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“She’s still in custody. Everyone’s scrambling to see what they can do to keep her from doing hard time.”
“That’s a nice change, government employees trying to look at the bigger picture.”
“Yeah, I guess this case had a lot of surprises.”
Kathy said, “I heard Harry Grissom saved the day organizing cops from a dozen different precincts during the emergency. I guess he’s not slowing down after all.”
“I doubt there’s another lieutenant in the NYPD who could’ve done a better job. He never hesitates to do everything he can to help us.”
Then Kathy sat up a little more in her seat, looking at the park in front of us. She pointed to the basketball court on the far left. “There they are. All three of them together. Perfect.”
I watched the three bullies play basketball for a couple of minutes. They looked like they were having fun. They even stopped playing for a minute to help a younger kid with his free throws. Then I said to Kathy, “They seem like regular kids. Why do they even have guns?”
“If I could answer that, I’d save everyone a lot of heartache. I think the draw is just too great. And there’s no way we could ever get all the guns off the street.”
I just kept staring at the young men on the basketball court.
Kathy got on her radio and told someone to come in on the other side of the basketball courts. We got out of the Explorer and started walking toward the park from the opposite direction.
The boys didn’t even notice adults standing around the court until we were almost right next to them.
Sergeant Figler called the three boys over. I liked how the specialized detectives, who generally dealt with juveniles, handled them. There were no threats or intimidation. They let Sergeant Figler do the talking. But the boys weren’t interested.
The blond kid told his friends, “Don’t say a word. They can’t do nothing if none of us talk.”
Sergeant Figler said, “Unless we have you on video terrorizing some boys uptown. You know, the ones you showed your gun to. That turns it from kids bullying kids to a felony.”
That broke any wall of silence they had. One of the taller boys took a step back and said, “We never had no gun. It was just Mark. He took it from his dad. We said it was a bad idea.”
One of the detectives quickly reached across and patted the boy’s beltline and pockets. He pulled out a small, cheap revolver that looked like it would blow up in your hand if you pulled the trigger.
The blond kid said, “You can’t take that. You need a warrant to search me.” The young man noticed no one was really listening to his complaints. He started to shout, “Help, help, police brutality!”
Everyone stepped away from him except Sergeant Figler. She was just about his size. She said in an even voice, “I’m the only one around you now. Do you really want to claim a tiny woman like me brutalized you? If I were your parent, the first thing I’d tell you is to get your head out of your ass. Then I’d ground you for about a year. Now the state juvenile justice system is going to have to do it for them.”
The other boys started to cry.
Chapter109
FRIDAY NIGHT OFthe following week, I was back courtside, doing my best to coach the Holy Name girls’ basketball team. The crowd cheered as the girls played a fast-paced game against another of our rivals: St. James Episcopal School. The Episcopalian girls looked impressive. Most of them were tall, and all of them seemed faster up and down the court than the girls from Holy Name. Yet the score was tied at 18. I hid my pride that Fiona had scored 10 of our 18 points by herself.
It had been fifteen days since I watched Coach Perry Martin tumble off the roof of the hotel in the Bronx and fall 130 feet to the sidewalk. Every acrophobe’s nightmare. The image was still burned in my brain, but my routine was getting back to normal. It reminded me of something Harry Grissom had told me early on in my career in homicide: “No matter what you see on the job, bodies, blood, or tragedy, life goes on. Your family expects a father, not a detective.”
It was just one more reason I was glad Harry was my boss. And it didn’t look like he was going anywhere. At least for now.
Fiona whizzed past me, headed for the basket. A tall girl with a purple stripe through her blond hair threw an elbow at Fiona. It might’ve been just a distraction, because Fiona jerked her head to one side and easily avoided the blow. Then she sank the basket.
Before St. James could inbound the ball, I jogged down the court to talk to the ref. I needed to know why no foul had been called for such an obvious elbow. But it’s tough to argue with a sixty-seven-year-old nun you’ve known since sixth grade.
I said in a loud voice, only to be heard over the din on the court, “Sister Lily, didn’t you see that elbow?”
The short nun gave me her famous steely-eyed glare. “Coach Bennett, do you want these girls to worry about minor issues or be tough enough to face the harsh realities of life?”
I tried to hide my smile when I said, “I thought you taught English, not philosophy.”
“Don’t make me teach you not to question the ref.” Then she turned, clapped her hands, and St. James inbounded the ball.
I had to laugh out loud as I headed back toward our bench. Why not? I had a daughter on the court plus nine kids and my wife in the stands. And an elderly priest, cheering like he was witnessing the Second Coming instead of his great-granddaughter playing basketball. They all looked happy. I recognized once again that I had a pretty good life.
