Patterson Array: NYPD Red

“Hey, did you hear about Sid Roth?” Ian asked.

“Yeah, I heard he dropped dead over breakfast at the Regency. Heart attack.”

“More like poison if you believe the rumor mill.” Ian laughed. “Doesn’t surprise me. That bastard had so many enemies, it’s a wonder nobody killed him sooner.”

“I can see you’re all broken up about it,” Henry said.

“I’m thrilled,” Ian said. “With Roth dead, I move up another notch on the list of most hated people in show business. Three more and I’ll be in the top ten.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re number one around here,” Henry said. “Heil Hitler.”

Captain Delia Cates is NYPD to the core. Born and raised in Harlem, she’s a third-generation cop with a career path that puts her on the fast track to becoming the city’s first female police commissioner-Columbia University, four years in the Marine Corps, and a master’s in criminal justice from John Jay College.

She’s somewhere north of forty, quite attractive, with dark brown eyes, flawless cocoa skin, and a warm, easy smile. Inside, she’s tougher than a three-dollar steak. She’s also a born leader and the best boss I’ve ever had.

It’s not every day she summons me for a one-on-one, and this morning’s invitation caught me off guard. I walked into her office at 7:55.

It was a typical no-nonsense Cates meeting. She spelled out what she wanted, I responded with a few well-placed “yeses” and “Captains,” and I walked out at 7:56 only slightly more conflicted than when I went in.

I headed for the briefing room and took a seat with Kylie and eleven other detectives. Cates walked in at 8:00 on the nose.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “As you all know, the mayor has rolled out a red carpet three thousand miles long in the hopes of winning the hearts and wallets of Hollywood’s movie moguls. Our job is to make them feel welcome and safe. Basically, it’s the same drill we go through every day, but this week we have five times as many people to serve and protect. A lot of the goings-on will be behind closed doors. Meetings, lunches, tours of production facilities-all in controlled environments, a lot of them with their own rent-a-cops.

“But there’s also going to be a number of high-visibility public events, and that brings out the stalkers, the fans, the paparazzi, and a shitload of other crazies. The biggest one is a red carpet shindig tonight at Radio City. I just spoke to the DI at Midtown North, and people are already starting to camp out. We’ll have at least a hundred uniforms working the crowd, plus another thirty in plainclothes, including all of you. The bad news is that this is going to be one damn long day. The good news is that the mayor loosened the purse strings, and there’s plenty of overtime money in the budget.

“Tuesday and Wednesday, there’ll be fewer public events, but you know these folks like to party after a hard day, so take your cell phones to the bathroom with you. Then on Thursday-”

Her cell went off. “See what I mean?”

We all recognized the ring tone. Cates called it her “bat phone.” Anyone who had that number took priority over whatever she was doing at the moment.

She answered. “Captain Cates.” She listened stone-faced for fifteen seconds, then said “We’re on it,” and hung up.

“We’re off to a bad start,” she said. “We have a dead Hollywood producer on the floor of the dining room of the Regency-Sixty-first and Park. Possible homicide. Jordan and MacDonald-get on it.”

I can’t quite explain what happened next. Kylie was up and heading for the door. But I just sat there processing the reality of what had woken me up in the middle of the night. Kylie and I were a team, and we were going out on our first case together. It was quite a rush. It couldn’t have been more than three seconds, but it was three seconds too long for Cates.

“Jordan,” she barked. “Go.”

I went.

Cates snapped right back to the briefing. “For those of you who haven’t met her, Jordan’s new partner is Detective Kylie MacDonald. She’s on temporary assignment-”

Temporary assignment.

It’s the last thing I heard before I got to the door, but I no longer had any idea how I felt about that.

The Regency was only five minutes away from the precinct.

“I can’t believe Cates threw me a homicide on Day One,” Kylie said as soon as we got in the car.

“Possible homicide,” I said. “And I can’t believe we invited all these Hollywood heavyweights to New York and one of them is dead before lunch.”

“What did Cates want when she called you in to her office?”

“Nothing important.”

“Cates is too busy to call you in for nothing important,” Kylie said. “If you don’t want to tell me, don’t tell me, but don’t dodge the question.”

“She wanted an update on Omar. I gave it to her.” It was a lie, and a pretty lame one at that.

Kylie didn’t buy it. “Zach, I’m on trial here. Cates wants to know if I’m going to cut it. The best way she can do that is to tell you to keep tabs on me and report in to her.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said. “Cates makes all her own decisions.”

“Yeah, but you’re going to be with me twelve, fourteen hours a day. She’s going to want your input.”

Which is exactly why Cates called me in to her office.

We caught a red light at 63rd and Park, and I turned to Kylie. “I hope you’re not going to spend twelve, fourteen hours a day overthinking shit like this.”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything. If she did ask you, she probably told you not to tell me anything. And if it makes you feel any better, I hope she did ask you.”

“Why?”

“You already know I’m a better cop than you are, so I don’t care if you get a vote.” She laughed. “As long as she doesn’t ask my husband. Spence is dead set against me getting this job on a permanent basis.”

The committee inside my head called an emergency meeting. Spence knows you never got over Kylie. You’re a threat. He doesn’t want you spending sixty hours a week with his wife.

As far as I was concerned, the answer was clear, but I needed to hear it for myself. “What’s Spence’s problem with this assignment?” I asked.

“He wants me to get pregnant,” she said. “I was just about ready, but when Red came along I told him it was my dream job, and if I got it full-time, we’d have to put the baby on hold for a few years.”

The committee regrouped. Spence isn’t in competition with you. He’s in competition with the job. If she stays on as your partner, she doesn’t get pregnant. Now what are we going to tell Cates?

There was a line of limos parked in the No Parking zone in front of the hotel. I had to hit the siren three times before the driver at the front of the line even looked at me, and twice more before he reluctantly gave up his spot.

We got out of the car.

“What’s the drill?” Kylie said. “You’re the senior. You want me to stay in the background, or jump in with both feet?”

“There are no senior partners or junior partners,” I said. “You’re here because you’re a good cop. Besides, Cates said the vic was a Hollywood producer, and you have the extra bonus of being married to a guy in the biz, so you understand what makes these people tick.”

Kylie shook her head. “I’ve got news for you, Six. Nobody knows what in the hell makes these people tick.”

“Settle down, people,” the assistant director bellowed. “Picture is up. Roll sound.”