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I was still dressed in my blue Holy Name basketball coach’s shirt. I had no ID. My comment to Brian came back to me. What could I do as an adult dealing with an aggressive adolescent? The answer was not much.
The boys Trent had pointed out were now walking our way. My sons turned to face the approaching teenagers. I liked how they acted as a team. Ricky was in the middle with Eddie and Trent flanking.
I stepped closer to the boys to stop anything from escalating. But my anxiety was high. I was just trying to straighten out a situation that might be better off left to the juvenile unit detectives. Or maybe social workers. Or teachers. Or their parents.
I had fallen into the classic trap of thinking other people’s kids would listen to me. They wouldn’t. Now we were all in a worse situation as the boys kept walking directly toward us.
Then Trent relaxed and said, “I was wrong. That’s not them.”
We looked around for another few minutes, then all walked back to Holy Name. It gave me a little insight into the anguish the boys felt being prey to a bully. Anxiety and fear can definitely color your judgment.
Chapter31
AFTER A DECENTnight’s sleep, I woke up alert and ready to find the suspect in the Estella Abreu case. I had a little extra time this morning, so I grabbed our extra-long Ford passenger van and chauffeured the kids to school a few blocks away. The remarkable thing was that we made it to the school ten minutes before the final bell. A new record. The kids cheered inside the van.
I looked up with a big, goofy grin on my face to see my lifelong nemesis: Sister Sheilah, the school principal. When I had started at Holy Name, it was also Sheilah’s first year.
Now she stared directly at me. I didn’t falter. I looked her right in the eye. That’s what I was told to do if I ever had to face a dangerous animal one-on-one. Sister Sheilah made a show of looking at her wrist. Then she gave me a big smile and a thumbs-up.
I didn’t mind being acknowledged for doing something well. I think her thumbs-up was more an indictment of how often I got the kids to school late. None of it really mattered. I knew she loved me. And I could tell she loved my kids.
I never want to lose sight of what’s important. The NYPD will function without me. Homicides will be solved without me. But time with my family is precious.
My little adventure with the kids had put me in an exceptionally good mood. I switched from the van to my city-issued Chevy Impala in a matter of seconds. Before I even reached the garage’s exit onto West End Avenue, my phone started to ring.
I pulled over and answered the call. It was Ronald Higdon, Esquire. The first words out of his mouth were “I got a name to go with your photo. I’m working on getting more stuff.”
“I’ll be at your shop in ten minutes.”
I walked through the front door of Higdon’s Pawn and Jewelry about nine minutes later. As the door shut behind me, I said, “I hope you’re not wasting my time.”
A grinning Ronald Higdon, Esquire, met me at the counter and slapped a sheet of paper on the glass. I picked it up and studied it for a moment. It was a registration form from FINRA’s central depository for an investment advisor. It had a FINRA logo at the top. A copy of what looked like an employee ID photo was attached, and the man looked a lot like the man who’d been standing next to Estella Abreu.
His name was Kyle Banning. I read some of his identifying features. He was twenty-six years old and lived on the Upper East Side on Fifth Avenue, a couple of blocks from the Guggenheim. How the hell does a twenty-six-year-old, even one in finance, earn enough to live in an apartment with a direct view of Central Park?
I looked at Ronald. “How’d you find this so fast?”
“One of my people in lower Manhattan is hooked into all the financial houses. He recognized several of the people in your photo as being from one particular firm. He took a chance that your suspect was with that group. It worked out.”
“This is really good work, Ronald. What’s it going to cost me?”
“Get that detective from the First Precinct, Richard Matthews, off my back. He called me again yesterday just after you gave me the photo. He says I’m in deep shit for pretending to be a lawyer. Sounds like a big guy. I don’t know why he’s hassling me. Do you know him?”
I nodded. “I’ve met him over the years. He is kind of big. Your assessment just from his voice is accurate.”
“His deep voice makes him sound deadly serious.”
“What did you say to him?”
“What I always tell the cops:I didn’t do nothing. Why are you hassling me?He didn’t say much else. It’s like he’s too lazy to come up here and arrest me.”
“So we’ll be square if I can keep this Detective Matthews at the First Precinct from bothering you?”
Ronald made a show of wiping his hands together and holding them up. “We’ll be even Steven. Seriously, Bennett, I’d appreciate that kind of support.”
I just nodded and headed out the door. As I walked to my car, I pulled out my cell phone and called the First Precinct. More specifically, I called the cell phone assigned to Detective Richard Matthews.
He answered with his usual gruff baritone voice. “Detective Matthews.”
