Read Online Murder in Hell's Kitchen by Lee Harris - Free Book Online

moved in with a new boyfriend? Would he dial the new number to find out?
    Nothing was simple. If this apartment—the wood and plaster and thick coats of paint—had not left a permanent mark on her, maybe his presence in it had. Maybe that was what she would miss in the end, knowing that Hack had walked these floors, lain in her bed, cooked for her in the kitchen, that they had been here together, that he would never set foot in the new place.
    It took her long enough to decide to make it end. Several months ago his daughter began to ask pointed questions about where he spent his evenings. Discretion went only so far; she had suspicions, which meant his wife did. Something had to change, and Jane made the decision. They would stop seeing each other, and he would stay with his family. Afterward she had to keep herself from calling, as he had only minutes ago, just to hear his voice, to hear him say something comforting, something to carry her through a tough time. His number was still number two on her speed dial. No one had come along to fill the slot, not that she was looking. She was forty when men her age were looking for girls half of hers.
    Enough, she thought, taking out the one dish, the one knife, the one fork. It was good that she would be moving in a few days. Maybe in a couple of weeks she would call and leave her new number, just so that he could have it.
    Come on, Jane, she instructed herself. It’s dinnertime. Get on with it.
    It was while she was in Chinatown that she had decided to go to college.
Decided
wasn’t exactly a fair way to put it; Flora Hamburg ordered her to get a degree.
    â€œGo to school, girl,” she said. “There’s no future for you if you don’t.”
    Jane didn’t want to. It would be years of hard work, and she wasn’t convinced that it would pay off, although she knew now that it was the way to go. She registered at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, a division of CUNY that catered to cops and firemen by offering the same courses twice a day, morning or afternoon, and then again in the evening to fit in with changing tours of duty. One week she sat in on the morning class; the next week, when she was working days, she attended the evening class. Luckily the college wasn’t far from the apartment, which made it easy.
    About halfway through college, when she had left Chinatown for OCCB, the Organized Crime Control Bureau/Narcotics Unit down on Ericsson Place, she sat down next to an older student in one of her forensics classes. She hadn’t seen him before—maybe he came days when she came nights—and they talked during a break and after class for a few minutes. He seemed interested in her career but said nothing about his own, just told her his name was Hack. She figured him for an executive in the security business.
    It was more than a year before she ran into him again. It happened on St. Patrick’s Day, when an Irish cop she had dated a couple of times invited her to the annual Emerald Society bash for a traditional green beer after the parade. The place was wall-to-wall cops, most of them, like her date, smashed. She looked up and saw the man from last year’s class standing in front of her, wearing the uniform of a lieutenant with a couple of medals on his chest.
    â€œJane Bauer,” he said.
    â€œLieutenant.” She was nearly speechless.
    â€œNice to see you again. How’s the degree coming?”
    â€œVery well, sir.”
    â€œNo ‘sir,’ OK? I told you the name was Hack. You were in Manhattan South last year, OCCB. I always liked that place. I used to take my daughter to see the horses in the stable downstairs.”
    She was amazed at his memory. “They’re still there.”
    â€œWhere are you?”
    â€œStill in Manhattan South. I’m on the burglary squad now.”
    â€œBehind the Academy. Maybe we’ll run into each other. I spend a lot of time down there. Enjoy