The
Streets Of New YorkThe
Streets Of New York© Sidney McCabe
Hold tight, wait till the party's
over
Hold tight, we're in for nasty weather
There has got to be a way
Burning down the house
It didn't take Nan long to make an impression on Rosemary Burke.
As Rosemary watched, Nan flitted around the staff room, turning on the charm and making instant friends with every officer present. She smiled, she laughed, she chatted, and as she did, she generally endeared herself to everyone. The officers were immediately captivated by her accent, her sparkle, her wit, and her genuine friendliness. They found themselves laughing and exchanging pleasantries with her as if they had known her for years.
Jimmy had never seen anything like it. Nan was always sociable in new surroundings, but it was usually of a more reserved nature. She tended to observe and form opinions slowly, only opening to others when she had made a firm decision as to how she should interact with them. Now she was a gentle whirlwind, gliding from officer to officer, working a bit of her magic with each of them. He smiled to himself, tickled pink at her sudden metamorphosis into social butterfly.
Across the room, Rosemary watched, eyes narrowed into slits of subtle fury. Jimmy wondered if Nan could feel the poisonous gaze trained on her back. She seemed blissfully unaware. Her eyes were sparkling as she chatted with Georgia O'Neill, and he knew her well enough to know that even if this new gregarious side was being forced, it was nonetheless genuine.
Kid sidled up to him, hands in his trouser pockets as he surveyed the scene before them. "If looks could kill, I reckon our Nan would be dead and buried," he murmured in a low voice.
Jimmy chuckled. "I don't think Nan would care if she knew."
"Oh, she knows."
Jimmy looked at him, one eyebrow lifted. "You think?"
"I think she's trying to make an impression on Rosemary."
"Funny; that's exactly what she said a minute ago."
"Thought as much," said Kid, his lips curling into a grin.
"You think she's trying to show Rosemary up?"
Kid shrugged. "Well, let's just say Nan's a very perceptive girl. She knows which way the wind blows. Rosemary's not what you'd call a popular woman."
"And Nan's trying to show Rosemary--"
"That she's got what it takes to win people over," finished Kid.
Jimmy nodded. "Simple."
"Yet effective."
"Plus," Jimmy added, "I think she really likes everyone."
"You might say she's got the upper hand. She's a clever girl, our Nan. I'm sure this isn't the only trick up her sleeve."
"God, I love that woman."
"Things are going to be much more interesting with her around, that's for sure," Kid said by way of acknowledgement. He glanced over at Jimmy. "I know that look. What's on your mind, mate?"
"Just thinking...Nan isn't exactly responding the way I thought she would."
"Did you think she'd go off the deep end when she found out who Rosemary was?"
"Pretty much, yeah," Jimmy admitted. "Didn't you?"
"Definitely. The Nan I know would have been panicking the second you told her. And yet there she is--Miss Congeniality." Kid was silent for a moment as he watched Nan. "I don't think I've ever seen her quite so...bubbly before," he said reflectively.
"It's almost scary."
"What's almost scary?"
Jimmy flinched. He knew that voice, and he knew it well. He remembered it whispering words of love in his ear; he remembered it saying "I do" before a minister and all their friends; he remembered it yelling at him, shouting at him, berating him with a thousand and one things he'd done wrong. But mostly he remembered it the last time he'd heard it. The last time they'd said goodbye.
"I knew it would never work."
"How can you say that? God...Rosemary, please."
"Don't beg, James. It's so unattractive. And don't pretend you didn't know
this was a long time coming."
"Well, I didn't. You never told me you were unhappy. God forbid you clue
your husband in on what's going on in your head!"
"Unhappy? Is that what you call it? I call it miserable."
"Rosemary--"
"Just leave it, James. Just--just leave it."
Blinking rapidly, Jimmy shook his head to scatter the painful thoughts from his mind. When his eyes cleared he saw her standing there, staring at him, her dark eyes flashing with a subtle challenge.
"Rosemary," he said softly.
She smiled with just a touch of smugness, and said, "How are you, James?"
Beside him, Jimmy was vaguely aware that Kid had slipped away. "I'm fine." He paused, eyes catching Nan as she laughed with Lou. "Actually, I'm good. I'm fantastic."
"That's really good to hear." She didn't sound as if she meant it.
"How are you?" he asked, though it killed him to feign interest.
"Wonderful." Rosemary beamed then. "I'm really seizing this opportunity with the Special Task Force. It's a little early in the game to say for sure, but I'm pretty confident that I'm making an impression."
I'll just bet you are, Jimmy thought to himself. "That's really..." His voice trailed off. Really what? What was it? It wasn't nice or special or terrific, or any such platitude. It was what it was. "That's really...Good for you, Rosemary." He couldn't come up with anything else. It was disastrous is what it was. It was the worst thing that could happen to the STF.
