Pride and Perilous: A Kyle Callahan Mystery by Mark McNease

Author:Mark McNease [McNease, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: MadeMark Publishing
Published: 2013-06-10T04:00:00+00:00

Brooklyn has been around for over 350 years. Now one of New York City’s five boroughs, it began as a small Dutch-owned settlement in the 17th century called “Breukelen.” By the 19th Century it was a large, full fledged city of its own, and was consolidated into New York City in 1898. Were it still separate it would be the fourth largest city in the United States. As it is, many people who live in Brooklyn consider it a world apart from Manhattan. They live and love in enclaves like Prospect Park, Park Slope, Williamsburg, Brooklyn Heights, and Kyle’s home for twenty-six years, Carroll Gardens. People who lived in the outer boroughs did not, by and large, regret living outside Manhattan; by the same token, most people in Manhattan considered it, and it alone, New York City, and places like Queens and the Bronx might as well be Iowa. Some of those attitudes had changed after 9/11, Kyle noticed. Something about having the World Trade Center destroyed, with all those lives falling out of the sky into a pile of rubble and dead souls, united the city in a way it had not been before. New York City now meant New York City, with all of its sprawl and mess, and many more people were clueing into the advantages of living “out there,” where rents were lower (not cheaper—nothing is cheap here anymore) and entire lives could be lived without ever setting foot on the Island.

Kyle was thinking of how long it had been since he’d taken the train to Brooklyn. Could it really have been since he moved in with Danny five years ago? He wanted to think he would not have so completely abandoned his old home, but it was probably true. There wouldn’t be any reason for him to come here.

“What are you thinking?” Linda asked as they walked toward the building Devin had lived in. Kyle wondered if someone was going through the dead man’s belongings yet, who had loved him, whose lives would be forever changed because of his murder.

“Nothing, just how long it’s been since I’ve come here.”

Kyle stopped them in front of an apartment building. “It must have been here,” he said. “Somewhere around here. I found his address, that was easy enough, and the news said he was killed just a few houses down from where he lived, toward the subway. So here, somewhere in here.”

Kyle stopped and looked around him: apartment buildings as far as the eye could see. And in those apartments, thousands of eyes. But would any of them have seen the killing, or the killer, and would any of them say so?

Linda glanced across the street and saw the coffee shop Kyle had mentioned. Sacred Grounds had been around for a decade, surviving the Starbucks onslaught with the support of a fiercely loyal neighborhood. “Maybe we should start there,” she said, pointing at the shop.

“I think we have to. We can’t knock on people’s doors. You can’t even get to people’s doors here, you have to ring buzzers.

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