Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(63)

Finally, I managed, “What can I do for you, Commissioner?” I tried to picture our new commissioner’s face. I’d met him only once in passing while I was at One Police Plaza. It was right after the city had hired him away from Philadelphia, where he had been a respected deputy chief. His deep voice made everything sound like a grave matter.

“Your lieutenant, Harry Grissom, says he can’t reach you. Is he lying or are you not taking his calls?”

The wording of the question made it sound like something a politician would say. “I was about to call him back, Commissioner.”

“No matter what else happens during this conversation, please don’t lie to me again. Is that clear, Detective?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I was a detective once. Back in Philly. I thought I was slick too. You know what got my head out of my ass?”

“No, sir.”

“I realized we all have jobs to do. We’re all in this together. No matter how the media might twist stories. No matter what a segment of the public may think about cops. We’re lost if we don’t try to help each other any way we can. You’re not helping in DC. In fact, it sounds like you’re a hindrance.”

I said, “None of that is Harry Grissom’s fault, sir. Please don’t take anything out on him. This was my choice and my decision. I’ve been on leave for a while. I had a lot of days in the vacation bank.”

“I don’t want to crush a respected lieutenant like Grissom. I wasn’t trying to get you to rat him out. I don’t even want to punish you. In fact, I don’t really have time to talk to you. So I want to keep this quick and to the point. Where are you?”

“As I said, I’m on leave, sir.”

“I didn’t ask your status. I asked you where you are. As in a place. A tangible, real-life location.”

“Washington, DC.”

“You see, I knew that. Would you like to know how I knew that?”

“No, sir, not particularly.”

The commissioner just rolled along with that sonorous voice. “I knew you were in DC because it feels like every swinging dick with a law-enforcement title of some kind has called me this week to bitch about you.” His voice increased in intensity at a steady pace.

I didn’t answer. Mainly because there was no answer to it.

After a moment, the commissioner said, “Well?”

“I-I-I’m not sure what you want, sir.”

“Now, that’s a good comment, Detective. No one ever seems to care about what I want. It shows me you’re a considerate and intelligent detective. What I want, Detective Bennett”—his voice continued to build—“is for people to stop annoying me. In this case, the solution to my problem is quite simple. You are to come home. Come back to New York. Right now.”

“But, sir—”

The commissioner cut me off. “It sounds like you may have misinterpreted this call. Maybe it’s my friendly demeanor.” Now he was almost shouting. “This is not a negotiation. I’m giving you an order. Come back to New York.”

The line went dead. I pictured the commissioner slamming the phone down in the cradle. Of all the requests for me to go back to New York, I think his was the most eloquent and compelling.

I didn’t know what to do. So I did what I always do when things seem overwhelming. I called my wife, Mary Catherine.





Chapter 83



The call with Commissioner Brocious had unnerved me. Usually I’m not too susceptible to threats. The commissioner knew how to deliver the best kind of threat. He didn’t make one. He simply told me to come home. He was smart enough to know my imagination would come up with worse punishments than he ever would. And my imagination was working overtime. I pictured myself directing traffic in Flushing Meadows when the US Open was on. Or maybe I’d be working in some sort of sex crimes unit attached to a precinct. I shuddered, thinking what my future held.

That’s why I needed a change of pace. I wanted to hear a friendly voice. I didn’t hesitate to dial Mary Catherine’s phone. Just talking to her always made me feel better. Her voice was like a soothing balm on my nerves.

I also had a second agenda. I wanted to hear how she sounded. During the last few calls, Mary Catherine had sounded exhausted. She also had mentioned that she hadn’t been feeling well. That concerned me.

I could hear a certain level of scratchiness in her voice when she answered. I always thought her sleepy voice had a sexy edge to it, but I was preoccupied.

I asked if she was feeling okay.

Mary Catherine said, “It’s weird around here during the day. It’s so quiet. With you gone and all the kids at school for the majority of the day, I get a little lonely. I’ll admit it. I even went down to Holy Name this morning to say hello to Seamus. To be honest, I was also trying to get a look at the art project he and Shawna have been working on.”

“Did you get to see what it is?”

“Nope. And Seamus is so tight-lipped it makes me think he would’ve been a good spymaster during World War II.”

I laughed and said, “He might’ve been. He rarely talks about his life before coming to the US. No one is able to figure out how old he is. Carbon dating failed. Chemical tests are inconclusive. Our next step is to cut him in half and count the rings.” I loved her laugh.