Too Quiet In Brooklyn (A Fina Fitzgibbons Brooklyn Mystery Book 1) Read online

  He turned to the back and called out. Smiling, he faced me. “Always. The grandson.”

  In a second, a much younger copy of Mr. Caputo emerged. About eighteen, I’d say. I introduced myself and repeated my story. “When you delivered the cannoli, did you happen to notice any vans or trucks outside?”

  His eyes took on that faraway look. “Just the usual.”

  “Can you be a little more specific? Where did you chain your bike?”

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “On the No Parking sign. Best place.”

  He waited for me to react.

  “You remember the time?”

  He held up his watch. “Not good with time. Before lunch.”

  “So tell me what you did. Take it step by step. You locked your bike, took the cannoli out of your bike bin, unlatched the gate, stepped down to ring Lucy’s bell, rang it … Like that, tell me.”

  He did and I’ll spare you the boring part, but there was an interesting bit at the end.

  “…When I go to unlock my bike, there’s two guys in my way.”

  “Doing what, these two guys?”

  “Dunno, carrying something. Mean sort. Told me to scram. I unlocked my bike and got out of there.”

  “How did they get there?”

  He shrugged. “I remember hearing a van door slam. Must have been. Wait. Yeah they were double parked because I remember the two of them hauling something heavy, walking in between two parked cars. That’s all. Happened so fast.”

  “Did you see their van?”

  He shook his head.

  “Close your eyes. Try to picture it. What did they look like?”

  “Average guys.”

  “Wearing hats? Chinos?”

  He shook his head and squirmed.

  “What color was the van?”

  “Can’t remember. Red or brown. Maybe white.”

  “Lettering?”

  He shook his head. “Like I say, they didn’t seem friendly. Mean sort. I got the hell out of there, and fast.”

  I thanked Mr. Caputo, kissed Mrs. Caputo again who pressed a bag into my hand and told me not to make it so long between visits. “Your grandma would be proud. We went to school together, you know. St. Saviour.”

  “I know,” I said and blew her a kiss. “You tell me every time,” I said under my breath.

  On my way to Teresa’s, I opened the bag and couldn’t resist. My stomach was growling the way it always does around cannoli.

  I considered what I had so far, which wasn’t much. There were two workmen carrying a sack, either the killer or killers, or working for them. Doubtless, they were the ones who dumped the body. I checked my book. Eleven-fifteen. They arrived in a van, either red or maroon or brown or white. Not much, but one step at a time. Under “Summary,” I made a note, balled up the bakery bag and vowing this time to stay focused, made my way back to the Heights.

  Getting It Right

  They’d been practicing all month. Not like they did her cold. Oh, no. They followed what the big boss said about getting it right. Arrow’s face was relaxed. “So far, so good,” he kept saying. Arrow found an old coat and gloves in the shed, dressed the old lady up in them, and stuffed her into a green leaf bag. There was a roll of them in the shed. Then they backed the van up to the gate and dumped the bag into the truck before the mean neighbor saw.

  Arrow looked at his watch. “Eleven o’clock, perfect. So far, so good.”

  They rode out and around and turned down the street, Ralph driving slow, Arrow on the lookout for the right corner. Ralph saw it before Arrow did, but Arrow said, “Go around the block, there’s a man sitting on the stoop directly across.” We had to circle a couple of times, but the guy on the stoop was reading each time we passed, so Arrow figured it was still a good spot. Anyway, it’s what the boss wanted. He had Ralph pull alongside the corner van, Arrow directing him like he always did, forward, forward, slower, stop. They carried the bag from the back, Ralph on one end, Arrow on the other. Heavy, so heavy it took the both of them, around the back of the other van and onto the sidewalk. Some bicycle schmuck in their way, but Arrow got him to move. They slid the old lady out, stuffed the bag in the can on the corner, and got out of there.

