Duplicity, page 2
This area was like a walk down Memory Lane. Even though Brick wasn’t a world traveler, he thought about the immigrants he had met over the years. A few weren’t on the right side of the law, but several had become his friends and he had learned a lot about their cultures and traditions. Once every four years when the World Cup was being played, except for being at the games in person, D.C. was the next best place to be.
A few blocks from Dupont Circle, Brick passed a site where a dry cleaner and a mom-and-pop convenience store had been a few months before. Now, it was a deep hole with a construction crane towering above the other buildings nearby. A sign advertised luxury one-bedroom condos starting at 1.5 million. At that price, he assumed a high-end feature would be well-insulated windows to block the constant cacophony of car horns and sirens on Connecticut Avenue. While crossing the Calvert Street Bridge, Brick felt his phone vibrate. He figured it was a breaking news alert but instead was pleasantly surprised to see a text from Nora. “Guessing you’re back home. So am I. Do you think we crossed paths somewhere over the Atlantic?” An airplane emoji followed. Two-thumb texting was a skill Brick hadn’t mastered—and probably never would. With his right index finger, he tapped out a response. “Didn’t you see me waving?” He smiled as he slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“Well, look who’s here!” Rory Boland made the announcement as Brick walked into Boland’s Mill for the first time in three months. Over the years, the pub had been his go-to place in good times and bad. If he missed three days in a row, it would have been noticed. A call from Eamonn or Rory was sure to follow. Brick noticed that the two guys seated at the far end of the antique oak bar turned their heads in his direction. If they were thinking a Washington VIP had just walked in the door, they were probably disappointed. Brick claimed the barstool he usually occupied next to the wall.
“Guinness?” Rory asked.
Brick nodded. “Thanks again for taking care of my place. I really appreciate it, especially the breakfast stuff you left in the fridge.”
“No problem. Figured it was the least I could do given the tickets you gave me. A couple of times I came so close to catching a foul ball. I swear one whizzed right by my ear, but I had a beer in one hand and a hot dog in the other.”
Brick laughed. “And that probably set you back twenty bucks.”
“Right. For a split second, I thought about dropping them but after standing in line for the beer, I would have been pissed if I missed the ball. Anyway, I saw some exciting games.” Rory set a pint of Guinness in front of Brick.
“Where’s Eamonn?” Brick asked.
“He’s upstairs, taking a nap. Got a flu shot yesterday and now he’s convinced he’s got the flu.” Rory laughed. “I mixed up some cure. He’ll be fine. Plus, Elvis is looking after him.”
Brick knew the “cure” was a reliable mixture of honey, lemon, and Jameson, heavy on the whiskey. And Elvis, the female cat rescued as a tiny kitten and named before her gender was determined. Eamonn and Rory adopted the cat after her original owner was tragically killed. Thoughts of the beloved employee were never far from Brick’s mind, especially in this place. Jose always had a smile on his face as he bussed tables as if it were the best job ever. Compared to his life in Guatemala, maybe it was. Brick took a sip of Guinness. It was good, just not quite … but that didn’t matter, it was definitely good enough.
Rory checked with the other customers to see if they needed anything before making his way back to Brick. He leaned his elbows on the bar and lowered his voice. “I could use a little advice.”
“Okay.” Considering the request was from Rory, any subject from blackjack to financial planning to sex was possible. Brick took another drink and braced himself.
“Next week is Kelly’s birthday and I’m planning to surprise her with a party. Here, of course.” Rory hesitated and seemed to swallow hard. “I … ah, I’m going to propose to her.”
“At this surprise party?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you two talked about getting married?”
“Sort of. I mean we’ve talked about living together but if we’re going to do that, I want it to be permanent.” Rory shrugged his shoulders. “I figure if I screw up, it will be harder for her to kick me out.”
“Always good to plan ahead.” Brick laughed and took another drink. “Is that really the reason?”
“No, although I have been known … anyway, I want us to have a life together, to be a family. Have kids someday.”
“Is that what she wants?”
“I think so.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“Not a hundred percent.” Rory shook his head. “You’re a good judge of people. What do you think I should do?”
There was a time when Brick felt he deserved Rory’s confidence, but not anymore. Trusting the wrong person was a regret he would live with for the rest of his life. Still, he saw no harm in answering Rory’s question. “I don’t know Kelly that well, but she strikes me as someone who isn’t comfortable being the center of attention. Am I right about that?” Rory nodded as Brick continued. “I think the surprise birthday party, as long as it’s not too big, is okay. But save the proposal for a private time, just the two of you.”