If Rosemary caught the subtle struggle as Jimmy searched for the right words, she didn't comment on it. Instead her eyes raked him over. "You look good, James."
Jimmy felt tiny jabs of irritation along his skin. He'd always hated the way she said his name. "Thanks. You look..." Again he struggled for words. She looked old, that was how she looked. Old and tired and sour. What was that quote Nan had mentioned to him ages ago? 'We grow not older, but more like ourselves', or something like that. Very apt for Rosemary Burke. "You look great," he finally lied.
Rosemary's lips curled into another broad smile. "Thank you." Then she asked as casually as she could, "So who's the girl?"
"The girl?" Jimmy decided to be vague. He didn't want to give Rosemary the upper hand just yet. The more she found out about Nan, the worse she would make things for her. She already seemed to have figured out enough on her own.
"Yeah," Rosemary said, studying him, "the girl. You know, the one you walked in with and can't take your eyes off of."
Bristling, Jimmy said, "That's Inspector Anna Kenworthy."
"I know her name, James. Don't you think I've been briefed? I'm asking you who Inspector Anna Kenworthy is to you."
"I don't think that's any of your business." Finally all polite resolve had melted away. Jimmy was determined to be professional at all costs, but he no longer had to pretend this was a pleasant exchange between two old friends.
"Oh, I think it is, James. I think it's highly inappropriate for a member of my team to be working alongside his girlfriend."
"It's not your team yet, Rosemary."
She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "I can't believe Teaspoon Hunter's favoritism has scaled such great heights. You should never have been allowed to work alongside that woman."
"Jesus! I don't believe this. I've been back in the country less than two hours I've been back at this station for less than twenty minutes--and you're already pulling rank!" Jimmy fought to control his voice, keeping it down to a careful, fierce whisper.
"I am not pulling rank. I am stating facts. Are you telling me you two work together in London?"
"For now. Things are changing on the team. We work with separate--" Jimmy broke off. "Why the hell am I explaining this to you like you have the right to know?"
"I do have the right to know." Her relative calmness was getting under his skin. "James, I am fronting the next investigation that comes to this team, and I can't have two of my officers making out like teenagers if I send them to a crime scene." Rosemary paused as a thought struck her. "And is she even fully capable of participating in an investigation? I saw that limp, James, and frankly it concerns me--"
"Okay, that's enough." Jimmy didn't care that several pairs of eyes, including Nan's, were focused intently on both Rosemary and himself. "What the hell is going on? This isn't like you, Rosemary. You don't play your cards this early in the game. What's going on? Why are you grilling me about Nan?"
"I'm not grilling you, I'm asking you. I think I have a right to know, and since I know you better than anyone else here, I feel comfortable asking you--"
"Oh, don't give me that," Jimmy retorted bitterly. "You feel comfortable pumping me for information is what you feel. Listen to me, Rosemary: Nan Kenworthy is one of the best damn police officers on the LMPF. She's been promoted so fast it would make your head spin; she's practically the second-in-command for Emma Shannon. You have no idea what she's capable of, or what she's been through in the past year and a half--"
"That's very touching, James. I'm asking you if she's capable of assisting, rather than hindering, an investigation, and I am asking if you can keep your hands off her long enough to do the same."
"Oh God...I'm not hearing this." Jimmy ran his hands through his hair and looked helplessly over to where Nan stood in conversation with Shane Rowling. He shot her a look of pure desperation and she responded immediately, crossing the room to him. There was determination etched all across her face.
"Jimmy," Nan said when she reached them, smiling softly, "I don't think we've been introduced." She didn't touch him, but somehow managed to suggest possessiveness just by standing near him.
He felt better just having her at his side. "Nan, this is Rosemary Burke. She's the officer currently working with Teaspoon to command the STF. Rosemary, this is Inspector Anna Kenworthy."
When they shook hands, Jimmy swore he felt electricity in the air. The two women in question were far too strong-willed for there to be anything but combat in their future.
They eyed one another, sizing each other up. Nan was a good deal taller than Rosemary, but Rosemary made up for it in sheer bravado; her gentle, English prettiness somehow faded when compared with Rosemary's blunt, sharp-featured face. But she held her ground, just as she always had.
If a madman like Julian Westward hadn't been able to keep her down, there was no way Rosemary Burke was going to.
Finally Nan dropped Rosemary's hand. She said, "I was just speaking with Kid and he said things have been a bit slow around here." There was taunting in her blue eyes.
Rosemary smiled slowly up at Nan. "It's only been a few days. This is New York City, Inspector Kenworthy, give it a little longer. We'll be busy soon enough."
