Chapter 10
Goren sat down for a minute after Eames dropped him off. He wanted more than ever to find some justice, for Josef Gruenwald as well as Roger Walcott. However, there was a good chance that their killer was dead, or at least living a quiet life in retirement somewhere. He felt that the Oliver Barrett problem was more immediate, and there was some information he needed that he could probably only get on a Saturday night. Eames was having dinner with her sister and her mother, a girls' night out. He hesitated. He would probably need some backup, and even if he didn't, Eames would kill him if he didn't have it. He made a couple of phone calls, and then decided to dress.
He found an old raincoat with sleeves big enough to cover his cast. The leg he couldn't do much about, but he thought it might add to the air of quiet desperation he was hoping to exude. He smeared some dust and grime on his raincoat, realizing ruefully that you really weren't supposed to be able to find that stuff in your apartment.
Fifteen minutes later, a confused Lewis was driving him over the bridge.
"Bobby, you're not even back on your feet yet, and you're demanding that I take you to the Village at 10 p.m.? Sure, the most interesting girls are there, but don't you think you should slow down?"
"This is sort of for work, Lewis. All you need to do is drop me near Washington Square Park and pick me up two hours later. If it makes you feel better, I will not be getting any action."
"Speaking of people I'd like to get some action with, if this is for work, why isn't the lovely Detective Alex here?"
"Watch it, Lewis," said Goren, surprised by the vehemence of his own tone.
"Easy, Bobby. I didn't mean action in a, you know, tawdry way. I meant like, buy her dinner and flowers, to be possibly followed by action, entirely at her discretion."
Goren had to smile, both at Lewis' sincerity and his use of the word "tawdry". At the same time, he was thinking that Lewis' suggestion might not be a bad idea for him to try himself. He snapped himself out of it. He wasn't sure he could take the risk.
As Lewis maneuvered his way around downtown, he got within a block of the park. Goren got out and told Lewis he would be back in two hours. He handed Lewis some money and told Lewis that the least he could do was buy him some dinner at one of those trendy places with neon light fixtures while he waited. Lewis remembered a small café, with a cute waitress who would be worth drinking a glass of wheatgrass juice for, and he headed off.
Goren, dressed in his down and out outfit, walked into the park, trying to convey an air of aimlessness. He saw his backup seated on a bench near the arch, where the light was excellent. They didn't make eye contact. John Eames continued to eye his newspaper, peering over it to watch Goren, who was limping off to an area that was shaded by trees from the light of the arch.
Goren stood for a moment, and watched. Over by a trash container ten yards away, quite a few people were coming and going. He waited until the traffic died down, and, making sure that he was within John Eames' sight line, he approached the trash can. A very young, very thin man stood there. His light brown hair needed a cut and a scraggly mustache clung to his upper lip. The young man appeared to be selling heroin, so Goren limped up, affecting a wide eyed gaze, and asked,
"Hey, man, you know where I can get some meth? I don't want to come down too hard, and my regular guy, he got pinched."
"Try Stu at the southwest corner. Who got your guy, man?"
"Some cop named Barrett."
"No shit? I heard that guy got transferred out, like he was such bad news the cops couldn't even stand him."
"He's bad news?"
"Hell, yeah. He used to shake us all down. He'd get everybody once a month, but he'd pick on different guys every week, because I guess he didn't want to attract attention. It was like he knew how much we made, and he was bleeding us down to our grocery money. "
"No kiddin'?"
"Little Jimmy C, he found out the hard way. One week, he told Barrett he didn't have his money. He figured a dirty cop can only push so far. Barrett, though, he told some mobster guys that Little Jimmy C was sellin' on their territory. They came over to his place, screaming at him, and then they shot him. He pulled through, but his leg won't never be the same."
"How did he know it was the cop?"
"He heard them say 'This is the guy Ollie told us about.' That's Barrett's name, Ollie Barrett. Little Jimmy said he didn't tell the cops this though. He wants his life to be worth more than a dime." Goren pretended to get antsier.
"Southwest corner? Thanks, man." Goren headed southwest, careful to stay within eyeshot of Mr. Eames. He waited under a tree. Half an hour later, he walked back the way he had come, silently walking by Mr. Eames as he left the park. Twenty minutes later, John Eames folded his newspaper and took the same route Goren had taken out of the park. They met at a corner and walked over to meet Lewis, who drove John Eames to his car. As they got in, Lewis remarked,
"Bobby, you still haven't told me why the lovely Detective Alex didn't join us this evening."
"Sorry, I forgot to make the introductions. Sergeant Eames, this is Lewis. Lewis, this is Sergeant Eames, Alex's dad." Lewis gulped audibly. John Eames laughed.
"It's okay, son. Between Alex and her sister, I spent many evenings cleaning my gun in a very obvious and showy way in the living room when boys came over."
They dropped Sergeant Eames at the garage where his car was parked. He seemed shocked that they would even contemplate the idea that the Cutlass would be trusted to the mean streets of the city.
When Lewis dropped him off, Goren spent the minutes before he fell asleep pondering how he was going to explain all of this to Alex.