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In Lieu Of

Stephen Tillman

    Detective Maria Alvarez, using a key she’d lifted, copied, and replaced from her husband’s key ring, let herself into a small, two-story house. She silently made her way up the stairs to the master bedroom, and began making a video of the couple having sex. While recording she noticed the trench coat on the floor. She’d given it to him years ago. He wears it everywhere, she thought. Even when he’s cheating on me.
    The woman reached orgasm and cried, “Oh God!”
    Her partner collapsed on top of her. Both lay gasping for breath. Suddenly the woman noticed Maria. She shrieked and yelled, “Who the hell are you? Get outta my house!”
    Startled, the man rolled off her. Maria continued to record them, both showing full frontal nudity. “Hey Joe,” Maria said, stepping into the light. “Having a little afternoon delight? How are you, Emelie? Think Frank would like this video?”
    “Gimme that goddamn phone, Maria,” Emelie shouted as she rose from the bed. “I’ll shove it up your skinny little ass!”
    Joe Alvarez grasped Emelie’s arm. “Let go of me!” Emelie said through clenched teeth. She struggled to pull away. “Don’t tell me you’re still watching out for your dear little wife?”
    “It isn’t her I’m protecting,” he said, tightening his grip. “It’s you!”
    “Me!” Emelie hollered. “I work out every day! I’ll kick her butt! I’m bigger than she is!”
    “Fatter anyway,” Maria said.
    Emelie’s anger increased. “Stop holding me, Joe! I’ll teach that bitch a lesson!”
    “Trust me on this, Emelie,” Joe said. He wrapped both arms around her. “If you get into a fight with Maria, you’ll lose. See the smile on her face? She wants you to attack her. She’s trying to goad you into it. I wouldn’t want to fight her. I’ve seen her take down men bigger than me.”
    “Well arrest her for breaking and entering! You’re a cop!”
    “I didn’t break and enter,” Maria said. “I have a key.”
    “Then arrest her for trespassing!”
    “You’re screwing my husband,” Maria said, calmly. “Adultery is a crime in New York. Joe, arrest her. Of course then you’ll have to arrest yourself.”
    “Emelie, shut up and cover yourself!” Joe bellowed. Emelie looked down, gave a little squeal, and pulled the sheet up over her breasts. Turning to Maria and speaking in a more conciliatory tone, Joe said, “Maria, turn the camera off. Let’s discuss this as reasonable adults. What do you plan to do with that?”
    “This shows the two of you having sex,” Maria said as she pressed buttons on her phone. “I suppose I could post it on YouTube. Maybe eventually I’ll do that, but for now I plan to turn it over to Marsha Grunston.”
    “Oh my God!” Emelie exclaimed.
    “Who’s Marsha Grunston?” Joe asked.
    “A divorce lawyer,” a chastened Emelie replied. “She’s a barracuda! One of my friends used her and took her ex for everything he owned. If Frank sees that recording I’m going to need a shyster myself, and you’ll be looking for a new job. Take that phone away from her!”
    “Even if Joe were able to take the phone, Emelie,” Maria said with a mirthless laugh, “It’d be too late. I’ve just finished emailing the file to Marsha. She’ll get a lot of mileage out of the fact that the husband of the woman Joe is banging happens to be the captain of his precinct and his boss.”
    “Maria, before either of us does anything irrevocable, can we at least talk this over just between the two of us?” Joe pleaded.
    “You’ve already done something irrevocable,” Maria retorted. “But okay, I’ll meet you at Duffy’s in fifteen minutes. There is something we have to discuss. You really need to lose a few pounds, Emelie. Maybe you should work out a little harder.”

***

    Twenty minutes later Joe showed up at Duffy’s Tavern. His wife was sitting in a booth. In front of her was a glass of club soda. He knew it was a bad sign when she wouldn’t drink with him. A waitress appeared just as he sat. He ordered a beer.
    “Is there any way we can put this behind us?” Joe asked. “Chalk it up to a mistake I made?”
    “Too late for that, Joe. Anyway there’s a bigger issue right now.”
    “What?”
    “First and foremost, get your mother out of my house. Our marriage is over. We’ll discuss custody arrangements later, but first Mama goes.”
    “Why do you say the marriage is over? Plenty of couples go through rough spots and reconcile.”
    “This is a bit more than a rough spot. You’ve been doing Emelie for a while. If you were unhappy with me, you should’ve at least had the balls to come to me and talk it over.”
    “Okay, I was wrong. I agree we should have a trial separation. But we shouldn’t jump right to divorce. Just because you and I are having problems, why should my mother have to leave? Who would watch the kids while you work? You’re gone a lot.”
    “For the short run, my sister said she’d fly in and watch them.”
    “Gina’s a complete flake. You’d rather she take care of the kids than their grandmother?”
    “Gina’s a little unconventional, but she’s reliable and the kids like her. She won’t undermine me the way your mother does. In the meantime, I’ll be looking for a full-time nanny.”
    “I don’t want a stranger raising my kids!”
    “You should’ve thought of that before you started boinking your boss’s wife,” Maria said as she slammed her hand down on the table, almost spilling their drinks. “I want your mother gone tomorrow! Assuming that happens, we can discuss your visitation rights on Monday.”
    “Be reasonable, Maria,” Joe said plaintively. “I can’t find a place for her that quickly. How about by Monday?”
    “Sunday morning,” Maria said, partially relenting. “Gina won’t be able to get here until Saturday evening anyway. But I’m not leaving that old bat alone with the kids for a second. If she’s not gone by then, I swear I’ll physically throw her out on her ass.”
    “You’re bluffing!”
    “The hell I am!”
    “Okay, okay, I’ll have her out Sunday.”
    “By noon at the latest!” Maria said as she rose from her seat.