<><><>
The thick, acrid smell of burnt plastic permeated the air, filling the nostrils of the officers present till they were forced to cover their mouths with gloves and shirt collars. Here and there a puff of smoke curled; wooden beams popped and crackled, finally collapsing to the blackness below. With every footstep that fell, ashes billowed up in small clouds of grey softness. The place was in ruins.
Nothing was left of Tony's Bistro but the charred remnants of counters and tabletops. Large pieces of vinyl that had once served as tablecloths were melted into the plastic that had first liquefied, and then solidified around the floor. The bulky metal counter still stood, stubbornly upright, at the back of the room, the cash register atop serving only as a burned, coagulated reminder of its former self.
Evelyn Majors and Hugh Russell, the chief superintendents over the Manhattan and Brooklyn areas, respectively, stood in the midst of the muck and mire, along with Mike RunningBear, head of the Arson and Explosion Squad. The surrounding area was being sectioned off with yellow 'Caution' tape by uniformed officers as a crowd buzzed curiously in the vicinity.
Mike RunningBear sank to his knees and crouched before Evelyn and Hugh, running one gloved hand through the ashes at his feet. The soft, grey bits scattered till bright red candlewax was visible on the floor. Hugh and Evelyn knelt beside Mike, inspecting it carefully.
"Candlewax?" Hugh asked finally.
Mike nodded as he studied it. The crimson stood out against the black floor in an intricate pattern of swirls. "It's the same color we found last week in Manhattan at that French place."
The three officers nodded sagely. No one commented on the fact that candlewax seemed an strange and unlikely link between the two fires; they had been police officers for far too long to discount even the most innocuous similarities between two cases.
Mon Ami, a famous, well-established French restaurant in mid-town Manhattan, had been burned to the ground last week in much the same manner--Early in the morning, without warning, without triggering any kind of fire or burglary alarm. Employees merely reported to work only to find their place of employment literally roasting as the hot summer sun rose in the sky.
So far there had been no casualties, but the property damages now totaled in the hundreds of thousands. No obvious link had been found between the two cases, apart from the red candlewax tossed haphazardly on the floor, and the method itself.
"Gunpowder and matches," Evelyn commented in disgust. "It's like something out of an Old West film. I mean, really," she looked at Hugh, rolling her eyes, "who uses gunpowder anymore? Who the hell can get gunpowder these days?"
"Well, if we needed proof that the two fires are related, I'd say the method far outweighs the madness," Mike responded dryly, rubbing again at the candlewax at his feet. "Besides which-well, I haven't had the chance to get my boys out here, but from the look of it, I'd say the gunpowder was more for effect than anything. I don't think this fire was caused by an explosion of any kind."
"You think they added the gunpowder afterward?" asked Evelyn with interest.
Mike shrugged. "Hard to say for sure, but I think so. This looks to me like your basic match dropped into a pool of gasoline. The gunpowder maybe added some extra spark-no pun intended-but I don't think it was the actual cause."
"What will be even more interesting," Hugh added, "is to see just how someone managed to contain two fires to the ground floor in a city like this."
"'Scuse me, Boss?" came a new voice. Evelyn looked up to find Rory Hutchins, her second-in-command, approaching her with a new police report in his hands. "We did a background check on Guy Nickel--the fella that owned Mon Ami--and we found something interesting."
"Define 'interesting', Lieutenant," Evelyn said as she rose to her feet.
"Well, it says here that Elizabeth France co-signed for two of Mr Nickell's last three business ventures, including his restaurant."
Evelyn snatched the report from Hutchins's hands. "Elizabeth France?" she repeated incredulously. "The Elizabeth France?"
"The one and only, boss."
Hugh and Mike soon surrounded Evelyn, peering over her shoulders to read the report, her eyes lighting up as she skimmed through paragraphs.
The undersigned first party, Elizabeth R. France...to the undersigned second party, Guy J. Nickell...Mon Ami (hereafter referred to as "the company")...undersigned first party shall be responsible for all future debts and payments should the first party be unable to...
"You weren't kidding, Hutchins," Evelyn remarked after a bit of silence. "This certainly is 'interesting'. It effectively puts all responsibility and ownership in Elizabeth France's hands."
"There's more, boss," Hutchins continued, eyes twinkling. "Look what else the nerds down at the Comp-Unit dug up." He handed Evelyn yet another report, this time for Tony's Bistro, this time signed by Elizabeth France and Anthony Janello, but identical in all other respects.
Evelyn held the two documents side by side, a grin spreading over her face. She looked back and forth between each, her quick mind calculating. Hugh could practically see the wheels turning. When his longtime friend finally looked up and caught his eye, they shared a look of mutual realization.
"I bet the insurance would be pretty good on a place like this," Hugh said.