  Arrow knew a spot off the Belt in a neighborhood he worked once, a secret access road to a spit of land, he called it. Gotta look sharp, Arrow said, slow down and keep in the right lane. Now, do it now. But there was a cop car tailing them so they had to exit and go around and look for it again. It came up too swift the second time and both of them wasn’t looking so they had to circle again. “Third time’s the charm,” Arrow said. “Slow down, turn now.” And Ralph did, he turned.

  “My specialty, torching cars, and we practiced good, like the boss told us.”

  Ralph agreed. They got out of the van. Ralph remembered to take Charlie’s book with him.

  “The boss’ll be happy. Real happy.” They were right next to the water. It gave Ralph the willies remembering what Arrow said about the fishes and he felt something creep up his back so he made sure to be careful of Arrow all the time because Arrow had a gun. The boss didn’t know about it. He didn’t like guns. No guns, no knives. They make blood. No blood, the boss had said. Ralph remembered this. So Ralph removed the plates and Arrow doused the inside like they’d practiced and lit the bottle. They closed the door and ran. From the other side of the road, Arrow watched the van while taking a piss in the rocks.

  “Ain’t going to work.”

  “Patience. It’ll work,” Arrow said.

  And it did. It worked just like it did in the garbage can. The van shook, just like the garbage can did, and there was a ball of fire and Arrow waved his baseball cap. He jumped up and down and said as how they did it. “Just one more,” Arrow said but Ralph didn’t understand the one more part, not then.

  They turned to go. Arrow’s face was red. “What are you doing with the book? You crazy or something?”

  Ralph told him he wanted something to read on the subway, but Arrow slapped the book from Ralph’s hands.

  They had to stop for a beer because Arrow was thirsty and they had to ride the R all the way back but it wasn’t so bad, just slow. Halfway home, Ralph was bored. Nothing to do and he remembered Charlie’s book in the tall grass near the rocks. Arrow told him to read the signs, but it wasn’t the same. A hot wind passed over the back of his neck as the car swayed. No air in the subway. Bunch of big women sweating bullets and talking in the seats around them. The train made stops and picked up lots of people. The car was crowded. Arrow’s breath smelled and his farts rattled the plastic seats. He said he needed to piss and needed another beer. They got off two stops early so they could hit the bar.

  Arrow gulped his beer. “Got good strength in them fingers of yours, Ralphie.”

  Ralph liked it when Arrow talked to him like that.

  One thing Ralph was proud of, his strength, but he could be gentle, too. He thought of Charlie’s soft flesh. He hoped he was still asleep in the shed. He planned to spend lots of time with him. He’d buy him another book.

  Black Eye

  The early evening pedestrian and car traffic was thick and I felt like a fish swimming upstream as I walked up Henry toward Montague, but the weather was perfect except for a slight chill off the East River. Trust me, I was looking all around for a maroon van. It was the only lead I had, if you can call it that, a figment, a part of a piece. Suddenly a horn blared and I looked back over my shoulder at a black limo stopping, starting, kissing the back fender of the poor guy in front of him, cops nowhere in sight. I turned to watch and a few others did, too, when the guy in the first car jumped out at the light and stood there, fists on hips daring the limo driver to do the same. I turned quick to leave and someone walking fast collided into me, his fist smacking into my face. I staggered into some people, ricocheted off them, hit the closest building, and bent over. My eye was pulsing like it was my heart and the pain seared my insides.

  “Are you all right?” a woman as
ked. A man came up, took the packages from the woman’s arms, and she held my shoulders while I leaned my head on the building.

  “Someone just bumped into me. Wasn’t looking where I was going, I guess.”

  “It looked to me like the guy had it in for you,” the man said. “That was some kind of punch you took. Did they get your wallet?”

  I yanked my shoulder strap and ran my hand down to the purse, felt the outline of my wallet through the leather. “It’s still here, inside my purse.”

  “So they didn’t want your money. Not in trouble, are you? Boyfriend stuff?” the man asked.

  Despite the pain, I started to laugh, slobbering tears and saliva. I was a mess and it happened so fast. My head was reeling, my heart was pounding. No, my eye and heart had traded places and the throbbing made it hard to think.

