The
Streets Of New YorkThe
Streets Of New York© Sidney McCabe
Flynn Malone appears again in this chapter and will throughout the rest of the story. I thank my partner in delusion, Lisa R, for lending him to me.
Up on the roof, out on the street
Down in the playground, the hot concrete
Bus ride is too slow
They blast out disco on the radio
Rock Rock Rockaway Beach
* * *
Guy Nickell was on hand the next day when members of the STF arrived, with Flynn Malone and officers of the Arson & Explosion Squad in tow, to once more comb through the remains of Mon Ami. A short, stocky redheaded man with fiery green eyes, Nickell was a powder keg waiting to be struck by the smallest spark. When the STF arrived he immediately let fly with a string of obscenities.
"I don't know just what you expect to find!" he finished, fighting to keep his rage under control. "You've been over this site fifty damn times already. When am I going to get my restaurant back? I have to rebuild this place, and I can't do that with the police constantly in and out of here!"
Nan and Kid exchanged an amused glance, while Lou ignored the man and continued searching at Flynn's side. But Nathan Abramowitz, an STF lieutenant with a patiently condescending expression permanently etched on his face, glanced over at Guy Nickell and rolled his eyes as he addressed him.
"Mr Nickell," he said, "I would think you would be a little more willing to cooperate with the police, seeing as how we're working to catch the guilty party here."
"Sure thing, Officer." Nickell managed to convey heavy, withering sarcasm in those three words. "You're not really here to see if you can gather enough evidence to accuse me of arson," he spat.
Nathan turned to Nan and Kid with one eyebrow raised, causing Nan to burst into chuckles. Then he turned back to Nickell. "And what exactly do you base this hypothesis on, Mr Nickell?"
"The owner is always the obvious suspect."
"It might interest you to know that we are, in fact, looking elsewhere for possible suspects, Mr Nickell," Kid interjected, highly entertained by the man's rantings. It never ceased to amaze him the characters he ran into in this profession. Guy Nickell was already proving to be one of the more interesting. "But you are correct in assuming that we will be further investigating both you and your partner, Ms France."
Guy Nickell paused. His body, which had been in constant motion up till now, suddenly stilled as he examined the three officers in front of him. A wary expression crossed over his face. "You'll be investigating Elizabeth?" he asked slowly.
"As you yourself said, the owner is always the obvious suspect," replied Nan with a wry, crooked smile.
Nickell seemed to suddenly recover from the surprise and his body fell back into quick, edgy motion, waving his arms in the air in disagreement. He shook his head at Nan, saying with a condescending tone that rankled, "You obviously believe the rumours about her involvement with Frankie James."
Right, thought Kid, rumours. The NYPD has built up a file the likes of which hasn't been seen since Al Capone's heyday, but Elizabeth France's involvement with Frankie was only a rumour. He snorted in Nickell's direction, but said nothing, instead turning to watch Lou chatting animatedly with Flynn Malone. She looked better than she had this morning; her complexion had darkened back to its natural rosy shade, but he couldn't shake the worry. This morning she had looked positively green. He studied her profile for a moment until he had reassured himself that she was feeling fine.
When he turned back, Nan was addressing Guy Nickell in a sharp voice. Her arms were folded over her chest, her dark blue eyes alight with challenge. "Mister Nickell," she said, her tone low, "I can assure you that the NYPD intends to conduct this investigation in the most thorough and expedient manner. If that process includes investigating rumours of any illegal doings--be they with Frankie James or the Queen of England--then that is our concern and not yours. If you will please step back and allow my colleagues and me to do our jobs, I think you will find it will benefit you in the end." She nodded curtly and then spun on her heel, heading over to join Lou and Flynn.
Kid made a brief, noncommittal excuse to Nickell, leaving him in Abramowitz's capable hands, and rushed to Nan's side, a grin stretching across his face. He poked her in the side. "All right, Nan? You've got some cheek," he commented with a laugh.
"People who patronise and second-guess the people who are trying to help them, really get on my wick," replied Nan in irritation, Nickell's words still ringing in her ears.
Kid laughed. "So I noticed. It's been a while, but I remember this side of you."
"And what side is that, pray tell?"
"The 'I'm a Detective on a mission and Heaven help all who get in my way' side."
"I didn't know I had that side."
