Page 79 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

“Yeah, but she ain’t blind. How long have you and Valerie been together? A couple of years? Priscilla had to know this was bound to happen. Maybe she didn’t expect you to move out of the country, but she had to know that one day you’d move out of the apartment.”

“That’s the thing that’s been eating at me, Smitty. I never told Priscilla about Valerie. She doesn’t even know Valerie exists.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Smitty said. “Your own sister has no idea you have a life?”

“Right. I couldn’t tell her. She... she depends on me too much.”

“How old is she?” the bartender demanded.

“I’mthirty-eight, so she’sthirty-six.”

“You’ve gotta get on with your life, kid. And if she’sthirty-fucking-six, she’s got to start living her life on her own. She’s gotta shop for her own groceries, do her own laundry, buy her own fucking magazines at the newsstand...” He groped for another example.

But Vincent was already ahead of him.Kill her own victims.

“You have to tell her, Vincent,” Smitty said. “I know it won’t be easy for her. But she’s your sister. She’ll come around. She’ll be happy for you.”

“You’re right. She’s my sister,” Vincent said. “I’m gonna tell her.”

Smitty picked up a bottle of Jameson and poured them each a jigger. “Can we drink to that?”

Vincent picked up the shot glass. “Sure.”

There was a large brass bell behind the bar. It got rung every night at last call, every time someone left a surprisingly hefty tip, and on the rare occasion that someone wanted to buy a round for the entire house. Smitty put his hand on the cord. “Caneverybodydrink to that?” he said.

“Are you nuts?” Vincent said. “This place is packed.”

“Well, damn it, son, it wouldn’t be a very magnanimous gesture if the fucking joint was empty. Now, is this gonna be just another forgettable night at your local pub, or do you want to commemorate the moment? Life is short, kid. Make up your mind.”

Vincent, caught up in Smitty’s joy, didn’t hesitate. “Hell, yes! Ring it!”

Smitty yanked vigorously on the cord, and the clapper struck the soundbow—once, twice, again, again, and again. The clang of the bell resonated through the old tavern until everyone stopped what they were doing, and all eyes were smiling on the bearer of good tidings.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Smitty bellowed, “it is my great pleasure to announce that despite his advancing age, his thinning hair, and his expanding waistline, our good friend Vincent Ackerman is at long last engaged to be wed.”

Cheers from the crowd.

“Sadly, he will be leaving the charm and allure of Astoria for the sun, the surf, and the total dearth of snow of some tropical island in the Caribbean.”

The room responded with a chorus of catcalls and boos.

“So whether you’re happy to see him get hitched, or glad to see him leave town, let’s celebrate. The next round is on me.”

The room erupted. At least a dozen people rushed the bar, hands extended to congratulate Vincent.

Jesus,he thought, downing the Jameson and slamming the glass on the ancient slab of walnut.I’m about to hurt my poor sister worse than anyone has ever hurt her in her entire life, and they’re all happy for me.

CHAPTER 53

I woke upthe next morning with Cheryl’s head on my shoulder and her body nestled against mine. I rolled onto my side and let my fingertips graze her cheeks, her lips, her neck. Then my hand drifted gently over the curve of her breast, slid slowly down to her hip, inched its way to her thigh, and lingered there, feeling the heat of her skin, waiting for the familiar moan of anticipation.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Theo is up.”

“So am I,” I whispered back.

She looked at me, her darkcoffee-browneyes filled with mock doubt. “¿Es verdad?” she asked, breathing out the words, the seductive Spanish making me even harder.

She pressed her hand to my chest, working her way across my rib cage, down to my stomach, and finally... “¡Dios mio!You’re a man of your word.”

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