Page 41 of Paranoia

When they were alone, Ari turned to Doyle and said, “It’s a lot different working on your own than working with the Agency, huh?”

“You can say that again.”

“The Agency usually handles stuff like this, but they have a lot of rules. I hate rules.”

Doyle nodded. “Me too.”

Ari said, “I follow only one business rule now. The customer is always right.” He started to cackle.

For some reason, Ari’s nonchalance and humor made Doyle smile too. He was glad that he’d never given Tammy his last name and had always paid cash at the diner. As long as he never went back, there was no way she could ever identify him.

Still, he hated any loose ends.

CHAPTER 60

AFTER A LONG week, I needed some time with my family. Even if it meant mixing work and family on a Saturday morning. Perhaps the only drawback I find of having ten children is not getting enough time to spend with each one of them individually. I usually spend a little more time with the younger kids. The older ones always seem so independent. Especially my second oldest daughter, Jane. She’s so smart and carries herself so well, sometimes I forget she really is still just a teenage kid.

“Isn’t me riding in your work car against the rules?” Jane asked me now. “It feels weird.”

“I like to think of it as more of a serious guideline. A guideline in thatifI get caught, Imightbe in trouble,” I said. “For me the weird thing was taking the Brooklyn Bridge over the river. It’s way too close to One Police Plaza. I probably wouldn’t have gone this way if it was a weekday.”

I had decided to take Jane with me in my city-issued Impala to visit Celeste Cantor at her campaign office in Brooklyn. I figured a Saturday morning was about the only time I could catch up with the inspector without dozens of eyes on us. “Besides, I thought you might like to see what a campaign headquarters looks like.”

“I’ve seen plenty of them on TV shows. I’m guessing it’ll be hectic, with a bunch of young, attractive people racing around,” Jane said with a grin. “It’s still nice to do something just the two of us.”

I don’t care if you’re a parent or not, when a young person says something like that to you, it means something. I said, “I have no idea what these offices look like. It’s for a City Council election, not the US Senate.”

Jane said, “Does this have something to do with your trip to Florida?”

“Sort of. It’s all part of a case that Celeste Cantor is very interested in.”

“Is the case dangerous?”

I took my eyes off the road for a moment to look at my beautiful daughter. I could read her concern even in my quick glance. Every cop has to deal with questions like this occasionally. It’s a fine line to walk between being honest and trying not to frighten your own children. It took me a moment to express myself properly.

“I don’t feel like it’s at all dangerous for me. I’m just looking into some deaths that occurred. It’s not like I’m on patrol and having to pull over a suspicious car in the middle of the night. Most people don’t realize how incredibly dangerous that kind of situation can be. By comparison, being a homicide detective is a walk in the park.”

“That’s good to hear. With the baby on the way, you shouldn’t be taking any chances.”

I smiled. If I hadn’t been driving, I would have given her a hug.

The building we were looking for was ahead on the right. It didn’t exactly look like something out of a shiny TV show. The closer we got, the less fancy it looked. It was a one-story building with wide windows, like it might have once been used as some kind of showroom. Amazingly, I was able to pull into a parking spot right in front of the building.

Jane said almost exactly what I was thinking. “This place is kind of run-down, isn’t it?”

“Like I said, she’s not running for US Senate.” The atmosphere didn’t get any better as we walked through the glass front door. The place had a vaguely unsettling odor. Maybe, rather than a showroom, it had once been a produce market and they never quite got the smell of rotten fruit out of the ventilation system.

No one paid our entrance much attention. Looking around as we stood by the front door, I recognized a few retired cops among the dozen or so people working at desks. A few were making phone calls while others went through lists of some kind, maybe of potential donors.

Finally, Celeste Cantor came out of the back. She immediately made a big show of welcoming us, then did a double take when she recognized Jane. “I can’t believe what a beautiful young woman you’ve grown into.” Then she looked at me and said, “My God, if Jane looks like this, how old is Juliana?”

“Enrolled at City College.”

Cantor jokingly grabbed a chair to steady herself. “It’s been too long since our families have gotten together. I may have gotten custody of Chuck, Mary, and Joseph in the divorce, but Ihardly see them now that they’re in college. Plus they’re not that crazy about David.”

It was the first time I’d heard Cantor speak seriously about her second marriage, to David Stone, a big-shot realtor. Normally, she’d just joke about how she did the good Irish Catholic girl thing and married a firefighter. Then she did the smart thing and married a rich real-estate mogul.

She said, “David was able to get us this storefront for nothing. It used to be some kind of health-food restaurant.”

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