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Chapter 43
I stayed inthe driver’s seat of my rented purple Prius. Headlights flooded inside and reflected off the rearview mirror into my eyes. I didn’t think a Supreme Court justice had twenty-four-hour security, so I felt myself tense at the direct approach.
Whoever was in the car was in no rush. That’s when I started to think it might be the Metropolitan Police. Someone was running my tag. When both people in the car got out at the same time and one hung by the trunk of my car while the other approached me, I figured they had to be cops.
A plainclothes African American female officer had her badge out and stayed about three feet away. She said, “My name is Officer Lila Barrett of the DC police. Leave your hands on the steering wheel, sir.”
Officer Barrett was very professional and smart. I did exactly what she said.
Her partner stayed in my blind spot on the passenger side of the car. Good tactics. She continued. “Do you have a reason for being parked here, sir?”
I knew what she really wanted. I said, “I have ID in my sport coat pocket. I’m a detective with the NYPD, and I also have a pistol in a holster on my right hip.”
That brought her partner a step closer on the passenger side. Now his flashlight cut through the dirty rear passenger window. At about the same time, Officer Barrett opened my door. Her hand was behind her back. I figured she was at least touching her own duty weapon.
They were both polite and courteous, as well as tactically sound, as she invited me out of the car. Less than a minute later, they’d checked out my credentials and felt satisfied I wasn’t an immediate threat. We all chatted at the rear of my car.
I said, “I’m sorry. I was just looking at where some potential witnesses live. I didn’t mean to attract any attention or bother anyone.” Now I could see that Officer Barrett was about thirty with short hair and a little scar above her right eyebrow. She’d seen some action at some point. She also had a big, pleasant smile.
The other cop, a tall white guy, was a little younger than Officer Barrett. He never said a word. He looked like he wanted to be in a car chase or a fight. Anywhere but talking to a New York detective in a quiet upper-class neighborhood.
As Officer Barrett smiled, she said, “You’re almost in front of Justice Robert Steinberg’s house. His wife doesn’t like the idea of marked police cars going up and down the street. Our chief doesn’t like the idea of a public figure like the justice being open to potential threats. So we get to patrol the whole neighborhood in an unmarked car in civilian clothing. Not a bad gig.”
I said, “Actually, it’s Steinberg’s wife I need to talk to.” I got a chuckle from both the cops.
“She calls in about once a week with some story about people following her. She’s paranoid as shit. We call her the Supreme Nut Job.”
“Doesn’t sound like I’m going to have an easy time of it. I hope she doesn’t try to duck me.”
Officer Barrett said, “I’ll let you in on a little secret, but you can’t tell anyone I said it.”
I raised my hand and said, “Scout’s honor.”
“She eats lunch at a little place called Rose’s Down-Home Diner a few blocks away. It’s right next to some New Age art studio she goes to almost every morning. The Supreme Court Police brief us every couple of weeks about what’s going on with the Steinbergs. That’s her latest passion.”
I thanked them and was on my way a minute later. You’ve got to love the brotherhood of cops.
