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The most confused we ever get
is when we’re trying to convince our heads
of something our hearts know is a lie.
Karen Marie Moning
Nicole entered the dark, noisy bar, filled with beer-swilling, off-duty officers and wrinkled her nose, pulling her jacket tighter around her. St. Jeremy’s Ale House, located a short distance from the Hudson River and FDR Drive, was a unique environment. One better suited to the abandoned fish market district than the newer South Street Seaport it bordered. She peered past the different groups until spotting Em waiting along the side. She headed for Em’s table, edging around cops waving their arms while describing the day’s exploits. “Your partner didn’t make it?” she asked, removing her jacket.
Em rolled her eyes. “Nah, he claimed he didn’t want to get in the way. I’ve got a cold pitcher, though I’ve been whittling it down. What about the folks from your office?”
Nicole rocked the unsteady table, watching the glasses skeptically. “They weren’t so direct, but felt the same.” She glanced around at the bar’s patrons, wrinkling her nose at the oversized bras hanging from the patterned tin ceiling. “So what do you think of the overflowing testosterone? It’s a New York tradition with a forty-year history of blatant sexism. I wasn’t sure whether you’d like or be repulsed by the vibe. I generally avoid it myself. Mike likes to discover what the cops on the street think. Since everyone shuts down whenever he shows up, he sends us to act as his eyes and ears. The locals swarm around me, bragging about whatever they’re up to.”
“This is my first time here. I visit a local bar the cops from my precinct frequent. Even then, I don’t visit bars much. Yet, this is just up my alley.”
The acoustics worked in their favor, Em could understand why the commissioner preferred it as an information source. The noise in the crowded bar was just shy of a din. You couldn’t quite make out what anyone said—assuming they spoke quietly. However, wandering between tables, it was easy to overhear many conversations. It wouldn’t be difficult to park beside whichever one intrigued you and learn quite a bit.
Nicole framed the patrons as a background for Em as she poured herself a drink. “Yeah, it makes sense. You have that ‘tough as nails’ look.” She arched an eyebrow. “Do you really like these places, or do you like proving you can keep up with the guys?”
Em surveyed the busy bar and smiled. “No, I feel comfortable in this environment. I didn’t join the police force to prove myself. Instead, I got into it because I think like a guy. I enjoy hanging around with them. We think alike. I’m physical, I love figuring out what motivates people, and I like being challenged.” She stretched out her legs, crossing her heavy boots at the ankles before continuing. “It’s not to say I’m a bull-dyke, by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m intensely competitive. While I like competing against women, I prefer how men push each other and demand perfection. If one more woman tells me I’m doing well-enough, I think I’ll scream. The things which turn my girlfriends off make these places attractive to me.”
Rather than delve deeper into Em’s psyche, Nicole switched topics, dropping her voice. “So what did the coroner say? Did he discover anything?”
Em snorted as she took a sip, setting the glass heavily on the table. “No. He confirmed she died long before her suicide was staged and put the time of death long past midnight. No one’s likely to have a solid alibi when everyone is asleep. I’ll have to ask our prime suspect’s wife where he was at the time. But the time of death means they kept her alive for about eight hours after they took her from the house.”
“Good luck with an alibi from his wife,” she responded, keeping the comments generic as she glanced around. “From what I hear, she’s angry enough she might tell you he marched out in the middle of the night carrying an axe. She’s not taking the news of his cheating particularly well.”
“I can imagine. I’ve spent a fair amount of time balancing girlfriends, yet every day, I expect one to take a shot at me. I realize I’m playing against the odds.”
“I’ll admit, I’ve never known that sort of activity to pan out. They either make a stupid move, or everyone gets fed up and walks out.” She considered Em for a moment. “How are they taking it?”
Em shrugged. “So far, terrific. I go out of my way to give them my all. After being so overwhelmed, they’re glad to be left alone for a while.”
