in the kitchen? Or what about the security camera? You think that wasn’t caught on film? You want to see yourself on the ten o’clock news? Or, wait, I got the headline in the
Post
… COP O’SOUP .” Shawn laughed. “Cop O’Soup, get it? That’s funny, right?”
“No, it’s not funny,” Geri said, hitting the gas to make a light.
“I’m just saying,” Shawn said. “Sometimes you gotta think of all the consequences before you act.”
At the next light she braked hard, and she and Shawn jerked forward a little.
“Okay, let’s just drop it,” Geri said, partly because she didn’t like how Shawn was judging her, and partly because she knew he was right.
“Oooh, somebody’s testy,” Shawn said. “What’s going on with you anyway?”
Geri didn’t feel like answering.
They didn’t speak again till they got to the apartment building on 184th Street where Carlita Morales lived, and Geri said, “You don’t have to come.”
“What,” Shawn said, “you gonna leave me in the car like a dog? Keep the window open a crack so I can breathe?”
Shawn smiled; Geri didn’t.
Together they went over to the tenement and buzzed Morales’s apartment. They had already spoken to her a couple of times but were hoping the third time was a charm and she’d give them some useful information. There had been violence in the neighborhood lately by a Dominican gang called DDP—Dominicans Don’t Play—and the shooting the other night was almost certainly drug-related as the victim, Orlando Rojas, had had a long rap sheet with multiple arrests for dealing and possession. It wasn’t surprising that Morales didn’t want to talk—not very many people wanted to get involved in ratting out drug dealers—but Geri still hoped she could wear her down.
“Si?”
The visit was unscheduled, which was probably why Morales had bothered to answer her intercom.
“Policia, Detectivos Rodriguez y Phillips.”
Now Morales probably regretted answering the intercom big-time.
There was no reply. Geri was about to ring again when Morales buzzed them in.
On the second floor of the tenement Morales—heavyset, in her fifties, with bushy gray and black hair—was standing in front of the door to her apartment when Geri and Shawn arrived on the landing.
“I told you,
no se nada
.”
“Cálmate, cálmate,”
Geri said. “We just have a few more questions for you.”
“Last time you had a few more questions,” Morales said. “How many times’re you gonna have a few more questions?”
Thinking,
Till you start talking
, Geri said, “I promise, it won’t take long. Can we come in?”
Though she didn’t exactly seem happy about it, Morales let them into her apartment. It was a studio and, like the last time they had been there, it was a mess—dishes piled in the kitchen, stuff on the floor and the table. The TV was blasting
The View
.
“Que quieres? Ya te dijo todo.”
“English, please,” Geri said.
At their previous visit, yesterday afternoon, Geri had asked Morales to speak in English so Shawn, who didn’t speak much Spanish, could follow.
“I told you everything,” Morales said. “You’re just wasting your time.”
“You didn’t give us a description of the shooter,” Geri said.
“That’s ’cause I didn’t see the shooter. Seriously, how many times’re we gonna have to do this, ’cause it’s starting to piss me off? I’m busy. I got work to do today.”
Geri looked toward the TV and gave Morales a look as if saying,
That’s work?
Shawn had the same expression.
“Seriously,” Morales said. “I don’t got time for this.”
“Can we sit down?” Geri asked.
“No,” Morales said.
“It’s okay, we don’t gotta sit,” Shawn said. “Standing burns more calories anyway, right?”
“All right, look,” Geri said to Morales. “You were there. You made
Post
… COP O’SOUP .” Shawn laughed. “Cop O’Soup, get it? That’s funny, right?”
“No, it’s not funny,” Geri said, hitting the gas to make a light.
“I’m just saying,” Shawn said. “Sometimes you gotta think of all the consequences before you act.”
At the next light she braked hard, and she and Shawn jerked forward a little.
“Okay, let’s just drop it,” Geri said, partly because she didn’t like how Shawn was judging her, and partly because she knew he was right.
“Oooh, somebody’s testy,” Shawn said. “What’s going on with you anyway?”
Geri didn’t feel like answering.
They didn’t speak again till they got to the apartment building on 184th Street where Carlita Morales lived, and Geri said, “You don’t have to come.”
“What,” Shawn said, “you gonna leave me in the car like a dog? Keep the window open a crack so I can breathe?”
Shawn smiled; Geri didn’t.
Together they went over to the tenement and buzzed Morales’s apartment. They had already spoken to her a couple of times but were hoping the third time was a charm and she’d give them some useful information. There had been violence in the neighborhood lately by a Dominican gang called DDP—Dominicans Don’t Play—and the shooting the other night was almost certainly drug-related as the victim, Orlando Rojas, had had a long rap sheet with multiple arrests for dealing and possession. It wasn’t surprising that Morales didn’t want to talk—not very many people wanted to get involved in ratting out drug dealers—but Geri still hoped she could wear her down.
“Si?”
The visit was unscheduled, which was probably why Morales had bothered to answer her intercom.
“Policia, Detectivos Rodriguez y Phillips.”
Now Morales probably regretted answering the intercom big-time.
There was no reply. Geri was about to ring again when Morales buzzed them in.
On the second floor of the tenement Morales—heavyset, in her fifties, with bushy gray and black hair—was standing in front of the door to her apartment when Geri and Shawn arrived on the landing.
“I told you,
no se nada
.”
“Cálmate, cálmate,”
Geri said. “We just have a few more questions for you.”
“Last time you had a few more questions,” Morales said. “How many times’re you gonna have a few more questions?”
Thinking,
Till you start talking
, Geri said, “I promise, it won’t take long. Can we come in?”
Though she didn’t exactly seem happy about it, Morales let them into her apartment. It was a studio and, like the last time they had been there, it was a mess—dishes piled in the kitchen, stuff on the floor and the table. The TV was blasting
The View
.
“Que quieres? Ya te dijo todo.”
“English, please,” Geri said.
At their previous visit, yesterday afternoon, Geri had asked Morales to speak in English so Shawn, who didn’t speak much Spanish, could follow.
“I told you everything,” Morales said. “You’re just wasting your time.”
“You didn’t give us a description of the shooter,” Geri said.
“That’s ’cause I didn’t see the shooter. Seriously, how many times’re we gonna have to do this, ’cause it’s starting to piss me off? I’m busy. I got work to do today.”
Geri looked toward the TV and gave Morales a look as if saying,
That’s work?
Shawn had the same expression.
“Seriously,” Morales said. “I don’t got time for this.”
“Can we sit down?” Geri asked.
“No,” Morales said.
“It’s okay, we don’t gotta sit,” Shawn said. “Standing burns more calories anyway, right?”
“All right, look,” Geri said to Morales. “You were there. You made
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