"Who took it?"
"Some other tourists. Remember pictures back then? You had to have them developed."
"Always tense when you got them back from the drugstore. Were they in focus, the right exposure?"
He nodded. More foraging. "Oh, hey!" He picked up a program.
New York City
Police Academy
Graduation Ceremony
At the bottom was the date he'd graduated. The cover featured a seal: Training Bureau. Preparing the Finest.
His smile faded.
Sachs was recalling her own graduation ceremony. That had been one of the two times in her life when she'd worn white gloves. The other had been at the police department memorial honoring her father after his death.
Nick put the program back in the box, gazing at it fondly for a moment. He closed the carton up and asked, "Glass of wine?"
"Sure."
He stepped into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and a beer. He poured her a glass of Chardonnay.
Another memory, of the two of them, triggered by the smell and the tap of metal on glass and his fingers brushing hers.
Boom...
She shot the recollection dead. She'd been doing a lot of sniping like this lately.
They sipped the oaky wine and the beer and he showed her around the place, though there wasn't much to see. He'd gotten some furniture out of storage. Picked up a few things, borrowed from cousins, bought on the cheap. Some books. Several boxes of documents. And then there were the case files of People of the State of New York v. Nicholas J. Carelli. The many documents were spread out on the kitchen table.
Sachs looked over the framed pictures of his family. She liked it that he had them on the mantelpiece for all to see. Sachs had spent a lot of time with his mother and father and had enjoyed their company. She thought too about Donnie. He'd lived in BK, not far from Nick. After he was arrested Sachs made an effort to keep up with the Carellis, Nick's mother in particular. Eventually, though, the contact grew wispier and finally ceased altogether. As often happens when the fulcrum of common connection between two people vanishes--or one of them goes to prison.
Nick poured more wine.
"Just a little. I'm driving."
"How do you like the Torino versus the Camaro?"
"Prefer the Chevy, but it got turned into a cube of metal."
"Hell, how'd that happen?"
Sachs explained about the perp who worked for a data mining company and had invaded every part of his victims' lives--including hers. Having the beautiful Camaro SS towed and pressed into scrap had been as simple for him as tying his shoes.
"You nailed him?"
"We did. Lincoln and I."
There was a pause. Then: "Can I say? I liked seeing Rose. I wasn't sure she believed me. About my brother. What really happened."
"No, we talked later. She believed you."
"From what you said before, I thought she'd look sicker. She was pretty good."
"There are women who won't go out of the house without quote putting their face on. That's her healthy complexion. Maybelline."