***

    At 8:00 AM on Sunday morning a town of Brindell patrol car set out for New York City. The driver was Officer Robert Callahan. Riding next to him was NYPD detective Saul Cohen. In the back were Detective Sergeant Jessica Osborn and prisoner Albert Carlucci. Callahan and Osborn were members of the Brindell police force. Carlucci was wearing handcuffs and leg irons. He’d agreed to turn state’s evidence. The plan was to take him to a safe-house on the upper west side of New York. Two NYPD detectives would meet them, escort Carlucci to an apartment, and fit him with an ankle monitor.
    “What route are you planning?” Cohen asked Callahan. Callahan described the route. Cohen handed him a printed sheet. “Take this one instead.”
    “That’ll take an hour longer,” Callahan protested, glancing at the sheet. “It goes through Jersey and the Lincoln Tunnel.”
    “You’re right,” Cohen agreed. “Your route is the logical one. The mob guys know that. That’s why we should take this one. It’s much less likely they’d be able to set up an ambush.”
    “Ambush? What the hell is going on?” Carlucci asked.
    “Do you think they have an informant inside our department?” Osborn indignantly asked, ignoring Carlucci.
    “Unlikely,” Cohen replied. “It wouldn’t be necessary. They only need one NYPD cop on the take to provide our expected arrival time and where we’re headed. Undoubtedly, they’ve noted the time we left. They could easily extrapolate our route. Why take chances? I’d rather arrive an hour later than to have to fight through an ambush in the middle of nowhere. I’m keeping an eye out for a tail. So far, I don’t see one. Callahan, you watch for one as well.”
    “I still want to know what’s going on!” Carlucci said in an agitated tone.
    “Sergeant, what do I do?” Callahan asked.
    “Take Cohen’s suggestion,” Osborn said. “Better safe than sorry. We’ll all have to be extra vigilant once we’re through the tunnel.”
    “You think they might attack us on the streets of Manhattan?” Callahan asked.
    “The mob is unpredictable,” Cohen said. “They could attack anywhere. They won’t worry about collateral damage.”
    “Why the hell do we have to worry about an attack?” Carlucci yelled.
    “They want to whack you,” Cohen explained.
    “What!” Carlucci said as color drained from his face. “I’ve always been a standup guy. Up to now anyway.”
    “You’re a ‘loose end,’ Albert,” Cohen stated. “Think about it. Guys like you are a dime a dozen. Why would they take a chance?”
    “I think we have a tail,” Callahan said.
    “Call the state troopers,” Osborn ordered. “Have them head that car off. So far it’s not obvious we plan to take an alternate route.”

***

    “Joseph, why do I have to leave my home?” Carlotta Alvarez whined as her daughter-in-law, her grandkids, and her daughter-in-law’s sister looked on. “You want to leave your children to this puta and her beatnik sister? Be a man! Tell her she is the one who has to leave, and good riddance. I will raise your children the right way.”
    “Please, Mama,” Joe said. “Wait for me in the car. I need to have a few words with Maria. I’ll explain later.”
    “It’s cold outside! You want your mother to sit in the cold?”
    “It’s warm inside the car. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
    Mumbling under her breath, Carlotta left the house carrying a suitcase.
    “Let me speak to Maria privately,” Joe said.
    “Whatever,” Gina said. “I’ll give the kids a snack in the kitchen.”
    “I know why you think we should split,” Joe said after his sister-in-law left. “I made a mistake, but, like I said earlier, I still think we could work something out. In the meantime don’t you think the kids would be better off in the same stable environment in which they’ve been raised? They’re used to having my mother watch them while you put in a twelve-hour day.”
    “Your mother wasn’t such a complete bitch at first,” Maria said with an edge to her voice. “That’s changed. The final straw was Thursday evening. Joey asked me what a whore was. I asked him where he heard that word. He said his grandmother said I was a whore. That was it. She had to go. How can you say something like that to an eight-year-old? I know you love the kids and they love you. I won’t do anything to undermine your relationship with them, but your mother is a different story. Under no circumstances is she to have an unsupervised visit with them.”
    “Mama loves the kids! She wouldn’t do anything to hurt them.”
    “That’s what makes her so dangerous. She doesn’t realize how much she hurts them by totally undercutting their mother. And it’s not just them. If she wasn’t dissing me to you, I doubt you’d be doing the nasty with that slut Emelie. I can’t prevent your mother from spouting her vitriol to you, but I won’t have her doing it to the kids.”
    Joe started to respond when Maria’s cell rang. “It’s my partner. I have to take this.” Into the phone, she said, “Hey, Saul, what’s up?”
    “A car was sent to tail us,” Cohen said. He explained the steps they were taking. He finished by saying, “Once they realize the ambush on the road didn’t work, they might plan to meet us outside the apartment. Two cops will be there, but who knows who’s on somebody’s payroll. It would be good if you were there. Just in case.”
    “I’m on the way,” she said. To her husband, “I have to go. If you want to continue this discussion, come with me.”
    “Fine,” he said. “I’ll drop off Mama at my brother’s place and take you wherever you want.”

