Chapter 45 Eddie

45

Eddie

Manhattan is life.

Walking these streets is like plugging your brain directly into humanity itself. Some people think that this city is defined by its great buildings that reach for the sky, the sheer volcanic opulence of Times Square at night, the grandiose romance of Central Park or the enormous scale and wonder of the Brooklyn Bridge.

It is none of those things.

Manhattan is made by the people who pound its sidewalks, by the cab drivers who battle through its traffic, by the sounds and spirit of those who pour beer, sell newspapers, flip burgers, buy and sell the world, count the money and the people who protect them all.

In Manhattan, it's hard to see starlight. The people make this city burn too brightly.

Clarence and I made our way through the park, headed west. The summer sun was beginning to warm the sidewalks and the cars and the people. And all the while my brain boiled with questions. Especially after I'd taken the call from Bloch. She'd gone home for an hour to shower. There had been no movement from Ellis or Bale last night.

‘You said last night that Brett Bale told you he wasn't targeting the Jacksons,' said Bloch.

‘That's right,' I said.

‘And you believed him?'

‘Yeah. Do you think I got it wrong?'

‘No, I think you got it right. I think he's interested in the nanny – Ruby Johnson. I didn't know who she was until last night. She was the girl who watched Lake and me in the Blakemore house. She saw me outside the Jacksons' last night. There's something about her . . .'

‘What do you mean?'

Bloch sighed, said, ‘I'm no good with people. But I know how to think. And I know how to fight. When I see Ruby, I make fists. My jaw clamps down. And I can't take my eyes off her. Same thing happens when I see a spider. Or a snake. I don't know why it happens. It just happens. That's the best way I can explain it.'

‘Are you telling me you're afraid of the babysitter?'

‘I think I am,' said Bloch.

We talked some more, and I let her know the plan so far. It was risky.

‘The meeting with Buchanan, where are you going to get the money? How am I supposed to watch your back?'

‘You can't watch my back when I meet Buchanan. I'm on my own. I don't know where I'm going to get the money yet. Trust me, I'll find a way.'

‘A lot can go wrong. I don't want you in a bed beside Harry,' she said.

‘If something goes wrong, I won't be in a hospital bed. I'll be on a slab in the morgue, but I can't think of any other way to do it.'

‘What do I tell Kate?'

‘Don't tell her about the meeting. Tell Kate I'll need her to play along with Castro. The key to this case is in that latent palm print and the DNA. Harry focused on it. We'll deal with the anonymous witness as best we can.'

I hung up. Clarence glanced up at me as we walked. He didn't look convinced by my plan.

I wasn't convinced either. I grabbed his leash and we headed out.

We got to the Jacksons' place on West 74 th around eight that morning. Alison answered the door and let us inside. I had never been inside their house. At first it looked like a perfect family home. Clean, tastefully decorated. Lush couches and thick carpet in the living room. Patterned black-and-white tile in the hallway, which led into the kitchen on the left.

A little boy sat at the counter eating a bowl of cereal. He looked like he'd just got out of hospital – that tired, weary, sick look.

Being accused of a major crime that you didn't commit does something to you, and to your family. It's a cancer. It eats people from the inside out. I could see it in John. Alison too, that haunted aspect. Even when she smiled at Clarence, who got a bigger welcome than I did.

‘How are you holding up this morning?' I asked.

‘I miss my mom, Eddie. She could be tough sometimes, and cruel, but she loved me and I loved her. She was always there for me and now . . . I just . . . I can't lose John as well. I just can't . . .'

‘I'll make sure you don't,' I said.

‘That's a nice doggy,' said the kid, rubbing his eyes. He put down his spoon and carefully climbed off his breakfast stool to stand beside Clarence.

‘Tomas is still a little groggy,' said Alison, wiping her raw cheeks. She'd been crying through the night, I guessed. ‘Tomas was given some medication last night for a fever and it kind of knocks him out for a day or so,' said Alison.

‘Can I pet him?' asked Tomas.

Even the kid's voice sounded strained and fatigued. His eyes had brightened, though.

‘Sure,' I said. ‘This is Clarence.'

‘Hi, Clarence. I'm Tomas,' said the boy.

I heard footsteps on the stairs, and John came into the kitchen. He looked worse than yesterday, but, for a moment, the fear subsided as he watched Tomas stroking Clarence, who was loving the attention.

‘Nice dog,' said John.

‘He's not mine,' I said. ‘He's . . .'

‘Harry's?' said Alison, and I nodded, welcoming her finishing my thought. My friend was still on my mind, every second. I wanted him beside me. So we could talk, and I could hear his laughter. The nurse had basically told me to expect the worst. I hadn't processed that information yet. I didn't want to.

‘How is he?' asked John.

‘Still the same,' I said.

‘Coffee?' asked Alison.

I sat at another stool at the kitchen counter and watched Tomas and Clarence get to know one another. Tomas giggled as Clarence licked his face.

‘Thank you,' said John. ‘I can't remember the last time I heard him laugh.'

We fell silent. Alison poured coffee for me and I sipped it, then put it down to let it cool and looked around the kitchen.

Like the living room, everything was nicely put together. Tasteful. Alison, I guessed. She had a great eye. It looked like a home you might see in a commercial, or a catalogue, but lived in. Not cold and clinical. There was a toy firetruck on the floor by the window; pencil markings on the door frame, which I guessed was John taking note of Tomas's height as he grew; and the large refrigerator door was covered in souvenir magnets, which pinned up bills, letters, drawings, Tomas's paintings and technical drawings of the hallway and living room – plans for renovation. Alison liked a project, I guessed.

Alison and John watched Tomas and Clarence play, and then I heard something.

It was faint at first, but grew louder.

