There was no reaction. Her eyes never blinked. Only the rasp of her breathing indicated she was alive.
Baraba whispered, “I expect to receive my payment for this. Be clean and in bed in an hour.” He took a beer out from the refrigerator and left the room. A moment later, the theme to All in the Family drifted in.
Trace waited by the elevator the following morning. His clients stood in a group thirty or so feet away. As soon as Baraba stepped out, he pounced.
“Trace has delivered. One of my clients knows why that Devin was terminated.”
“Where are they?”
“You’ll meet after I deliver my goods and collect my pay.”
Baraba waited until the group dispersed. Trace stood arranging the money into a neat roll. “Let’s go find her.”
The pair walked up ramps and down corridors. Baraba began to lose his bearings. They emerged inside the base of the uptown IRT platform. If the homeless existing inside Grand Central Terminal were pitiful, those here were the most wretched.
There was no climate control. While sleeping, one could fall out onto the tracks and be crushed by a train. Here, a woman held a young girl tightly to her coat. Both wore clothing as wretched as their surroundings.
All four met in a huddle. “Lolli, this is the Detective who is looking for information on the worker that died the other night.”
“I was there.”
“You were there, Lolli? Where?”
“I was with my daughter under the platform stairs.”
“You stay there? Why are you here?”
“We only stay there on the weekends. The weekend staff let us stay as long as no one sees us. The others look for us. And chase us out.”
Baraba nodded. “I see. What did you see or hear?”
“Men were arguing, cursing. They wanted to know where the ring was. They wanted their cut. He said he didn’t have it. They beat him and then I heard them leave.”
“All of them?”
“I guess they left him behind.”
“Is there anything you need? For you or your daughter?”
“We don’t need anything. I take care of both of us.”
“Shouldn’t she be in school?”
“I teach her all she needs to know. I went to school and now I’m here.”
“Thank you, Lolli.” He handed her a five dollar bill.
“Thanks. Now me and my daughter will be good tonight.”
When they were almost back where they started, Trace mentioned, “You know Lolli’s daughter? I never saw her before yesterday.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Lolli has been here for at least three years, always alone. She shows up yesterday with a daughter. Makes you wonder where she got her.”
“Why didn’t you say something when we were there?”
“Now if I say something to you in front of her and she loses her daughter, no one will trust me. They don’t trust me; I can’t sell to them. I can’t sell; you won’t get your supply. See, I’m thinking for both of us.”
Baraba rode the elevator back to the main level. Could he use what Lolli gave him? Where did she get that child? How could he continue to hide his arrangement with Trace?
Baraba waited in his office for the night crew to arrive. Interviewing several crewmembers, he learned two of them, Morris and Levine were former convicts. He also learned the last anyone saw of Devin was when he went with Morris and Levine to clean off a section of platforms.
A uniformed officer escorted Levine into the interview room. His hands were bruised and his right eye was black. He took a seat without waiting for an invitation.
“Mr. Levine, I see you’re comfortable in an interview room.”
“Detective, let’s cut to the chase. Devin died the other night. You know about my record. We both know you suspect me because of my record.”
“Glad we got that cleared up. Can you tell me about your bruises?”
“Got these in a bar fight the other night.”
“What night?”
“The same night Devin died.”
“What bar?”
“On Broadway in Inwood.”
“Your HR file says you live in Staten Island. Little far from home.”
“I’m seeing a señorita up there.”
“Was Morris with you?”
“No. He isn’t allowed in that section.”
“Why not?”
“His skin is too dark for the Dominicans.”
“When’s the last time you saw Devin?”
“An hour before quitting time that night.”
“Do you remember what you were doing?”
“Morris and I went with Vega to clean platforms.”
“What about Devin?”
“He went to clean something with the others.”
“Do you remember who?”
“Rodriguez and Zlatan. There are only six of us.”
Baraba laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“You think you and Morris would have your stories straight. Morris’ was better. I guess he’s just smarter.”
“What do you mean he’s smarter?”
“His story had you with him and no one else. He even said you two got jumped walking to Times Square for your trains.”
“He has a bad memory. Got hit in the head too many times.”
“According to the other crewmembers, Devin and you two scumbags went off to clean somewhere a little before shift end.”
“Not that night.”
“Everyone has a bad memory but you.”
“Guess so.”
“Mr. Levine I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Sean Devin. You have the right to remain silent.”
“Save your breath. I know my rights.”
“Probably know them better than me.”
“I want a lawyer. A free one.”
“You can wait in a holding cell with Morris until one comes.”
After processing the cohorts, Baraba made an anonymous call to the NYPD.
Baraba drove back to the apartment that night. He let himself in and secured the locks. He walked to the kitchen. He looked at the woman. Lividity had set in.
He saw she had used only one of the bags he brought the other night. He wiped the bags to destroy any possible fingerprints and rubbed them on her hands. He called it in and waited for the police and coroner to arrive.
He withstood hours of their questioning. He was used to sitting on the other side of the table. The biggest mistake was to feel you were superior to your interviewer.
Days later Baraba waited until the last of Trace’s clients were gone. He noticed Lolli in the distance as Trace came towards him. A dozen pouches in his hand.
Trace held them out to him. “We good for a while?”
“Don’t need them anymore. We’re good forever.”
“You’re off smack? That’s good.”
“I was never on it.”
“If you don’t want it anymore what do you want?”
“Only information when I need it.”
A shot was fired. Baraba felt the hot bullet pierce his back and tear its way through his lung. He fell to the ground as Trace cursed Lolli.
“That’s for taking away my daughter you bastard.”
Another shot. Trace fell with a bullet in his head. Blood and brain matter oozed onto the floor.
“That’s for bringing the detective to me.”
Baraba stayed still. He dared not move in case Lolli was ready with another bullet. He took shallow breaths. As the air entered his lungs, some of it escaped with blood through the bullet hole.
Lolli made a shuffling noise as she walked away.
He waited for an eternity before standing. Weak and losing consciousness, he reached the elevator.
He entered and pushed the button for street level. The marble was cool as he dug his fingers into the walls to remain erect. When the doors opened he fell onto the floor of the main concourse. The screams from commuters were the last thing he heard.
Without a Hitch – by R. J. Westerhoff
MIKE CALLAHAN HAD A BIG PROBLEM. Point of fact, he had several.