The Guilty - Jason Pinter [22]
"I'm sorry, man, but you know I wouldn't say it just to
make conversation."
"No," he said reluctantly. "Listen, I got foot patrol duty
tomorrow in Midtown. Carruthers wants my ass as public as
possible. Guess they figure enough stuffy suits see me they
might encourage their kids to sign up for the academy.
Anyway, meet me on Fifty-second and Fifth tomorrow at five
when my shift ends. Something else you should know."
"What's that?"
"They found another note. Same as before, taped to the
roof where the sicko took his shot from at city hall."
"Jesus Christ, what'd it say?"
"Not over the phone, man. I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll be there. And Curt, I appreciate it. Really. We need to
grab a drink soon. No business."
"Sure, Jimmy Breslin, no business my ass."
"I'm serious, none."
"In that case, I hear a bottle of Stoli Raspberry calling my
name," he said. "And bring your corporate card, of course.
You know, in case I get the munchies."
The Guilty
71
Sheffield hung up.
I looked over at Amanda. The book was on her lap. I knew
she heard the whole conversation.
"He sounded good," she said.
"Always does."
"Are you worried about Paulina?"
I thought for a moment. Paulina had done her absolute best
to ruin my reputation last year. I knew she had it out for me,
but still wasn't sure if the vitriol was real or just a ploy to boost
her career.
"The same way you worry about gum disease or cancer," I
said. "You can brush your teeth and eat broccoli every day, but
if it's going to fuck up your life it's going to fuck up your life."
"I don't want anyone to do that," she said.
"Hey," I said, wrapping my arms around her. She returned
the gesture. "Whatever anyone does to me, you counteract it.
You're my counterbalance, babe."
I kissed her, but knew her mind was elsewhere.
12
Amanda tucked her hands into her peacoat as she walked
down the street. Henry had ordered a half mushroom pie from
the pizza joint down the block (the one they probably kept in
business). She'd told him she would pick up the pizza while she
stepped out to grab some female products. Beautiful thing, those
female products, as they could preempt any further questions.
The night was still cool, the remnants of spring still hanging on. Soon summer would come, and New York summers
could be brutal. Damn Al Gore, guy was right all along.
Maybe he really did create the Internet, too.
She thought about Henry, their relationship. It was still a
relatively new thing, still exciting, but neither of them really
knew what lay around the corner. They'd been dating steady
for nearly a year, though for the life of her she couldn't
remember an official start date, other than the first day Henry
introduced her as his girlfriend. It'd been a surprise but a
pleasant one. After he was released from the hospital, everything just seemed to happen. Not that she had any problem
with it--it felt good introducing him, holding his hand at
night, saying the word boyfriend and knowing it meant more
than some silly schoolgirl thing.
The Guilty
73
For years, Amanda didn't trust anybody. Not the nuns who
ran the various orphanages she was shuttled between as a little
girl, not the boys who claimed they liked her then split when
the bra clasp remained fastened. Even Lawrence and Harriet
Stein, the perfectly nice oatmeal couple who finally gave her
a home, had a hard time earning any trust from their adopted
daughter. And it still hadn't fully come.
She was amazed at the ease in which Henry settled into their
relationship. She moved in with him just months after they met
and he adapted like a dried fish being put back in water. He was
romantic, honest, sincere. Even about the hard things. Mya. His
father. He asked questions about her job, her family. He made
her feel like she mattered. For Henry, the process seemed purifying. For Amanda, the process was much more difficult.
She'd shared beds with boyfriends, made dinner for special
guys and on some lucky nights had it made for her. But she'd
never shared a laundry hamper.