere near the neighborhood, drop by the Emerald Grill, I got something to talk about with you. "

  He thought about it. "I dont know. Thats about as hard to swallow as the Crocodile Dundee theory. "

  "Or its Cloonans idea. Hes in the neighborhood, so he decides to look up his friend. "

  "Who latches on to the opportunity to kill him. " He took a swig of iced tea. "Raspberry-flavored," he said. "All of a sudden theres, I dont know, a dozen, fifteen different flavors of iced tea. I used to think, why do we fill up the shelves with so many different choices? How are we gonna keep up with the fucking Russians if were dicking around with flavored tea while theyre building tanks and going to the moon? So their whole system fell apart and were working on ten more flavors and doing fine. Which shows what I know about anything. " He took another drink and said, "How reliables your witness?"

  "On a ten scale," I said, "somewhere between zero and one. "

  "What I figured. Shooter gave Cloonan two in the back of the head. How do you manage that, youre sitting next to the guy?"

  " Hey, Tom, whats that out the window? "

  "He turns to look, bang bang. Yeah, I suppose. Id have to see the lab report. Why would he do that, though? So it would look like the shot came from the rear seat?"

  "Or just so Cloonan wouldnt see it coming. "

  "Makes sense. Try this. Shooters in the back, cab pulls to the curb, shooter puts a pair in Cloonan. T
hen he gets out, and then he gets back in, next to the driver this time, and grabs the wallet and the coin changer, whatever else hes after. Then he gets out a second time, and thats when Carmen Miranda gets a look at him. "

  "It could be. "

  "Or try this on. Same opening, two shots from the backseat, and the shooter slips out from the rear on the street side, so nobody talking trash in front of the candy store ever gets a look at him. Maybe hes from the same town in Norway as Obadiah, pardon me, Eldoniah, or maybe hes Hispanic like the neighborhood, and either way he walks around the corner and disappears. "

  "And?"

  "And then you have this white guy walking down the street, and he wants to get a cab, and who can blame him, a white guy in that neighborhood?"

  "Its not a bad neighborhood. "

  "Can we just accept the idea that a white guy on that block might just as soon get in a taxi? He sees this cab, and theres a man behind the wheel, and he opens the door to ask if the guys waiting for a fare. "

  "And he sees the drivers dead. "

  "Right. And he does what most people would do, especially out of their own neighborhood, which is get the hell out of there, because who wants to be a witness, and maybe he was up in the Heights buying dope or getting laid, so why get involved?"

  "And the witness didnt see him until he was getting out of the cab?"

  "Why would she?"

  "I dont know," I said. "She doesnt see the shooter get out of the cab and she doesnt see the white guy get in. "

  "Why should she? Shes got other things on her mind. "

  "I guess. "

  "Basically," he said, "you havent got anything, have you?"

  "No. "

  "In terms of evidence, I mean. "

  "Not even close. "

  "But if youre trying to build a case that a single killer did these four people-"

  "Five, with Shiptons wife. "

  "- then this doesnt slow you down any. I cant recommend you talk to anybody up in the Three-four, though. They got enough open files, they dont have to get cracking on one of the closed ones. "

  "I know. "

  "Unless you wanted to go on the record. Reopen all those cases at once. If your clientll go for it. "

  "My client and some of his friends are meeting in a couple of days to see what they want to do. "

  "What, all twenty-six of them?"

  "Whered you get twenty-six?"

  "Thirty guys, four of them killed. That leaves twenty-six, right?" He grinned. "Nothing wrong with this grannys short-term memory. "

  "The arithmetics wrong. " He looked at me. "Thirty minus four equals-"

  "Fourteen. "

  "Huh?"

  "There were four murders," I said, "and twelve other deaths. "

  "What kind of deaths?"

  "A few suicides, a few accidents. A few resulting from illness. "