Page 29 of Crosshairs

Trilling hit her with a series of decent questions. He was trying to find a connection between her husband and anyone else on the case. I liked the way he was thinking. It was the first time I had seen his natural investigative sense.

I heard two cars screech to a stop in front of the house. Then heavy footsteps on the porch. The front door burst open. Four men, all in their thirties, and all of a decent size, rushed into the room.

I looked up and said, “You must be Louise’s brothers.”

The tallest one, still in his FDNY uniform, growled, “And if you upset our sister …”

Louise said, “They’re asking about Tommy’s vices. Making it sound like it was his fault he got shot.”

One of the brothers was dressed in a mechanic’s uniform with grease smeared across the front and the nameLIAMon an embroidered name tag.

I stared at the man, who looked like he was unpleasant in the best of times. “You’re not a firefighter like your brothers?”

“Eat shit.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re too eloquent for the FDNY.”

Maybe I should have left the juvenile comments for another time.

The mechanic growled, “We’re gonna fuck you up.”

CHAPTER 36

I’D NEVER HAD anything like this happen at avictim’shome. I certainly didn’t want this interview to turn ugly. That didn’t change the fact that I was standing in the living room of Louise Bannon’s house, facing her four brothers, who looked like they were ready to make a physical statement.

The tallest brother, the one in uniform, turned his hips. He looked like he knew how to punch. The two other brothers, presumably the other firefighters now off duty, were heavier and built more like wrestlers. They squared off against Rob Trilling.

The brother in the mechanic’s uniform cracked his knuckles as he stared at me.

I said in an even voice, “Don’t let this get out of hand, fellas.”

The brother in uniform said, “Why not? If the NYPD takes as long to investigate this as it has my brother-in-law’s murder, I’llbe an old man before anyone comes for me. Maybe it’s time you arrogant cops feel a little of the pain the rest of us put up with.”

I stole a quick glance over at Trilling. He didn’t look concerned. Then again, he never did. One of the brothers facing him said, “I kicked a cop’s ass a few years ago.”

Trilling smiled and said, “Oh, I doubt that.” It took a moment for that dig to sink in. The tubby off-duty firefighter dropped lower, like a defensive lineman ready to knock down a quarterback.

The two brothers facing me took their cue. The tall one in uniform threw a wild roundhouse swing at my head. I juked to the side and then planted a good left directly in his solar plexus. It was the best punch I’d thrown in years. All the air went out of him as he sank down to his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Both of the brothers facing Trilling lunged at him at the same time. Trilling seemed to barely move. He guided one brother into the other, then stepped to the side. It took them both a moment to clear their heads, then, incredibly, they lunged at him exactly the same way.

This time Trilling let one pass him completely, then struck the other brother in the head with his elbow. When the first brother turned to charge him again, Trilling delivered a perfect side kick, right in his lower ribs. The brother bounced off a floral couch that had seen better days and tumbled onto the hardwood floor.

The mechanic charged me with his head down. All I did was bring my knee up as hard as I could, and I caught him right in the face. He stumbled and fell on the floor with a whimper.

Now both Trilling and I backed toward the door. Louise Bannon stood in an archway, staring at her four brothers sprawled across her living room. She cut her eyes to me and said, “I guess they went a little overboard.”

I said, “What should we do about it? They assaulted us.”

The tall brother had started to catch his breath and come up off his knees. He was clearly the smartest of the group. I suspected he was probably the oldest brother, and the spokesperson. He said, “We’re frustrated. We don’t hear nothing about Tommy’s murder. Then two cops we don’t know just show up out of the blue and start interrogating our sister about his life. Maybe we did get a little carried away.”

I thought about it for a moment. I didn’t like the idea of hitting these guys with an assault charge. At the very least, a couple of them would lose their jobs. I had everyone’s attention as they stared at me.

I said, “If we go by old-school rules, I can let this slide.”

The mechanic, using his bare hands to try and stop the blood pouring out of his nose, said, “What kind of old-school rules?”

“If no one has to go to the hospital, no one has to go to jail.”