"Ah, yes." Kid scratched his chin, pretending to think hard. "I seem to recall a certain young Detective Constable Kenworthy questioning a certain well-known--and very right-wing--member of Parliament as to her involvement in a Lancashire real estate scam."
Realising just what he was referring to, Nan burst into laughter.
Encouraged by her laughter, Kid said, "And I seem to recall that same member of Parliament finally bursting into tears after that same Detective Constable delivered a choice speech in which she referred to the woman as--" He broke off, a gleam in his eye as he remembered the tall, haughty politician crumbling to dust under Nan's interrogation. "What was it again?"
"'Ah, a morally-reprehensible disgrace to the very people she had pledged to serve'," supplied Nan sheepishly.
"That's it!" Kid exclaimed with a delighted chuckle.
"Well, I can't help it! I just get all fired up and I can't seem to stop myself."
"I know," he assured her. "I like that side of you. It's highly entertaining; besides which, it serves us well in the end."
Nan glanced over at him with a wicked smile. "You've missed me, haven't you, Kidwell?"
"Rubbish."
"You have! You've missed your old mate Nan." Her voice became thick and sweet. She ruffled his curls, knowing he hated it. "Many's the time you've thought to yourself in the last year and a half, 'Cor! If only there were another Nan Kenworthy around to keep things lively’. Don't deny it, Kid, you have, you know you have."
He snorted in mock derision. "If there were another Nan Kenworthy in the world, I think we'd be in a heap of trouble, mate."
They snickered companionably, enjoying the camaraderie they had both missed since Kid had moved away. The two officers had always shared a close friendship, one of affection masked by constant bickering, and it was comfortable to slide back into that role again. Nan had missed Kid far more than she was willing to let on. When he had gone, he had taken a lot of laughter from her life.
"You two don't appear to be working over there!" Rosemary's voice thundered across the floor.
Kid and Nan started like two guilty children. Grumbling, Kid nodded back at her and headed off to the northeast section of the building, with Nan trailing at his side. "Talking of people who get on your wick," he muttered under his breath, throwing Rosemary a dirty look.
"The Wicked Witch of New England riding your nerves, is she?"
"You could say that. She waltzed in here two weeks ago, smug as you please, and decided to take over the team as if Teaspoon weren't still in charge!"
"Not fond of her, eh?"
"Not exactly," he retorted.
"There doesn't seem to be any love lost between her and anyone else, either."
Kid shrugged, peering over the shoulder of an A&E officer as she sifted through the ashes. "Oh, I don't know. She and Anello seem to get on okay."
Nan quickly searched her memory and immediately came up with an image from the previous day: a tall, darkly handsome man shadowing Rosemary throughout the station, glaring at the other men defiantly. "Is Anello the lanky bloke with the beady eyes and the hero complex?" she asked.
Turning back to her, Kid shook his head at Nan, a wry grin plastered on his face. He had missed Nan Kenworthy--more than he had realised. "I see your tongue's as sharp as ever. Yeah, that's him. He's her toady."
Nan made a face of disgust. "There always has to be one, doesn't there?"
"Yeah, and Joe Anello is it. He's a nasty pillock. I'd steer clear of him if I was you, Nan. He'll be running to Rosemary and telling tales before you've had the chance to open your mouth."
"Thanks for the tip." Feeling eyes boring like lasers into her back, Nan stole a quick, casual look over her shoulder and caught Rosemary staring at them both with her lips set in a thin line. "Don't look now, but Frau Burke is watching."
"We'd better split up then," Kid said with a grimace. "We don't want to be giving her a reason to explode. You're already on her list, Nan, and I don't mean the good one."
"Too right," she shot back, and they immediately separated, Kid joining Lou and Flynn as Nan headed for a group of forensic officers. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and determined to work like a maniac for the rest of the day. The gossip with Kid had been enjoyable, but now it was time to do her job, and she was looking forward to it.
Donning the plastic gloves the other officers wore, Nan crouched down alongside two sergeants identified as 'Potter' and 'Walter'. They were sifting carefully through the ashes, their gloved fingers gently moving over the floor. Their breathing was steady and even as they concentrated on their work, pausing only to murmur briefly to one another if any scrap was found along the way. Nan was quiet as she studied them, asking the occasional question and receiving a prompt answer in return. Within minutes she was as engrossed in the charred, blackened floor as Potter and Walter were, and she wasn't thinking of Jimmy or Rosemary, England or New York; she was merely thinking of her job--the job she loved, the job she knew she had been born to do. The familiar rush of adrenaline began to flow through her and 'Inspector Kenworthy' took over.