“That probably helps. Most people who play the field ignore their partners. That’s what sinks them, not being there when they are. After being in too many non-committed relationships, having someone pay attention to me only for short periods might be a nice change.” Nicole took another sip, combing her hair out of her face with her hand when it threatened to fall into her beer. “So what about the video? Have you identified anyone from the motel camera?”
“As a criminologist, you’ll enjoy this. I didn’t understand it until it was explained to me. The videos show the person who rented the room, but all it shows is a male approaching the desk. His face is nothing but a bright glare.”
“Did someone monkey with the videotape? Or did the clerk not notice the getup?”
“It’s a little-known fact. Most video cameras include infrared imagery for better low-light pictures. If you insert an infrared display under your hat, it creates a glow which obscures your face. What’s more, since it’s not visible, no one knows.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a clever criminal. What about the clerk. What could he tell you?”
“That’s even more interesting. Even though unnecessary, they went above and beyond what was needed. The clerk said the man wore his hair over half his face, dark makeup under his eyes and had his collars flipped up covering part of his face. The clerk thought it was a fashion statement and remembered the details, but it was actually a clever disguise.”
“Did you get a decent sketch then?”
“Nah, the clerk stared at the outfit rather than the individual.”
Nicole frowned, scratching her head. “I don’t get it. If they made the person more memorable, how does it disguise anything?”
“That’s the other bit of trivia. It completely disrupts our facial recognition software. Or at least it would have, if we’d captured any. Facial recognition expects certain patterns. They’re thrown off by non-synchronous faces. They expect two dark spots for the eyes, a clear forehead, and recognizable cheeks and nose. By obscuring the face with hair or drawing a dark line, you confound the system because it has nowhere on the face to focus.”
“Clever. Damn, I’d never have known.”
“No, few of us ever encounter that kind of thing even after years on the force. But it gives us a better idea of who we’re dealing with. Instead of someone experienced with the criminal justice system from either the legal or criminal elements, we’re dealing with intellectuals. Someone spent a lot of time researching how to avoid detection, but doesn’t fully understand how to apply the research. They weren’t sure the infrared trick would work, so they duplicated their effort. It shows they think they’re clever but have little experience with the techniques. It means we’ve got some very intelligent amateurs.”
“So an experienced cop wouldn’t pull such a trick?” Nicole asked, raising a brow.
“Exactly. They’d know enough to only use one or two elements instead of a half-dozen. This reeks of people too clever by half.”
“Unless someone’s trying to defray suspicion.”
Em shook her head. “Again, it’s a wasted effort. If there’s no evidence, why confuse the issue. Instead, such overkill draws attention to the thing they’re attempting to hide. Criminals, cops, lawyers, judges—essentially everyone involved in law—understand the need to keep things simple. The people who give overly confusing answers are those who’ve never been in trouble.”
Nicole left her almost finished mug on the table as she rubbed her chin. “So that leads us to someone?”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t. This is Manhattan, the home of twenty-one million overachievers if you include those who work in the city. Each anxious to stab someone in the back to get ahead, most vastly over educated and eager to show how clever they are. However, it again points to someone involved with the councilman’s job; someone unfamiliar with crime but who’s intelligent, overachieving and intent on winning.”
“So no Russian ‘businessmen’? I guess we’re back to square one.”
“Not quite. Whoever is behind this is making errors. It’s time to crank up the heat. If they’re dancing as fast as they can, their steps get sloppier. Now, we have a lot of errors but still no suspects. What we need is a serious misstep which will identify who’s responsible.”
Em paused, glanced at her empty mug. Nicole wasn’t far behind. “Ready to move this discussion somewhere private and discuss something other than work?” she asked with a wink.
Nicole cocked her head. “You have someplace particular in mind?”
“Yeah, there’s a little lesbian spot a short hike from here.”
“Really? I’m not familiar with any in this end of town.”
“There’s a new underground bar. It’s not exclusive to lesbians, but it’s a little more ... comfortable than here.”
Nicole grinned. “And I thought you liked it here.”
“I would if I was alone. When I’m with someone else, I aim to make them happy.”