  “Better have someone take a look at that eye,” the woman said. “Get some ice on it fast. Can we drop you off somewhere? We’re parked down the block.”

  “Not to worry. Too kind. Got the wind knocked out of me. I’ll be fine in a minute,” I said.

  “Sure?”

  “You didn’t see who did it?” I asked.

  The man shook his head. “It happened too fast.”

  “A man. Youngish and the rough sort,” the woman said. “A bum. Ran down Henry and hopped into a car, I think, but that’s a guess. Anyhow, he’s long gone. Someone’s got a grudge, and I’d be careful if I were you. But don’t let that eye go.”

  I nodded, straightened slightly, still covering my eye and leaning onto the building. This was ridiculous. I had to be careful, I wished Denny’s arms were around me. I managed to look at my watch, not much time. “You’ve been so kind and helpful.”

  The man fished in his shirt pocket and handed me his card. “If you need a witness, call us.” The woman scribbled her name and phone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to me.

  After they left, I spent a few more minutes figuring out what had happened while people hurried by. The initial pain had lessened a little, and I needed to talk to someone at Teresa’s.

  Teresa’s

  How to explain Teresa’s? It’s been in the Heights since forever. It’s part restaurant, part hang out. We get a lot of tourists and Manhattanites who spend part of a morning walking across the Brooklyn Bridge and down to Montague Street or over to Court heading for a particular restaurant. But Teresa’s is a neighborhood hangout near the promenade with great food at reasonable prices. When it’s not crowded, Teresa and her help don’t care if you sit forever with a coffee, but I’ve never been able to do that, the food’s too good.

  Dusk was deepening and my head was screaming. It was a little too early for the dinner crowd so I had the place practically to myself except for a group of regulars way in the back. I slipped into a booth and ordered a coffee. On the way over, I’d gotten a hankering for cheese blintzes with blueberries, but I’d lost my appetite after the eye incident. When the waitress brought my coffee, I thanked her and told her I had a big favor to ask.

  “Sure. Fina, isn’t it?”

  I complimented her on her memory. I knew her name once, but it’d been a while since our group met here each Tuesday on a regular basis and her arm was covering her nameplate.

  “This is a bit out of the ordinary,” I began, “but I’m investigating the death of a woman.” I told her the particulars, that I used to see her here frequently and asked if she’d mind looking at a sketch of the woman’s face. “I have police photos, but they’re not the prettiest, so I’d rather show you the drawing. We need to notify her family and I don’t know where else to turn. You’d be such a help, I just know from the way you serve and all, that I can trust you. You know how you can just tell about a person?”

  She nodded as if we were best friends. “Of course.”

  I showed her the drawing Cookie made.

  She stared at it a long time, then walked over to the windows and held the drawing up to the light. Shaking her head, she returned. “Sorry, doesn’t ring any bells, not right away at least. Maybe she’ll begin to look more familiar in my mind after a while. Good looking lady, though. You wouldn’t happen to have any other drawing or photos?”

  “I have photos, but I wouldn’t want to show them to you.”

  “I think I’d be okay with them. I’ve got, well, I grew up with TV and color photos, you know how it is.”

  I tapped the app and found the first picture I’d snapped of the woman’s face.

  When I handed her my iPhone, though, I knew I’d made a mistake. I guess I didn’t realize how gruesome they looked. She cupped a hand over her mouth and widened her eyes.

  “Sorry. I guess you don’t recognize her.”

  She shook her head. Her face had drained of color.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean …”

  “No, I’m fine. Can you show me the drawing again?”

  I got it out of my bag and handed it over.

  “Would you mind if I made a copy of this? I want to show it around to the evening shift. Maybe they’ll remember her. Who knows, her name might come to me if I stare at it a while.”

  She disappeared and in a few minutes came back with the original.

  “Text me if anyone remembers her.” I gave her my mobile number, paid for my coffee, and left her a big tip. As I opened the door, Cookie rounded the corner.