She had only been in New York three days now, but already she felt she had learned so much. The differences between the New York Police Department and the London Metropolitan Police Force were not as obvious or as large as one might have thought; the differences between the Area Major Incident Team and the Special Task Force were almost nonexistent--but still, there was so much to learn.
It was easy to adjust to the new group, to settle in and find a comfortable niche. Most of the officers were more than willing to help Nan with anything she needed. Already she knew to go to Abbie Narducci for the rules and logistics of the NYPD; to Jonny Murphy for practical things, like research and information; to Miguel Cabrera for guidance when Teaspoon wasn't available. The members of the STF worked together as smoothly and easily as the AMIT, and they had been more than willing to accept Nan's, Noah's, and Ike's arrivals.
The thought caused Nan to smile to herself as she assisted Potter in gathering up the melted remains of a rubber sole. She liked the STF and she was tremendously excited to already be a part of an investigation like the one they had been assigned to. A crime dynasty--a mysterious underworld king--fire, possible arson--It was all like something out of a film. She had worked exciting cases with the AMIT, but none promised as much intrigue as this one had from the start.
The hours passed by far too quickly; before she knew it, Nan was being herded out the door and into a car, seated next to Kid as he drove. The adrenaline began to fade away, leaving her slightly dizzy, with a headache simmering at her temples. She remembered her grandfather telling her once, "You let yourself get too excited, Nan my love, and when it's over you come crashing down." She grinned to herself, picturing the white-haired, white-bearded older man gazing at her with love and concern.
"What are you grinning at, you?" Kid demanded teasingly as he caught the affection suddenly beaming from his friend's face.
"Just thinking of Grandad."
Well-acquainted with the feisty Will Kenworthy, Kid grinned at her reply. "How is the old geezer?"
"Better now. He gave us quite a scare last year, you know."
"I know," Kid sobered as Nan's expression grew serious. "I was glad to hear he was getting better."
"He's nearly one hundred per cent now. He's still going to therapy, but he'll always have a limp. It matches mine a bit," she laughed. "We walk down the road together like two decrepit old people."
"Don't," Kid entreated softly. It was still too painful to remember Nan's horrifying ordeal at the hands of Julian Westward, or even to hear her joke about it. Those long, long, terrible days when they hadn't known where she was, if she was alive or dead, were still too fresh in his mind. He still winced inwardly when his eyes fell upon the white scar that cut across her temple or the healed-over gash in her bottom lip. He could barely hide his discomfort when he watched her walk with that slightly awkward gait, so different from the easy, graceful Nan he had once known. Physical reminders of what Nan had endured were almost worse than the thought of the actual abuse.
"You're as bad as Jimmy," Nan reproached him. She knew Kid too well not to know exactly what was on his mind. She patted his arm reassuringly. "I'm beginning to think you're the ones who should have talked to the psychiatrist, not me."
His mouth twisted as he sighed. "You just don't know, Nan...what it was like for us. Not knowing--not knowing anything."
Nan reached out a hand, squeezing her friend's shoulder as he maneuvered them through the Manhattan streets. "I know, Kid," she said comfortingly, but inwardly she sighed in frustration. A year and a half now, and Jimmy still couldn't stop beating himself up over what he thought he should have known about those terrible days. Now it seemed Kid harboured those same thoughts. It was as if it was easier for them both to concentrate on their own regrets than to contemplate exactly how horrific it had been for her. "It was a long time ago," she added in a soft voice.
"Not that long, Nan," admonished Kid.
"Long enough," she said insistently. "If there's one thing I learned from Dr Denniff, it's that there's no point worrying about anything other than the here and now."
"He's a wise man."
"She's a wise woman," she corrected him. "Anyhow, Kid, how did this conversation get to be about me?"
Relief flooded through him as the subject returned to safe territory. "I don't know," he said, playing along, "I thought everything always had to be about you."
"Hardy har har. So, how are things with you and the lovely Louise?"
He glanced at her quickly out of the corner of his eye. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing, but...why is she riding with Flynn Malone and the squad guys instead of you?"
"Why not?" Kid squirmed uncomfortably behind the driver's wheel. Leave it to Nan to zero in on something he was trying to avoid thinking about.