The blond grabbed her purse. “I’m ready to go. As much as I’ve enjoyed our talk, I’d rather concentrate on you. We keep talking shop because we’re surrounded by cops.”
Em laughed, laying down a few bills to cover the tip. “Where you’re going, you’ll still be talking to another cop.”
They both stood and slung on their coats. “At least you’re better looking than most beat cops.”
They were outside and walking south before Nicole asked the obvious question. “We’re hardly avoiding the crowds. We’re heading directly for thousands of people.”
“Yeah, I lied about the lesbian bar. Clearly, there aren’t any in this section of town.”
“You thought two lesbians visiting an unknown lesbian bar wouldn’t attract a bar full of horny straight men?”
Em laughed, stopping and leaning into Nicole. She whispered in her ear as she glanced over her shoulder. She stood so close it looked like she was nuzzling her ear. “They’d be fascinated, which is what we want. We want them talking, but they’re unlikely to follow us. They’d stand out at an exclusive bar catering to gays like a sore thumb. No one is trailing us anyway.”
Turning around again, she wrapped her arm around her companion and pulled her close as they set off again.
“I could get used to this. How far of a hike is it?”
“Only a couple of blocks.”
“Wait, are we heading for the South Street Seaport? The biggest tourist trap in downtown Manhattan?”
“We’re aiming for a fancy wine bar. A place few cops would frequent and where they’d be obvious. It’s public, but still private. It’ll be loud enough few will hear us, but no one will pay attention to us.”
Em led them to El Porto’s, at the far end of the South Street Seaport. It stood at the corner with plenty of tourists wandering by. Because of the weather, the restaurant wasn’t full. When Em requested a table in the back, the maître d escorted them to where it was sparsely populated.
“Now this is much closer to my style. Even if it’s a little too public, at least it has decent wines.”
“I thought you’d prefer it.”
Nicole glanced around. “Have you been here before? Do you know what’s good?”
Em shrugged. “I’ve taken a few dates here, mostly girls from out of town. The lobster Paella is good, but then again many people prefer the fish n’ chips. Whichever floats your boat. However, given the prices, I think we’ll order single glasses if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t. After all, we’re here to concentrate on business, though you don’t mind if I continue flirting. Just to keep in practice, you understand?”
Em laughed a staccato burst of chuckles. “No, go ahead. Like you, I’m more comfortable teasing pretty girls. I only like filthy bars when I’m with the guys.”
Nicole glanced around, determining who might overhear before venturing anything. “It’ll take the waiter a little while to get to us. What else do I need to know?”
“Right now, I’ve ruled Mike out of the running. But without a motive, or a stupid move by those who committed the act, we’re still swimming.”
“Boats, swimming, seaport, seafood; you’re pretty good at maintaining a theme.”
“Hey, stick around and I’ll rock your world like a hurricane.”
“Ah, there’s the Em I know and love.”
“There are several things Mike needs to understand before the news conference tomorrow. You’ll meet him before I do, so you can brief him on what to expect. I can’t give you any more actionable evidence than I have, but it should be enough to reassure him.”
“You may not suspect him, but that doesn’t mean everyone else won’t.”
The waiter chose that moment to appear, so they paused long enough to order, preparing for a detailed discussion.
As Em exited the elevator, headed down the long hallway to her apartment, a door opened behind her.
“Ah, I’m glad I caught you.” Amanda approached then hesitated, glancing at her hands. “Remember when you ... said you ... owed me for helping out with your family?”
Em smiled. She realized her neighbor lived hand-to-mouth as a struggling singer, so she wasn’t surprised she’d ask for help. She knew how proud Amanda was and appreciated how difficult this was for her. “So you’re already calling in your card?”
Amanda cracked a grin. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’ve got an ... event this Sunday, and I need a ... date for it.”
Em cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. “A date? Are you asking me out or requesting a favor?”
“Yes to both, but not so much a date as ... cover. I don’t want to show up alone, but I can’t ask a guy because I want everyone to understand I’m lesbian, so ...”