“Like a romantic dinner?”
“Better yet, go to a country inn or a B&B. You know, one of those places in Charlottesville or Williamsburg.”
Rory winced. “I hate those feckin’ places. It’s like trying to have sex at your grandmother’s house.”
“I know but it’s one night out of your life. Suck it up.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Kelly has mentioned a place in Charlottesville.”
“Well, there you go. That should seal the deal.”
Rory seemed to consider what Brick had said, but he didn’t look convinced. “I guess that makes sense and if she says no, I won’t feel like a feckin’ eejit.” Rory picked up Brick’s empty glass. “I mean I will, but at least no one else will know.”
Brick couldn’t help laughing. “There is that to consider.”
“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes. Another Guinness?”
“No, but I’ll have a corned beef sandwich and an order of fries. You can make it to go.” Brick tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. “I know this place will get crazy soon and I’m just not up for it tonight.”
“That makes two of us.” Rory sighed and walked away.
Maybe jet lag was catching up with him after all, but Brick was determined to get back on East Coast time and not give in to it. He watched the local news while he ate his sandwich then cleared the table. He logged on to his computer and checked email. Nothing that needed his immediate attention except an Evite from Ron and Jasmine for the baptism of their twins. Brick confirmed he would attend. Seeing his former partner was something to look forward to. Then he hit new message and started composing a memo to Lieutenant Hughes. He described the program Professor Alexander had proposed, mentioning the case of Henry Yang as a possibility.
He concluded with a request that if the lieutenant was interested, a meeting with him and the professor should be arranged to discuss the specifics. Brick reread what he had written, making sure auto-correct hadn’t screwed up something. Satisfied, he hit send.
Before turning off his computer, Brick checked the Nationals’ website. Although he tried to keep up with their season while he was in Ireland, it was difficult because he spent very little time online and it had been months since he had actually watched a game. Tonight’s was in New York against the Mets so he might be able to stay awake for most of it.
CHAPTER FOUR
“MAYBE MY MOTHER was right. My sister, too.” Jasmine Hayes reached for a Kleenex from a box on the end table next to her chair. In doing so, she knocked over her cup of coffee and cried harder. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I can’t do anything right.”
Dr. Lynn Reznick grabbed a couple of paper towels, soaked up the spilled coffee, and wiped the top of the table. “What is it that your mother and sister were right about, Jasmine?” Dr. Reznick asked as she took off her glasses and set them aside.
Jasmine didn’t answer immediately, and when she did, the words seemed to catch in her throat. “That marrying Ron was a mistake.”
“They’re entitled to their opinion, but what’s important is whether you think it was a mistake. Do you?”
Jasmine dabbed at her eyes. “Certainly not at the time. I couldn’t wait until we got married. Aside from just being happy to be together no matter what we were doing, I felt safe with him in a way that I never did before. Now, I don’t know how I feel. Everything is so different than I thought it would be.” She twisted the tissue in her hand. “I guess that’s the trouble with having expectations. It’s just a setup for disappointments.”
“And what is it that’s disappointing to you?”
“Everything is out of control. The laundry is piling up, the house is a pigsty, and just look at me—I’m a mess. It’s been six months and I’m still wearing maternity clothes because I can’t even squeeze into my regular clothes. I haven’t washed my hair in a week and this morning … I couldn’t produce any breast milk. It’s bad enough failing as a wife, but now I’m failing as a mother. The babies didn’t ask to be born. They deserve better.”
“Jasmine, every new mother has moments of doubt, plus hormones are doing all sorts of crazy things that affect your emotions. I sense that you’re feeling overwhelmed today. Am I right?”
Jasmine nodded as she reached for another tissue.
“Babies are a blessing but they are demanding and unpredictable and no matter how prepared you think you are, any day can present a challenge you’re not prepared for.” Dr. Reznick paused and wrote something on her notepad. “Taking care of one baby is exhausting, and you’re taking care of two infants. Let’s talk about a support system. Is Ron doing his share?”
“The way he sees it, his job is going to work and bringing home a paycheck. And lately, he’s been working a lot of overtime because we can use the extra money.”
“Are you saying he doesn’t help out at home?”
“He does, but I think he could do a lot more. Only helping on his days off isn’t enough.”
