I guess I was making memories while I could, because come Friday, the charade would be over one way or the other.
* * *
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was Friday, almost noon. Sean and Patsy had been out of the office most of the day. If Lester’s source was right, the shipment of illegal goods would be arriving today, if it wasn’t already here. I wondered if that’s where Sean and Patsy were, seeing to the shipment at the mystery warehouse.
Then an idea came to mind.
I stood up from the desk and smoothed out my skirt, then picked up a folder of receipts and walked down the hall to the breakroom. Only one Stooge was there, Freddy Manicotti, the fat little Italian who had needed my help finding toilet paper. The other two, Danny and Doug O’Malley, were nowhere in sight.
“Where is everyone?” I asked as I opened the fridge and took out the leftover spaghetti I’d brought in for lunch. I loosened the lid on the Tupperware and stuck it in the microwave.
Freddy put down his racing form and picked up the can of Diet Coke he was drinking. “They’re off somewhere,” he said. He sniffed the air. “What's heating up there?”
“Homemade spaghetti,” I said with a smile. “My grandmother’s secret recipe. Would you like some?”
“You got enough?” he asked, licking his lips.
“I’m sure I do,” I said, taking down two plates from the cupboard and two forks from the drawer. We made small talk as the spaghetti heated up. When the microwave dinged, I filled his plate with spaghetti and kept just a little for myself. I had lied to him. It wasn’t my grandmother’s secret recipe. My grandmother didn’t even have a receipt for spaghetti. The pasta was from a box and the sauce was from a jar. That was the secret.
Freddy didn’t seem to notice or care. The moment I set the plate in front of him he dug in like a man who hadn’t eaten in days.
I sat down across from him with the folder of receipts. I picked at the spaghetti and pretended to leaf through the folders.
“Hey Freddy, can I ask you something?”
He shoved a huge fork of spaghetti into his mouth and bobbed his head as he chewed.
I picked up a couple of receipts and held them out like I was comparing them. “Sean had mentioned a shipment coming in today, but I don’t have any record of it. Do you know if it’s coming here or the other warehouse?”
Freddy licked sauce from his plump lips and swirled the fork through the mound of spaghetti. Shrugging like it was no big deal, he said, “It’s coming into the warehouse on Pratt.”
My heart literally stopped beating. I licked my lips because they were suddenly dry. I made a show of rolling my eyes and said, “Oh, that’s right. That’s the warehouse on Pratt and 5th?”
He took a swig of Diet Coke and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “No, sweetheart, Pratt and 21st, over in the old warehouse district.” He smacked his lips and looked at my untouched plate. “You gonna eat that?”
“No, Freddy,” I said, pushing the plate toward him. “It’s all yours. I have everything I need.”
Claire
That was it. My time as Claire Goodman was finally coming to an end. I was relieved, elated, and more than a little bit sad because it meant my time with Sean O’Connor was coming to an end, as well.
I retrieved my purse from the desk and called Ed on my way to the car. I gave him the location of the warehouse and told him I’d meet him there. He told me not to go near the fucking place until SWAT could secure it.
He ordered me to go home and change (I think that was just to give me something to do), then he’d call when the warehouse was secure.
I hurried home and changed clothes faster than I ever had in my life, then headed to the warehouse. I got there just in time to see them bringing Sean, Patsy, the Two Stooges, and a half dozen warehouse workers out the front door, all with their hands cuffed behind them.
I got out of my car and leaned back against it to watch as they were loaded into the back of a police van. Patsy spotted me first and said something I couldn’t make out. Sean looked up, momentarily smiled, then frowned after he saw how I was dressed. I was wearing jeans, boots, and a black t-shirt and a bulletproof vest with the word POLICE across the front in big yellow letters. I had a Glock 19 holstered on my right hip and my detective’s shield clipped to the front of my belt.
When our eyes met, my heart sank.
Very clearly, I was a cop.
It was the first time in my career that I’d been ashamed of the fact.
Sean
I heard my old man say, “I’ll be a son of a bitch. Would you look at that.”