A new year always teases new beginnings. Except for Jimmy McSwain, who, as the calendar turns, is about to come face to face with a person from his past. Bringing with him a case that will challenge the delicate line between guilt and innocence.
Jake Sauter and Jimmy were best friends growing up and shared an intimacy few knew about. When Jake appears after years of silence, he’s come not to rekindle their relationship but to hire the private investigator to save him from the jaws of the law. He claims he’s about to be arrested—for the murder of his wife.
Meanwhile, the NYPD is facing a case that is spreading fear throughout New York City. A body had been found floating in the Hudson River, and Captain Francis X. Frisano has been called to solve the crime. A sudden development throws both of their cases into one.
What is truth? What is manipulation? What is fabrication? Is there such a thing as a perfect death?
“You gonna talk now?” Jimmy asked.
“I can’t stay here anymore,” he said.
Jimmy felt a lump in his throat. It had been there all along, but now he tried to swallow it and couldn’t.
“Damn doctors. I’ve just got to wait for a room to open up and I’m outta here.”
“Where?”
“Upstate. Outside of Albany. A private care facility. Gentle Pastures, some bs name.”
“I’m sure it’s not called that. I’m guessing you’re not happy about that.”
“I’d have a room on the main floor, round-the-clock care. In the Spring I could sit outside under the elms, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air. In my wheelchair. It paints quite a picture, huh, Jimmy? Like a photo shoot for their brochure.”
“Did the doctor give you one? A brochure.”
“It’s here somewhere. Maybe the trash. You can look it up online.” Then added, quickly, “Later. On your dime.”
“You know I’ll visit.”
“I’m not looking for sympathy, Jimmy. Too resigned to look for anything.”
“You thinking this take-out meal is our goodbye?”
“Just wanted to sit and have a meal with a friend and not think about anything important.”
“Got it.”
“I wish you had a case. A real juicy one, like last year’s…what’d you call that one?”
“Jersey Score,” Jimmy said. “Yeah, sometimes I forget that one happened.”
He liked to write up his cases and file them away. Kept track of them by their names.
“Hit home, that case. Like every apartment and building in Hell’s Kitchen has a secret.”
“Yeah, the neighborhood could keep me in business for years. The past likes to resurface.”
“What can you tell me about Frank’s case then? Other than what I see in the news or paper. You said they’ve identified her but why haven’t they released it?”
“Her name was Hannah Tate,” Jimmy said. “No one seems to miss her. At least, so far.”
“How’d she die? Was it a drowning, as is being reported?”
“Why do you want to know all this?”
“My body’s failing me. My mind is still sharp. I’d like to keep it that way as long as I can.”
Jimmy got up from his chair, started to gather up their dirty dishes and take-out containers, all while talking, filling Jonathan in on all the details that he knew.
A young couple walking along Pier 57 decided to take a romantic stroll by the Hudson, open a bottle of champagne and ring in the New Year by themselves, far from the crazy millions that occupied Times Square. The guy even possessed a ring in his pocket though he confessed, later, that he wasn’t convinced he was brave enough to ask her, not that night. When he noticed something odd floating in the water beneath them, all thoughts of engagements were taken by the wind, replaced with a chill and a sudden scream from the woman. A call to 911 had followed, and not ten minutes later -- at about eleven thirty-seven pm on December 31st -- the first police cruiser had arrived and taken command of the situation. The decision to call Captain Frisano of the 10th Precinct came next, despite the fact he was on authorized paid time off.
“He was due to return to work on the first,” Jimmy said.
“They didn’t waste time. What time did they call him?”
“Three minutes till midnight.”
“Interrupting…”
“It was fine, Jonathan. Sometimes vacations go on too long.”
“Unlike the woman’s life. So, did she drown? Or did the forensics find another cause?”
“She was strangled. Then tossed into the river. Apparently.”
“Video footage? Security cameras working?”
“Still working on gathering all that. Got several people on it. Detectives. Frank’s trying to find her relatives. She was young, twenty-five. Blonde, pretty. Hadn’t been in the water too long, so the assumption is she was killed that night. She might not have even been found so quickly had not a piece of her clothing gotten snagged on a sharp piece of wood on one of the pier’s pilings.”
“Perp should have stripped her,” Jonathan said.
“Spoken like a jaded ex-detective.”
“Seems to me it means the killing wasn’t pre-meditated. Strangulations tend to be heat-of-the-moment crimes. Impulse. Anger. Probably already down by the water. Her landing in the river was more convenience than intentional.”
“That’s a good assessment, Jonathan. I’ll share that with Frank.”
“Probably already thought that. Don’t tell him you told me about the case.”
“You want me to keep secrets from the man I love? What kind of relationship is that?”
“I assume you’re being facetious,” Jonathan said. “Remember, cops live by a different code and so do you, even sketchier, as a private eye. Sometimes you share stuff and sometimes you don’t share stuff. You live in the shadows, Jimmy, so does Frank, but that doesn’t mean you’re both in the same alley.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“You deal in death. It’s rarely sunshine out there.”
It was still light outside but not for long. Night always found its way home.