  No Kidding Around

  Ralph and Arrow walked over to Atlantic and found another bar for a quick beer.

  “Gotta check out the scene, boss says so, make sure everything’s cool,” Arrow said, so they did, walking slow up Henry but seeing nothing. They doubled back and walked around, back to Court Street and up, clear over to Tillary, Arrow stopping at every bar they passed. Ralph wanted to sit in the dog park but Arrow said no. His face was getting redder. Then he said okay. They sat in the park for a while until Arrow needed another beer. He was getting itchier, Ralph could tell, and got to talking real good, talked about how he met the boss and said he was going to introduce Ralph to the boss this time. They walked back to Montague and started down Henry, but this time they saw some people hanging out down the block.

  “That's it. That’s what we been waiting for. You stay here. Don’t talk to nobody, don’t disappear.”

  In a while he returned.

  “Before we leave, there’s something I gotta do. Got to trim some sails. Requires brains, so I’m not going to explain it. Let’s get the car.”

  “But what about Charlie?”

  “Forget Charlie for now. We’ll check on him real soon. Got to get the Plymouth out of the lot first.”

  Ralph knew not to ask questions when Arrow was like that. He’d turned into all business and he could be mean. Ralph saw why he was the boss’s right-hand man.

  So they got the Plymouth out of the lot way over on Smith and Ralph begged Arrow to get Charlie but he said it wasn’t time yet.

  “Kid’s gotta sleep some and it might be a long night for him.”

  That’s what was good about Arrow. He thought of things like that.

  Ralph drove down Henry and Arrow looked like a piece of steel in the passenger seat, his butt tight and his back straight. No farting or kidding around. Ralph pulled into a spot next to the cleaners just short of Montague. Arrow told Ralph to stay there with the motor running and keep his eyes glued on him. “Don’t move until I give you the sign. I’m depending on you. Got it? Botch this and something bad’ll happen to you, that’s sure.”

  Ralph nodded and watched. Arrow got out, looked both ways as if he were a shadow or something. Ralph watched him sprint across the street and wait, hugging the building. It was getting crowded, but Ralph kept his eyes on Arrow, like Arrow told him. Ralph practiced his counting. He got way up to twenty-five and then he counted backward but got messed up. He thought of Charlie and wondered if he could count. If not, Ralph would show him. He pictured Charlie’s face and thought about his soft skin, all the while looking at Arrow, but he couldn’t see him too good and
Ralph got scared. What if Arrow was going to leave him and this was his way of doing it, what would Ralph do without him? He had that feeling in his stomach like after they took his sister away and Buster had disappeared and the fish store was gone. Ralph started getting dizzy, breathing too fast. He opened a window. Then he saw Arrow, sure enough there he was, giving Ralph the sign. Ralph smiled.

  He had to wait for the light and all. He looked up at the tall trees, then sped down the block until he had to stop for another light. When he saw Arrow in the rear view, Ralph felt okay. He grinned, waiting for Arrow to get in.

  “What took you so long?” He slammed the door shut. “Let’s beat it. Fast!”

  Arrow got himself into another mood, rubbing his knuckles and slapping Ralph hard but Ralph didn’t do anything but drive. He felt better now that he’d found Arrow and he kept his mouth shut about Charlie.

  They went back to the shed and got Charlie. He was still sleeping, just like Arrow said he’d be. They put him on the back seat, threw the van’s plates in the trunk, and made for the farm to tell the boss.

  In a Mood

  Cookie walked into Teresa’s. “What the hell happened to you?”

  We sat back down at the booth I’d just vacated. I told her about my run in with the crazy. “I was moving too fast. Wasn’t paying attention and some guy slammed into me.”

  “Hi, Holly,” Cookie said when the waitress appeared.

  I looked at Cookie as if she’d just won Jeopardy while Holly set down our water. Cookie ordered a cup of coffee and persuaded me to have another.

  “How did you remember the waitress’s name?” I asked when she’d left.

  “I read her tag.”

  I was beginning to lose it. I held my head in both hands.