Maggie Barbieri by Extracurricular Activities

Author:Extracurricular Activities
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Police, Police - New York (State) - New York, Fiction, Women Sleuths, Crawford, N.Y.), Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, Bergeron, Mystery fiction, Women college teachers, Bronx (New York, Bobby (Fictitious character), Mystery, Detective and mystery stories, Divorced women, Gangsters, Detective, Mystery & Detective, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Fiction - Mystery, General, Alison (Fictitious character), Suspense, English teachers
ISBN: 9780312945305
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2008-09-30T10:08:54+00:00

Chapter 16

The next day I had two hours to kill, so I drove to the Fiftieth Precinct.

I was still processing everything that had happened over the weekend: the wedding, my ride with Peter, my date with Jack, the note from Gianna. My conclusion was that I needed to stay far away from anyone named Miceli or McManus.

Even though I knew I had to see Crawford to fill him in on what had transpired after the wedding, I still had myself worked up about my date with Jack. I tried to adopt a casual posture and expression so that when I did see Crawford, “I made out with a guy in his car last night!” didn’t slip from my lips or broadcast itself from my rosy cheeks.

Crawford, on top of being great looking, kind, and responsible, is also extremely perceptive. His bullshit detector is more finely honed than that of just about anybody I’ve ever known. Nothing gets past him. Not revealing the previous night’s actions was going to prove extremely taxing to me, I was sure.

Before I left for the precinct, though, I had taught my two morning classes, including the Modern Lit class. There was no sign of Ms. Podowsky and there hadn’t been since I had run into her at the bookstore. I wondered if she had dropped the class. But for now, I had more pressing matters to attend to so I didn’t drop by the registrar’s office to find out.

I pulled my car up to the front of the building into one of those diagonal spots that I always had trouble backing out of. I figured if Crawford was there, he could help me back out without smashing into anything, such as a person.

I had never been to the precinct before and I was more than a little curious about where Crawford worked. I had been in another precinct earlier that year and it was horrendous; I couldn’t imagine going to work in a place like that every day. The Fiftieth was a little bit better—a teensy bit, maybe?—and I took heart that he worked there instead of in a more dicey neighborhood.

It was an atypical fall day in New York when I arrived at the precinct, located a mile or so south of St. Thomas. Usually, the weather is slightly warm, sometimes with a chill in the air, and sunny. Today, the weather matched the precinct building to a tee—gray, dull, and dark. I went through the heavy metal doors and into the main area of the precinct.

I walked to the switchboard area where a very attractive female officer was manning the phones. Crawford had described his colleagues as fat, smelly, and definitely unattractive; Officer Gorman (as her name tag identified her) did not fall into any of those categories. And when she stood to greet me, I could see that not only was she not fat, she was built like a brick shithouse. And I don’t even know what that means.

“Hi,” she said, smiling. “Can I help you?” Gorgeous and friendly.

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