“And at the conference, we will provide no details at all about how this case went down. You keep those details to yourself and let Strauss and ATF do all the talking.” Bale kept reading. “Don’t blow this, or Strauss will have my head.”
“Agreed.”
“But you know what I think, don’t you? I told you last night.” Bale looked up, pen poised and eyes narrowed the way they had at about two in the morning, when he’d lectured her over pizza about the dangers she’d caused herself and others. “Never again, you promise?”
“Promise. But I’m going to the arrest, aren’t I?”
“You stay in the car, like a good pup.”
“Arf!” Vicki barked, and Bale got busy reading again. She watched, then took a flyer, since he was in an admitting kind of mood. “You have to admit I did a good job, boss.”
“No, I don’t, because you didn’t.” Bale didn’t look up, but kept signing. “You got good results, but your methods were terrible. Dangerous. I’m putting you on another drug case, Kalahut, pairing you with ATF agent Barbara Pizer. She’ll keep you too busy to think about playing detective.”
“Understood,” Vicki said. She decided to shut up and start taking yes for an answer.
But she found herself thinking, unaccountably, of her father.
Vicki had never been part of a major federal drug bust, and the takedown played out with a coordination and precision that would have amazed the average taxpayer, if not combat veteran. Twenty ATF agents in full gear, deployed with assault rifles and fresh warrants, reinforced by FBI agents and Philly SWAT teams, conducted, at exactly eight-seventeen on Friday morning, surprise raids on the homes, businesses, and street corners worked by each of the fifteen defendants. Dan had gone with Strauss to watch them execute the warrant on Toner for the Toys “R” Us murders, but Vicki, protected in a heavy black Kevlar vest and ensconced in an unmarked escort van, watched as ATF knocked and announced themselves at the row house of Jay Steptoe, then burst in to execute. The agents emerged without gunfire or event only ten minutes later, with a struggling Steptoe, dressed in black sweatpants and a white T-shirt.
Vicki gasped. Steptoe was cursing and fighting the agents, his expression showing the same malevolence it had the night he’d shot Morty to death, then turned the gun on her. She peered out the tiny porthole of the van, deriving great satisfaction in seeing him dragged down the front walk, kicking and screaming, and into a waiting squad car.
“Woohooo!” Vicki turned to the right, by habit, but Reheema wasn’t there. As a civilian, she hadn’t been permitted to come, and Vicki had barely had a chance to say good-bye to her, and thanks, before she’d put her in the elevator.
Wouldn’t have got him without you, Lady Tiger, Vicki thought as she watched the squad car drive off, with its siren blaring.
Vicki wasn’t completely surprised to find the press conference as carefully staged, timed, and coordinated as the drug bust. U.S. Attorney Strauss, Chief Bale, brass from ATF, FBI, Philly police, and finally Dan and Vicki stood at the front of the room, in the glare of klieglights and at least forty-five still cameras and videocameras. Strauss took the podium precisely at 12:10, arranged to give the local networks the time to broadcast the warehouse fire du jour, then cut to the press conference.
Strauss cleared his throat. “My office today is announcing that a major victory has been won in Project Clean Shopping to keep the city of Philadelphia free of violent crime. Today, we have arrested and captured one William Toner, the individual who, as part of a drug conspiracy, is charged with the murder of two drug dealers and five other innocent citizens in front of Toys ‘R’ Us the other day.”
Photos snapped, motor drives whirred, and there was even applause.
“In addition, as part of the same master raid, we have today arrested one Jay Steptoe for the murder of ATF Special Agent Robert Morton, whom you may recall was shot down last week in the line of duty.”
There was applause at that, and Vicki looked down.
“Here are the charges, and the defendants, in summary,” Strauss continued, and Vicki didn’t listen to the rest, not after the part about Morty. She was thinking about what Bale had said, about the force of law, and how in the end, it had prevailed. The office would have to try the case against Steptoe and she would have to make sure they won, and something told her that she would, for Morty.
