time bombs, their tempers ready to flare at any moment.
Smitty’s death was just another in a line of on-duty incidents that dredged up the underlying danger in the job. Every officer handled the pressure differently, but most handled it, nonetheless. Coletti preferred to work through it, while others liked to play.
The detective who’d stayed behind waddled over to Coletti’s desk, his large belly pointing the way. “I’m Tommy,” he said to Lenore, who wiped her eyes once more before reaching up to shake his proffered hand.
“Nice to meet you,” she said with a sniffle. “I’m sorry about the tears. It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone die, much less have someone try to blame me for it.”
Tommy put down the papers he was carrying and leaned his ample butt against the side of Coletti’s desk. “If my colleagues aren’t treating you right, my dear,” he said with a ridiculous, Jim Carrey–like smile, “I will.”
“You finished, Tommy?” said an irritated Coletti.
“Not quite.” Tommy turned his attention back to Lenore. “I just want you to know that I like horseback riding, walks in the park, and listening. And I know it might not look like it, but I’m into weightlifting and mixed martial arts, too. Call me.”
He winked and dropped his card on the desk.
Lenore chuckled. “I’m afraid I’m married, but thank you. I’m flattered.”
Tommy reached down, grabbed her hand, and kissed it. “I don’t care how great you think your husband is, honey. Once you go fat, you never go back.”
Lenore laughed. Mann did, too. Coletti smiled in spite of himself. “Now you see what happens when the captain isn’t around,” he said. “People start losing their minds.”
“Actually, we use our minds,” Tommy said with a grin. “You’d see that if you checked out those papers I put together for you when I heard about Mrs. Bailey’s untimely demise.”
Coletti picked up the documents Tommy had placed on his desk. As soon as he began to thumb through them, he saw that they told a story all their own.
“Excuse us for a minute,” he said to Mann and Lenore as he beckoned for Tommy to follow him into the captain’s adjacent office.
They went inside, and Coletti closed the door behind them. “So, how long ago did her husband file for divorce?” Coletti asked as he looked through the petition.
“I think he served her with the papers about a month ago.”
Coletti grunted as he looked at Ellison Bailey’s signed affidavit. “Loss of companionship, huh? That means she stopped sleeping with him.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said, “but I think that’s probably because he was a bum.” He pointed to a section in the divorce petition that listed Ellison Bailey’s occupation. “Says here he’s a visiting lecturer at the University of Pennsylvania. I’d be guessing, but I’d say he doesn’t make a mint doing that.”
Coletti nodded. Then he flipped through the rest of Ellison’s divorce petition, which requested, among other things, alimony payments from his wife, who served as CEO of Bailey, Inc., a publicly traded jewelry firm with a billion dollars in assets.
“I see she filed a counterclaim,” Coletti said as he went through the rest of the papers.
“Yeah, she not only denied that there was any loss of companionship, she was apparently going to fight him on the alimony, too. And take a look at this.”
Tommy showed him paperwork from two six-year-old civil suits that had been filed against Ellison Bailey by women in Florida and California. Suddenly, the picture became clearer.
“Thanks,” Coletti said, snatching the door open and quickly crossing the floor to his partner and Lenore.
“Charlie, we’ve gotta track down Clarissa Bailey’s husband,” he said. Then he looked at Lenore. “I hope you’re going to stick around.”
“I’d already reserved a room at the Loews. I planned to stay for a few days anyway,” she said. “It’s like I told you earlier, there’s
Smitty’s death was just another in a line of on-duty incidents that dredged up the underlying danger in the job. Every officer handled the pressure differently, but most handled it, nonetheless. Coletti preferred to work through it, while others liked to play.
The detective who’d stayed behind waddled over to Coletti’s desk, his large belly pointing the way. “I’m Tommy,” he said to Lenore, who wiped her eyes once more before reaching up to shake his proffered hand.
“Nice to meet you,” she said with a sniffle. “I’m sorry about the tears. It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone die, much less have someone try to blame me for it.”
Tommy put down the papers he was carrying and leaned his ample butt against the side of Coletti’s desk. “If my colleagues aren’t treating you right, my dear,” he said with a ridiculous, Jim Carrey–like smile, “I will.”
“You finished, Tommy?” said an irritated Coletti.
“Not quite.” Tommy turned his attention back to Lenore. “I just want you to know that I like horseback riding, walks in the park, and listening. And I know it might not look like it, but I’m into weightlifting and mixed martial arts, too. Call me.”
He winked and dropped his card on the desk.
Lenore chuckled. “I’m afraid I’m married, but thank you. I’m flattered.”
Tommy reached down, grabbed her hand, and kissed it. “I don’t care how great you think your husband is, honey. Once you go fat, you never go back.”
Lenore laughed. Mann did, too. Coletti smiled in spite of himself. “Now you see what happens when the captain isn’t around,” he said. “People start losing their minds.”
“Actually, we use our minds,” Tommy said with a grin. “You’d see that if you checked out those papers I put together for you when I heard about Mrs. Bailey’s untimely demise.”
Coletti picked up the documents Tommy had placed on his desk. As soon as he began to thumb through them, he saw that they told a story all their own.
“Excuse us for a minute,” he said to Mann and Lenore as he beckoned for Tommy to follow him into the captain’s adjacent office.
They went inside, and Coletti closed the door behind them. “So, how long ago did her husband file for divorce?” Coletti asked as he looked through the petition.
“I think he served her with the papers about a month ago.”
Coletti grunted as he looked at Ellison Bailey’s signed affidavit. “Loss of companionship, huh? That means she stopped sleeping with him.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said, “but I think that’s probably because he was a bum.” He pointed to a section in the divorce petition that listed Ellison Bailey’s occupation. “Says here he’s a visiting lecturer at the University of Pennsylvania. I’d be guessing, but I’d say he doesn’t make a mint doing that.”
Coletti nodded. Then he flipped through the rest of Ellison’s divorce petition, which requested, among other things, alimony payments from his wife, who served as CEO of Bailey, Inc., a publicly traded jewelry firm with a billion dollars in assets.
“I see she filed a counterclaim,” Coletti said as he went through the rest of the papers.
“Yeah, she not only denied that there was any loss of companionship, she was apparently going to fight him on the alimony, too. And take a look at this.”
Tommy showed him paperwork from two six-year-old civil suits that had been filed against Ellison Bailey by women in Florida and California. Suddenly, the picture became clearer.
“Thanks,” Coletti said, snatching the door open and quickly crossing the floor to his partner and Lenore.
“Charlie, we’ve gotta track down Clarissa Bailey’s husband,” he said. Then he looked at Lenore. “I hope you’re going to stick around.”
“I’d already reserved a room at the Loews. I planned to stay for a few days anyway,” she said. “It’s like I told you earlier, there’s
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