1

Police Work

Deakins' car screeched into the "Police Only" parking area in front of the three-eight. A few uniformed officers were congregated on the sidewalk having a smoke. They flashed a glance Deakins' way and, in return, Deakins flashed his badge. He bounded up the stairs, clipping the gold shield to his lapel and making his way to the desk sergeant.

"Where can I find Lt. Kowalski?"

"Third floor – the stairs are on your right."

Deakins made his way up the narrow staircase. The sounds and smells sending waves of memories rushing through his head. He had been surrounded by the modern, sterile cleanliness of One PP for so long, he had almost forgotten the gritty feel of the old station houses. He thought to himself, amused, "This place suits Kowalski to a T." Kowalski was a throwback; a real cop's cop. A former Marine, who still had his crewcut the last time Deakins' saw him; he was 3 inches taller and 30 pounds heavier than Deakins– an intimidating figure in an interrogation room. Kowalski knew all the tricks. They had graduated together, but chose different paths. Kowalski wasn't as driven for career advancement – he hated the politics of it. He'd much rather be closer to the street action – all he ever wanted to do was catch the bad guys and nobody was better at it.

Deakins reached the third floor and practically bumped into Bill Kowalski, who had just exited a small interrogation room.

"Jimmy!" he exclaimed, grabbing Deakins by the shoulders, "Good to see you!"

"Good to see you, Bill. What d'ya got?"

"Let's go to my office; I'll fill ya' in."

Deakins followed Kowalski through the maze of bustling hallways, finally making their way to his office. Deakins smiled as he surveyed the cramped quarters. It was just as messy as Bill's half of the room when they bunked together at the Academy.

"Sit down, Jimmy. Coffee?"

"Yeah, sure...black. Thanks."

"Lemme' fill ya in," Kowalski said, unable to mask his excitement. "A couple of detectives from the Mayor's Task Force are supposed to be meetin' a snitch last night at some dive in Bensonhurst...Lido's, I think."

Deakins nodded, "I know the place."

Kowalski continued, "Well, they're sittin' in a booth in the back, waitin' for their canary to show; there's a couple of hoochies in the booth across the aisle...bartender switches on the 10 o'clock news and the story comes on about Eames...I'm uh, I'm sorry, Jimmy...I know what you must be goin' through."

Deakins nodded, "Thanks, Bill...go ahead."

"So, all of sudden, the one chick goes into a panic...she's talkin' a mile a minute, whisperin' to her friend, but, ya' know, kinda' loud enough to overhear...she breaks out her cell phone and calls somebody and the cops hear her sayin' 'Did you see the news? That lady cop you shot is dead..."

Deakins' pulse quickened.

Kowalski continued. "So, the detectives, they're playin' it cool. The one starts puttin' on an act, 'I'm waitin' for somebody, they're late, they'd better show, I'm gonna' call 'im,' ya' know, that sorta' thing... then pretends their cell phone is dead...asks to borrow the phone from the girl. She hands it over, the Detective looks at the last number dialed...calls a buddy and BS's for a few seconds and gives the phone back."

A small smile crossed Deakin's lips, "quick thinking."

"Yeah...so, the Detectives leave, go back to their car and call in to have backup come and watch the two in the booth–she could be an accessory–or at least charged with obstruction. They call in and have the phone number traced." Kowalski smiled as he handed the manila folder across the desk to Deakins. "Here's your guy."

Deakins took the folder and opened it, almost not wanting to see the face, the eyes, of the person who took Alex's life. He knew the image would haunt him the rest of his days.

Kowalski watched him. He knew exactly what was going through Deakins' mind – he himself had been in the same position several times before. "Little Mikey Randazzo."

Deakins repeated, "Mikey Randazzo," as he looked at the mug shot and thumbed through the inch thick rap sheets. "We had a Jimmy Randazzo...turned up in the trunk of a Caddy a few years back."

Kowalski remembered. "Yeah, his big brother. The apples didn't fall far from this family tree, Jimmy. His grandfather did time in San Quentin...has an uncle and a cousin doing time upstate in sing-sing."

Deakins shook his head. "You pick him up yet?"

Kowalski smiled, "Yeah, him and the girl. She folded like a house o' cards...parents got her lawyered up. He's down the hall...I was waitin' for you to get here.

Deakins gave him a knowing look. Kowalski was happy to give the opportunity to his old friend; Jimmy would've done the same for him.

Deakins rose from his chair and headed for the door, "Let's step into him."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bobby had slept for the better part of the afternoon. Talking with Dr. Rizzo, having a full stomach and a hot shower had definitely helped.

He turned on the tv and checked the time. "4:42 p.m." An instant memory hit him, bringing a smile to his face...his first real smile in days...Lewis' '70 Olds Cutlass 442 W30...he blew out the tranny in a street race when they were kids... "Man, was Lewis pissed," Bobby laughed to himself. "I wonder what ever happened to that car...that was beautiful car...Rallye Red...Hurst shifter..."

Bobby suddenly snapped back to reality. "Lewis!" He reached for the nurse's call button, panic almost setting in as he waited for someone to appear. "He doesn't know where I am...he must be trying to reach me...he musta' called the office lookin' for me, I know it...did Deakins' tell him where I am?...how'd he take the news about Alex?" A hundred questions and scenarios ran through Bobby's mind, until the door to his room finally opened. It felt like an eternity to Bobby, but less than a minute had actually passed.

It was a nurse he hadn't seen before. "Yes, Mr. Goren, can I help you?"

"I, I, n-need to make a call!"

She looked at him sympathetically, but sternly. "I'm sorry, but phone calls aren't permitted."

She could sense Bobby's growing frustration. He was becoming agitated.

"I wanna' see Dr. Rizzo," he stated firmly, but immediately become self-conscious, thinking "How seriously can she take me, after all, in these ridiculous, stethoscope-decorated pajamas?"

The nurse looked at him for a few seconds, as he paced and ran his fingers through his hair. When he pivoted and saw her still standing by the door, he gave her a look that said 'why are you still here?' It was his classic Goren look: head tilted, eyebrows knitted, nostrils flared.

He stayed back–he didn't approach her. In an instant, the thought flashed through his mind about how many 'crazies' she's probably had to deal with over the years...he didn't want to scare her.

The nurse exited. Bobby sat at the foot of the bed, letting out a sigh of relief as he heard the intercom: "Dr. Rizzo, paging Dr. Vincent Rizzo...please report to the 8th floor nurses' station."

End. Chpt. 8