Weepers by Chiarkas Nick

Author:Chiarkas, Nick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Three Towers Press
Published: 2015-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

At 10:00 a.m., Frank and his ex-partner, Tommy Manuski, were sipping coffee and standing outside the interrogation room at the precinct.

“I hope this guy’s got something for you, Frankie.”

“So, he thinks I’m a cop working another case.” Frank looked through the one-way glass. He missed being a cop. The gathering in the backroom before the shift started, jotting down assignments and “watch fors” in his memo pad. He missed the murmur of cops telling stories and playing cards. The smell of shoe polish, leather, and gun cleaner. He missed the updates before turning out.

Climbing into his seat in their car, he and Tommy took an initial look around their sector before deciding what they were going to eat on that shift. Midnight to eight was his favorite. First couple of hours were filled with disturbances as the bars let out. And then the second-story guys hit the warehouses and lofts. He liked how quiet the city was in the early morning hours. He liked watching it wake up: 5:00 a.m. deliveries, street cleaners, sunrise. Frank Terenzio missed it all—every day.

“That’s it, Partner. Gary in there’s already given me what I need to cut the deal. But he don’t know that. He thinks he needs your nod and, believe me, he wants the program. He’s been sitting in there for two hours, no coffee or smokes—he’s ready.”

“So, we go in together and I play him to you,” Frank said.

“That’s my thinking…hold up,” Tommy said. He shouted at a couple of detectives at the end of the hall. “Hartz. Got a minute?”

“Sure.” Detective Hartz walked up to Tommy. “What do you need?”

“Frankie, this is Clarence Hartz. We got our gold shields same day. Hartz, this is—”

“Frank Terenzio, your partner,” Hartz said, sticking out his hand.

“Former partner,” Frank corrected, shaking hands with Hartz.

“Not the way Tommy talks about you,” Hartz said. “Frank, all us old guys were around when the crap came down; we have a lot of respect for you. You’re an original stand-up guy.”

“Thanks, Clar—what do you prefer?”

“My first name’s Clarence. Take a guess.”

“Thanks, Hartz.”

“Frankie, Hartz is working on something in your neighborhood. I told him it’d be okay to drop by and talk to you.”

“I’ve seen you around. No problem. Lilly’s on Catherine. Make it a coop,” Frank said.

“Thanks, I can use the help. Good luck with this guy. Tommy told me a little about it.”

“Ready?” Tommy asked.

“Let’s go.” The two men walked into the stark interrogation room. Gary was sitting alone at a table for four. Frank was holding two cups of coffee. He sat across from Gary. Tommy sat between them with his own cup of coffee. Frank pushed a cup to Gary, took out a cigarette for himself, and tossed the pack on the table toward Tommy.

“Gary, you’re very close to the program.” Tommy took out a Lucky, tapped it on the table, put it in his mouth, and lit it. He took a slow, deep drag and blew the smoke out of his nose and mouth as he said, “This is the detective who will make the call.

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