Found myself struggling with this chapter which is why it's taken a while to post. I think I had a touch of Scribbler's Block but I'm all better now and Chapter 17 is coming along quite nicely. As usual, I'm holding my begging bowl out for reviews.

Chapter 16

A New York State Of Mind

"Who was that you were talking to?" Spikings demanded.

Chas pointed vaguely at the telephone, raising his eyebrows. "You mean just now?" he asked innocently.

"No Chas, I mean three weeks ago last Tuesday… of course bloody just now! It was Makepeace, wasn't it?"

"Err, yes Sir." He didn't volunteer anything more.

"She's been missing most of the day. What's she been up to?"

Chas knew he was a bad liar. He'd been told his eyes widened when he attempted to deceive.

"Interviewing Mr Yaholom's widow, Gov."

"Hasn't taken all day though has it?" he sneered.

"Err, no Gov."

"So do I take it the majority of her afternoon has been spent visiting the invalid?"

"Think she popped round there earlier just to check he was okay."

Chas knew what was coming next and there was really nothing he could do to get Harry off the hook.

He was right but rather than simply asking where Harry was now, he completely floored Chas when he said, "And was she still at Dempsey's place when you gave her that information via New York's finest?"

Chas swallowed. "Gov?" he asked, stalling for time.

Spikings smiled thinly. "You got caught out, my old son."

He inclined his head very, very slightly to indicate that he was waiting for a damned good explanation even though it was obvious Chas had nothing to offer.

Flushing beneath his dark skin, Chas expelled a resigned breath before lifting his eyes to Spikings to receive his verbal beating.

"Captain O'Grady runs a very tight ship over there in the Big Apple, Chas. A man after my own heart in fact. You think when the same investigative enquiry is raised by two people from the same office, he wouldn't get to know about it? It could look like sheer incompetence on our part of course; right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing. I set the record straight by explaining that I have an over-zealous Sergeant on my team who was concerned for the welfare of a fellow officer and due to feeling running high, didn't think he could trust his superior officer to make the right call"

Spiking glared at Chas.

"Sorry Sir. Makepeace didn't think you saw it as an issue so…"

"Bloody mind reader now, is she? Rest assured I shall be having words with Lady Tonto very soon but in the meantime, I want to make it perfectly clear to you that should you ever abuse your position within this team again, you will no longer have that position, nor anything remotely approximating it. Have I made myself understood?"

"Yes, Sir, I…"

"I was on the blower to O'Grady whilst you were making your furtive little call to a small cog. I've been given an update, sunshine," Spikings said smugly. "One of Toni Lovász's colleagues was able to provide the name of the bar which she and this Greg Roosa person frequent. Some gay bar, quite close to the precinct apparently. Barman remembered a conversation they'd had… his brother lives on the same street as Roosa. They've had a couple of officers out doing house to house and have traced him to a rented apartment. According to the landlord, Roosa's been living there six months and has his rent paid by a Mister Andrew Levant. Landlord assumes it's his sugar daddy but knowing what we do about the fake passport, it's looking likely Andrew Levant is Roosa's real identity. Right now, O'Grady is having his bank account looked into to see what that turns up."

"Christ, they're taking it seriously!" Chas exclaimed.

"Can't afford not to, can we? Better to be safe than sorry as they say."

"Harry's phoning to get a doctor out to them and then she's going back to Dempsey's place," Chas thought it wise to inform him.

"Going back? So where is she now?"

"She was calling from a phone box. Said that things got a bit awkward after she had to insist on being allowed to see him."

"But I take it she did – see him?"

"She saw them both - they were both in bed, asleep apparently – Dempsey and Toni Lovász." Chas hoped that made the situation clear.

"Were they now." It wasn't a question from Spikings, more an observation of the scenario.

Jarvis shrugged non-committally.

"And do we know the exact nature of their relationship?"

"Well, Harry didn't spell it out but reading between the lines I think they must've had a thing going on when they worked together."

