February 2, 1940
"They're comin' after me. I gotta tell ya, pal, I don't know what I'm gonna do!"
Abe paced around Wesley Claybourne's Brownsville apartment practically tearing his hair out.
"You gotta tell me what's goin' on, Kid, or I can't help you," Nick said patiently. This was the moment. He knew this was the moment. He could feel it in his bones, but he couldn't spoil it by jumping in too quick. But Nick Buchanan knew better. He was patient. He could wait for just the right opportunity.
Reles slumped down in an old rickety armchair. "I'm in a bad way, Yitz," he admitted. And he looked it. He looked at Nick and used the false Hebrew nickname he'd claimed his mother had called him. Nick looked at the ruthless murderer in front of him and saw a tiny, pathetic man scared out of his mind.
"Tell me," Nick pressed.
The twitchy assassin scrubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know how I got into this. I was thinkin' back the other day about it. My ma raised me good. My old man had a knish stand. We was never rich, but we didn't need to be. The neighborhood was good to us. If I'd've just kept my head down and stayed in school and out of the billiard parlor, I coulda been alright."
"We all coulda been alright if we did that," Nick said understandingly. "But Prohibition made it too easy. And every other guy on the block was smokin' and drinkin' and gamblin', so what's a guy to do?"
"Yeah," Reles agreed, his gaze fixed on the middle distance.
"But you and me, we come from different neighborhoods but we both fell down the same way," Nick added. He knew Reles was ready to snap, he just had to prime him.
And that did it. The man's attention went right back to Nick. "Not the same way, Yitz. You run a backroom card game? I…I killed people," he said desperately.
"Yeah, I know," Nick said quietly.
"I don't think you do. I got in with Murder, Inc. like a schmuck and they got me by the balls now! And after all the dirt I done for them guys, they're gonna sell me up the river! I'm goin' down, Yitz, and I'm goin' down hard." The man's voice cracked with emotion.
"You don't have to go down, Kid."
The soft tone of Nick's voice caught Kid Twist's curiosity. "Whaddaya mean?"
"You could flip. Turn on all them bastards. Take 'em down before they take you down," Nick explained.
"I ain't no snitch," Reles snarled.
"Maybe you oughtta be!" Nick stood up to emphasize his point. "You mighta done a lot for those goons over the years, but when they're done using you, you're out. And if you don't wanna end up dead thanks to one of the new up and comers who'll replace you, you better think about rollin' over."
The look in those dark eyes of Abe Reles was something else. Fear. Terror, even. But then, just the tiniest flicker of hope. "What're you sayin', Claybourne?" he asked shakily.
Nick crossed over to a desk in the corner and took a set of keys out of his pocket, putting one in the lock on a drawer and opening it up. He got the folded leather out and tossed it at Reles. "The feds have been onto you for a long time, Kid."
Reles stared at Nick's badge and identification, looking like he was about to be sick all over it. "Wh-what's goin' on?" he stammered in disbelief.
"My name is Detective Nick Buchanan. NYPD. And I've been undercover with the FBI as Wesley Claybourne for almost a year."
Nick half expected Reles to leap out of his chair and sprint out of the apartment, but he didn't. Nick knew this man. Nick had spent holidays with this man. Nick had chosen his moment well. Abe Reles knew he was beaten, and Nick knew he wasn't the kind to go down swinging. Reles knew it, too.
"You know you can help us. You know you can testify against these guys and bring them down."
Reles swallowed hard. "Why'd you come after me? There's plenty of bigger fish."
Nick nodded. "Yeah. But you're the one who killed the Shapiro Brothers."
That took Reles by surprise. "The Shapiro Brothers?"
"Iriving and Meyer and Willie and me all grew up in the same building. I was a brother along with 'em. And if I hadn't figured out how to keep my head down and got outta Williamsburg and became a cop, I bet you'd've killed me, too."
The truth hung between them for a moment before Reles gave a hollow laugh. "Ain't life a son of a bitch?"
Nick had to agree.
February 29, 1940
Jen never liked leap years. The extra day in February always felt off-kilter. Growing up around the Irish mob, she'd always been taught it was lucky. Good, magical things were supposed to happen on February Twenty-Ninth. Jennifer never found that to be true.
This year proved to be just the same. She woke up with Jerry swatting at her face. Her alarm hadn't gone off, and the cat was hungry. And the next thing she knew, there was a knock on her door. A quick glance at the clock told her it was Matt coming to get her for their shift.
He had a car, and she didn't, and he would pick her up and give her a ride sometimes. He was sweet, and Jen had a feeling he was doing more than being a good partner. But he hadn't crossed any lines, and it was a good feeling for someone to be nice to her, so she let it continue.