"I don't know." She shrugged. "I mean, Flynn's a lovely bloke, but...I thought you and she were joined at the hip."
"They're old mates, that's all; they're catching up. They only met up again yesterday. They lost touch after Flynn got married."
"Okay, okay, don't get defensive on me." Nan's eyes widened as she sensed the undercurrent of tension in Kid's voice. "I wasn't implying anything, I was just asking. I forgot you can be so tetchy sometimes."
"Sorry, Nan...sorry. Just, um, stress, I guess. Lou's not been feeling well."
"Oh. Well, me either, now that you mention it. I feel all out of sorts when I get up in the mornings now; takes me forever to get out of bed, and then I feel all tired and achy. Jimmy reckons it's the jet lag."
"Could be. The first few weeks over here did me in, I know that."
"So long as I get over it. I can't do my job very well if I'm feeling poorly all the time. God knows Frau Burke would love to report on me about something."
"Well, you didn't exactly start off on the right foot, Nan," Kid laughed.
"Tell me how I could have!" She was indignant. "I don't understand that woman. She casts Jimmy aside like a used hanky, but five years later she decides to act like a jealous old lover. She makes no sense."
"She doesn't have to, Nan. You're invading her territory--Jimmy, New York, the STF, all of it. Makes sense enough for her."
"That's rich. She insinuates that Jimmy and I shouldn't be working together, yet she hasn't a word to say about you and Louise? Not that I wish you any trouble, Kid," Nan hastened to add, "but that's bollocks. That's a double standard!"
"I don't think Rosemary Burke much cares, Nan."
"Well, it's not very professional of her. Emma would never let her personal feelings affect how she treated one of her officers," she sniffed.
"The only thing those two have in common is that they're both women and they're both police officers. Beyond that, Rosemary Burke and Emma Shannon are polar opposites. The sooner you learn that, Nan, the better off you'll be."
"Are you trying to scare me off?" Nan asked, only half-joking.
"I'm trying to warn you," replied Kid, no hint of a smile on his face. She could see plainly that he was deadly serious. "Five minutes with the woman and I knew her true colours. She's out to get you, Nan, make no mistake. You've got to be careful."
"Oh really?" A mischievous glint suddenly shone in Nan's eyes and her lips curled into a fiendish grin. Kid knew that look. Stronger men than he had learned to fear that look.
He groaned as he made a turn onto Broadmoor Street. "Nan, don't!"
"Don't what?" she asked in mock innocence.
"Don't get that look in your eyes. It only means trouble."
"There there, Kid," Nan assured him, clucking like a mother hen, "you've nothing to be worried about. This doesn't concern you. This is between me and Frau Burke."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
The two friends exchanged a glance--Kid's expression fraught with worry, Nan's delightfully wicked. They continued on through the Manhattan streets in silence, both musing that no matter how much time passed, some things never changed.
The NYPD had rented a small one-bedroom apartment for Nan and Jimmy during their stay in New York. It was tastefully-decorated and located a mere half-mile from the precinct, but it was far less spacious than their London flat, and they found it difficult to keep from bumping into each other. And there were other adjustments to be made as well.
At first looking out the window gave Nan a nasty shock when she found herself encountering the imposing Manhattan skyline instead of the gentle sweep of London's old buildings. She sometimes forgot to look in the right direction when crossing the street and had encountered many rude hand gestures from drivers as a result. None of the nearby shops carried her favourite magazine, ‘Hello!’, and she couldn't find Dairy Milk brand chocolate to save her life.
As for Jimmy, he learned the hard way that you can't go home again; the corner shop by his old apartment had shut down and the building he had lived in had been razed last summer to make way for a new row of markets and specialty shops. His old locker at headquarters had been taken over by Jonny Murphy, and the sea of new faces in the STF was enough to make him feel suddenly old and out of touch.
But by the end of the first week they both slowly began to reconcile themselves to their surroundings. Nan discovered the wonders of Central Park and learned that New Yorkers were a lot like Londoners, a bit more guarded perhaps, but once you got them talking they were friendly and interesting without fail. For his part, Jimmy remembered what it was to be a New Yorker, and found himself slipping easily back into life there, the hectic hustle and bustle like electricity in his veins.