"Now there's a surprise," said Spikings in a voice rich with sarcasm. "Damn good job Makepeace is made of sterner stuff, aye?"

"Sir," said Chas, paying lip service to a comment he wasn't convinced he could whole-heartedly agree with. He wasn't the SI-10 communications expert for nothing; he'd noticed the way Dempsey and Makepeace 'communicated' lately and it wouldn't surprise him in the least if he should learn that the pair of them had been 'interfacing' hard out of office hours.

"She thinks this Roosa guy is poisoning them," Chas offered tentatively.

The muscles in Spiking's left cheek bunched for a second and he nodded.

"Right." He checked his watch. "One hour. If she hasn't phoned in by then, ring Dempsey's flat – find out what's going on."

"Yes, Gov."

Spikings made to head back to his office but turned back abruptly. "Oh and Chas?"

"Gov?"

"Keep me posted this time, aye?"

Upon hearing that Makepeace was still in the apartment, a keen sense of relief flowered in Dempsey's chest, for a moment, overriding the pain that held him so tightly. He coughed, his throat sore and tight.

"Need to see her, Greg. Can you get her in here?"

Greg giggled. "She's right there next to you!"

Dempsey frowned in concentration. Was this some kind of nightmare? Was he hallucinating?

"No, I mean Makepeace. Where's Makepeace?"

"Toni's your partner, Jimmy. Had you forgotten? She's your real partner – your wife."

Laying his fork down, Dempsey shook his head as he looked up at him.

"Nah," he laughed queasily, feeling the situation beginning to slide from the surreal down into the clutches of insanity. "I ain't never been married. You gotta be thinkin' of somebody else." He swallowed against the soreness in his throat and tried to catch his breath.

Greg smiled down at Toni and tucked a hank of hair behind her ear.

"Kinda stuffy in here, isn't it?"

He moved around to Dempsey's side and before going to the window, put the plate of lasagne he was holding onto the bedside cabinet, next to the water jug and a copy of the New York Times he'd brought in that morning.

"Remember that summer when you two were living at the New Haven Estate?" He opened the window wide. "Boy, did we get some temperatures then, huh?"

Dempsey couldn't quite take in what Greg was saying. He recognised the name but couldn't work out why.

"New Haven? Yeah, I know New Haven," he mumbled, feeling an icy chill invading the room.

It would come back to him.

New Haven, clean and wholesome, hiding a dirty, filthy layer of deceit and corruption.

Yes, he'd lived there once.

"I used to see you around sometimes, Jimmy. I was there most weekends but I know you don't remember me."

Dempsey watched the big flakes of snow drift in through the open window; just a few and they melted long before they hit the carpet.

"You?" he asked at length as his mind began to amble along images of the New Haven street.

"Used to visit with my cousin, Eric all the time. My dad and his mom were brother and sister."

Great vistas of emerald green front lawns; the purr of a ride-on John Deer as the Mexican earned his living, the pleasant fizz of the sprinklers…

Greg reached a hand out and let a snowflake land in his palm.

"I say were… Aunt Helen is dead."

The word hung in the air, swinging like a corpse on a gibbet.

"And of course, so is my Uncle Leo but you knew that already."

And Dempsey was upstairs in the ivory serenity of the smallest guest bedroom, drinking iced tea and inflicting a harsh stream of static upon the peaceful air as he fine-tuned the listening device.

"You lived at New Haven?" he asked, finding it increasingly difficult to breath normally now.

Greg came away from the window and with a theatrical sigh, flung himself down on the foot of the bed.

"Uh-uh, not me. I was from the poor side of the family. But Aunt Helen and Uncle Leo saw I didn't want for nothin' while they were alive."

Leo and Helen. Dempsey could hear their voices as the static faded, for all their money, their accents no more cultured than his own ugly vowels and inelegant drawl that swaggered up from the streets of Brooklyn.

Leo Rheiner – larger than life in his white linen suits and designer shades. His beautiful wife, Helen; nipped, tucked and unhealthily thin as dictated by every fashion boutique and beauty salon she visited on a regular basis.

