Bobby brought his attention back to the interrogation room. That beautiful piece of Puerto Rican ass came to lean up against the window and his brother finally lifted himself out of his chair. Jimmy trailed a hand around the edge of the table until his foot bumped the leg of the chair the grease ball occupied. Bobby looked away, disgusted.
He certainly had no idea that his little brother had been in trouble. He wondered briefly why Jim had never called him, and what kind of trouble had brought this on. The thought of Jim sick in a hospital, the world darkening around him a little every day, made him shudder. How could a Dunbar live with that? How could Jimmy imagine he could operate in the world like this?
But here he was, still badged, and taking part in police business. Bobby scratched his head and kept his eyes on the scene in front of him.
Subtly, things were changing in the room. Jim pushed off from the desk where he had been leaning into the guy's face. He paced the room, turned swiftly, and came up very close. Bobby had to admit, in those dark glasses and crisp dark blue shirt, Jim looked pretty intimidating. The guy was definitely cracking, spluttering that he didn't know, he didn't know. And Jim just held it, face right up against the dweeb in the chair, keeping the pressure on. "Tell me now, or I'll charge you for the murder and lock you away forever."
"Alright it was Fellini. Fellini who called me and told me to come clean up, that he'd… that he'd tossed some rubbish and I needed to clean it up for him." The dweeb looked up imploringly at Jim. "If he found out I tole you, he's gonna kill me too." The man started to sob and dropped his face into his hands.
Jim pulled his glasses off, placed them on the table. "Look at me." The guy continued to sob and Jim repeated himself, his voice sharper, "Look at me." The guy looked up, into Jim's eyes, trembling. "I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth." The guy sniffed loudly but kept his eyes glued to Jim's.
"Did you see him shoot Mondeo?" Jim asked quietly, and Bobby had to strain to hear his words.
The guy shook his head.
"No," the woman supplied.
"And he said he tossed him?" Jim prodded gently.
"Yes." The creep was almost eager to talk now. "He said the guy had cheated them and was rubbish, I was to come and clean up right away."
"Who's them?" Jim asked in a soft voice and Bobby grinned, it was almost as if Jim had the guy mesmerized. Bocelli just stared into Jim's face and answered the questions.
"Fellini and his partner."
"And his partner is…" Jim left the sentence unfinished and Bobby almost cheered himself as Bocelli finished it for him in whisper.
"Andretti, Mario Andretti."
"Good, that's good." Jim patted the guy's shoulder. "I'd like to know everything you know about these two, starting with how we can find them, okay, Andy?"
The guy nodded, then caught the raised eyebrow of the girl cop, "Yes."
She tossed a yellow pad on the desk. "All of it - now."
Jim moved off from the desk, taking his glasses with him, and waited while the grease ball started writing.
Bobby took a good long look at his kid brother as he stood facing the mirror. Certainly a bit older now, thinner in the face, he had creases down his cheeks and a deep frown line had grown between his brows. But his eyes were the same clear blue, and if it wasn't for the fact that they didn't seem to track anything, Bobby would have thought him unchanged. Jim motioned for the woman to come over. She did, he whispered something in her ear. She nodded.
"You write it all, Bocelli. We'll be back." And Jim and the woman left the room.
Bobby stayed where he was, watched the guy writing and crying and writing some more.
A short time later Jim and the luscious brunette were back. A few more questions and she took the dweeb out. He gave her no trouble now, he was broken. Jim sat down at the table, his hand under his chin in a mannerism Bobby remembered well from their childhood. Jim was thinking. This was Bobby's chance.
Bobby stepped out of the observation room and into the interview room. Jim looked up "Yes?"
He closed the door behind him with a loud click. "Jimmy, about before; I… I flew off the handle."
Jim stood abruptly, stepped back and brought the chair and the table between them. "Alright, so what do you want?"
"Before, I just wanted to say goodbye. I'm going away."
"Alright you've said it." The sound of Jim's own heartbeat reverberated in his ears. Bobby stood between him and the door.
"Jimmy, when did this happen?" Before the upset, before the girl, he and Jimmy had been friends. He didn't like the way Jimmy was keeping the distance now. "Why didn't you tell me?" Bobby took a step forward.
