Stealing Time (18 page)

Alfie snorted. "Sure I know Jewish, Italian, Chinese, Puerto Rican, Dominican—Fujian, Fijian, you name it, I know it." He moved a few chairs around. "Come in, sit, sit."

April took a chair that faced the desks and empty holding cell. The desk that had been hers was also unoccupied at the moment, but the shift changed in a few minutes. Someone would come in and she'd see who sat there now. Again she was flooded with memories of a life more simple than the one she had now.

The ghosts of all those shadowy longings she used to have for things she'd known nothing about now hovered in the air over her head, as the ghosts that she didn't believe in always did. The things she'd wanted so much had come to her at the price of her peace of mind and her innocence. She found herself almost overwhelmed with nostalgia for the time when she'd had no responsibility for the people below her and few choices about how to handle anything.

"Hey, it's great to see you, April. You made good, huh?"

Her chin dipped in a modest curtsy, acknowledging the compliment. It wasn't always easy to know what to do when people suddenly got nice. "How's Lorna, the kids?"

"Lorna's still Lorna, older. Kathy's an FBI agent. Bill's in law school."

"Looks like they got through college, after all. Congratulations."

"Could be worse," he said proudly. "What brings you down here? Still want my job, cutie?"

"Nah, you can keep it now. I have my own." April glanced at Woody with a smile. He was listening, probably thinking about taking
her
job.

"So what's up?" Alfie's eyes got shrewd again. "You won't believe this—an old friend of yours, remember Nanci Hua? She came in asking about you, oh not even an hour ago. Funny how things happen."

"Nanci? No kidding. What did she want?"

"She wouldn't say. She looked upset. She wanted you. I gave her your number."

"She still in the same place?"

He shoveled through the mess on his desk. "Uh-uh, out in Garden City. I have the number here somewhere, but I never thought I'd be seeing you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Alfie nodded at some people April had never seen before, coming in for the afternoon tour, staring at the visitors with frank curiosity.

"Oh, just curious if you've heard anything about black-market babies," April asked.

"Black-market babies?" Alfie scratched his head as if she'd gone loony from working uptown too long. "From down here?"

April shrugged expectantly.

"We had a girl die last year of a botched abortion. Her family didn't want to risk taking her to the hospital, so she bled to death. We get a few of those." He was thoughtful. "Then there was the girl a few months ago. Only twelve. They found her in the water under the Brooklyn Bridge, but she was dead before she went in. Thank God the case wasn't ours." He shook his head, then tried out the words again. "Blackmar-ket babies. That's a new one on me. But you know how it is down here. What are you working on?"

"I caught the Popescu case."

"Yeah. I heard about that. I thought the story was the mother offed it." Alfie gave her a sharp look, waiting for enlightenment, just like the old days.

"Could be. Could also be something else. Keep this under your hat, will you? Turns out it wasn't her baby. So it's a mystery. You know how I hate mysteries."

Alfie frowned. "Couldn't it be a friend's baby? An adoption. How about from China, that play for you?"

"I don't know; the husband isn't forthcoming with papers. If the baby came in legally, there would have to be immigration papers. We got zip. That makes me think dirty thoughts."

"What's the mother say?"

"She's not exactly cooperating. She was hit on the head. She thinks she's an insect. But she might always have thought she was an insect." April shook her head. "And she might be out of it. It's complicated."

"You think she might have killed the baby?"

"If she did, she got rid of the body very efficiently. We haven't found anything."

"So what do you want from me?"

"You know everything that's going on down here, Alfie. I want you to put out a BOLO on a blue Perego stroller. Woody here checked the price of those for me. They cost a bundle. Not many people down here can afford an item like that."

"Any particular reason?"

"None at all. Call it wishful thinking."

Woody cut in. "What do you know about the Popescu brothers?"

April didn't cut him, but Alfie looked over at him as if
he
were an insect. "Noise," he said.

"Noise?" April echoed.

"Yeah, the Popescus are two big letter writers. Everything's a problem with them. Their latest beef is boom boxes. One of them threatened to get a gun and shoot the next asshole who pollutes the space in front of his building. Lot of people have been asking about them. How many people you got on this case?"

April lifted a shoulder. "Too many. What did you tell them?"

"You know me, I'm always helpful. I'll tell you the same thing. In the past we've had a lot of complaints about those guys. Anonymous, of course, and not from the Chinese. They used to have some Latinas in the factory, and there were some incidents then. No formal charges were ever made, though. They switched to Chinese workers years ago. They own the building, and the complaints these days all come from them. Noise, traffic, garbage pickup, stolen radio from one of their vans. They want a yellow line painted on the curb so no one else can park in front of their building. Every month there's something new." He took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and threw it away. "Filthy habit."

"You been in there to see what they're so defensive about?"

Alfie pursed his lips. "They're a pain in the ass. I like to keep out of their way."

"Maybe that's what they want you to do," April said. "How about I go over and have a talk with them?"

He shot her a dark look. "I know them, I'll take a look." His interest was piqued.

April wanted to take care of this herself, but didn't want to offend her old boss. Suddenly, outside the glass house, she saw a Chinese male, a guy who looked older than she, sit down at her former desk. For a moment she was distracted. Then she said, "I don't want to put you out."

"Put me out. I'd love a walk."

"Fine, I'll go with you."

"Sure, cutie, anything you say." Alfie reached in his drawer for another cigarette he'd put in his mouth and wouldn't light.