“Especially since babies need care 24/7.”
“Exactly, I don’t get a day off. It’s really hard. I’m trying to get the babies on a schedule and then his work schedule changes every couple of weeks. It’s insane. He needs to sleep, sometimes during the day if he’s working the midnight shift, and if the babies are crying, he gets angry, and then I start crying. Yesterday, I just locked myself in the bathroom and hoped it will all go away.” Jasmine shrugged her shoulders. “I never thought it would be like this.”
“When things are somewhat calm, have you talked to Ron about this?” Dr. Reznick asked.
Jasmine twisted her mouth into a scowl as she shook her head. “I’ve tried, but he doesn’t understand. Like right now, the twins are down for their morning nap. I know what he’ll say when I get home. ‘What’s the big deal? They slept for a couple of hours—that’s plenty of time for you to get stuff done.’ He just doesn’t get it and trying to talk to him causes an argument.” Again, she started to cry. “I don’t have the energy for that.”
“I understand. Motherhood—or I should say parenting—is a huge adjustment and in the short term, it might be wise to have some help.”
“I’d like to hire someone, but we can’t afford it.”
“Maybe your mother or sister would be willing to help.”
“And when they say, ‘I told you so,’ I guess I just have to swallow my pride.”
“Sometimes, that’s what we have to do.” Dr. Reznick glanced up at the clock on the wall near the door. “We’ll have to stop for now, but would you like to meet again next week at this time?”
“I need to check Ron’s schedule first.” Jasmine reached in her purse and retrieved her phone. “He’s still working the 4-12 shift so he can watch the twins in the morning.”
“Good, then I’ll see you next week.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TWO DAYS AFTER sending Lieutenant Hughes the email outlining the cold case project, Brick found himself at his former haunt where caffeine ruled. Different barristas at the Judiciary Square Starbucks, but otherwise everything looked the same. Knowing what to expect had advantages and might explain the loyal following. He ordered a tall English Breakfast tea and a cranberry scone and waited for Grace Alexander at a table near the door. He glanced at his phone. Before he left for Ireland, he had cancelled his home-delivery subscription to the Washington Post and started reading it online instead. Even though he didn’t plan to restart his subscription, he missed the print edition. His crossword puzzle–solving skills had suffered and he tended to just scroll through headlines rather than reading articles. Nothing piqued his interest except the baseball standings even though he knew the Nationals’ ninth season had them in second place in the NL East Division.
Brick glanced out the window. A group of Metro commuters was exiting the station and he saw that Professor Alexander was among them. As she entered the Starbucks, she looked around and smiled when she spotted Brick. She joined him at his table as he stood and extended his hand.
“Professor.”
“Please, call me Grace. I would have been here sooner, but there was a door problem on the train. Had to offload at Farragut North and then the next train was too crowded. So frustrating.” She set her briefcase on the chair across from Brick. “Even without coffee, I’m feeling wired. Guess I’d better go for the decaf.”
“Ever notice how they raise the fares and service declines? I’ve learned to always allow plenty of time. We’re good.”
She returned to the table and sat down. “I don’t know that there’s anything we need to go over prior to the meeting. I’m just encouraged that she’s willing to consider the proposal. Since you’ve worked with Lieutenant Hughes—”
Brick interrupted. “That was just a onetime emergency situation, but I can tell you she has a stellar reputation. Now that she’s in charge, she may be open to innovative ways of getting things done.”
“Good to know. That may work to my advantage.” Grace took a sip from her cup. “I just think it’s important for students to have real-world experiences. Basing a career on what they’ve watched on TV is probably not the best indication of what it’s really like.”
“You mean like on CSI—or as most cops I know refer to the show—CSI Don’t Think So.”
Grace laughed as she set down her cup. “I had never heard that expression, but yes, that’s what I’m talking about.”
Brick and Grace Alexander left Starbucks, crossed Indiana Avenue, and headed toward the Henry J. Daly Building. Commonly referred to as Police Headquarters, the building was named in honor of a veteran police sergeant who was killed along with two FBI agents when an armed intruder opened fire inside the building. For the last ten years of his career, this was the place where Brick reported. The place where he had his own cubicle, which was as close to an office as most cops can ever hope for. Then one day, five months ago, it abruptly ended.