“So this is what, someone’s wedding?”
Amanda grinned, shrugging slightly. “Something like that.”
Em chuckled. “I’ve been to a few ‘sort of’ weddings. I’m still hoping we’ll put those days behind us. Sure, I can help you out. When is it?”
“This Sunday.”
“Wait, you’re only giving me three days’ warning? Uh, if you didn’t notice, I’m hip deep in the biggest case of my career.”
“Hey, I didn’t pick the date. They picked it because ... it’s an off-night without much competition.”
Em grinned. “Yeah, not much chance anyone has better plans Sunday evening, though it might be tough getting people to show up when they have work the next day. At least we’ll get home early. I guess I can arrange it. What time is it and when do we leave?”
“Expect most of the day. It’s a long ways. I’ll drive. It’s scheduled for eight, but I need to be there well in advance.”
“Yeah, I’ve been roped into wedding parties before. I’m warning you though, if you catch the bouquet, all bets are off. I ain’t looking to get married. I take it, it’s a long drive.”
“Yeah, they live a ways off.”
“OK, I’ll do it, but it’s going to be dicey if my case opens up. Just be aware, if something happens, I might have to dash unexpectedly.”
Amanda giggled. “Don’t worry, we’ll manage something. I’m just glad you can do it for me.”
“What should I wear?”
“Nothing fancy. A nice dress. I can borrow one there, so dress for traveling.”
Em laughed. “Don’t worry, I own a couple dresses. I can pack them in bags too. Alright, it’s a date. But this counts as a favor-and-a-half, so you’ll end up owing me.”
Amanda leaned in, kissing Em on the cheek. “Thanks. Don’t worry, once you see what it’s like, I’ll owe you a couple favors.” She practically skipped back to her place, pausing a moment as she turned. “I’ll be by in a minute. Seems you’re out of wine. I’ll bring some of mine.” Em started to protest but Amanda was gone. She shook her head and headed home. She liked Amanda, so she didn’t mind helping her out in a pinch. Yet this case was likely to split wide open any day. If it didn’t, the pressure would be intense to resolve it, which could be just as bad. Then again, she could certainly allow herself a temporary distraction during her off hours. If anything came up, Doug could handle it and she’d return refreshed. “That’s what partners are for,” she mumbled to herself, grinning again.
Reaching her apartment, Em was reassured to discover her door locked. Francine refused to use the automatic lock, worried it would lock behind her whenever she took the trash out—which Em did in the mornings. She’d asked Amanda to cover for her, which accounted for why she was now knocking on her own door.
She heard the pitter-patter of bare feet and the door swung open to reveal her niece, who stared at her, her face clouded in confusion. “Auntie Em? Why didn’t you just walk in? It’s your house?”
Em leaned forward, kissed Becky on the forehead and handed her two grocery bags. “I stopped for some victuals, young’un.” As Becky giggled, she entered the apartment, closing the door and peeling her coat off. “Sorry I’m so late. I had a meeting downtown.”
“Another girlfriend?” Becky asked, already halfway to the kitchen. For someone so young, she had a fascination with Em’s love life. “No, I had to make an appearance in a cop bar. Afterwards, I took someone from the commissioner’s office to the Seaport for dinner to discuss my investigation.”
Francine cocked her head. “Let me guess, an attractive female officer?”
Em blushed, something she rarely did. “That was the effect we were going for. That’s why we went to the cop bar, so we’d be seen flirting. But I don’t date people I work with. You don’t ... use the bathroom where you eat,” she concluded as Becky reentered the room.
Becky though, was having none of it. “Auntie Em, I do that all the time. Why just today, we all did it in Times Square.”
“Sorry, I should know better than to couch my language around you, smart ass.” Em entered the room as the doorbell rang. She took a seat as Becky let Amanda in, who held two bottles aloft.
“Finally!” Francine crooned.
Amanda glided past. “Don’t worry, I’ll open them. I’m familiar with Em’s kitchen. I’ll grab the bottle opener.”