Mike glanced here and there at the ruination around him. "I don't know," he replied slowly. "Don't you think this place raked in more money on a day-to-day basis than even the heftiest insurance check could bring in?"
Evelyn nodded, thoughtful as she pondered Mike's statement. "And that French place was pretty upscale, too. Why would it be worth it to Frankie James to burn down a daily profit?"
"On the other hand," interjected Hugh, habitually cracking his knuckles as he spoke, "Frankie James is not someone to mess around with. If Janello and Nickell decided to double-cross him somehow--together, maybe, or even separately--then decimating their livelihood could still work out pretty well for him in the long run."
"Think it's time to bring in the Arson guys" Evelyn asked both men. "I mean, the fire at the French place we could maybe overlook, but this..." She shrugged. "I think this is a pretty clear-cut case of--well, if not a chain, then at least copycat arson. And Elizabeth France is enough to link the two; she's hardly got what you'd call a sterling reputation. I think the ATF should take a look around; this scene's got insurance fraud written all over it."
Mike nodded in agreement, whipping out his cell phone and punching the speed dial. "Just let me get on with Thompkins and let him know he needs to get over here," he said as the dial tone turned into a ring.
Hugh met this statement with a groan of exasperation. "Thompkins? Not that crotchety old curmudgeon!" If his words were any indication how he felt about the chief of the Arson Task Force, his tone of voice only served to underline them.
Mike just shot them both a wicked grin. "Yeah, Thompkins, it's Mike RunningBear with the A&E Squad...Yeah, the long-haired fella," he said, rolling his eyes at the other two officers, who smiled in response. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and murmured, "The old s.o.b.'s never gotten over Yancey leaving me in charge when he retired."
He returned to Thompkins, "Yeah, listen, we've got what looks to be a definite case of arson out here in Brooklyn. Did you hear about the fire in the city? French place called Mon Ami?...Yeah, right down to the candlewax on the floor...Both connected to Frankie James...Fourth and Atlantic...Majors and Russell, and, uh, CSI is around taking photos of the scene...To be honest, I don't know...Great. See you in twenty." Mike flipped the phone shut and turned back to Evelyn and Hugh. "He's on his way and he's bringing a couple of his officers."
Evelyn nodded her thanks. "Great."
"He has one question, though."
"I knew it," proclaimed Hugh. "Thompkins always has a question."
"He wants to know if you'll be bringing Hunter's team in."
Hugh and Evelyn exchanged a brief glance, both of them shrugging a moment later. "Why? Does it make a difference?" asked Evelyn.
"When does the STF not make a difference to Thompkins?" Mike replied with a wry grin. "He and Teaspoon Hunter have never exactly seen eye to eye."
"Besides which, Thompkins is one of the old-school chiefs. He's never gotten over that precinct mentality--he doesn't think his team needs help from anyone," added Hugh, remembering Thompkins' complaints on more than one investigation.
"Especially not a bunch of snot-nosed young upstarts from the STF?" ventured Evelyn. She had rarely dealt with Thompkins, but was quickly catching on to his mentality. Definitely an old-school officer, much as Hugh had said. The kind that thought his team could do it all, who didn't think the word 'teamwork' extended beyond the few men and women under his direct employ. She snorted in disgust. "Well, I don't have any use for a man like that. If I'm going to have any part in this investigation--which I am--I'll soon set him right."
Hugh raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean we're bringing Teaspoon's team in?"
"I don't think we have any choice. We've got CSI covering the crime scene itself and we've got the ATF investigating possibilities of fraud; we'll even have Forensic going over any evidence we find." Evelyn Majors paused, frowning in thought. "What we don't have--and what we need--is a team to cover all the other bases."
"The legwork," agreed Hugh.
"Exactly. Teaspoon's team is the best specialized group we have on the force, whether Thompkins agrees or not. They can do it all. They've been trained in everything the NYPD has to offer--"
"And they have the most extensive knowledge of Frankie James outside of the FBI," supplied Mike.
"Exactly," Evelyn said again, cracking a grin. "I don't relish the thought of taking a control freak like Thompkins and a mischief-maker like Teaspoon under my command, but it's got to be done." Then she paused, sighing as she chewed her lip thoughtfully. "A connection to Frankie James is too big to ignore. I want to get him, Hugh. I want to nail him to the wall, and to do it I need the best of the best." She was gaining momentum as she continued. "And the best of the best is the STF. I don't care who likes it or doesn't like it."
"So you want me to send word to Teaspoon?" offered Hugh, eyes twinkling at the thought of the fiery Evelyn in charge of two such separate and distinct personalities as Uriah Thompkins and Teaspoon Hunter.
Without hesitating for a moment,
Evelyn responded with a firm nod. "Send word. We're bringing in the STF."
