Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

presence in my apartment, aside from Augie. The last guest I had was back in November. A day hadn’t passed that I didn’t think at least once about the woman who called herself Rose.
    After we were done with our tea, Tina sat on my secondhand couch for the rest of the morning and bit her nails and stared. I wanted to give her privacy but my apartment was too small. I ended up after a while in my bedroom, flat out on my bed, trying to work out the kinks a night on that old couch had caused, trying to reconcile the fact that, if not for Frank Gannon, I’d be in serious trouble.
    That afternoon Tina and I went to the hospital to visit Augie. He was unconscious, his head and face wrapped up in gauze. There were tubes in his arms and mouth. He was breathing with the help of a machine. The doctor—a different doctor—tried to be optimistic but it didn’t sound at all good to me. If Augie did regain consciousness, he might remain in a vegetative state—awake but unaware, unable to speak or move or feed himself. I couldn’t imagine a worse hell for him. At best, the doctor said, Augie would have to learn to do the simplest things all over again. Chances were he wouldn’t ever be able to walk, his beating was that severe.
    After the doctor left I asked a nurse if Gale was working today. I was told that she was on vacation, camping somewhere in New England with her husband, and wouldn’t be back till after next week. I think the nurse recognized me. She told me that Gale had recently switched from nights to days.
    I decided to leave Tina alone with her father for a while and stepped out into the busy hallway. I found a set of chairs not far away and sat in one. I looked down at my feet for a long time and thought about nothing. Then I became aware of the sound of footsteps, heavy, booted footsteps. I heard the jingle of keys and the creaking of a leather belt. I kept my head down till after the sound had passed me. When I did look up, I saw a man in a cop’s uniform walking down the corridor. He was tall, well over six feet, and had long legs and arms. I didn’t have to see his face to know it was the Chief.
    I didn’t move till he turned into a room at the far end of the hall. Then I got up and walked back to Augie’s room.
    I stepped through the door and stopped short just inside it. I saw that Tina was leaning over her father, her mouth close to his right ear, whispering something over and over to him and holding his right hand with both of hers.
    She was squeezing his thick fingers and, though it was barely noticeable, I could tell that he was squeezing back.

Chapter Five

    It was two months before I finally heard from Frank Gannon. Every day I waited for his call, so much so that each time my phone rang, which was a lot more often now that Tina was living with me, I would pick up the receiver with a degree of caution and dread.
    But one morning in early July I awoke shortly before dawn to the sound of my phone clanging on the coffee table near my couch. I answered it quickly, without, for once, thinking about Frank. My only concern at the moment was not waking Tina, who was asleep in my bedroom. The only real privacy or peace I had was when she slept.
    “I need to meet with you,” Frank said. His voice sounded thin and faraway. I could hear commotion in the background but I couldn’t identify exactly what it was. I knew, though, that Frank was on a pay phone somewhere. And I knew not to expect much in the way of conversation. “I have something I want to discuss with you.”
    “When?”
    “Right away.”
    “Jesus, Frank. Where?”
    “It’s a nice morning for a walk on the beach, don’t you think?”
    “It’s your show.”
    “That’s right. The public beach at the end of Halsey Neck Lane. Your old stomping grounds, right? Ten minutes.” He hung up.
    I returned the receiver to the cradle, rubbed my eyes with the back of both hands, then checked my wrist watch. It was a little after six. I wasn’t built for this time of day. I got up from the couch, my joints stiff, my back sore, and picked my jeans and T-shirt up off the floor and put them on. My bedroom door was open and I could see Tina tangled in the sheets. I knew by her breathing, by its rhythm and depth, that she was still sound asleep.
    I moved carefully and tried to make no noise as I reached under the kitchen table for my sneakers. I pulled them on over bare feet and took my keys from the table near the door and left. I pulled the