Page 28 of Kill For Me Kill For You
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Mrs. Gelman, that’s what it is. She seems so helpless. I just hope she gets better.’
‘Ruth Gelman is never going to recover. Not fully. Imagine that, being at home, your safe space, and a monster breaks in, mutilates you with a knife . . . I mean, how could you even function again?’
‘I’d function,’ said Hernandez. ‘I’d find the motherfucker and I’d put a bullet between his legs. Then I’d go to work on him.’
‘Not everyone is a psycho like you, Karen.’
‘Don’t knock the psychos. We can be useful.’
‘Would you really do that? If you found the guy, and you knew he was guilty, but you couldn’t prove it? You’d take him out?’ said Farrow.
Hernandez sighed, pulled into the next lane to get around a cab and hit the accelerator.
‘Is that an on-the-record question?’ she asked.
‘You’re not talking to Internal Affairs, here. Come on, we’re partners. You can tell me.’
‘Then, off the record, hypothetically, yeah. If I was sure it was the guy and we couldn’t prosecute him, there’s no chance I’m going to let him go and do that to somebody else.’
‘So you’re saying if we found Mr. Blue-eyes, but we couldn’t make a case against him you would put him down?’
‘Damn right I’d put him down. With a smile on my face while I squeezed the trigger.’
They fell silent for a time, and the sounds of the city buffeted the car as they rolled east.
‘What about you?’ asked Hernandez.
‘What about me? You want to know if I’d do it?’
‘Sure.’
Farrow gazed out the window. On the sidewalk, two homeless guys were fighting over a cardboard box. Each of them had an end, and they were ripping it apart in the process. With each rip, their remonstrations and anger grew.
‘Are you talking about Mr. Blue-eyes here? Or are you really talking about Wallace Crone?’
‘Either one,’ said Hernandez.
‘I’ve already asked myself that question,’ he said. ‘I still don’t know the answer.’
13
Amanda
They were two cocktails down, working their way through the menu with a Negroni in the shaker, when Amanda started to move the conversation around.
‘You know he’s suing me for harassment, right?’
‘The guy who killed your daughter, Crone?’ asked Wendy.
‘Yeah, son of a bitch.’
Wendy hit the outdoor heater again and lit up a cigarette. The bar was on the rooftop of the Pod 39 hotel on 39thStreet. It was cold, but the heater was surprisingly powerful. Amanda had to take off her coat at the table.
‘That’s awful. Why is he suing you? What did you do? Something bad, I hope.’
‘I was following him. Watching his movements, where he ate, where he slept and who with? At first, I thought I might find out something. Something that could help with Jess’s case, you know? But I never did. Then I had another idea.’