Em leaned back, speaking loudly so they could all hear. “So the three of you spent the day acting like tourists, rather than interrogating my girlfriends about what I’m like in bed? Will wonders never cease?”
“I never asked that,” Becky corrected her, settling on the floor beside her with a cup of hot chocolate. “I only asked what kissing a girl was like. I can’t help it if they volunteered details about you. That was their choice, not mine.”
Em rubbed Becky’s head, mussing her hair. “Remind me to have all my girlfriends sign non-disclosure agreements. So, moving away from the details of my private life, what did you see of our fine city?”
Becky, Francine and Amanda took turns describing what they’d done in Times Square. They’d also visited the main New York Public Library building—where Amanda insisted on taking them despite Francine’s objections. Becky loved the place, having her picture taken astride one of the library’s two lions and later marveling at the vast arrays of books.
“How are your funds holding up? From what I understand, you didn’t have much cash when you left home. Do you need any cash?”
Francine held her hand up, silently refusing any charity. “Stop right there. While you’re right I only had a little money and Manhattan is incredibly expensive, I’ve been extremely frugal. I packed everyone lunch and we ate on a park bench.”
“It was terrific,” Becky said. “We watched everyone walking by. I gotta say, New York is different. Back home, everybody dresses the same. Even the black and Hispanic kids wear similar styles. Here, everyone wears unique styles. Some dress outrageously, some like models and others in t-shirts.”
Em laughed. “That’s what we New Yorkers call the ‘mink effect’. It threw me when I first arrived too. I almost died when I hit the city my first winter. Out in the country, we dress for the weather, putting on long underwear, layers of thin shirts, adding a heavy sweater and finishing with a thick coat and a warm hat. Then we walk inside and melt due to the 80 degree heat indoors.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. Why do they do it?”
“It’s because most people dress in thin, slinky fashionable attire. They toss on a mink, keeping them toasty as they dash to the nearest taxi. When they arrive, they check it at the door, and since everyone is wearing thin clothing, every establishment in the city keeps the heat cranked up. If you’re here for long, you learn to quit dressing for the weather.”
Francine cocked her head. “Strange, I haven’t seen you in any minks lately. Nor have I observed you leaving in anything but a warm coat and scarf.”
“Ah, that’s because I’m not yet a true New Yorker, plus I can’t afford mink. Instead, as a lowly detective, I spend my days walking the street, moving from one private residence to another, none of which can afford to heat their homes as much as the best restaurants and hotels.”
Em glanced at the three facing her. “I thought you said you peed where you ate? How’d you do that if you had sandwiches from home?”
Becky was preparing to answer when the phone rang. Francine reached for it but Em stopped her. “You’d better let me get that.”
“Why, think it’s another of your girlfriends you don’t want us talking to?” Francine teased.
“Partly,” Em admitted, “but it could also be work with grisly details, or even a victim or witness calling to supply details. It’s safer if I answer my own phone.”
“We’ve done fine answering it so far,” Francine objected. Amanda knew better than to jump into this domestic squabble.
“Hello, Em Rules?”
“You still use the juvenile name, Emma? Geez, I thought you’d outgrown that ages ago.”
Em spun around, holding her finger to her lip motioning for silence. When the sound of conversation died, she realized it sounded odd, so she motioned to increase the volume as she responded.
“Hello, Jeremy. Pray tell, why the hell are you calling out of the blue when we haven’t talked since I first left home? You’ve never even sent a birthday, Christmas card or family newsletter.”
Francine and Becky sat up straight and stared at the phone in Em’s hand. Seeing the dilemma, Amanda started relating a story she commonly told people about her band practice and her many non-groupies, which restored the background noise to a less noticeable level.
“That’s why I’m calling. It’s about family. Mom said you refused to help?”
“No, I said I wasn’t willing to put my career on the line when there’s nothing I can do. This is typically handled by the local police. If I investigate on my own, I’m breaking multiple federal laws and could not only lose my job, but be fined or jailed for the attempt—only to find nothing of value.”