Walking up the steps to the revolving-door entrance felt routine and strange at the same time. And he wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger. He motioned for Grace to go ahead as she placed her briefcase on the conveyer belt to be x-rayed before she walked through the metal detector. Brick placed his keys and cell phone in a basket and waited for the rent-a-security-guard to motion for him to walk through. On the other side, they gathered their belongings and headed toward the elevator bank.
“Is that who I think it is, or do my eyes deceive me?”
Brick immediately recognized the raspy voice and turned in the direction from which it came. He fist-bumped with Otis Johnson, the night janitor, who had worked at headquarters for well over twenty years. “How are you, Otis?”
“I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse. And since my shift is over, it’s all good now.” He paused for a moment. “Does this mean you’re back on the job?”
Brick shook his head. “No, just here for a meeting.”
“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that, my man, but it’s good seeing you just the same.”
“Thanks, Otis. Take care of yourself.”
It was inevitable Brick would run into people he knew. He had already checked with his former partner to see if he was working days, but Ron was on the four-to-twelve shift. He was hoping that was also the case for a few former colleagues he’d rather not see. Brick hit the up arrow on the elevator panel and waited for the door to open. When it did, he motioned for Grace to step in first. He followed along with a couple of uniformed officers. Everyone got off on the third floor where the Homicide, Robbery, and Sex Squads were located.
At this hour, more desks were empty than occupied. Most detectives were probably in court, meeting with assistant U.S. attorneys, or on the street interviewing witnesses. Brick directed Grace through the maze of cubicles to the private office now belonging to Lieutenant Sonia Hughes. The receptionist who had previously taken the role of gatekeeper as seriously as a Rottweiler was gone. In her place, the much friendlier face of a woman who appeared close to retirement age. Brick introduced himself and the professor.
“Lieutenant Hughes is expecting you, please go on in.”
The lieutenant was seated behind her desk but immediately got up when Brick opened the door. She smiled as she introduced herself to Professor Alexander before shaking hands with her and Brick.
“It’s good to see you, Brick. It appears your time in Ireland served you well.”
“It did. Maybe sabbaticals should be required for all first responders.”
“Sounds good to me but convincing the taxpayers might be problematic.” Hughes gestured toward a round conference table with four chairs. “Please make yourselves comfortable and we’ll get started.” Before joining them, she went back to her desk and picked up a file and a yellow legal pad.
Grace took the lead and described what she had in mind just as she had when she met with Brick. She concluded by explaining why she thought the case involving a Lincoln U. student would be especially meaningful for the graduate students.
A few blocks from Dupont Circle, Brick passed a site where a dry cleaner and a mom-and-pop convenience store had been a few months before. Now, it was a deep hole with a construction crane towering above the other buildings nearby. A sign advertised luxury one-bedroom condos starting at 1.5 million. At that price, he assumed a high-end feature would be well-insulated windows to block the constant cacophony of car horns and sirens on Connecticut Avenue. While crossing the Calvert Street Bridge, Brick felt his phone vibrate. He figured it was a breaking news alert but instead was pleasantly surprised to see a text from Nora. “Guessing you’re back home. So am I. Do you think we crossed paths somewhere over the Atlantic?” An airplane emoji followed. Two-thumb texting was a skill Brick hadn’t mastered—and probably never would. With his right index finger, he tapped out a response. “Didn’t you see me waving?” He smiled as he slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“Well, look who’s here!” Rory Boland made the announcement as Brick walked into Boland’s Mill for the first time in three months. Over the years, the pub had been his go-to place in good times and bad. If he missed three days in a row, it would have been noticed. A call from Eamonn or Rory was sure to follow. Brick noticed that the two guys seated at the far end of the antique oak bar turned their heads in his direction. If they were thinking a Washington VIP had just walked in the door, they were probably disappointed. Brick claimed the barstool he usually occupied next to the wall.
“Guinness?” Rory asked.
Brick nodded. “Thanks again for taking care of my place. I really appreciate it, especially the breakfast stuff you left in the fridge.”
“No problem. Figured it was the least I could do given the tickets you gave me. A couple of times I came so close to catching a foul ball. I swear one whizzed right by my ear, but I had a beer in one hand and a hot dog in the other.”
Brick laughed. “And that probably set you back twenty bucks.”
“Right. For a split second, I thought about dropping them but after standing in line for the beer, I would have been pissed if I missed the ball. Anyway, I saw some exciting games.” Rory set a pint of Guinness in front of Brick.
“Where’s Eamonn?” Brick asked.