She took a last look at the Chinese who'd taken her desk and wondered if he was smart. Then she nodded at Woody. "Make some friends, I'll be back in a while," she told him.

CHAPTER
20

Ivan and Marc Popescu were arguing and picking boiled beef and cabbage out of their teeth as they opened the door to their building after a late lunch. They found Lieutenant Alfredo Bernardino and a Chinese woman who looked like she might be from INS leaning against the closed door of their downstairs office talking with Annie Lee. Ivan pulled the toothpick out of his mouth and dropped it on the ground behind him. He gave his cousin a shove, but Marc was used to it and didn't respond.

"Come on in, Sergeant. Whatcha doing out here?" He was all smiles for the lieutenant, clapped him on the shoulder as if they were old buddies. "You here about the son of a bitch that stole my car radio?"

"Sure. He's sorry and brought it back when he found out it was yours."

"Ha, ha, I had no idea you were a funny man. Who's the pretty lady?" Marc opened the office door. Inside, the air-conditioning was on, and the room was nice and cool. When he flipped on the fluorescent lights, the old-fashioned office jumped into focus.

"What are you doing down here, Annie?" Ivan turned around to give the supervisor a tongue-lashing. "Didn't I tell you—?"

"Someone come—"

"Yeah, who come? I'll dock you a month's pay if you let people come in here."

Marc patted his cousin on the back, giving his shoulder a quick, calming massage. Ivan puffed out his stomach, straining the front of his silver warm-up jacket and looking hurt by the correction.

"This is Sergeant April Woo. Marc Popescu. Ivan Popescu."

April nodded.

Scowling, Ivan followed them inside. The front of the room boasted a cracked leather sofa and wooden office furniture from the year one. On the coffee table were a dying plant with a pink ribbon on it left over from Easter, and some recent fashion magazines. Behind it stood two messy rolltop desks covered with papers. Marc invited the detectives to sit down on the sofa. For a second the lights flickered, and Bernardino looked interested.

"To what do we owe the honor?" Marc asked the cop.

Bernardino continued to survey the room without sitting down.

"You won't light that up, will you? We have a no-smoking rule here," Ivan said.

"Oh yeah, this." Bernardino touched the end of the cigarette dangling from his top lip. "This is just for show. Fools me into thinking something's happening that isn't really happening, know what I mean?"

"Oh come on, don't start up. You know we're strictly legal here. Anyway, you guys aren't interested in our plumbing woes, or whether our girls have green cards. That's not your department." Marc's forehead furrowed as he looked over at the Chinese woman who hadn't spoken yet. The last thing he needed was someone nosing around the place.

"I thought you'd like to know we keep an eye on things around here." The cop kept looking around.

"Suit yourself, keep an eye on things. You know we're strictly on the up-and-up here."

"One of our Conditions boys noticed some wires hanging out the window upstairs. He wondered if the place was a hot spot. I said naahh, not my Popescu friends."

Marc gave Ivan a puzzled look. Conditions, what the hell was that? He could understand the two other detectives from downtown calling on them earlier to ask a whole lot of questions about Anton and his background, his associations, and his baby. That had been unnerving enough. But what was this Conditions thing about? "What kind of hot spot?" he asked.

"Oh, you know. With the mayor's new drug initiative, we have to check everything out."

Marc put his hand on Ivan's arm, but it didn't stop Ivan from exploding. "Are you nuts? What do you think, that we're growing weed up there?"

The cop shrugged. "Yeah, could be for lights. Could be you're converted into a happy dreams factory these days, cooking with gas up there. Could be unauthorized phone lines for drug buys. Could be a lot of things. I'd like to take a look."

Marc took it as a joke and laughed. "Could be we're a sewing factory and we run sewing machines. Listen to that rumble." He pointed upstairs. "Sewing machines."

"You're outta your mind. Get outta here before I punch out your lights." Ivan's face flushed as he took a boxer's stance in front of the detective. "Nothing here is your fucking business."

Marc was shocked. "Jesus! Relax, brother. He's just putting us on." He chortled. Good joke, a drug factory right down here on the Lower East Side, where everybody knew everybody's business inside out, sure.

"I'm not your brother, asshole." Even though he was wearing an expensive warm-up suit like an athlete, Ivan wasn't fit. He wasn't young, either. He looked like a character trying to be a bad guy in a movie. "Okay, you visited. You asked about the wires. Now get outta here," he told the detective.

Marc cringed. Bernardino wasn't going to do what Ivan wanted and leave when he was spoken to like that.

"Well, let's just take a little look upstairs and in the basement," the detective said easily.

"No way! Get a warrant if you suspect something."

Once again Marc closed in on him and put his hand on Ivan's shoulder. "I'll take care of this. You need to calm down."

"Don't tell me what I need to do. Don't you see what this guy's doing?" He looked at the female, who still hadn't said a word.

"You need to calm down," Marc snapped. "Cut it out, are you crazy?"

"I swear I'll kill you if—"

"Who are you threatening to kill?" Now Bernardino was really interested.

Marc attempted humor: "It's just his digestion. He's always like this after lunch. Come on, Sergeant, I'll take you anywhere you want to go. You're welcome to our rats. Maybe you can put in a good word to the city about them."

"It's Lieutenant."

"Really? Congratulations, is that a new title?" Marc jumped ahead of him to open the office door.

"Nope, it's been Lieutenant for a good fifteen years now."

"Gee." Marc closed the door and led the way up the stairs. "Now, tell me what can I do for you."

"You have any idea about those wires?"