Today, though, she was in no mood for Matt Ryan and his earnest intentions and his big soft face looking at her like she hung the moon. Grumbling to herself, she threw on her robe and hurried to the door.
"Matt, sorry, come in. I overslept. Just gimme a minute," she begged, letting him into her apartment.
"It's okay. We've got time," he told her cheerfully. "Happy Leap Day," he added.
Jen flashed a smile before turning away and immediately scowling as she went back to her bedroom. "Could you feed the cat for me? Food's in the kitchen," she called behind her.
"Sure," Matt shouted back.
She relaxed momentarily, trying to get a handle on what the day was going to bring. She'd only gotten out of bed two minutes ago. Jen took off her robe and her pajamas and got started with her usual infrastructure of a brassiere, girdle, and garter belt. Stockings rolled on and clipped. Slip over the top. Skirt and blouse and jacket and shoes. She paused at her vanity table to put on some lipstick and a bit of rouge to distract from the dark circles under her eyes. And with a couple pins in her hair to keep it out of her face and looking like she made a bit of effort, she was ready to go.
When she left her bedroom, she found Matt in the hall, staring into space next to where Jerry was eating his breakfast.
Jen frowned. "Everything okay?"
He jumped at the sound of her voice and blinked rapidly. "I…yeah," he answered.
Chocking it up to the strangeness of Leap Day, Jen just shrugged and went to get her pocketbook so they could head to the station.
It wasn't until the end of the day, all of which was spent with Matt distracted and weirdly nervous, that she figured out the cause of his strange behavior. She was out with the boys—Matt, Simon, and Duncan—and having a round of drinks to blow off some steam.
"It's an Irish tradition for a woman to propose marriage to a man on Leap Day," Simon said. He, like Jen, was the child of Irish culture. "What do you think about that, Jen?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes. She'd gotten to know her fellow Homicide detectives quite well over the last months. Simon had proved to be exactly what she'd thought, arrogant and entitled and deeply insecure about his own abilities. He liked to tease her, but he was never cruel. And he sure couldn't take it if the teasing ever turned on him. He'd laugh, but Jen had seen the hurt in his eyes on more than one occasion. She'd eased off him after that.
"I think if Jen every found a man worth her time, she wouldn't have to wait until Leap Day to get him to marry her," Duncan laughed.
Jen had gotten to know Duncan, too. He had a depth that the arrogance had hid very well. Almost too well. Jen still found him far too pompous most of the time. But he was smart and worked harder than anyone else on the squad. He was out to prove himself almost as much as Jen was. And once she understood that, she grew to like him.
"Duncan's right," Jen told the boys. "I'd make a great wife if I ever wanted to be."
They laughed. "Lucky man, your future husband," Duncan said.
Jen raised her glass in appreciation. "You're damn right about that."
More laughter. Except from Matt. Matt wasn't laughing. Simon and Duncan went to get another round, leaving him alone with Jen, and she saw the way he deliberately looked anywhere but at her.
"Is something wrong, Matt? You've been weird all day," she said. She wracked her mind trying to think of what it could be. He'd seemed perfectly cheerful when he arrived at her apartment. She'd asked him to feed the cat. She'd been practically half asleep still, but she knew that much. And then she'd gotten dressed and come through to the hallway and discovered him acting weird.
"Nothing," Matt muttered. He still wouldn't look at her.
And then it dawned on her. He wouldn't look at her because he'd already seen her. Plenty of her. "You saw me naked!" she exclaimed.
Matt finally looked up at her, horror in his eyes.
Jen started laughing. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?"
"I…I didn't…" Matt stammered.
She smacked his arm playfully. "Oh calm down. I'm not upset. But I can't be the first girl you've seen without her clothes on, Matt."
"No, but…"
Jen rolled her eyes. "Well, get over it. We're partners," she reminded him.
Matt was staring at her now. And his mouth hung open like he was going to say something. "Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" he blurted.
"Oh Matt," she lamented, feeling her heart sink into her stomach. "Matt, we can't. We're partners." The emphasis was different that second time she said it. The guilt was clawing at her insides, but she wouldn't pay it any mind. "You know working Homicide is my dream job. I can't let anything come in the way of that."
And that was the truth. It was also the truth that Matt was sweet and lovely but not much else. It was also the truth that Jen still closed her eyes at night and could almost trick herself that Nick was lying beside her. But the most important part of it all was that she had finally gotten to be a Homicide detective, and she wasn't going to jeopardize her position there. Not for anything.
"Yeah, yeah, I get that," Matt insisted anxiously.
She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Are we okay?"
He smiled kindly. "Always," he assured her.
That made her feel a little better, and by the time Simon and Duncan came back with the drinks, everyone was in a good mood again. Jennifer still hated Leap Day.