back to normal.”
“Where on 8th?”
“West 33rd.”
“That’s Penn Station. Did he take a train to Philly?”
“Possibly,” Jimmy said. “NYPD is working that angle.”
“Did you check with the car rental places?”
“I’ve got a guy on it. Nothing yet.”
“How many could there be?”
“Have you ever looked in the Yellow Pages under car rental in New York City? Everyone and his mother rents cars there.”
“What about the hotel? Was he registered at the Hyatt?”
Isabelle and Jimmy looked at each other.
“Find out,” I said, “and check with the barkeep in a joint called Flanagan’s on the first floor. He’ll know which hookers work the place. Christ. A train.”
“We don’t know that,” Jimmy said.
“And Ebola is only spread by bodily fluids,” said Isabelle.
“Right. I get on the merry-go-round with a whore who’s been in bed with someone who brought it back from Africa, and I get it. You’re in the seat next to me on the train, I cough on you, and you get it. Two days later, you’re all sweaty from the fever and you shake hands with your boss after telling him you’re going home sick, and he gets it. He’s at the club a couple days after that having a drink to settle his stomach and he sneezes on his golfing buddy, and his buddy gets it. All of a sudden, it’s everywhere, and nobody knows where it came from.”
“I don’t think it works that way,” she said.
“Then, why are all the doctors watching over Billy wearing spacesuits? Tell me I’m wrong, but unless your buddy Birot was traveling with a NASA convention, we could be in some serious shit here.”
“The CDC sent a contact-tracing expert to New York,” Jimmy said. “They’ll be working that angle as soon as he gets there, but you’re right. We can’t possibly track down everyone he came in contact with if he took the train.”
“What about the French guys in the car? Do we know if any of them took sick?”
“I called the French embassy,” Isabelle said. “Everyone is fine.”
“I need another drink,” I said.
The conversation turned to beer, Philly nightlife, tourist sights, anything but Ebola. Turns out, Izzy wasn’t such a bad egg after all. She’d worked her way up from beat cop to detective, applied for the intelligence job, and been assigned to U.N. duty all in the span of four years. Her orders came from higher up to give Birot a long leash. She didn’t like it, but orders were orders. I figured he was a first-class jerk, but he was good for the country. She’d stuck with him for two years. That took some moxie in my book. Her parents’ house in the country was a little farm. They grew turnips and flowers, a funny combination. When I told her I lived on a farm, too, she wanted to know what I grew.
“I used to grow Christmas trees and sell them. You know, a cut-your-own place? But I stopped doing it. People put their trees up after Thanksgiving now. That’s when the stores let them know Christmas is here. Pretty soon, it’ll be on Halloween. They come at all hours, day or night, and expect you to drop everything and go out in the rain and snow to help them pick out the perfect tree. I just got tired of it.”
“Did your children help?” she asked.
“They did, Brian especially. Good kid. Good times.” I looked at my watch. It was midnight. “I should get going.”
“You want a lift home?” Jimmy said.
“Nah, I’m good. I’m parked in a lot over in the next block.”
I stood up and nearly fell over my chair trying to slide it back under the table.
“Sit down, Bam,” Jimmy said. “I’m calling in for a pickup.”
“I don’t need a ride.”
“It’s not just for you. We’ve all had too much.”
Jimmy called one of his buddies at West Detectives, and ten minutes later I was passed out in the back seat of his car with Jimmy beside me, and Izzy in front. I woke up when Shep started barking. We were stopped in my driveway.
“What about my car?” I
“Where on 8th?”
“West 33rd.”
“That’s Penn Station. Did he take a train to Philly?”
“Possibly,” Jimmy said. “NYPD is working that angle.”
“Did you check with the car rental places?”
“I’ve got a guy on it. Nothing yet.”
“How many could there be?”
“Have you ever looked in the Yellow Pages under car rental in New York City? Everyone and his mother rents cars there.”
“What about the hotel? Was he registered at the Hyatt?”
Isabelle and Jimmy looked at each other.
“Find out,” I said, “and check with the barkeep in a joint called Flanagan’s on the first floor. He’ll know which hookers work the place. Christ. A train.”
“We don’t know that,” Jimmy said.
“And Ebola is only spread by bodily fluids,” said Isabelle.
“Right. I get on the merry-go-round with a whore who’s been in bed with someone who brought it back from Africa, and I get it. You’re in the seat next to me on the train, I cough on you, and you get it. Two days later, you’re all sweaty from the fever and you shake hands with your boss after telling him you’re going home sick, and he gets it. He’s at the club a couple days after that having a drink to settle his stomach and he sneezes on his golfing buddy, and his buddy gets it. All of a sudden, it’s everywhere, and nobody knows where it came from.”
“I don’t think it works that way,” she said.
“Then, why are all the doctors watching over Billy wearing spacesuits? Tell me I’m wrong, but unless your buddy Birot was traveling with a NASA convention, we could be in some serious shit here.”
“The CDC sent a contact-tracing expert to New York,” Jimmy said. “They’ll be working that angle as soon as he gets there, but you’re right. We can’t possibly track down everyone he came in contact with if he took the train.”
“What about the French guys in the car? Do we know if any of them took sick?”
“I called the French embassy,” Isabelle said. “Everyone is fine.”
“I need another drink,” I said.
The conversation turned to beer, Philly nightlife, tourist sights, anything but Ebola. Turns out, Izzy wasn’t such a bad egg after all. She’d worked her way up from beat cop to detective, applied for the intelligence job, and been assigned to U.N. duty all in the span of four years. Her orders came from higher up to give Birot a long leash. She didn’t like it, but orders were orders. I figured he was a first-class jerk, but he was good for the country. She’d stuck with him for two years. That took some moxie in my book. Her parents’ house in the country was a little farm. They grew turnips and flowers, a funny combination. When I told her I lived on a farm, too, she wanted to know what I grew.
“I used to grow Christmas trees and sell them. You know, a cut-your-own place? But I stopped doing it. People put their trees up after Thanksgiving now. That’s when the stores let them know Christmas is here. Pretty soon, it’ll be on Halloween. They come at all hours, day or night, and expect you to drop everything and go out in the rain and snow to help them pick out the perfect tree. I just got tired of it.”
“Did your children help?” she asked.
“They did, Brian especially. Good kid. Good times.” I looked at my watch. It was midnight. “I should get going.”
“You want a lift home?” Jimmy said.
“Nah, I’m good. I’m parked in a lot over in the next block.”
I stood up and nearly fell over my chair trying to slide it back under the table.
“Sit down, Bam,” Jimmy said. “I’m calling in for a pickup.”
“I don’t need a ride.”
“It’s not just for you. We’ve all had too much.”
Jimmy called one of his buddies at West Detectives, and ten minutes later I was passed out in the back seat of his car with Jimmy beside me, and Izzy in front. I woke up when Shep started barking. We were stopped in my driveway.
“What about my car?” I
Similar Books