“Come on, Emma, this is my wife and child we’re talking about. Surely they count for something.”
“Oh, they do. But chances are, if you’d treated them with respect, they’d be home instead of hiding out in a safe house in the country.”
“They could have been kidnapped or murdered,” he countered.
Em turned away so she wouldn’t face Becky and Francine while confronting her brother, not wanting to sidetrack her anger. “It’s possible, but if it was a kidnapping, they wouldn’t have withdrawn money from their account. The kidnappers would have issued a demand for her release. Face it, Jeremy, for as attractive and sweet talking as you are, you always drive everyone away with your controlling behavior.”
“Oh, come off it, Emma. You ran away because no one paid attention when you whined about liking girls. What you needed was a wake-up call from a psychiatrist rather than everyone catering to your latest whimsy.”
“Once again, I have to ask, why are you asking for a personal favor when you think so little of me?”
“I’m asking because this is about family. Despite your obsessions about my personality, I’m loyal. I never walked out. They fled after stealing from me. We need to get them back so we can work through this.”
“You mean so you can beat them so senseless they won’t have the nerve to leave again?”
“No, miss smarty-pants, so I can convince them it’s people like you putting these crazy ideas in their heads, and not me who’s at fault.”
“Oh, you’re blameless? Then why aren’t the local police more forthcoming? Could it be the multiple domestic abuse calls they’ve filed against you?”
Jeremy huffed, his voice rising in pitch and agitation. “I’ve never been charged with anything.”
“Only because you pressured Francine into retracting the complaints.”
“You know, it’s strange you won’t help your own family, but you have no constraints about violating my privacy by reading my private police records.”
“Sorry, bro, but you’re forgetting who you’re talking to. I never accessed any interdepartmental records. Instead, when I first saw how you treated Francine, I asked the local cops what they knew about you. They volunteered their personal experiences with you and how you always danced away from serious charges by pouring on the false promises.”
“Damn it, Emmeline Louise, I’m trying to pull my family back together and reconcile our issues. Your hatred of your family blinds you to the truth. And you wonder why I never call. Well guess what, princess, this is why!” With that the phone went dead, but Em had no doubt there were probably tiny pieces of broken cell phone scattered across his living room.
“Asshole!” she fumed, squeezing the phone like it was her brother’s throat. “No one EVER calls me by that name!”
Amanda’s cough behind her reminded her that she wasn’t alone. She turned, blushing a second time in only the past hour.
“That was Dad?” Becky whispered.
“Yeah, it was.” She ran her hand through her hair, staring straight ahead, a blank look in her eyes. “No one else gets me that pissed.” Shaking her head, Em crossed her arms, storming to the kitchen to find the wine bottle. “Well, aside from child abusers and my mother,” she mumbled on the way out.
“Damn, I’m glad you didn’t allow me to answer the phone,” Francine called out so she could be heard. “Do you think he recognized our voices?”
“I don’t think you said anything, though I suspect he could hear your laughter. I’m sure you’re safe.”
Becky laughed. “He never listened to anything we said. It’s only natural he wouldn’t hear us when we speak.”
Francine put her glass down, got up and walked to the kitchen doorway, flexing her fists. “Do you think we’ll be OK here?”
Em turned, putting the bottle down and lifting the glass. “Nah, you’ll be fine. He didn’t hear anything. What’s more, he’d never visit here because he knows I’d drive a stake through his heart. That’s the only way to free the earth from such evil.” With that, she tilted her head back took a big drink before turning and topping the glass again. She turned and headed towards Francine, who backed out of the way. “That should help; now where were we?”
“You don’t want to discuss this?”
“We did. It’s not an issue. Now, I’ve got to lower my blood pressure or explode in a flying rage. Tell me some jokes, talk about my sex life, I don’t care. Let’s have some fun so I can forget my family again. She took another, smaller sip and sat down, motioning for Francine to join her.
