Lou Manfredo - Rizzo's Fire

Rizzo slowed for a light and glanced over at his partner.

“What kinda building?” he asked.

“Nice old brownstone. On East Thirty-ninth off Third Avenue. We’re up on the second floor with one other tenant.”

Rizzo nodded, watching the traffic light. “Sounds nice. But like I tell my kids, rent is money down the drain. You gotta own something, build up the equity. The old Italians around here, the old-timers from the other side, you give ’em a choice between twenty thousand shares of some stock and a quarter acre of land, they’ll go with the land every time.”

“Depending on the stock, real estate might be the way to go,” Priscilla said. “But right now I’m not looking to buy. Karen will never leave Manhattan, she’s too into it. And anything in the city is way out of my league, dollar-wise.”

“Yeah, okay,” Rizzo said. “But Karen’s a high-priced lawyer making big bucks. Proportion it out and buy something soon. You won’t regret it.”

After a moment or two of silence, Priscilla replied. “I’d rather wait. We’ll do one-year leases, then see,” she said.

Rizzo grunted and eased the car forward as the light changed.

“Sounds like cold feet to me,” he said. “You lookin’ to keep the door half open, are you?”

She shook her head. “No. Not really. But there’s no hurry with anything. We can chill for a while.”

“Okay, Partner,” Rizzo said. “But remember this, somethin’ else I tell my girls. You buy together, better odds you stay together. Financial ties have saved more marriages than Dear Abby.”

“I think Dear Abby is dead, Joe,” Priscilla said.

“Well, then, Dear Whoever-the-fuck. You get my point. You tangle up your finances, it’s more of a commitment. So if Karen burns the toast once too often, you can’t just say, ‘Fuck off, Sweetheart,’ and head for the door. It’s like insurance, Cil. Believe me.”

“Well, Karen and I aren’t married.”

Rizzo shrugged. “Civil-unioned, married, what ever. Same shit.”

Priscilla shook her head. “We ain’t anything yet. Just together, that’s all. I get my medical and pension through the job, she gets hers through the law firm. Don’t be gettin’ me overcommitted here.”

Rizzo glanced at her as he wove through the traffic on Twenty-fourth Avenue.

“Didn’t you recently tell me you were done trollin’ around? When that redheaded nurse was droolin’ over you?”

“Sure,” she said with a small smile. “But you never know. That’s all I’m saying-you never know.”

“I get it, Cil. So, you’re the guy in this couple, eh?”

“Yeah, right,” she said. “Let me explain somethin’; there ain’t no guy. That’s sorta the point, Joe. We’re both female. Don’t be stereotyping my situation to fit your fantasies. Didn’t Mike warn you about me, Partner?”

“You bet. He warned me I’d have your shoe up my ass the first week we worked together.”

Priscilla laughed with Rizzo. “You’re right on schedule, paesan, ” she said, shaking her head gently. “Right on schedule.”

He slowed the car and angled in toward the curb to an open parking space. “This is it,” he said, glancing at the address on the building. Then, turning to his partner, added, “Just remember what I said. About the finances. Insurance, Cil. Doesn’t hurt to have some insurance.”

She released her shoulder harness and reached for the door handle. “Okay, Daddy,” she said. “I got it. In a year or so, they may reach me on the sergeant’s list. Sooner maybe, with all those retirements comin’ up. Then maybe I can swing my end of the nut a little better. So, we’ll see.”

Rizzo shut down the Impala’s engine and nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Now let’s go to work.”

“TO BE perfectly honest, Sergeant Rizzo, he’s never been one of my favorite patients.”

Dr. Davenport, a silver-haired, stout man of about sixty, gazed across his broad, neat desk at Rizzo and Jackson.

“And I can’t say I’m overly surprised to have police asking about him.”

Rizzo slipped his note pad from the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Why is that, Doctor?” he asked. “He ever get rough in here?”

The dentist shook his head. “No, not really. But he’s… unpleasant. A bit nasty with my staff. He usually seems in a bad mood, angry about something. So it’s no real surprise that his injuries were sustained in an altercation and not a fall, as he told me.”

Priscilla leaned in slightly.

“Can you describe him, sir?” she asked. “Height, weight, age, features?”

Davenport shrugged. “Certainly,” he said. He then gave a description matching those given by the witnesses and victim.

The detectives exchanged glances, then Rizzo clicked his Parker.

“What was that name and address, Doc?” he asked.

Davenport stood. “His name is Carl Jurgens,” he said. “I’ll need to get his folder for the rest. My assistant was supposed to put it on my desk before she left, but I guess she forgot. Give me a moment.”

“Sure,” Rizzo said pleasantly. “Thanks.”

When the dentist left the room, Rizzo leaned over to Priscilla. “Good help is hard to find,” he said.

“Be thankful you don’t have that problem,” she answered.

When Davenport returned, Rizzo jotted down Jurgens’s home address and phone number. Then he raised his eyes to the man.

“How’s he pay you, Doc?” Rizzo asked. “Cash, check, insurance?”

He quickly scanned the folder’s contents.

“Well, let me see… my staff usually handles billing.” After a moment, he found it. “Here it is,” he said. “Insurance. He pays a small yearly deductible, then we accept his insurance assignment as payment in full.”

“Is the insurance through an employer?” Rizzo asked.

The dentist ran his finger across the paper before him. “Yes,” he said, “it appears to be.”

“Who’s the employer?” Priscilla asked.

“Gordon’s Sporting Equipment,” Davenport answered, raising his eyes to Priscilla’s. “The big outdoor supplies store.”

Rizzo nodded. “National chain, I think,” he said. Then, shifting in his seat, he asked, “Any follow-up visits scheduled, Doc? For Jurgens?”

Again the doctor scanned the file. “Yes. He needs to come in when his permanent crowns are ready. That should be in about two weeks. But I see we have him scheduled for Monday afternoon first.”

“This coming Monday?” Priscilla asked.

“Yes,” Davenport said, nodding. “That would be for the chipped incisor.” He looked from one detective to the next. “I need to restore it with a bonded filling.”

“What time is that appointment, Doctor?” Priscilla asked.

He frowned. “I’m really not comfortable with all of this, Detective,” he said. “My assistant opened the door here by telling you about his injuries, and I’ve added a bit to that. I’d rather not be involved any further. If you’re thinking about intercepting him when he comes for his follow-up care, I’d really rather you…”

Rizzo raised a hand in a calming gesture. “Don’t worry, Doc,” he said soothingly. “That’s one way we could do it, but not the only way. We’ve got his address and employer, you don’t need to be involved any further. When he shows up Monday, treat him the same way you normally would. I wouldn’t mention any of this to him, and tell your staff not to, either.”

Rizzo stood, indicating the interview was over. Jackson rose also.

“ ’Course,” Rizzo said as he reached across the desk to shake hands, “don’t be surprised if he misses that Monday appointment. He may have a more pressing engagement.”