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Chapter 83
The call withCommissioner Brocious had unnerved me. Usually I’m not too susceptible to threats. The commissioner knew how to deliver the best kind of threat. He didn’t make one. He simply told me to come home. He was smart enough to know my imagination would come up with worse punishments than he ever would. And my imagination was working overtime. I pictured myself directing traffic in Flushing Meadows when the US Open was on. Or maybe I’d be working in some sort of sex crimes unit attached to a precinct. I shuddered, thinking what my future held.
That’s why I needed a change of pace. I wanted to hear a friendly voice. I didn’t hesitate to dial Mary Catherine’s phone. Just talking to her always made me feel better. Her voice was like a soothing balm on my nerves.
I also had a second agenda. I wanted to hear how she sounded. During the last few calls, Mary Catherine had sounded exhausted. She also had mentioned that she hadn’t been feeling well. That concerned me.
I could hear a certain level of scratchiness in her voice when she answered. I always thought her sleepy voice had a sexy edge to it, but I was preoccupied.
I asked if she was feeling okay.
Mary Catherine said, “It’s weird around here during the day. It’s so quiet. With you gone and all the kids at school for the majority of the day, I get a little lonely. I’ll admit it. I even went down to Holy Name this morning to say hello to Seamus. To be honest, I was also trying to get a look at the art project he and Shawna have been working on.”
“Did you get to see what it is?”
“Nope. And Seamus is so tight-lipped it makes me think he would’ve been a good spymaster during World War II.”
I laughed and said, “He might’ve been. He rarely talks about his life before coming to the US. No one is able to figure out how old he is. Carbon dating failed. Chemical tests are inconclusive. Our next step is to cut him in half and count the rings.” I loved her laugh.
We chatted about nothing for a few minutes. Then Mary Catherine ran through the kids and what they were doing. Most of the issues were school projects or interest in joining outside sports leagues. The usual. When you have ten kids, you tend to take most issues in stride. If you don’t, you’ll go crazy quite quickly.
A couple of things caught my attention as Mary Catherine was talking. Especially when she got to my oldest daughter, Juliana.
Mary Catherine said, “Juliana went on a date last night.”
“What did you think of her date?”
“Seems like a nice young man. He’s a sophomore at Manhattan College.”
I said, “Of course my next two questions are: How old is he? And what is he studying?”
“Don’t worry. He’s not an old man. He’s probably a year or two older than Juliana. And he’s studying creative writing.”
“Ugh.”
Mary Catherine said, “What’s wrong with studying creative writing?”
“Nothing if you want to live with your parents the rest your life. I’m more interested in her meeting engineers, medical personnel, or at the very least a law student.”
“You studied philosophy at Manhattan College.”
“And look where it got me.”
“In a beautiful apartment on the Upper West Side, with ten wonderful children and a wife who misses you.”
“When you put it that way, I think I might be crazy to stay in DC any longer.”
Mary Catherine laughed, then said, “What’s new on your case?”
I told her about the DNA and how I was able to get a sample without riling up a Supreme Court justice’s wife. I made it sound like I’d risked my life at a cave in Tora Bora. But that’s the nature of most police stories: they need to be exciting and interesting.
Mary Catherine said, “I don’t understand why a homicide in Baltimore is related to Emily’s murder.”
“I’m not sure it’s related. Maybe I’m getting a little desperate. But if the Baltimore homicide and Emily’s homicide are related, we might get lucky with this DNA angle.” After I thought about it for a moment I had to add, “Or they could be unrelated. If that’s the way it turns out, but we do get a DNA hit, at least I helped solve the Baltimore homicide. Even though I didn’t know the victim, I know there have to be family members and friends mourning her and hoping for justice.”
Silence lingered between us. Finally, Mary Catherine said, “What prompted you to call? Really?”
I told her about my conversation with the NYPD commissioner less than half an hour ago. This time I left it up to Mary Catherine to draw her own conclusions.
Mary Catherine said, “I think you should stay in DC. It doesn’t matter what the NYPD wants. You’ve given them plenty of your life. If you get fired, it won’t make one bit of difference to me. We’ll be destitute anyway once the IRS’s through with us. And with you out of a job, maybe I’ll finally see more of you.”
I chuckled and said, “I do love how you’re a glass-half-full kinda girl.”