A wave of nausea washed over him and he breathed hard as he fought against it.

"You're related to the Rheiners," he managed.

"They were putting me through college…"

As Dempsey started to heave, Greg deftly retrieved a large, plastic bowl from the side of the bed and shoved it under his chin.

His stomach emptied again, Dempsey sagged back against the pillows. Although he was aware of how bitterly cold it had grown in the bedroom, his body was too weak to shiver. His hands fumbled with the quilt as he leaned towards Toni and attempted to pull it up around her shoulders.

"Would you shut the window, Greg?" he asked, forcing a pleasantness into his voice.

"You remember that beautiful summer we had, don't you, Jimmy? You remember how it ended?"

Was he dying? Was this what it felt like?

"Yeah, I remember," he slurred. "Please… Greg, shut the f*%king window will ya?"

In that split second before Greg Roosa's hand smashed against the side of his head, Dempsey saw wild fury contort his face into a mask of pure hatred. The ringing pain was so intense it brought tears to his eyes and he hovered briefly on the verge of consciousness.

"It was YOU, murdered by uncle! You and her," he stabbed a finger in Toni's direction. "You set him up. It was all a game to you, wasn't it? Settin' him up, catchin' him out, the whole thing. All that time you played at bein' Jim and Toni Richmond, you were just waiting to pull the trigger!"

The speed at which his gargantuan anger had materialized was frightening. He was almost another person, seeing the world from a totally different perspective.

"You're a pair pf stinkin' liars!" he screamed, his fists clenched tightly at his sides and his body rigid.

Dempsey tried to focus on what was happening but his vision was blurry and his breathing was ragged.

"He was a drug dealer, Greg. You know that, right?"

A helix of fear curled up into his chest. He knew exactly how vulnerable he was right now. He barely had enough strength to speak let alone defend himself physically.

"So what?" Greg spat, his nostrils flaring. "He gave people what they wanted, he didn't force no one to take that shit. He was makin' money to take care of his family, but you… the big man," he was clearly trying to keep his anger under control, "you make a livin' outa shootin' people down in cold blood… and you do it 'cause you can. You don't do it for your wife and kids, you do it for you, nobody but you."

Dempsey shook his head anxiously from side to side, still trying to piece together what was happening to him.

"No, no, no. It wasn't like that. I was makin' the arrest… he pulled a gun on me… it was me or him."

Greg looked like he was about to explode with fury. He was breathing hard, clenching and unclenching his fists and Dempsey tried to brace himself for another attack.

Greg closed his eyes and after a few moments he suddenly seemed to grow calm again.

"You and Toni plannin' on babies?" he asked with a grin. "New Haven is a great place for bringin' up kids. Nice community, safe, quiet. Aunt Helen used to say she wouldn't have wanted to bring 'her boys' up any place else."

He spoke proudly, wanting Dempsey to understand how important he was to her.

"They treated me and Eric just the same when I was over there – always had done, since I was tiny. See, we were almost the same age. My Mom wasn't…" Greg flexed his fingers, "interested … in me. And my Dad was less than interested. They were happy for them to take me off their hands, buy my clothes, pay for school activities, take me with them on vacation. I guess Aunt Helen couldn't have more kids so I filled the gap. She loved me like I was her own – she told me so," he said with aggressive conviction as though expecting Dempsey to dispute it for some reason.

Dempsey nodded. "That's nice, Greg."

"I remember one day we'd been playin' with a Frisbee on the lawn. When it came over onto your property, I went to fetch it back and you two were messin' around with a ball in the pool. I wondered why you didn't have no kids – you looked like you woulda made great parents. I was seventeen at the time and because of… well, I was kind of sensitive to parenting skills I guess."

Try as he might, Dempsey just couldn't recall ever meeting Greg before this week. Was it all a work of fiction? Was it purely in Greg's head like he and Toni being a couple was?

