Shadows Still Remain by Peter de Jonge

Author:Peter de Jonge [Jonge, Peter de]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-05-19T14:00:00+00:00

27

Bruno is fourteen pounds of empathy. He knows right away O’Hara is hung over and doesn’t resist when she turns around and gingerly heads for home after five measly blocks. Safely back in the kitchen, O’Hara is about to call in sick again, when she sees that her own answering machine is lit up. In the ten minutes it took to walk Bruno, four new messages have come in. Hoping to Christ they have nothing to do with Axl, she hits PLAY: “Flumygoddammfuckingass!” shouts her sergeant, the angry words glommed together like congealed pasta. At least it’s not Axl. Message two, ten seconds later: “I trusted you, O’Hara, and you fucked me without the Vaseline. Don’t worry, I’ll never make that mistake again.” Despite her predicament and piercing headache, O’Hara smiles at the unintended ambiguity. Message three, seconds later: “Darlene, how you doing? Just did an all-nighter on a history paper and thought I’d catch you before you left for work.” This time the caller is in fact her son, and although she’s not sure she buys the part about the history paper, she is delighted by the sound of his voice. “Thanksgiving was a piece of cake,” continues Axl on tape. “Both her ’rents are MDs and drive matching blue Beemers, but all they wanted to hear about was my mom the New York City detective. It was like you were there. Love you. Hope you’re good. So long for now.” O’Hara smiles as long as it takes to cue up one last addendum from the sergeant: “If you’re well enough to hang out at strip clubs, O’Hara, you’re obviously well enough to work. I expect to see you at the start of your shift.” Regarding Axl’s call, O’Hara couldn’t be much happier and is relieved he passed his first social test so handily. Regarding Callahan, she is more perplexed than alarmed. She hasn’t told anyone about Pena and Privilege, except Krekorian. So how does her dumb-ass sergeant know about it?

The Wednesday-morning papers in their blue plastic sheath lie on the table where she dropped them. When she rips the bag open, the stripper’s pole at Privilege is on the cover of the Post. Above it is the twenty-four-point headline BI-POLAR. MURDER VICTIM LED DOUBLE LIFE. The Daily News goes with AN ATHLETE, A SCHOLAR AND A STRIPPER and Pena’s innocent-looking headshot from her prep school yearbook. Even worse, Darlene O’Hara, NYPD detective, is in both stories. That shameless bitch Sylvie must have called the papers for the free publicity. No wonder she’s still herding strippers in her golden years.

There’s a second problem. O’Hara’s car is on East Fifth Street. Her visit to Privilege had left a sour taste. To rinse it out, she stopped at her new favorite bar, Three of Cups, and when she stumbled onto the sidewalk after four Maker’s Marks, was in no condition to drive. That means the subway. There’s a delay on the 1 train, and O’Hara shows up forty-five minutes late for her own reaming.

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