“He’s upstairs, taking a nap. Got a flu shot yesterday and now he’s convinced he’s got the flu.” Rory laughed. “I mixed up some cure. He’ll be fine. Plus, Elvis is looking after him.”
Brick knew the “cure” was a reliable mixture of honey, lemon, and Jameson, heavy on the whiskey. And Elvis, the female cat rescued as a tiny kitten and named before her gender was determined. Eamonn and Rory adopted the cat after her original owner was tragically killed. Thoughts of the beloved employee were never far from Brick’s mind, especially in this place. Jose always had a smile on his face as he bussed tables as if it were the best job ever. Compared to his life in Guatemala, maybe it was. Brick took a sip of Guinness. It was good, just not quite … but that didn’t matter, it was definitely good enough.
Rory checked with the other customers to see if they needed anything before making his way back to Brick. He leaned his elbows on the bar and lowered his voice. “I could use a little advice.”
“Okay.” Considering the request was from Rory, any subject from blackjack to financial planning to sex was possible. Brick took another drink and braced himself.
“Next week is Kelly’s birthday and I’m planning to surprise her with a party. Here, of course.” Rory hesitated and seemed to swallow hard. “I … ah, I’m going to propose to her.”
“At this surprise party?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you two talked about getting married?”
“Sort of. I mean we’ve talked about living together but if we’re going to do that, I want it to be permanent.” Rory shrugged his shoulders. “I figure if I screw up, it will be harder for her to kick me out.”
“Always good to plan ahead.” Brick laughed and took another drink. “Is that really the reason?”
“No, although I have been known … anyway, I want us to have a life together, to be a family. Have kids someday.”
“Is that what she wants?”
“I think so.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“Not a hundred percent.” Rory shook his head. “You’re a good judge of people. What do you think I should do?”
There was a time when Brick felt he deserved Rory’s confidence, but not anymore. Trusting the wrong person was a regret he would live with for the rest of his life. Still, he saw no harm in answering Rory’s question. “I don’t know Kelly that well, but she strikes me as someone who isn’t comfortable being the center of attention. Am I right about that?” Rory nodded as Brick continued. “I think the surprise birthday party, as long as it’s not too big, is okay. But save the proposal for a private time, just the two of you.”
“Like a romantic dinner?”
“Better yet, go to a country inn or a B&B. You know, one of those places in Charlottesville or Williamsburg.”
Rory winced. “I hate those feckin’ places. It’s like trying to have sex at your grandmother’s house.”
“I know but it’s one night out of your life. Suck it up.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Kelly has mentioned a place in Charlottesville.”
“Well, there you go. That should seal the deal.”
Rory seemed to consider what Brick had said, but he didn’t look convinced. “I guess that makes sense and if she says no, I won’t feel like a feckin’ eejit.” Rory picked up Brick’s empty glass. “I mean I will, but at least no one else will know.”
Brick couldn’t help laughing. “There is that to consider.”
“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes. Another Guinness?”
“No, but I’ll have a corned beef sandwich and an order of fries. You can make it to go.” Brick tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. “I know this place will get crazy soon and I’m just not up for it tonight.”
“That makes two of us.” Rory sighed and walked away.
Maybe jet lag was catching up with him after all, but Brick was determined to get back on East Coast time and not give in to it. He watched the local news while he ate his sandwich then cleared the table. He logged on to his computer and checked email. Nothing that needed his immediate attention except an Evite from Ron and Jasmine for the baptism of their twins. Brick confirmed he would attend. Seeing his former partner was something to look forward to. Then he hit new message and started composing a memo to Lieutenant Hughes. He described the program Professor Alexander had proposed, mentioning the case of Henry Yang as a possibility.
He concluded with a request that if the lieutenant was interested, a meeting with him and the professor should be arranged to discuss the specifics. Brick reread what he had written, making sure auto-correct hadn’t screwed up something. Satisfied, he hit send.
Before turning off his computer, Brick checked the Nationals’ website. Although he tried to keep up with their season while he was in Ireland, it was difficult because he spent very little time online and it had been months since he had actually watched a game. Tonight’s was in New York against the Mets so he might be able to stay awake for most of it.
CHAPTER FOUR
“MAYBE MY MOTHER was right. My sister, too.” Jasmine Hayes reached for a Kleenex from a box on the end table next to her chair. In doing so, she knocked over her cup of coffee and cried harder. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I can’t do anything right.”