A buzzing sound.

A bee, or a wasp?

Then I saw it. A big fat blowfly whizzed by. Clarence saw it too. He tracked its movements through the air.

The fly swooped through the kitchen, and Clarence was locked onto its flight path. He followed it into the hallway.

‘Clarence,' I said, and went out after him.

In the hallway, Clarence stood very still, looking at something on the wall.

The fly, I presumed. He let out a low growl, and a whimper.

‘What is it, boy?'

As I got closer, the buzzing got louder. Clarence seemed to be staring at the painting on the wall. It was strange. At first, it seemed out of place with the rest of Alison's decorative scheme. A gilded frame and, within, an old man in black and red robes, a crucifix in one hand, sat in a chair, staring out of the painting. It wasn't like those pictures I saw as a kid, where the eyes of the people in the picture follow you around the room. But it was well done. And old. Very old.

The fly crawled over the small ridges of paint, buzzing around it.

Clarence barked.

‘Hey, it's just a fly. Calm down, pal,' I said.

The blowfly launched itself off the painting, and flew back into the kitchen. For a second, Clarence watched it go. But he didn't follow. He was on all fours, staring at the dark, unnerving picture of the old man. He barked. He didn't like it. I didn't like it either.

‘It was my mother's,' said Alison, joining us in the hallway. ‘It was her mother's before that, and she passed it on to me. Like many things. Most of them I still have. Apart from my necklace. I would give this thing away in a heartbeat if I could have my necklace back.'

‘You caught Althea trying to steal a bracelet. The police never found the necklace?' I asked.

She shook her head, then said, ‘My grandmother spent a fortune finding this picture after the war. It had been hidden in a basement in Warsaw, by a friend of hers. She had it shipped over here in the fifties. I never liked it as a child. It scared me. I sometimes thought the priest in the picture was looking at me. Silly. I had to put it up when my mother gave it to us as a wedding gift. No choice. I didn't want to at first, but whenever she visited she would ask where I'd put the painting of the priest. She could be difficult. I miss that. Eventually, John hung it here to shut her up. Kinda out of the way. You see it every time you go up the stairs, but it's hidden away enough that most people don't have to look at it. I've been meaning to take it down since Mom . . . but I haven't had the heart to. Not yet.'

She wiped away a tear, and John joined us in the hallway, put an arm around Alison's shoulders and lightly kissed her hair. It was a gentle gesture, just a reminder that he was there for her in her grief.

‘Ruby is afraid of the red man too,' said Tomas.

Their cleaner and nanny, Ruby. I hadn't met her yet. But it was time to rectify that.

‘What's that, sweetie?' asked Alison.

‘Ruby's scared of the man in the painting. I see her looking at him sometimes and she looks scared.'

A strange look came upon Alison's face.

Now I really needed to meet Ruby.

‘Look, this wasn't an entirely social visit,' I said. ‘Court is in an hour or so. Alison, I know how much support you give to your husband. And we need you beside him, but could I ask you to come to court later today? This morning, I need you to pack up whatever you need for a few days and check into a hotel. We are making the arrangements. This is for your safety, plus it frees up some more of my team. We're going to need to move fast, because this case is going to move fast. Do you think you could do that for me?'

‘I can't,' said John. ‘This is what the neighbors want. They want me out of this street. I haven't done anything wrong. I won't leave my home.'

‘John,' I said, ‘I know how proud you are. And you have every reason to be. However, this is not about you. This is about the safety of the family. I know you're a good protector and provider. Right now, I need you to be smart.'

‘But they'll see that we've left. They'll think I'm guilty.'

‘They already think you're guilty. You want to win? Let my team do their job. Go to the hotel. Get room service. You'll be much safer there. Trust me.'

John put his hands on his hips. This felt like the final straw for him. He had tried to hold on to his reputation, his job, his marriage, his family, his sanity. And this was one last thing that was being taken from him – his home.

He swallowed. Nodded.

Good enough.

‘Tell me more about Ruby,' I said.

Alison explained that Ruby and her mom used to live on this street, but her father was an alcoholic and a gambler and lost everything. He ran out leaving them to deal with all of it, including the repossession of their home. Alison couldn't be sure, but she'd heard Ruby's father was a violent man. There were rumors that he regularly beat Ruby's mom.

‘The thing is, with a background like that, you just wonder how she survived. Her future was ripped away. But she didn't get angry or sullen, she just looks after her mom,' said Alison.

‘Is her mom sick?' I asked.

Alison nodded, said, ‘I don't think she has long left. Look, I believe in Ruby. She has been such a rock for us these past months . . .'

I was about to say that Alison had also trusted Althea at one point, but I bit my tongue.

The sound of a key sliding into the lock drew our attention. The front door opened and a young woman in her early twenties stepped into the hallway. She wore a T-shirt, blue jeans and a light green jacket. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and she carried a backpack. Soon as she got inside, she realized that everyone in the house had stopped to stare at her.

‘Hi, Ruby,' said Tomas, breaking the awkward, stagnated quiet.

‘Hi, my little angel,' she said.

She seemed perfectly nice. There was a cotton-candy sweetness to her voice and her easy smile. I wondered what the hell Bloch saw in this young woman that I did not.

And then I saw something. She looked at me.

For a second, maybe even just half a second, the smile dropped. It was like someone holding up a shelf, and just letting it fall momentarily before pushing it back up there again – level.

‘Ruby,' said Alison, ‘John and I are going away for a few days. We're taking Tomas. Could you help me pack?'

Ruby's smile grew wider. Her eyes lit up.

‘I think that's for the best. I can help you pack,' said Ruby.

And before I said my goodbyes and took Clarence, I wondered what the hell was going on with Ruby Johnson.

She was hiding something.