“Finally,” Strauss concluded, “it is very important at this time for me to give credit for his fine investigative and supervisor efforts in connection with this matter, which, as you can imagine, was a Herculean task.” Strauss paused, and the silence made Vicki look up, bringing her out of her reverie.
“I would like to publicly thank Chief Howard Bale, Section Chief, for his unwavering commitment both to justice and to the safety of our citizens in this highly dangerous and vitally crucial area of law enforcement. Chief Bale?” Grinning, Strauss extended his long arm, like a game show host, at Bale. The audience clapped, and Vicki joined them spontaneously, and Dan followed suit so she wouldn’t look stupid. She would have to thank him later, in bed.
Bale took the podium and said a few words, then the ATF and FBI brass, and finally the mayor, the police commissioner, the deputy mayor, and the president of the chamber of commerce, who invited everybody to come out and shop, shop, shop in safety. The press conference finally ended, and Vicki couldn’t help but wonder if Reheema had been watching TV and what she thought of the show.
Which reminded Vicki that she still had some unfinished business.
THIRTY-NINE
Vicki lay with her head happily nestled on Dan’s warm chest, at home, in the quiet dark of the bedroom she was coming to think of as theirs. She knew the thought was premature, but it was hard to think clearly after really terrific sex with a man she loved, under a white baffle comforter, with a calico cat curled into a variegated ball at the foot of the bed. Especially when you’ve left work early to make love. Vicki considered making hooky sex her new hobby.
The late afternoon sun, which had been outside the bedroom window when they had come home, had long gone, swept away by the frosty blue blast of a winter sky. It had to be six o’clock, or later. Vicki focused dreamily on the blue square over the half curtains, but couldn’t tell if it would be cloudy again. As a little girl, she used to watch for the stars before sleep, imagining them in winter as hard as diamonds, fired by the cold of heaven.
“So that was my reward?” Dan asked, his voice soft and deep.
“Yes. I’m a fan of positive reinforcement. Lucky you.”
“In that case, it’ll have to do.”
“Very funny. “ Vicki pinched Dan’s side, and he squirmed.
“I’m still mad at you, though.”
“Aw. Don’t start all over again.”
“I am. You’ve been rewarded, too, by my fabulous sexual prowess, but you should be punished.”
“Spank me.”
“I’m not kidding. Going into my briefcase? Stealing my papers? Staking out dangerous felons? Lying to me, day after day?”
“I’m sorry I lied to you.”
“You even acted like you hadn’t seen that photo of Toner, when you took it!”
Vicki winced. “I’m sorry about that, too.”
“What about the other things?”
“I’m not sorry about them.”
“You should be!” Dan didn’t sound like he was smiling, and it was killing her postcoital stargazing.
“Look, I won’t make a habit of it, but I got the guy who killed Morty and I’m proud of that. And aren’t you happy we got Toner?”
“You and Reheema could have been arrested, too! She’s the one who got you into this.”
“No, she didn’t,” Vicki said, defensive. “If anything, I got her into it.”
“I don’t like her. The woman is hostile.”
“I like her. Hostility is part of her charm.”
After a minute, Dan said, “Vick?”
“What?”
“Your behavior was really inappropriate.”
Vicki smiled. “You sound like the school principal.”
“Maybe because I am. Or at least, I will be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not supposed to say.”
“Tell me. What’s going on?” Vicki lifted her head and looked up at Dan, and in the semidarkness, his lips were curving into a mysterious smile.
“Well, some promotions are in the wings. It’s unofficial now, but they’re going to announce it on Monday, to the office and the press.”
“Announce what?” Vicki shifted excitedly onto her elbow, and Dan was already propping himself up on a pillow.
“I’m going to be the new chief.”
“You! Congratulations!” Vicki’s heart filled and she reached for Dan, and he hugged her back warmly.
“Isn’t that amazing?”
“It’s great!”
“I get a raise, too, three grand.” Dan grinned. “There’s a transition period. The promotion becomes effective a month from next week.”
“What’s happening to Bale?”
“He’s gonna be the new U.S. Attorney.”
“Wow! No wonder Strauss thanked him at the conference.”