Jim felt the wall at his back, he sneered, shook his head in dismissal of the idea. "Why would I? We hadn't spoken in years. I never expected to speak to you again; you think I'd just call you and say, oh by the way I got shot. I'm blind now, one of those cripples you despise? Taking up a job a real man should have? I've heard you rant and rave my whole life. You really think I would call you?" He spat the words out, the only thing he had to throw at the threat before him.
Bobby was conciliatory, "This is different Jimmy, you seem to do fine, making- "
Jim's voice was a rasp against stone, "No, Bobby, it's not different. I'm blind. Face it."
The answering silence was huge. It crowded the room, making it hard to breath. He'd said it. Told his brother he was blind. Now he wasn't sure what was going to come down. Jim's hand made its own way toward his holster, until he remembered it wasn't there. Great. Jim tried to ban the knowledge from his face.
"You're not carrying?" Bobby was down on him like an avalanche. He'd opened Jim's jacket and given him a professional pat down before Jim had a chance to move out of the way. Bobby was horrified. Their old man had given each of the Dunbar boys a gun on their tenth birthday, sort of a coming of age gift. From that day forward, it was unthinkable that they would go unarmed.
"No."
"Aw shit, Jimmy." Bobby dropped to a chair, sounding as sad as if he'd just lost his dog.
Jim almost smiled at the ridiculousness. To Bobby, a Dunbar losing his gun was worse than Jimmy losing his sight. But Jim didn't smile, he couldn't afford to let his guard down and it was a distinct disadvantage that he couldn't see the changes in expression on the man's face, couldn't predict whether to cajole or talk straight or meet Robert's words with aggression.
Robert Dunbar was a dangerous man. No more so than to the disabled, the handicapped, the blind. The Bobby Jim grew up with had always been the one to put down the animals his sister had brought home, saying they were diseased, shouldn't be alive. There were rumors too, that Bobby had been the one to kill that crippled kid in the apartment block. No one had asked, but Jim never doubted that Bobby acted to his word, and he despised broken people. When Bobby had done time, it had been for beating up some Hispanic guy who took a job that Bobby had wanted for one of his gang. The guy had walked with a limp the rest of his life, which wasn't more than two years. He died the week Bobby got out of jail. And the word went around.
Jim held his head up, stood his ground. Bobby wasn't stupid. If he decided to put Jim out of his misery, it wouldn't be here, in the squad, surrounded by police. But adrenaline pumped, Jim's muscles were taut, ready. He waited, straining to listen for Bobby's movements through the blood pounding in his ears.
The door opened, "The Lieutenant wants to see you, immediately." Karen held the door open, stepped into the room.
"Bobby, I have to go." Jim stepped around the table and toward the door. He felt the large body in front of him move to the side and then follow him out into the squad room. Jim pointed to his right. "That way. Go."
Ignoring Karen, who followed close behind, Jim headed for the Lieutenant's office. As they neared the door, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder from behind.
"Um, I lied. I didn't like the way it was shaping up in there." Karen's voice was tight, had she overstepped? "He's gone, by the way, the hulk."
Jim turned to face Karen. "Thanks, you got good timing."
"Karen, Jim, What'd he give you?" the Lieutenant asked.
"Felini's partner is a guy called Mario Andretti. He's another possibility for the shooting." Jim filled the boss in.
"You're sure it's not this one?"
Karen shook her head, "No, he's too weak, if he'd done it, he'd have run away and never come back."
The Lieutenant considered for a moment "Okay, you two go get Andretti. Take a couple of officers with you."
Jim turned to Karen. "We better get moving."
They grabbed their coats, Jim called Hank and they all headed out together.
In the car, Karen broached the subject of Jim's brother again. "It's about a half hour trip Jim. I need you to fill me in. What's your brother likely to do?"
"What do you mean?" Jim kept his voice neutral, his head turned to the side window.
"Jim, don't mess with me here. This guy walks into a police station, no one sees him enter an interview room. He's packing heavy artillery and quite frankly, I don't think anyone else would have picked it up, but I know you now, you looked almost scared in there."
"Of Bobby? No, he's my brother."
"And the bruise that starting to show on your head? He hit you this morning in the locker room didn't he? Don't even bother telling me you walked into something."
Jim's hand ran along his hairline, yes, there was a lump and some tenderness. He brought his hand down, his teeth worried at his knuckle. "What do you propose, Karen, I arrest my brother for assaulting a police officer?" he said quietly.
