And that word, “this,” was intentional, because it signified that Pulaski knew the lunch was about something other than lunch and he was impatient to hear what.
The detective got it and pushed the corpse of the muffin away, a surprising gesture; food — especially pastries — were meant to be finished in Lon Sellitto’s world. His eyes were suddenly evasive.
“Okay. Here’s the thing... You know, things happen sometimes.”
Pulaski nodded, not so much in agreement with the detective’s pretty much meaningless comment, but solely to encourage the man to get to the point.
“Nothing really lasts forever.” This pronouncement was equally solemn.
And ambiguous.
What was this about? Pulaski was suddenly alarmed. Sellitto wasn’t getting divorced, because he and Rachel weren’t married. They could be breaking up, but the detective and he weren’t so close they’d talk about it.
Anything else he might be talking about? Retiring? Couldn’t imagine that. Sellitto as a security guard? Fishing? Playing bocce? Ha!
“You know we got the biggest crime scene operation in the country, after the Bureau?”
“Sure.”
“Only, we got something that makes it special. It’s Lincoln that sets us apart. And I don’t just mean he’s sharp. Naw, it’s that he’s independent. No politics, no squabbling, no game playing. He runs a case, gets the evidence, presents the evidence, and not a single goddamn other thing matters.”
Pulaski felt his heart beating faster than it had a moment ago.
“We gotta keep that... What would you call it? That
“Detective?”
Yes, there was bomb maker Tarr to catch and there was a crane killer to stop. But mostly Pulaski needed the man to spit out what he was afraid was coming next.
Maybe the man detected the concern in his eyes. “This isn’t about anything more than a question. There’s nothing I know, okay? But... If anything was to happen to Lincoln, could you take over?”
“What do you know?”
“Nothing. I mean it. All, what do you say, hypothetical.”
“He’s not sick?”
“Naw, what I said — nothing I’ve heard. It’s just we want to know we can maintain what he’s got going. This’s been talked about upstairs. We’ve looked at your record, your reports, your wins.”
A pause. “I had that... thing. A few years ago.”
“We know about it.”
He said nothing more about the subject.
Which Ron Pulaski thought about at least once a day.
Then Sellitto was on to pitching his case again.
“You think like Lincoln, you act like him.” A faint laugh. “And you’re not a prick.”
Which might have been comparing him to some individuals in the NYPD — but definitely was comparing him to Lincoln Rhyme, who, occasionally, was.
Pulaski: “Lincoln’s a civilian. I don’t want to quit.”
“Naw, you’ll be blue. Payroll, benees, everything. It’s just you’ll have, what’s the word? Autonomy. Completely independent. Like him. You keep your rank.” He scowled. “And can get your gold. If you ever schedule the damn test.”
“Been meaning to.” He had always wanted to be a detective, but studying for the test took time he rarely had.
“You’ll keep your years in, everything.”
Tally swooped in with the coffee. Sellitto shook his head. Pulaski did as well. And like a skipping stone, she was on to other patrons.
After a moment, Sellitto said, “You thinking this is going on behind his back, Linc’s? No. It was him brought it up.”
“He did?” Almost a whisper. “What about Amelia?”
A pause. “Her too. We all talked about it.”
“Why wouldn’t she take over?”
“Not her thing. She walks the grid great; you know that. You’d want her with you in a firefight or a high-speed chase. We want a thinking cop. Subway stations and blue fibers and DAS and red sedans. All right, I said my piece.” He frowned. “Is it p-i-e-c-e or p-e-a-c-e?”
“No clue.”
“Do you care?”
Pulaski shrugged. “Not unless some terrorist wrote it in a manifesto and it’ll help nail his ass.”
Sellitto gave a big smile, as rare for him as leaving a half-eaten muffin.
He waved for the check and he paid.
The men stepped outside and Pulaski looked up. No birds in phalanxes or other formations. Just a few solitary pigeons and a lone gull.
After a moment, Pulaski turned. “Don’t like to think about anything happening to Lincoln, Lieutenant. But if it does, or he retires, or whatever, yeah, I’m in.”
Then something happened that had not occurred in all the years the men had known each other. Sellitto stuck out his paw of a hand and gripped Pulaski’s, and they shook firmly.
“Why don’t we make it ‘Lon’ at this point.”
The thing soared above her and she thought: Reminds me of something. What?
From years ago. When I was a kid.
At a fast glance, the crane resembled a creature from one of those Transformers movies. But it wasn’t that. She wasn’t much of a moviegoer. Something else.
A huge American flag was attached to the crosspiece, two hundred feet up, and it flapped madly, snapping and fluttering.
She frowned. Was the whole boom thing swinging back and forth?
Yes.
Interesting.