Dan nodded. “Strauss told me he’s setting up the press.”
“And Strauss is going to be what?”
“He’s about to be nominated to the Third Circuit. They’ve been talking about it behind the scenes for months.”
“You’re kidding! I had heard that was what he wanted.”
“Yeah, and with the bust today, he was told it’s been put on the front burner and he’ll be confirmed with no problem. I think he’s heading for the Supremes, but I don’t know.”
“Well, good for him. Dan, jeez! You, chief?” Vicki began to process the news. “Wait, does that mean I’m sleeping with my boss?”
“Honestly, yes. If we keep this up.” Dan’s smile faded, and Vicki felt a note of worry.
“What do you mean, if? Of course we’ll keep it up. We love each other.”
“I’m not saying I want to give you up. I just got you.”
“Me, too. I mean, me, neither!” Vicki was too tired to think. She hadn’t slept in twenty-odd hours. Her eyelids felt suddenly leaden, but it could have been a stress reaction. “We can keep these things separate. Love and work, you need both.”
“In the same place? What about the way it looks? There’ll be gossip.”
Vicki didn’t like his tone of voice. She wished it weren’t so dark so she could see his face more clearly. “They gossiped about us when you were married, too. Who cares about gossip anyway?”
“We both do. People don’t know about us now, but I have discretion, as Chief, in giving out cases. Promotions, raises. It’ll look like I’m favoring you.”
“Well, you won’t.” Vicki felt her heart tug. “What, do you stop loving me when you get a promotion?”
“No, of course not,” Dan answered softly. “I do love you, sweetie.” He reached for Vicki and pulled her close, where she burrowed back into his chest, reclaiming him. He sighed. “Look, let it go, for now. This was an endless day, and I have no idea when was the last time you slept. Let’s just get some rest.”
“I can’t sleep after this!”
“Yes, you can. You’re beat.” Dan shifted down in bed, still holding Vicki, and pulled the comforter over them both. “Just go to sleep and don’t worry about a thing.”
“I am worried.”
“Everything’s gonna be all right,” Dan said, kissing her head. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Vicki said, but she was remembering something about relationships. Men always slept better after a fight. In fact, a good fight was like Tylenol P.M. for men. She tried to relax and kept watching the sky to see if the stars came out. But they didn’t.
The next time Vicki opened her eyes was 9:17 at night. The bedroom was dark and quiet except for the hissing of the radiator and Dan’s regular breathing. The cat wasn’t in her spot any longer, but had left for her nightly walkabout, which included scratching noisy newspaper, crawling into noisy shopping bags, and meowing out the window, noisily, at streetlights. Vicki liked Zoe, but stepcats had their drawbacks.
She turned over and remembered what she and Dan had been talking about just before they’d fallen asleep. She turned and tried to put it out of her mind, without success. She got up, went to the bathroom, then came back to bed, sat down carefully, and watched Dan sleep the peaceful sleep of the newly promoted.
I love you, sweetie.
Vicki felt nervous, worried, hungry, and disoriented. She had been up and active for so many nights, she’d become as nocturnal as Zoe. She found herself wondering what Reheema was doing. They hadn’t spoken since the morning. She looked down at Dan, arms thrown up behind his head, and knew she’d never fall back to sleep. If she went back to bed, she’d just wake him. She needed to think, and she needed a friend. So she got up, got dressed, and left her new boss a note on the pillow.
An hour later, Vicki was back in her beloved Cabrio, listening idly to KYW radio’s continuous loop of coverage of what they were calling the Toys “R” Us Arrests and the Major Drug Bust. The mayor was quoted at length, then Strauss, on audiotape, and Vicki was enjoying hearing great things about truth, justice, and the American way when she remembered something she had forgotten.
She fumbled in her pocket for her cell phone, bypassing that pesky gun from the night before. She found the cell, flipped it open with a thumbnail, and pressed speed dial for her parents’ home number, so it didn’t look like she was playing favorites by picking one cell or the other. She had a fifty-fifty chance. The phone stopped ringing and the call connected.
