damn
secretive you had to mumble it to yourself.”
“ Okay. Fine. You wanna
know what I said?”
“ I’m asking, aren’t
I?”
“ All right. I said you
probably don’t even have a girlfriend. That’s what I
said.”
He made a face and gasped as though I had
just poured ice water down his back. “I don’t believe it.” He took
both hands off the wheel this time and turned his palms up empty.
“After all these years, after all the women I’ve introduced you to,
you think I have to invent a girlfriend?”
“ Look, Carlos. It was just
a stupid remark. Forget I said it. I’m sure Lauri without the E is
a wonderful, caring sensitive woman.”
“ And real, Tony. You
didn’t say real.”
“ Yes, of course. And real.
But you say you’ve been seeing her for the last three months and no
one at the station has ever seen her.”
“ Oh! So just because you
haven’t seen her, she can’t be real? Is that it?”
“ No, that’s not what I’m
saying. It’s just that you usually bring your dates around to meet
everyone, whether at the Perc, the bar or over to the
house.”
“ Yeah, well maybe Lauri
doesn’t like bars or the Perc or…houses.”
“ She doesn’t like
houses?”
“ You know what I
mean.”
“ You’re right. I know.
Like I said, forget I said anything. When and if you’re ready to
introduce us to Lauri, then that’s when we’ll meet her.”
“ You’re damn right that’s
when you’ll meet her.”
“ Great. I’m looking
forward to it.”
“ You should. She’s very
pretty.”
“ Good.”
“ And smart.”
“ That’s nice.”
“ And sexy.”
“ I’m sure she
is.”
“ You know it’s not just
you and Dominic who can get the young sexy women.”
“ Oh, so she’s young,
too?”
“ Yes. I said that, didn’t
I?”
“ No.”
He drove a block or so, perhaps wondering if
he hadn’t divulged that information somewhere along the lines of
our conversation already. “Well she is,” he said, when he was sure
he hadn’t, adding, “damn young.”
Now he had me wondering. “How young?”
He cast a careless shrug. “Don’t know
exactly.”
“ Carlos. She is legal,
isn’t she?”
He laughed at that, again with a snort. “Yes.
She’s legal.” I settled back into my seat, deciding to leave it at
that. I did have to bite my tongue, though, when I heard him say
softly, “Pretty sure.”
Karina Martinez was a woman of modest means.
Her house in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood looked like most
on the block, a single-story clapboard A-frame with a pocket-sized
front yard encircled by a four-foot high chain-linked fence. The
house facade sported two small mullioned windows, bookending a
front entry caged in wrought iron screen work. There was a mailbox
fastened to the upright post supporting a flat roof over the phone
booth-sized porch. No room for a chair, but a milk crate turned
upside-down seemed intended for that purpose. A straggly patch of
flowers struggled to grow in a tiny garden, carved out under one of
the windows below a centuries-old Red Oak. Weeds had moved in. I
imagined the struggle would soon be over.
Carlos knocked on the door. A gentle-looking,
middle-aged woman answered, her hair naturally grey, her eyes soft
but weary. She backed up slightly at the sight of us, but held fast
to the handle on the screen door. I could see her thumb poised on
the lock and wondered why she had not already tripped it.
“ Señora Martinez,” said
Carlos. He displayed his badge and ID. I did the same. “Soy el
Detective Carlos Rodriquez, y es Detective Anthony Marcella, NCPD.
Tiene un momento, por favor?”
“ Sí.”
“ Habla Inglés?”
“ Yes.”
“ Ah, good. Please, may we
come in?”
She opened the door and invited us in. “Is
this about my son?”
“ Your son,
ma'am?”
“ Raul. He is always
getting in trouble. I tell him all the time to get a job and
straighten up his life before he finds himself––”
“ Ma'am, this isn’t
secretive you had to mumble it to yourself.”
“ Okay. Fine. You wanna
know what I said?”
“ I’m asking, aren’t
I?”
“ All right. I said you
probably don’t even have a girlfriend. That’s what I
said.”
He made a face and gasped as though I had
just poured ice water down his back. “I don’t believe it.” He took
both hands off the wheel this time and turned his palms up empty.
“After all these years, after all the women I’ve introduced you to,
you think I have to invent a girlfriend?”
“ Look, Carlos. It was just
a stupid remark. Forget I said it. I’m sure Lauri without the E is
a wonderful, caring sensitive woman.”
“ And real, Tony. You
didn’t say real.”
“ Yes, of course. And real.
But you say you’ve been seeing her for the last three months and no
one at the station has ever seen her.”
“ Oh! So just because you
haven’t seen her, she can’t be real? Is that it?”
“ No, that’s not what I’m
saying. It’s just that you usually bring your dates around to meet
everyone, whether at the Perc, the bar or over to the
house.”
“ Yeah, well maybe Lauri
doesn’t like bars or the Perc or…houses.”
“ She doesn’t like
houses?”
“ You know what I
mean.”
“ You’re right. I know.
Like I said, forget I said anything. When and if you’re ready to
introduce us to Lauri, then that’s when we’ll meet her.”
“ You’re damn right that’s
when you’ll meet her.”
“ Great. I’m looking
forward to it.”
“ You should. She’s very
pretty.”
“ Good.”
“ And smart.”
“ That’s nice.”
“ And sexy.”
“ I’m sure she
is.”
“ You know it’s not just
you and Dominic who can get the young sexy women.”
“ Oh, so she’s young,
too?”
“ Yes. I said that, didn’t
I?”
“ No.”
He drove a block or so, perhaps wondering if
he hadn’t divulged that information somewhere along the lines of
our conversation already. “Well she is,” he said, when he was sure
he hadn’t, adding, “damn young.”
Now he had me wondering. “How young?”
He cast a careless shrug. “Don’t know
exactly.”
“ Carlos. She is legal,
isn’t she?”
He laughed at that, again with a snort. “Yes.
She’s legal.” I settled back into my seat, deciding to leave it at
that. I did have to bite my tongue, though, when I heard him say
softly, “Pretty sure.”
Karina Martinez was a woman of modest means.
Her house in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood looked like most
on the block, a single-story clapboard A-frame with a pocket-sized
front yard encircled by a four-foot high chain-linked fence. The
house facade sported two small mullioned windows, bookending a
front entry caged in wrought iron screen work. There was a mailbox
fastened to the upright post supporting a flat roof over the phone
booth-sized porch. No room for a chair, but a milk crate turned
upside-down seemed intended for that purpose. A straggly patch of
flowers struggled to grow in a tiny garden, carved out under one of
the windows below a centuries-old Red Oak. Weeds had moved in. I
imagined the struggle would soon be over.
Carlos knocked on the door. A gentle-looking,
middle-aged woman answered, her hair naturally grey, her eyes soft
but weary. She backed up slightly at the sight of us, but held fast
to the handle on the screen door. I could see her thumb poised on
the lock and wondered why she had not already tripped it.
“ Señora Martinez,” said
Carlos. He displayed his badge and ID. I did the same. “Soy el
Detective Carlos Rodriquez, y es Detective Anthony Marcella, NCPD.
Tiene un momento, por favor?”
“ Sí.”
“ Habla Inglés?”
“ Yes.”
“ Ah, good. Please, may we
come in?”
She opened the door and invited us in. “Is
this about my son?”
“ Your son,
ma'am?”
“ Raul. He is always
getting in trouble. I tell him all the time to get a job and
straighten up his life before he finds himself––”
“ Ma'am, this isn’t
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