Dr. Lynn Reznick grabbed a couple of paper towels, soaked up the spilled coffee, and wiped the top of the table. “What is it that your mother and sister were right about, Jasmine?” Dr. Reznick asked as she took off her glasses and set them aside.
Jasmine didn’t answer immediately, and when she did, the words seemed to catch in her throat. “That marrying Ron was a mistake.”
“They’re entitled to their opinion, but what’s important is whether you think it was a mistake. Do you?”
Jasmine dabbed at her eyes. “Certainly not at the time. I couldn’t wait until we got married. Aside from just being happy to be together no matter what we were doing, I felt safe with him in a way that I never did before. Now, I don’t know how I feel. Everything is so different than I thought it would be.” She twisted the tissue in her hand. “I guess that’s the trouble with having expectations. It’s just a setup for disappointments.”
“And what is it that’s disappointing to you?”
“Everything is out of control. The laundry is piling up, the house is a pigsty, and just look at me—I’m a mess. It’s been six months and I’m still wearing maternity clothes because I can’t even squeeze into my regular clothes. I haven’t washed my hair in a week and this morning … I couldn’t produce any breast milk. It’s bad enough failing as a wife, but now I’m failing as a mother. The babies didn’t ask to be born. They deserve better.”
“Jasmine, every new mother has moments of doubt, plus hormones are doing all sorts of crazy things that affect your emotions. I sense that you’re feeling overwhelmed today. Am I right?”
Jasmine nodded as she reached for another tissue.
“Babies are a blessing but they are demanding and unpredictable and no matter how prepared you think you are, any day can present a challenge you’re not prepared for.” Dr. Reznick paused and wrote something on her notepad. “Taking care of one baby is exhausting, and you’re taking care of two infants. Let’s talk about a support system. Is Ron doing his share?”
“The way he sees it, his job is going to work and bringing home a paycheck. And lately, he’s been working a lot of overtime because we can use the extra money.”
“Are you saying he doesn’t help out at home?”
“He does, but I think he could do a lot more. Only helping on his days off isn’t enough.”
“Especially since babies need care 24/7.”
“Exactly, I don’t get a day off. It’s really hard. I’m trying to get the babies on a schedule and then his work schedule changes every couple of weeks. It’s insane. He needs to sleep, sometimes during the day if he’s working the midnight shift, and if the babies are crying, he gets angry, and then I start crying. Yesterday, I just locked myself in the bathroom and hoped it will all go away.” Jasmine shrugged her shoulders. “I never thought it would be like this.”
“When things are somewhat calm, have you talked to Ron about this?” Dr. Reznick asked.
Jasmine twisted her mouth into a scowl as she shook her head. “I’ve tried, but he doesn’t understand. Like right now, the twins are down for their morning nap. I know what he’ll say when I get home. ‘What’s the big deal? They slept for a couple of hours—that’s plenty of time for you to get stuff done.’ He just doesn’t get it and trying to talk to him causes an argument.” Again, she started to cry. “I don’t have the energy for that.”
“I understand. Motherhood—or I should say parenting—is a huge adjustment and in the short term, it might be wise to have some help.”
“I’d like to hire someone, but we can’t afford it.”
“Maybe your mother or sister would be willing to help.”
“And when they say, ‘I told you so,’ I guess I just have to swallow my pride.”
“Sometimes, that’s what we have to do.” Dr. Reznick glanced up at the clock on the wall near the door. “We’ll have to stop for now, but would you like to meet again next week at this time?”
“I need to check Ron’s schedule first.” Jasmine reached in her purse and retrieved her phone. “He’s still working the 4-12 shift so he can watch the twins in the morning.”
“Good, then I’ll see you next week.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TWO DAYS AFTER sending Lieutenant Hughes the email outlining the cold case project, Brick found himself at his former haunt where caffeine ruled. Different barristas at the Judiciary Square Starbucks, but otherwise everything looked the same. Knowing what to expect had advantages and might explain the loyal following. He ordered a tall English Breakfast tea and a cranberry scone and waited for Grace Alexander at a table near the door. He glanced at his phone. Before he left for Ireland, he had cancelled his home-delivery subscription to the Washington Post and started reading it online instead. Even though he didn’t plan to restart his subscription, he missed the print edition. His crossword puzzle–solving skills had suffered and he tended to just scroll through headlines rather than reading articles. Nothing piqued his interest except the baseball standings even though he knew the Nationals’ ninth season had them in second place in the NL East Division.