The days were spent researching Frankie and Elizabeth, digging deeper and deeper into their collective past. Their accomplishments were impressive, especially for two people so young, though it was nearly impossible to say just how young they were. Frankie's mythic status made the investigation especially difficult, for every supposed 'witness' had a different version of events, a different set of facts for Frankie's background. Documents were pulled from every conceivable source, statements from his accomplices were brought out in stacks and placed around the team room, every officer soon made a habit of picking up a file and perusing it, making mental notes that might come in useful later on.
"Well, no matter how old he is," Nan said to Jimmy one night as they sat around their kitchen table, "he did a hell of a lot in just a few short years." She passed the file she had been reading over to him and tapped a particular paragraph on a statement that had been given by a petty thief named Arnold Brachmeier more than three years ago. "One minute he's nicking cars and the next he's got himself a drug trafficking empire. Look at this, Jimmy, it's impressive."
"I know."
"Oh, do you?"
Jimmy tossed aside the file and rubbed his eyes, yawning. "I've been studying the man for six years, Nan, there's not a whole lot I *don't* know about him."
"My, my, aren't we sure of ourselves." Her eyes glittered tauntingly.
"Test me," he dared her.
"Age."
"Reports range from early 30s to mid 40s, but both the FBI and the NYPD suspect he's no more than 34 years old."
"Number of arrests?"
"Three. Once in 1987 for breaking and entering, once in 1988 for grand theft auto, once in 1990 for drug possession. All charges were dropped."
"And since then?"
"Not so much as a parking ticket."
"Does he have an attorney?"
Jimmy nodded grimly. "Daniel Busenberg. He keeps him on retainer."
"And Daniel Busenberg is most famous for?"
"Representing Bruno 'Aces' Gigliotti in the 1997 trial for the murder of Gigliotti's mistress and her lover."
"And what was the outcome?"
"Gigliotti was acquitted, the bastard," Jimmy muttered darkly.
"Very good so far. Okay, number of James's known accomplices."
"Two--Wesley Kuhlman, died 1996, and Elizabeth Eloise France, currently residing Greenwich Village, New York."
"And what is the most prominent rumour regarding Ms France?"
"That she and Frankie were lovers prior to their..." Jimmy snorted, "business arrangement."
"Very impressive." There was a pause and Nan batted her lashes flirtatiously. "Why, I'm all aflutter, Inspector. Were you hiding that brilliant brain under your pretty brown hair all this time?"
"What have I told you about calling me 'pretty'?" Jimmy's eyes narrowed playfully as he advanced toward her.
"That you love it and want me to up the ante and call you 'beautiful'," Nan replied seriously.
Jimmy moved closer, rising from his seat and placing his hands on the arms of her chair. The mood in the room had suddenly changed from brisk and businesslike to something altogether friendlier. "What was that?"
Reaching out, she ran a hand through his thick hair, her eyes bright with mischief. "You're just lovely, Jimmy, and that green shirt of yours brings out the emerald in your eyes."
"Very funny, Inspector." Without another word, Jimmy ducked his head and began feathering kisses along Nan's neck, inhaling her clean scent, a smile forming on his lips.
Her arms stole up and around his neck and she murmured his name softly. She sighed in contentment, her body relaxing for the first time since they had arrived in New York. Between the jet lag and her tired, achy mornings, she was beginning to wonder if she would ever feel like her old self again. "Mmm, that's nice," she whispered in his ear.
"Very nice," he said, his grin spreading across her neck.
It was at that completely inopportune moment that the phone began to ring shrilly. Jimmy and Nan both jumped as if they had been caught in the act. They stared at the table where the telephone rested, strands of Nan's hair plastered across Jimmy's face, their arms still around each other.
"We should answer that," he finally said.
Disappointment flooded her face. "Do we have to?"
"I'm flattered that you'd rather not," he said as the phone shrieked again, "but we really should."
Nan sighed. "Well, if we must..." She released him then and reached over, picking up the receiver. "Hello?...Oh, hi!" She mouthed 'It's Grandad'. "Yes, he's here as well...Well, I can just hand him the phone when I'm done if that's...Yes, I'll put him on the other line. Yes, okay, Grandad..." She motioned Jimmy into the bedroom where the other phone was and after a moment she heard a click, and then his voice.
"How are you, Will?"
"Jimmy, hello." Grandad sounded tired and worn-out and suddenly very, very old. "I wondered if I could have a word?"
