“You do that. And interview Diaz, too. Meanwhile, I’ll dig up some informants who can give him to you on a silver platter.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, guys from his organization willing to testify that he maintained contacts on the outside, that sort of thing.”

“Gee, okay. Any help you can give, I would really appreciate.”

He smiled, reaching out and patting her arm. “You’re a good kid, you know? I can tell, you’re gonna go places.”

“Ha, right. I’m not going anyplace tonight but the file room.”

What the hell, Melanie thought as she watched Rommie’s departing back. He was really a decent guy. And maybe he was right about the Delvis Diaz revenge angle. She’d follow through on her promise. After she finished with all the boxes littering her floor, she would go to the file room and hunt through twenty or thirty more. The night was still young.

14

THE ICE-BLUE NEON SIGN IN THE STOREFRONT window flashed on and off like a blinking eye. ENVIOS, LLAMADAS, BIPERES. Come in and wire your cash, call your connect back home without the feds listening, grab a new beeper for your important deals. On this gritty stretch of Corona Avenue, everybody needed the storefront’s services. The place would normally be hopping at nine o’clock, but it was pouring out tonight.

Dan O’Reilly pulled up parallel to the plate-glass window and idled the engine, peering through the rain to check who was working. A stocky guy with a shaved head stood behind the cash register. Pepe, the owner. Good. He trusted Pepe enough to do the meet here. Dan drove north and west several blocks before he found an obscure enough parking space, then sprinted back toward the beeper store, holding the Daily News over his head in the downpour. He didn’t own an umbrella. That kind of concession to the weather, like protecting himself from anything, seemed weak to him. He was the sort to beat his head bloody against a brick wall, then step back, assess the damage, and beat it harder. Take what life hands you, keep your mouth shut, keep going-that was how a man behaved. You got your reward in heaven.

He ran through the alleyway behind the store and slid, cursing, down the slippery cement steps to the basement. Dank and foul, it was lit by a single naked bulb dangling in the middle of the room. He ignored the scurrying noises in the dim corners and raced through it, head down. Unfortunately, walking in the front door was not an option. Three generations of cop showed in his face, in his height, in the way he moved, like he was carrying a gun even when he wasn’t. In this neighborhood, people toted all that up in a single glance. If they spotted him going in the front, Pepe’s business would be dead by morning. Pepe would be dead by morning, for that matter.

Dan crept up the stairs to the ground floor, stopping to search through his overloaded key ring in the semidarkness at the top. He hit the right key on the third try, emerged into a large back office that ran the length of the store. The office doubled as a storage room for electronics. Open cartons and gadgets in various states of disrepair crammed every inch of space. A metal desk shoved into a corner groaned under a slag heap of invoices and paperwork. He maneuvered through the debris to the door opposite, which led to the storefront.

Cracking the door open an inch, he spied Pepe sitting on a stool, his back to Dan, behind a glass counter that held cell phones and beepers. The naked lady tattooed on the back of Pepe’s neck gyrated over thick rolls of fat as he watched a Spanish-language game show on a small TV and scarfed something from a foil container held under his chin. The food smelled good. Dan was starving, but not much he could do about it right now. Maybe they’d get this over with quick and he could grab something on his way out. He only had a couple of bucks in his pocket after paying for Rosario’s room service back at the hotel, but around here you could eat decent for that.

Just because nobody stood at the counter waiting didn’t mean the phone booths were empty. He hadn’t watched for long enough to be sure. So he opened the door cautiously and pitched his voice in a whisper.

“Yo, Pep.”

Pepe whirled, stumbling off the stool and reaching for his waistband as the food clattered to the floor.

“Jesus, man, you fuckin’ scared me! I almost pull my piece out and heat you up!”

“Sorry.”

“You be damn sorry if you dead, man. Fuck! Look at my fucking empanada!” He pulled some paper towels from a drawer and began mopping at the mess on the floor, shaking his head. “Jesus fucking Christ, that’s my whole dinner right there!”

“Hey, don’t bust my balls. I fuckin’ beep you to give you a heads-up, and you don’t call me back! What the fuck kind of cooperation is that?”

Pepe knew better than to ignore that edge of violence in Dan’s voice. Dan wasn’t crazy like some of them, but he’d do what was necessary to maintain command of a situation. Pepe didn’t need any trouble.

“Yo, chill out, man, we cool, we cool. I’m a little wired is all. We had a few stickups on the block. You here for the room?”

“Yeah, I need it for a coupla hours maybe.”

“Sure, no problem. Who’m I waitin’ on?”

“Puerto Rican guy, heavyset. Wears his hair in dreads tied up in a do-rag.”

“Got it.”

Dan closed the door, walked over, and sat down in the beat-up leather swivel chair behind the metal desk. He hunkered against the hard seat, hoarding his body heat, trying to warm up a little. His jeans and shirt were soaked through. He ran his hands through his wet hair to shake out the excess water. He’d chucked the sodden News in a Dumpster on the way in, so he had nothing to read while he waited. But he didn’t mind. Obsessive thoughts had pursued him like hounds from hell all day long. He gave in to them now, relieved to surrender.

This woman he’d met, he just sat there and thought about her. What she looked like, her voice, things she’d said. How she smelled. That perfume she wore smelled like spicy roses. When they were waiting for the elevator before, he caught himself about to lean over and sniff her hair. He laughed aloud in the empty room at the memory. Pathetic, what a fucking idiot he was. The second he met her, he went wow, just from how she looked. Those dark-haired Spanish girls were the most beautiful. They scared him, but they knocked him out. Then he read the diplomas hanging on her wall and listened to her talk, and he was a goner. Man, she was smart.

This never happened to him. Women chased him, but mostly, since Diane, he felt more comfortable alone. Hit the gym, walk the dog, work like a fucking maniac-that pretty much summed up his routine. Every once in a while, he got drunk and wound up in bed with some girl he met in a pub. He’d get so depressed afterward he couldn’t even look her in the face. And if she tracked him down, if she called, he’d freeze her out before it ever went anywhere. He couldn’t help it somehow. He was beginning to think he’d be alone forever, even though he imagined himself with a nice wife and a houseful of kids somewhere, Jersey maybe, or Rockland.

Then, out of left field, he meets her. He’d only known her for a day, and already he was thinking up excuses to spend extra time with her. Was she working late tonight? Could he swing by after this, maybe say he was checking if the wiretap boxes showed up okay? He knew it was crazy. She was married with a baby, for Chrissakes. Even if he hadn’t been to church since the divorce, he was still a Catholic in his heart. He oughta act like one, try harder to resist. But he just didn’t think he could. It wasn’t only her looks or her smarts-there was something else to it that he wasn’t strong enough to fight. Something in her eyes he recognized when they met, like the loneliness he saw in his own every time he looked in the mirror. That feeling like she needed him, was what had him hooked.