Brick glanced out the window. A group of Metro commuters was exiting the station and he saw that Professor Alexander was among them. As she entered the Starbucks, she looked around and smiled when she spotted Brick. She joined him at his table as he stood and extended his hand.
“Professor.”
“Please, call me Grace. I would have been here sooner, but there was a door problem on the train. Had to offload at Farragut North and then the next train was too crowded. So frustrating.” She set her briefcase on the chair across from Brick. “Even without coffee, I’m feeling wired. Guess I’d better go for the decaf.”
“Ever notice how they raise the fares and service declines? I’ve learned to always allow plenty of time. We’re good.”
She returned to the table and sat down. “I don’t know that there’s anything we need to go over prior to the meeting. I’m just encouraged that she’s willing to consider the proposal. Since you’ve worked with Lieutenant Hughes—”
Brick interrupted. “That was just a onetime emergency situation, but I can tell you she has a stellar reputation. Now that she’s in charge, she may be open to innovative ways of getting things done.”
“Good to know. That may work to my advantage.” Grace took a sip from her cup. “I just think it’s important for students to have real-world experiences. Basing a career on what they’ve watched on TV is probably not the best indication of what it’s really like.”
“You mean like on CSI—or as most cops I know refer to the show—CSI Don’t Think So.”
Grace laughed as she set down her cup. “I had never heard that expression, but yes, that’s what I’m talking about.”
Brick and Grace Alexander left Starbucks, crossed Indiana Avenue, and headed toward the Henry J. Daly Building. Commonly referred to as Police Headquarters, the building was named in honor of a veteran police sergeant who was killed along with two FBI agents when an armed intruder opened fire inside the building. For the last ten years of his career, this was the place where Brick reported. The place where he had his own cubicle, which was as close to an office as most cops can ever hope for. Then one day, five months ago, it abruptly ended.
Walking up the steps to the revolving-door entrance felt routine and strange at the same time. And he wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger. He motioned for Grace to go ahead as she placed her briefcase on the conveyer belt to be x-rayed before she walked through the metal detector. Brick placed his keys and cell phone in a basket and waited for the rent-a-security-guard to motion for him to walk through. On the other side, they gathered their belongings and headed toward the elevator bank.
“Is that who I think it is, or do my eyes deceive me?”
Brick immediately recognized the raspy voice and turned in the direction from which it came. He fist-bumped with Otis Johnson, the night janitor, who had worked at headquarters for well over twenty years. “How are you, Otis?”
“I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse. And since my shift is over, it’s all good now.” He paused for a moment. “Does this mean you’re back on the job?”
Brick shook his head. “No, just here for a meeting.”
“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that, my man, but it’s good seeing you just the same.”
“Thanks, Otis. Take care of yourself.”
It was inevitable Brick would run into people he knew. He had already checked with his former partner to see if he was working days, but Ron was on the four-to-twelve shift. He was hoping that was also the case for a few former colleagues he’d rather not see. Brick hit the up arrow on the elevator panel and waited for the door to open. When it did, he motioned for Grace to step in first. He followed along with a couple of uniformed officers. Everyone got off on the third floor where the Homicide, Robbery, and Sex Squads were located.
At this hour, more desks were empty than occupied. Most detectives were probably in court, meeting with assistant U.S. attorneys, or on the street interviewing witnesses. Brick directed Grace through the maze of cubicles to the private office now belonging to Lieutenant Sonia Hughes. The receptionist who had previously taken the role of gatekeeper as seriously as a Rottweiler was gone. In her place, the much friendlier face of a woman who appeared close to retirement age. Brick introduced himself and the professor.
“Lieutenant Hughes is expecting you, please go on in.”
The lieutenant was seated behind her desk but immediately got up when Brick opened the door. She smiled as she introduced herself to Professor Alexander before shaking hands with her and Brick.
“It’s good to see you, Brick. It appears your time in Ireland served you well.”
“It did. Maybe sabbaticals should be required for all first responders.”
“Sounds good to me but convincing the taxpayers might be problematic.” Hughes gestured toward a round conference table with four chairs. “Please make yourselves comfortable and we’ll get started.” Before joining them, she went back to her desk and picked up a file and a yellow legal pad.
Grace took the lead and described what she had in mind just as she had when she met with Brick. She concluded by explaining why she thought the case involving a Lincoln U. student would be especially meaningful for the graduate students.