“Mom?” Vicki asked, hopefully.
“Hello, honey!”
Yes! “Just wanted to say hi. I figured you guys would have seen me on the news. We arrested the man who killed my partner, the ATF agent.”
“Yes! It was very exciting!” Her mother sounded genuinely happy, and in the background, Ruby the Insane Corgi barked and barked. “What a wonderful result, and you looked so nice up there. Your shoes were perfect.”
“They always are.” Vicki smiled. This phone call would be easy, because the party line was completely sanitized. This time the United States Attorney was lying to Vicki’s parents, though she welcomed the help.
“Hold on a sec. I’ll get your father on the extension.”
No! The only thing worse than her father on the phone was her father on the extension. Her mother covered the phone while she called for him, and he picked up after a traffic light changed to green.
“Victoria?” her father said. Now there was barking in stereo.
“Yes, hi. I just wanted to say hello, and tell you things are going well. I guess you saw the press conference and the news.”
“Yes, I read the account online, too. Sounds very interesting, and the phones have been ringing at the office all day. Harry and Janet Knowles, you know what nice people they are, called and so did Maureen Thompson and Gail Graves.”
Their client family. “That’s nice.”
“Also her sister, Lynne Graves Stephenson, you remember her, from Chester County. Will Donato called, too, and one other. Oh yes, Karen Abdalla-Oliver and Mama Jean Brightcliff.”
You sure that’s everybody?
“And Phyllis Banks, from South Philly.”
“South Philly Phil?” Vicki smiled at the memory. She missed Phyllis.
“Yes. She’s very happy for you. You and your colleagues must be very pleased.”
“I am.” But you will never be.
“It sounds like a very big case, fifteen defendants, all manner of counts.”
Her mother added, “Well, I hope you’re getting some rest, dear. You did look a little tired, on TV.”
It’s the sex. “Well. I gotta go, Mom. It’s late. I just wanted to check in.”
“Good, get some sleep, honey,” her mother said, and her father ad
ded:
“Pleasant dreams.”
In time, Vicki crossed into Devil’s Corner and had reached Lincoln Street, surprised to see lights, commotion, and activity. She drove down Lincoln, closer to whatever was going on; one block, then two, until she had to stop. Reheema’s block had been cordoned off by police sawhorses, and a crowd of people filled the street, milling around outside, even in the frigid air. TV klieglights sliced the night sky, calcium-white beams knifing the cold cobalt-blue, and the white microwave antenna of a mobile newsvan towered almost as high as the row houses.
Vicki’s mouth went dry. She flashed on the scene outside Shayla Jackson’s, the night she’d been killed. Reheema’s block looked like a crime scene. What could it be? She had listened to the radio on the way over, and the news had been dominated by the Toys “R” Us arrests and the drug busts. She hadn’t heard anything about trouble in Devil’s Corner. Maybe it had just happened and hadn’t hit the media yet.
Alarmed, Vicki slammed on the brakes, yanked up the emergency, and parked the car. She jumped out and hustled toward the crowd and the TV lights, her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. She reached the crowd and heard noise, talk, and shouting coming from near Reheema’s house.
“What’s going on?” Vicki asked a man in a down parka, but his thick hood was up and he turned away. Then she heard rap music and what sounded like singing.
Huh? Vicki wedged her way through the crowd, which was buzzing and chattering happily away. People carried homemade signs that they pumped in time to the thumpa-thumpa rap. A handwritten poster on a stake read, KEEP THE DEVILS OUT OF DEVIL’S CORNER! Another sign, Magic Marker on oak tag, said, TO HELL WITH THE HOLE!
Vicki relaxed, smiling. It wasn’t a crime, it was some sort of block party. She wedged her way toward Reheema’s, where she smelled hot dogs and grilling barbecue. Nelly rapped about Nellyville on a boom box, and neighbors danced, laughed, smoked, and talked on the street and sidewalk, heedless of the temperature. It was a joyous sight for a street that used to be so deserted, and in the middle of the crowd, dancing tall above the other heads, there bopped a familiar knit cap.