The Hardest Thing

“Besides, what’s wrong with hustlers?”

    Jack Rendell spent the rest of the day in briefings with officers from the NYPD. Martin escorted me to 109th Street, where I picked up anything I thought would be of interest to the investigation while the cab waited outside. Half an hour later I was back in Morningside Heights with a library of books and DVDs to occupy me, and a warning from Martin to keep indoors. “They may not know you’re back in the city,” he said, “but don’t take any chances. What you just told Jack could put Julian Marshall in prison for a long time.”
    “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I can take care of myself.”
    Another of those movie moments, right? Some niggling strings on the soundtrack, maybe, just so there’s no doubt about what’s coming. A quick montage
of me sitting in Martin’s apartment trying to read a book, trying to watch a movie, getting bored, raiding the fridge, pacing up and down, and eventually saying to myself, “Hell, I need some fresh air… What could possibly happen?” and taking the elevator down to the street. And then it’d be me walking along Riverside Drive, a tracking shot from inside a car. There’d be a pair of gloved hands on the steering wheel, a dirty windshield… Those niggling strings are back, more forceful this time; the audience shouts, “Dan! Look out! He’s behind you!” but it’s too late. The strings are drowned by the shriek of tires as the car mounts the sidewalk at full speed, hits my left knee with its right front fender, and down I go, only avoiding further damage by rolling away from the curb where the car can’t get me. They peel off down the street, leaving me lying on the ground clutching my leg. It feels like it’s broken.
    In fact, as I found out in the emergency room, it wasn’t even fractured. The joint swelled up like a melon and it hurt like fuck, but, as the doctor said, I’d live. They’re all heart, those New York doctors. “The nurse will put a tube bandage on it,” he said, and rushed on to the next cubicle.
    “Gee, thanks, Doc,” I muttered, but my mood improved when the curtain swished aside and a handsome young male nurse appeared at my bedside. It crossed my mind that the situation had potential, and given my tendency to indulge in recreational sex at critical moments I could easily have explored a few medical fantasies. For once, though, I thought, “Wait a minute, Dan. Martin will be worried about you. Jack Rendell, a partner in one of the city’s biggest law firms, will
be worried about you. In fact, the NYPD is probably looking for you.” And so I limited myself to a smile and some unnecessary eye contact and didn’t even ask the nurse what time he got off.
    I took a cab back to Martin’s apartment. He wasn’t home. So much for the whole of Manhattan being in uproar; I hadn’t been missed. I could have fucked that nurse…
    I heard Martin’s key in the lock five minutes later.
    “Hey.” He kissed me and took off his tie. I felt like I should produce a shaker of martinis and put a casserole on the table. “I’m exhausted.”
    “You should take a shower.”
    “Later. First of all I need to tell you something.”
    Me, too, I thought, but it would keep. “I’m listening.”
    “I met Julian Marshall this afternoon.”
    “Nice for you.”
    “It was surprisingly easy. I put on a southern accent and said I was a church minister who wanted to sell a large tract of land in Virginia.” He sat down, legs apart. “They couldn’t get me into that office fast enough.”
    “Very clever.”
    “And guess what I found out?”
    “No idea.”
    He grabbed my leg—I nearly yelped with pain—and said, “Marshall’s about to take an extended vacation. He said he’d like to send one of his representatives to survey the property, since he and his wife are planning a trip to Europe.”
    “Big place, Europe.”
    “So I gave him a few details, and I named a price
that was so low, I could practically see the dollar signs ringing up in his eyes, and said that we’d love for him to come visit with us next week. He offered me his associate, but I said we’d really set our hearts on dealing with Mr. Marshall himself because of his reputation as an upright citizen and a generous benefactor to the church. No, I couldn’t possibly deal with his subordinates; it was Christ’s work that I was on, and I kind of let him believe that I was doing some kind of shady deal behind the backs of the