"Of course," answered Nan. "Grandad, what is it?"
There was a muted sigh and silence on the line for several moments. Then Will said, "It's...it's Paul."
Nan's mind immediately flashed to her wayward, headstrong, absolutely impossible seventeen-year-old cousin. In the past year alone he'd dyed his beautiful blonde hair a rancid green, pierced his eyebrow, taken up smoking, and stayed out till at least 4 a.m. nearly every night. He was beginning to wear her uncle and grandfather thin. "What's he done now?" she asked after another pause. Jimmy had joined her in the living room with the cordless phone and they gazed at each other as they listened.
"I just can't...I just can't handle him anymore, Nan; he's too much for me. I--I can't handle him," Will's voice broke on the last word and he was quiet again.
"Oh, Grandad..." whispered Nan helplessly.
Will cleared his throat. "No, no, it's all right, it's all right. I'm fine. Only...he's getting himself into some real trouble, you know. It's not just hanging about with the wrong people; he's gotten into fights lately. He comes home with black eyes and bloody noses at least once a week--his face is starting to look like a patchwork quilt. And he's..." the next few words were delivered almost in a monotone, as if Will hardly had the energy to muster up frustration, "I think he's begun taking things."
"Taking things?" Nan repeated in a disbelieving echo.
"Things," Will said again, and they could practically hear him nodding frantically. "From the shops, we think. He comes home wearing new clothes--clothes he couldn't possibly afford on what Jamie and I give him every week. And Jamie found a brand new wristwatch in his trousers the other day while he was doing the laundry. Just...things," he finished lamely.
"Grandad, how long has this been going on?"
"Well, you know he's been giving us trouble for a while. It wasn't until--until the," Will fumbled for the right words, "after what happened to you, after what that man did to you, Nan, Paulie seemed a bit more subdued. He was easier to handle. He didn't give us a spot of trouble for months, but then...I suppose it was sometime around my--my stroke. He just began acting up again; worse this time. Well, you saw what he did to his hair." Her grandfather clucked in irritation.
"Will, is there--I mean, is there a reason you're calling us now?" Jimmy asked gently.
"Jamie got a phone call from the guidance counselor at Paulie's school; Paulie's been playing truant for the past week. Turns out it's the fourth entire week he's missed since school began, not to mention the various days he's skipped out on in between."
"That little..." muttered Nan under her breath. "Go on, Grandad, what happened?"
"Well, he didn't come home till four in the morning, of course, but Jamie and I waited up for him. We--we had words."
Jimmy and Nan both winced. "Was it bad, Grandad?"
"He's run off. He gave us the usual teenage bollocks, said we were ruining his life, trying to turn him into an old man like us, and he packed a bag and left." Will exhaled slowly. "Oh, he'll be back, I know he will. Things are too good for him here. But the thing is--he's driving us round the bend, love. We can't do this anymore. We're too old, too tired, too--too everything."
Looking over at her, Jimmy saw that Nan's face had fallen and she seemed to be blinking back tears. He knew how much she adored her capricious cousin, despite his stubborn nature, and that she was devastated to learn just how troublesome he'd become. The very first time Jimmy had met her, she'd ordered a taxi to a halt in the midst of busy London traffic in order to leap out and throw her arms around the boy. She had always lavished love and affection upon him, indulging him when necessary but never afraid to yank him by the scruff of his neck when the situation called for it.
He reached out now and began rubbing the back of her neck, easing away the tension, silently communicating that it would all be okay as Will continued to speak.
"I've a favour to ask of you, love," Will was saying.
Jimmy's gaze met Nan's again. Somehow they both knew what to expect.
"You know Paulie worships you, and he's very fond of Jimmy, and it’s his summer holidays now--"
"Grandad," interrupted Nan, "you can't possibly think--" She stopped, stammering over her words, "What about Travis and Joan? They're his parents, Grandad!"
"Yes, and you know Paulie wants nothing to do with them," Will reminded her in a firm voice Jimmy had rarely heard him use. "Nan, please. I don't want to be dramatic and say that I've never asked you for anything, but I never have. I need this. Please. I'm--I'm old, love, and I'm tired, and Jamie's been feeling poorly, and--and we just can't, Nan. We just can't do this anymore."
Silent tears had begun to fall down Nan's face. She grasped Jimmy's hand in hers and caught her breath. "You know that it's not that I don't want to help..."