Dempsey didn't know what to say – he was scared of flipping that switch again and the cold, on top of the terrible pain throbbing through his veins was making it harder and harder for him to think.

"Still don't remember me though, do you, Jimmy?" said Greg, gently.

Dempsey coughed weakly. "Maybe you could help me out."

"You came over for a barbeque one Saturday night. You stood and talked with me for a while… fifteen minutes, twenty even. That was a long time to spend on a kid and I appreciated that. Most guys woulda talked football for two minutes max and then moved on to the real men." He chuckled. "We talked about movies."

Greg sniffed and crossed his arms high across his narrow chest, tucking his hands into his armpits. He was cold.

"Al Pacino, Marlon Brando, Robert DeNiro… you were very knowledgeable."

"Yeah, well, I like the movies."

He smiled. "Me too. Not cool for a geeky, overweight teenager but there ya go."

A brief memory of that night flashed across Dempsey's flagging mind then.

"Your name's not Greg," he mumbled.

"Congrats," he beamed. "So you see, we've come full circle. Eight years ago, you pretended to be somebody you're not so you could destroy lives and commit murder and guess what?" He unfolded his arms and held his hands up in a gesture of acceptance, "now I'm doin' the same! Retribution, Jimmy."

He picked up the copy of the New York Times he'd left on the bedside cabinet.

"Been thinking about the two of you for a long time; how I was gonna make you sorry for what you did to my family."

He opened up the paper and carefully folded it down to the section he wanted.

"I made a start before I left for the U.K. Wanna see?"

He thrust it under Dempsey's nose. "An eye for an eye and a brother for an uncle."

Dempsey looked down, screwing up his eyes in an effort to make the words he was seeing clearer.

'DECAPITATED BODY FOUND BEHIND MANHATTON BAR' was the headline and underneath, a three inch by four inch photograph with the caption, 'Family Man – Gil Dempsey'.

"No!" Dempsey shouted hoarsely. "No! You sick bastard."

Pure adrenaline gave him the energy he needed to lever himself up from the bed.

"You f*%king psycho!" he yelled, making a grab at Greg.

As the plate overturned, Greg reached for the fork and stabbed it hard into Dempsey's shoulder. He cried out and blood began to immediately soak through the mustard yellow cotton of his t-shirt and he collapsed back onto the pillows, struggling to get his breath and groaning with grief and pain.

Greg had panicked for a moment, Dempsey's surge of strength catching him unawares. He had watched him get weaker and weaker and then suddenly, to have him there in his face had been a shock.

Gingerly, he took a step forward and fastened his fingers around the fork handle. He pulled but it didn't budge and the feel of the metal embedded in flesh made him cringe. But the agony he saw on Dempsey's face fascinated him on and he tried again with a little more force. The blood flowed more freely as the fork slid out and Dempsey cried out feebly.

"Oh Jesus… Oh God."

His skin had gone from grey to white and Greg watched with a great deal of satisfaction as he drifted into unconsciousness.

"Yeah, you just think about that, Mister Magnum Man."

He examined the tines of the fork with distaste and then set about cleaning away the mess that the overturned plate had created.

As he took away Toni's plate though, he saw that her half closed eyes were upon him.

"We've had some laughs these past few months, baby-girl but I wasn't never gonna forget the part you played," he said, placing heavy emphasis on these last words. "Never was there a bigger traitor than the lovely Mrs Richmond."

He left them alone then.

He was cold and tired and overwrought.

It was all starting to get very messy and unpleasant but then, endings often were.

Before putting his own meal of frozen pepperoni pizza into the oven, Greg washed the dishes and thoroughly wiped clean the work surfaces and kitchen table. He had been very liberal with the magic potion today, a dash had gone into everything; tea and coffee, the lasagne, the chocolate cake which they hadn't gotten around to eating in the end and just about every other thing he'd managed to get past their lips.

As he sat down with his pizza, a can of Coca-Cola and Stand By Me in the VCR, he hoped it would all be over by the morning.