apprentice), was actually “dissolution,” not murder; but since Hieronymus’ life was over, either way, I tended to view that distinction as being theoretical rather than—oh, for example— legal .
There was also no denying that, while more recently trying to avert a mystically-manipulated mob war in Little Italy, I had said and done some very strange things. In context, those things made perfect sense—that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. But since Lopez didn’t accept the context, he simply thought Max and I were . . . well, lunatics .
So, all things considered, it was pretty nice of him to humor me tonight—after I had dragged him out of bed, embarrassed him with other cops, and told him such a bizarre tale—by searching a darkened street in Harlem in the middle of the night for a body or some other evidence that he was certain didn’t exist.
Despite the haunting images in my mind, I was also starting to doubt there was anything to find. I was just beginning to entertain the idea of telling Lopez I was ready to quit when I rounded the bumper of a car and startled a small flock of birds that were gathered near the vehicle’s curbside front wheel. I flinched and made a sound halfway between a gasp and a shriek as they cawed and flew away in a noisy flutter of black wings that gleamed darkly under the streetlights.
Lopez quickly rounded the other end of the car to see what had frightened me. “What it is?”
“Nothing.” I put a hand over my pounding heart as I looked down at the spot the birds had just vacated. Feeling silly, I added, “Some birds. Crows, I think. They were eating something.”
Lopez was standing on the sidewalk staring at the same spot. “Eating . . . something.”
The peculiar tone of his voice made me take a closer look at the small, inert object lying in the dark shadows. I leaned over, trying to see it better.
He stepped forward. “No, don’t.”
The instant I recognized the object, I screamed.
Lopez pulled me away from the sight of Darius’ severed hand, mangled by carrion feeders, lying on the sidewalk. He pressed my face against his shoulder as he turned his head and shouted, “Thompson! Over here! And bring a flashlight.”
Shuddering with revulsion, I tried to get control of my frantic breathing as I heard footsteps approach us.
“Find something, detective?” It was Thompson’s voice.
“Look.” Lopez tightened his hold on me and added, “Not you,” as I reflexively moved to look again at the thing lying on the sidewalk.
I squeezed my eyes shut and kept my face pressed against his shoulder as one of the cops drew in a sharp breath and the other let out a startled exclamation.
Lopez said coldly to them, “You’re the ones who searched this area?”
“Uh . . .”
“Um.”
“Nice job, officers,” Lopez said.
“Hey, detective,” Thompson protested, “we were looking for a body . Or an injured guy.”
“And that makes it okay that you overlooked a severed hand lying on the sidewalk?” Lopez said.
“Well, er—”
“A severed hand that I believe Miss Diamond mentioned in the statement that she gave after being arrested for trying to get help for the victim?”
Even I winced at his tone now.
“Look, detective, we . . . um . . .”
“Call it in,” Lopez snapped. “And you can thank your lucky stars that Miss Diamond isn’t going to make your precinct’s mess any bigger by filing a complaint about tonight.”
“I’m not?” I said against his shoulder.
He goosed me to make me shut up. “I’m taking her back to Lexington to find a cab.”
I lifted my head. “I can’t take a cab. I don’t have any money.”
Thompson said, “We can call another squad car to take her home.”
The chubby cop said, “So do we need to search the area again for the dead guy? Um, the injured guy, I mean?”
“Everyone shut up, ” Lopez said.
We all felt silent. Pressed up against his body, I felt him take a deep breath as he struggled to
There was also no denying that, while more recently trying to avert a mystically-manipulated mob war in Little Italy, I had said and done some very strange things. In context, those things made perfect sense—that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. But since Lopez didn’t accept the context, he simply thought Max and I were . . . well, lunatics .
So, all things considered, it was pretty nice of him to humor me tonight—after I had dragged him out of bed, embarrassed him with other cops, and told him such a bizarre tale—by searching a darkened street in Harlem in the middle of the night for a body or some other evidence that he was certain didn’t exist.
Despite the haunting images in my mind, I was also starting to doubt there was anything to find. I was just beginning to entertain the idea of telling Lopez I was ready to quit when I rounded the bumper of a car and startled a small flock of birds that were gathered near the vehicle’s curbside front wheel. I flinched and made a sound halfway between a gasp and a shriek as they cawed and flew away in a noisy flutter of black wings that gleamed darkly under the streetlights.
Lopez quickly rounded the other end of the car to see what had frightened me. “What it is?”
“Nothing.” I put a hand over my pounding heart as I looked down at the spot the birds had just vacated. Feeling silly, I added, “Some birds. Crows, I think. They were eating something.”
Lopez was standing on the sidewalk staring at the same spot. “Eating . . . something.”
The peculiar tone of his voice made me take a closer look at the small, inert object lying in the dark shadows. I leaned over, trying to see it better.
He stepped forward. “No, don’t.”
The instant I recognized the object, I screamed.
Lopez pulled me away from the sight of Darius’ severed hand, mangled by carrion feeders, lying on the sidewalk. He pressed my face against his shoulder as he turned his head and shouted, “Thompson! Over here! And bring a flashlight.”
Shuddering with revulsion, I tried to get control of my frantic breathing as I heard footsteps approach us.
“Find something, detective?” It was Thompson’s voice.
“Look.” Lopez tightened his hold on me and added, “Not you,” as I reflexively moved to look again at the thing lying on the sidewalk.
I squeezed my eyes shut and kept my face pressed against his shoulder as one of the cops drew in a sharp breath and the other let out a startled exclamation.
Lopez said coldly to them, “You’re the ones who searched this area?”
“Uh . . .”
“Um.”
“Nice job, officers,” Lopez said.
“Hey, detective,” Thompson protested, “we were looking for a body . Or an injured guy.”
“And that makes it okay that you overlooked a severed hand lying on the sidewalk?” Lopez said.
“Well, er—”
“A severed hand that I believe Miss Diamond mentioned in the statement that she gave after being arrested for trying to get help for the victim?”
Even I winced at his tone now.
“Look, detective, we . . . um . . .”
“Call it in,” Lopez snapped. “And you can thank your lucky stars that Miss Diamond isn’t going to make your precinct’s mess any bigger by filing a complaint about tonight.”
“I’m not?” I said against his shoulder.
He goosed me to make me shut up. “I’m taking her back to Lexington to find a cab.”
I lifted my head. “I can’t take a cab. I don’t have any money.”
Thompson said, “We can call another squad car to take her home.”
The chubby cop said, “So do we need to search the area again for the dead guy? Um, the injured guy, I mean?”
“Everyone shut up, ” Lopez said.
We all felt silent. Pressed up against his body, I felt him take a deep breath as he struggled to
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