Will's voice dropped back down to its usual gentleness. "I know, love, believe me. I know this is difficult. It's a horrible time to ask you for anything--you're in a foreign country, you've got a demanding job, but...we've no one else, you see."
Jimmy laced his fingers with Nan and said, "Will, are you sure that bringing a boy like Paul to a city like New York is the best thing for him? If you're trying to keep him away from temptation, this probably isn't the best place for it."
"You're right, Jimmy, of course. But you see, the thing is that Paulie is going to find temptation wherever he goes. Whether he lives in London or New York or a hut in the Cotswolds, there's going to be temptation. Whether he uses his mother's brain or his father's street smarts, he's still going to have to face it. The trick at this point," Will said, "is to give him the tools to fight against it. I've tried, Jamie has tried, but somewhere along the way we failed. You and Nan are young, you're strong, you're determined; you've got the patience and the stamina that my brother and I just don't have. I love my grandson, Jimmy, you know that. I feel I've done my best, but now--now he needs more."
There was silence after this passionate declaration. Then Jimmy cleared his throat. "We'll have to--think about it. We should discuss it. If that's okay with you, Will."
"Of course. Of course, absolutely, Jimmy. You don't have to worry, I'm not going to pack him up and ship him over to you," Will said with a surprisingly earnest chuckle. "There are things to sort out even if you do say yes. I just had to ask, you see."
The conversation fell flat after that, though Will asked questions about New York and the NYPD, and Nan and Jimmy attempted to answer him. After a few minutes they hung up and the two of them sat numbly down on the couch.
"Oh, hell. This is a disaster," Nan said, burying her face in her hands. Just as suddenly she lifted her head again and stared at Jimmy. "Bring Paulie *here*? To a city like this? With you and me both gone every day, sometimes all day?"
"Maybe you should call your aunt and uncle?"
Nan closed her eyes briefly, sighing. "No. No, Grandad's right. Paulie's not going to want anything to do with them."
"Why?" asked Jimmy. "In all the time I've known your family, Nan, you've never really talked about why Paulie lives with your grandfather. You talk about Travis and Joan all the time, but it's like they're not Paulie's parents, they're just relatives you have over here in the US."
"It's complicated, only--only it's not really." Groaning, she threw herself down, resting her head in Jimmy's lap.
"Explain it to me. Use small words," he teased her.
"I think, more importantly, we should discuss what we're going to do."
"We're going to take him, of course," Jimmy replied decidedly.
Nan glared up at him. "Are you making the decision without me?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just reading your mind, that's all. I'm good at it. I know what you're thinking, Nan, and the answer is 'yes'. Yes, we can do it, and yes, we should do it. It's the right thing to do."
"You sound like Kid."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No." She chewed at her lower lip hesitantly.
"Look, sweetheart, I know Paulie. I like the kid. And your grandfather's right--he damn near worships you. You're easily the biggest influence in his life."
Nan blanched uncomfortably. "Me? I'm just his weedy big sister-substitute."
"Shall I refresh your selective memory? Three months ago you gave a speech at Paulie's school for Career Week. The boys actually paid attention and every girl there suddenly developed a burning ambition to be a police officer and save the world. And Paulie walked ten feet tall that day. He told everybody you were *his* cousin. He fought some kid who said that women were too hysterical and unpredictable to be police officers. "
"He did that?"
"Yeah, but you can't tell him I told you so. That would be, you know, *uncool*," grinned Jimmy.
"Still... It's a big responsibility. I don't know that I can handle it."
"Nan, you've been taking care of Paulie every day for the last four or five years. The only difference will be that this time he's living with you instead of Will and Jamie. And besides, you're not going to be alone; you'll have me."
"Jimmy...”
“Sweetheart.”
Nan looked up at his suddenly serious tone.
“Your grandfather’s right: he and Jamie aren’t equipped for this anymore. You heard how exhausted he sounded. He’s barely recovered from last winter. Besides,” another grin emerged, “you know it’s bad if your grandfather’s using curse words.”
“Oh, Jimmy.”
“Oh, Nan,” he echoed her teasingly.
“This may just be too much for us.”
"Never say never. Just think about it. Sleep on it." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt what Nan would decide. He picked up a nearby report taken from an officer after the first fire and as night fell, Nan's eyes drifted slowly shut.
And so ended their first week in Manhattan.
