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I said, “Don’t worry about it, Alonzo. I know exactly how you feel. The biggest problem with the case is that, at the heart of it, it involves two organizations. The Canadian mob and the Mexican cartel.”
Alonzo said, “I have studied trends in organized crime for many years. Although Canadians don’t cause a great deal of problems in Colombia, I still know that they can be as ruthless as anyone. They’re also constantly underestimated. The stereotype of the polite Canadian doesn’t help them when they’re trying to scare people.”
I said, “But they’re no match for the Mexican cartel.”
“Agreed. Especially if the Mexicans are importing killers from Colombia. They have too much money and too large of an established network. I’m just sorry they decided to throw you in with their list of targets.”
“I’ve got a great team working on it with me. We’ll find this killer and keep her from causing any more havoc.”
Father Alonzo said, “It has been my experience that just as people underestimate the Canadian mob, they tend to underestimate female killers. There’s a reason she has this job. She has to be extremely smart and resourceful. This may be a tall order.”
“I’m not going to give up on it.”
“No—that’s not what I’m suggesting. You need to be ready all the time. She’ll try to hit you when you least expect it. Or she’ll be very sly and somehow lure you into a trap. You won’t know what happened until it’s too late.
“You must make use of your advantages. This is your territory. You know the city. Use what you know and she doesn’t.”
I thought about his Zen-like advice. I did have resources here and knowledge of the city that I doubted this killer possessed.
I just hoped when the time came, I would remember that.
Chapter 81
Driving with my grandfather in the car is like having an uninvited know-it-all tour guide with you. He kept saying he didn’t get to lower Manhattan and Brooklyn much and wanted to see the sights. Not the Freedom Tower or the bull on Wall Street, but the little markets he used to frequent and the restaurants he knew were no longer in business. He said he just wanted to see the facades of the buildings.
He also explained everything we saw to Alonzo in minute detail. Like the history of how Little Italy evolved and the construction details of the Brooklyn Bridge. Finally I had to tell him I was on a schedule and that the NYPD expected me to work occasionally. But that didn’t stop him from making me circle the building where the TV show was being filmed.
Seamus said, “I’ve been here. I remember this place. It was a restaurant-supply distribution center I ordered from when I owned the bar.”
I said, “When’s the last time you were here?”
“Probably twelve or fifteen years ago. It brings back a flood of memories. I’d sometimes buy cases of beer that ‘fell off’ actual beer trucks. I could buy them for about 30 percent of the regular cost.”
“So you’re telling me you bought stolen beer and sold it in your legal bar?”
“Sometimes I’d tack on an extra fee, saying that there was a shortage of the beer and I was able to grab some of the last cases.” He wore a mischievous grin that made him look like a leprechaun.
It made me smile because it reminded me of when I was a child. How we would go on adventures together and he’d tell me wild tales that even then I knew weren’t true.
I was surprised to see that the side of the building facing the river housed a beautiful glass-enclosed set of offices with a receptionist at the front. The grassy park between the building and the river made it that much nicer. I wondered if this had anything to do with the TV or movie business. Maybe it was a separate part of the building the owner rented out. With the East River in front of it and some nice landscaping around the park, it was definitely upscale.
Seamus rolled down his window and said, “I don’t care what anyone says about the East River—I like the smell of it. Reminds me of home. The sea.”
As we slowly turned at the corner of the building and were driving next to the sidewalk, Seamus said, “I can’t wait to see Jules.”
I said, “Juliana.”
“She likes to be called Jules on the set.”
“How do you know that? Have you been on the set before?”
I stopped the car to stare at him as he looked sheepish and wouldn’t meet my eye.
A stagehand carrying a box on the sidewalk looked over and said, “Hey, Father.”
It was rare to catch the old man so cleanly. Now I gave him a good nod and said, “Explain that.”
Without missing a beat, Seamus said, “He’s your illegitimate uncle.”