"Just answer the question. What's he going to do?"
"I don't know… I honestly don't know. Let's get Andretti sorted and then I can think about this, okay?"
Karen nodded, then reached over and squeezed his arm. "Okay." She watched him from the corner of her eye. He was definitely under fire. She just wanted him to know he wasn't alone, that she had his back as he'd had hers so many times already.
Andretti tried to make a run for it, but the two uniformed police earned their paychecks and grabbed him before he was half a block away. Returning to the squad, Jim told them to stash him in interview one and headed to his desk.
Karen walked past. "In case you are wondering, the hulk is nowhere to be seen."
Fisk moved between the two observation rooms. Tom and Marty had the first suspect the pool cleaner had given up- Fellini- and Jim and Karen had the second -Andretti.
"And so, where were you after 10PM on the 24th?"Tom asked Fellini.
"I was in Hell."
"Hell?" Marty asked acerbically.
"Nightclub in Greenwich." Tom explained.
"Okay, and anyone see you there?"
"Sure."
"Names and contacts, we gotta check this out."
"Sure, call Loretta, she was with me all night." Fiorelli wrote down several names and contacts.
Fisk moved to the other observation room where Jim and Karen were at a similar point with Andretti.
When they'd both finished, they met in the centre of the squad.
Jim stated the obvious. "Well, we better get onto the alibis. Chances are one of these two won't stand up.
Marty rolled his eyes and gave Jim a disgusted look but kept this mouth shut.
"Boss, do you think we can hold these creeps while we find our alibi?" Karen asked, glaring at Marty and continuing down the line Jim had indicated.
Fisk nodded "No problem," and turned to Tom and Marty, "And what about you two, where do you want to head?"
"We'll go look for some leverage on Fellini, if we can get a warrant. I'm pretty sure he's got merchandise in his crib." Tom said, looking to Marty who nodded, thankful that Tom was thinking in another direction. Like Dunbar, Marty had been thinking about chasing the alibis.
The phone on the desk rang. "Lieutenant Fisk… alright, call me when you've got her."
"That was Officer Powers, the one we sent to get Andretti's alibi. She's not home, roommate says she'll probably turn up in the morning to get ready for work. Powers is going to check her usual haunts, but there's a few of them."
The Lieutenant turned to Karen, "You and Jim go home, expect an early call. I want her interviewed as soon as possible."
He turned to Marty and Tom as he returned to his office, "Get these two we got into holding cells and get me the paperwork, I'll push the warrant through and I want you over there tonight."
Karen glanced out of the window. "Jim, it's pelting down. You wanna ride?"
"No, I'm fine. I'm going via the gym tonight. But thanks."
"Sorry buddy, I tried," Karen spoke to Hank and was rewarded with a Dunbar smile.
"Night guys."
"Night Karen," Tom and Marty spoke in unison.
Jim changed to sweats in the locker room and hung his suit. Returning to his desk, he put on his coat and slapped his thigh. "Hank."
"You should think about getting Hank a rain coat, Jim. It's going to be a wet winter I hear," Marty said.
"Yeah, I'll look into it. Night guys. Night Boss."
Jim exited the gym, warm from his work out. What had started with wondering if he could get some exercise on a treadmill, had become a regular three times a week workout. He had a weight lifting program that he really enjoyed, and since helping one of the kids with his techniques, Gus had even convinced him to put on gloves and throw a few punches at a bag. It felt good. Different from the Jujitsu he did with the old woman - that was serious self defense. This was more for him, for the sheer joy of running, of working his body and even hitting something solid.
At the end of the block, where the neon light clicked irregularly, Jim and Hank turned right and headed down the stairs to the subway. The rain hadn't let up, but they'd be on the train soon and home within half an hour. Waiting for the train, he checked his watch, good timing, the train pulled in and he got on. "Find a seat, Hank," he said as the doors slid shut and the train pulled away from the platform.
Hank had barely taken a step forward when the deep voice boomed, "Here, why don't you sit here?"
Jim's breath stopped in his throat, his feet stopped, and Hank's claws scratched on the floor as he was pulled up. Through the harness, Jim felt him turn and look up at his master. Bobby's voice blew off any feelings of calm left over from the workout. Shit, how did he forget?