***

    “Damn!” Joe said, “Who would’ve expected such a traffic jam on a Sunday morning. We’re gonna be later than you wanted.”
    “Your mother didn’t exactly hustle her rear along,” Maria said as she struggled to put on her vest. “The construction on the 59^th Street Bridge didn’t help.”
    “She doesn’t like staying with my brother. She doesn’t get along with his wife, and they don’t have kids.”
    “Yeah, Megan and I have at least one thing in common,” Maria said, finally securing her vest and putting her jacket back on. “Our mutual mother-in-law.”
    “Do you really think you need that?” Joe asked as they finally crossed to the west side and turned up Tenth Avenue.
    “You’ve been an administrator too long. Put one on yourself.”
    “I won’t need one. I’m just dropping you off.”

***

    Callahan emerged from the Lincoln Tunnel, went over to Tenth Avenue, and headed uptown. Traffic was sparse. It only took about fifteen minutes to reach the address in the nineties. The fact that it was a Sunday and very cold caused the streets to be deserted, an unusual occurrence in Manhattan. Callahan parked on the left side of the street in front of the apartment building.
    Two NYPD detectives were waiting in the vestibule. “It’s about time,” one said as they approached the car. “I’ve had to whiz for the last half-hour. What did you do? Take a wrong turn and head for Buffalo?”
    The two city men joined the others on the passenger side of the car. Callahan leaned in and unlocked the leg restraints. Still in handcuffs, Carlucci exited from the car. As soon as the car door was closed, a hail of bullets came from across the street. One of the NYPD men took shots to his torso. They didn’t penetrate his vest, but they knocked him back where he banged his head against the car. The other was hit in the thigh. Both were out of action. Everyone else dove to the ground. Callahan was unlucky. A shot grazed his head, knocking him unconscious. Osborn gave a grunt of pain, but she and Cohen returned fire.
    Cohen glanced at his companions. Callahan and the other NYPD cops were out of it. Osborn was bleeding from a wound to her calf. Oh, crap! he thought. We’re screwed!

***

    “Every other weekend!” Joe Alvarez exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding. C’mon, be reasonable. The kids need a father figure.”
    “That’s what it’ll be unless you promise to never leave them alone with your mother. You agree to that, in court, and we’ll discuss more frequent visitations. Maybe shared custody. Oh my God! What’s going on up there?”
    Ahead they saw four men firing submachine guns and advancing on people who were on the ground next to a Brindell patrol car. Joe halted the car. Maria jumped out and fired, hitting the man closest to her in the left shoulder. The man spun around. Her next shot took him in the neck.
    Joe also exited the car, his trench coat billowing around him. He held up his badge and yelled, “Police! Drop your guns and raise your hands.”
    The three standing men started shooting at Joe and Maria. Joe went down with a cry. Maria was knocked off her feet.
    Shots from both Cohen and Osborn to the bodies of their attackers had little effect. With their attention momentarily diverted by Maria, Osborn took careful aim, fired, and hit one of the attackers in the head.
    A siren’s wail pierced the air. Another police car skidded around the corner and careened to a stop. Three cops in riot gear jumped out and began firing at the assailants. One of the two remaining attackers went down. The last one dropped his gun and raised his hands.
    Maria got painfully to her feet and hobbled over to Joe. He had a wound on his right side. There were several bullet holes in his trench coat. She took off her jacket and used it to stop the bleeding.
    An NYPD patrol car pulled up behind Joe’s car. A uniformed policewoman jumped out and screamed, “You’re blocking the street, move this car!”
    “This man’s a New York City police lieutenant,” Maria yelled, tears brimming in her eyes. “He’s hurt. Get him to a hospital immediately!”
    The woman helped Maria move Joe to her car, while Maria kept pressure on his wound. The car sped off, siren blaring.
    Maria couldn’t believe how upset she was that Joe took a bullet. She bent down and kissed him on the forehead. He squeezed her hand. Why didn’t you put on a vest, you idiot? she thought. Lucky for you they mostly shot the coat. In lieu of a vest I suppose a trench coat is next best.

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