Play@YSDC

Esposito is practically stomping holes in the sidewalk by the time he arrives at Bay Street. He turns left and keeps marching. His determination must shine from his face, because three youths loitering on the corner hurriedly cross the street to get out of his way. On all sides, he sees the cult symbol, chalked on the pavement, embroidered onto window shades, painted on banners that hang from fire escapes above the street, on placards inside shop windows.

He's into the second block when a woman approaches him with wild eyes and matted hair. She ignores his scowl, grabbing his hand and kissing it. Her filthy clothes and sour odor make it apparent that she's been living on the streets.

"Detec-a-tive Esposito, Dios le bendice y protege. You don' 'member me, but I 'member you. You was lookin' for my bebé, my Anna. Dios le bendice. You gots'a be careful here. Dey 'member you too an'a dey kill'a you if-a dey can.

"Cops no a'welcome in'a Red'a Hook. Dey say cops'a get'a wha’sa comin' to dem soon. Big festival a'come soon. Dis week, nex' week, I dunno. Festival times ver' bad in'a Red'a Hook. Missin'a ninos an'a fires in da night. Da church on Visitation Street issa haunt' again. You stay 'way from it."

"Kill me? Let 'em try. We'll see about who's welcome in Red Hook, and who gets what's coming to them. New York is my city, and Red Hook's part of it."

I give the old crone whatever change is in my pocket. (Hope I have enough for the train back uptown.)

"Here. You find yourself someplace warm. Looks like it's gonna get cold tonight."

"Bless'a you, Detective Esposito." She hurries off down the street.

Down the block, a red coupe drives across the intersection of Clinton and Bay, heading north along Clinton.

I run to the intersection, hoping to get a good look at the plate. If it's Marlene Hirt's car... I'll go after them if they're within reach, otherwise find a callbox and phone it in.

I hate Red Hook.

Franky gets to the end of the block and practically runs into a uniformed cop.

"Take it easy greasy," says the cop putting his hands on Esposito's shoulders, "You gotta long way to slide." He starts pushing Franky toward the wall of Cheng's Restaurant he just came out of, "Now let's start with why --" over his shoulder Franky sees the coupe turning left on Lorraine.

"Take it easy, yerself there, Jerry. Look who it is yer shovin," comes the voice of another cop coming out of Cheng's behind Jerry, "It's Franky Esposito his own self. How ya been, Franky?"

In a moment, Esposito recognizes Jerry O’Donogh and Pat Corydon, two stalwarts from the Butler Street Station, still patrolmen despite the several years since he's seen them.

I ignore the two for the moment and turn to get the best look I can at the coupe. Could it be Hirt's? Can I get a decent look at the driver?

"Either of you guys get a look at that red coupe? I've got an APB out on one just like that. Two missing persons and more." ...double take... "Jerry O'Donogh? And Pat Corydon, big as life! Good to see you two still keeping your thumbs on this neighborhood. How the hell are ya?"

It was definitely a red coupe, probably a Ford, and maybe some front end damage. Looked like a guy driving it.

"I was still inside, settlin' th' tab," says Pat.

"I caught a glimpse as it went past th' winder," says Jerry, "An' I thot I remembered somethin' 'bout a red coupe."

"Two missin' is it? We'll be sure to keep an eye peeled, Pat says solemnly, "And what's th' 'and more' about?"

"Ah, we've been grand, Franky, just grand. Pat's a grandfather now, y'know."

"It's true. An' this lug'll be married this time next month. Can ya believe it now?"

"Well, saints preserve us. Who's the unlucky girl?" I give Jerry a slap on the back.

"Grandfather, huh? Hardly seems possible, Pat. Amazing how it flies by, ain't it?"

I don't want to break the mood, so I shoot the breeze with them for a bit. I can't just let it go, though.

"So, I'm hearing some bad things going on in these parts again. You guys hear anything?"

Corydon steps in close so he can keep his voice very low, "That dance hall on Visitation's opened up again."

"Yeh," mutters O'Donough, "New owners, but the same old faces in the crowd. No kids missin' ...yet."

Franky realizes it's after five and it'll be getting dark soon.

"Heard that. The locals are pretty nervous."

I let that hang in the air for a while, watching the last rays of sun retreat from Red Hook, almost as if the sun itself is afraid of this place. It's been a long time since I've been on these streets after dark. Not nearly long enough.

"I need to get moving. You guys be careful out there. And keep in touch. I'm pretty sure that the person I'm looking for is involved in all the stuff goin on on Visitation. You see that red coupe you let me know about, ya hear?"

"If the coupe has anythin' to do with Visitation, it'll likely be there t'morra night. If we spot it, we'll get in touch," says Corydon.

"Yeh," Jerry says, "You be careful, Franky."

Jerry and Pat share a look.

"It's Wednesday, Franky," says Jerry.

Pat nods, "That was always their night to howl."

Both men cross themselves.

"Oh, right. It's, uh, been a few years."

Yes, yes it has. Good years, mostly. Years, at least, where nobody got ripped in half by a, a...

"Reckon maybe I'll pay a little visit tomorrow night, then. See if our red coupe is taking part in the festivities. Thanks for your help, guys. I owe you a beer."

Time to get out of here, to get back to someplace normal.