Sing To Me

Diane had rarely been inside an apartment when the police banged on the door from the outside. She envisioned them crowded around the door, guns drawn, braced against the walls, crouching to avoid any surprise volleys of bullets that panicked skels might send their way. In spite of her experience, her heart was racing.

“We’re NYPD in here,” Diane called out. “Russell and Franco from the Fifteenth. Who’s out there?” Diane looked over at Harry and nodded her head toward Claire’s bedroom door. He gave her a look that mad her fully aware his life was in her hands.

“Siquieros, DEA and Sorenson from the Fifteenth,” Diane recognized Danny’s voice.

“Okay, we’re opening. We are not armed,” Diane shouted clearly, and opened the door. Officers piled in and pinned Diane against the wall, searching her. Others did the same to Mary. A third group, led by Siquieros, went directly to Claire’s bedroom. Diane looked at Danny, and said, “Please, go with him,” nodding toward Siquieros with a worried face. Danny looked confused for a moment, but obeyed, believing Diane had a good reason for everything she asked of him.

“We learned that Ms. Kelly had been brought here by a family member, and we’re looking for that individual,” a uniformed officer said. “He’s armed and very dangerous. Are you all right, ma’am?”

Diane cringed when the twenty-something officer said “ma’am;” it made her feel so old. “I’m fine, we’re fine,” she answered curtly. “Just so you know, everyone in this house is a detective, so I expect you to treat that ‘individual’ with professional courtesy. Do you understand me?”

The pale young officer looked up at Diane and stammered, “Y...y...y...yes, ma’am.” Diane scowled at the offensive “ma’am” again, and the poor young man looked terribly contrite. Good.

Diane managed to slip away and call John back at the house.

“Anything on that homework I gave you?” Diane whispered to John. She knew he would be discreet.

“Yes,” he whispered, holding the phone close to his mouth and glancing around the squad room to make sure no one overheard him. “They found a young Hispanic floater named Alfonso Siquieros. Some guys from the 22nd made him as a member of the Dominican gang that Kirkendall was involved with. Cause of death is not known, but they didn’t see any outward signs of violence, no defensive wounds, no gunshots. It looked like he threw himself off a bridge all on his own. And guess what else?”

“I’m all ears,” Diane urged him on.