Page 129 of If Looks Could Kill
“She swore out a deposition against you this afternoon,” the officer continued.
“Did this upstanding private citizen tell you,” I asked, “that I relievedher of a gun because she was trying to shoot me with another one?”
Officer Jimmy looked confused. The larger officer with the thick mustache took over.
“If you took the gun in self-defense,” he said, “you should’ve given it to the police.”
“We’ll return it,” Mike said. “I’ll take it out of my pocket right now.”
The larger officer wasn’t having that. He patted down Mike roughly and took the gun.
“Why were you carrying this stolen property with you?” he demanded.
“To protect Miss Woodward,” Mike said in clipped tones, “in case any of Mother Rosie’s men came after her, as they threatened to do yesterday.”
Officer Jimmy looked flummoxed. “How do you mean?”
“Yesterday,” Mike said, “Miss Woodward mounted a rescue operation to liberate two young women held captive as brothel workers at Mother Rosie’s place above the Lion’s Den.”
“What is she,” asked Officer Jimmy, “an idiot?”
“When Mother Rosie threatened Miss Woodward with kidnapping her into the sex trade,” Mike said pointedly, “and Miss Woodward managed to obtain this gun, I kept it to protect her from the attack Mother Rosie threatened to make in retaliation.”
The two officers exchanged more wordless looks, then stepped aside to confer. Briefly.
“Michael O’Keeffe,” Jimmy said, upon returning, “you are under arrest for willful possession of stolen property. You will come with us now, to the precinct.”
“This is outrageous,” I cried. “I stole the gun. Mike only carried it.”
The large officer twisted Mike’s arms roughly behind his back and handcuffed his wrists.
“Easy,” Mike said. “I’m coming with you. I’m not putting up a fight.”
“You’ll arresthim,” I cried, “at the testimony of aknown pimp andtrafficker? Colluding with a prostitution ring against its victims! Haven’t you any shame?”
Officer Jimmy wouldn’t look at me, but the taller officer shot me an annoyed look.
The sight of Mike in handcuffs broke my heart. He looked guilty, just by virtue of where his wrists were clamped.
“What happens to Miss Woodward?” he said.
“She’s free to go,” said Officer Jimmy.
“Tabitha,” Mike instructed me urgently, “tell my uncle what’s happened. He’ll know what to do.” He glanced diagonally across the intersection toward the family pub. “He’s there now.”
“I will.” I put on a brave face. “We’ll be there soon. We’ll get this all sorted out.”
“Come with me, Mike,” said Officer Jimmy, “and don’t try anything funny.”
“Mother of God, Jim,” barked Mike, “stop acting like you don’t have a pint at our pub on the regular.”
“Just doin’ my job,” Officer Jimmy said peevishly.
The two of them crossed the street and made their way down the Bowery. I started after them, when a hand seized my arm.
“One moment, miss,” said the taller officer. “Someone here wants to speak to you.”
I turned around to see the door to the rag-and-bone shop swing open.
