Read The Groaning Board for Free Online Page B

Metzger was
Silvestri’s old partner at the Seventeenth Precinct.
    “She died.”
    “Oh, I’m so sorry. Was she sick for a
long time?”
    “No.” He signaled the waiter for
another beer.
    “It must have been a shock, then. Was
she much older?” “Younger. Forty-four.”
    “Was it breast cancer?”
    “No.”
    Silvestri was answering her in
monosyllables. Not that that was unusual. It was just that this time she felt
she was § missing the subtext. “What did she die of?” She forked the last of
the mofongo into her mouth.
    “Good question.” Something in his
voice drew her atten-tion away from the platter of roast pork, black beans, and
yellow rice in the middle of the table.
    She set down her fork. “God,
Silvestri, Metzger’s sister-in-law is a homicide?”
    “We don’t know yet.”
    “That’s what you’ve been working on.”
    He nodded. “We’re waiting for the
autopsy results.“
    “Jesus, how awful. Was she mugged?”
    “No. Judy Metzger found her.”
    “God. A break-in?”
    “Not so you’d notice. Only one thing
seems to be missing.”
    “What?”
    “Her briefcase.”
    “Was she a lawyer?”
    “No. A schoolteacher.” He shrugged,
dispatched the beer, “Judy talked to her Saturday afternoon. Sheila was
complaining about stomach flu. When Judy couldn’t get her on the phone Sunday,
she went in, found her, and called Artie.“
    “She lived in Manhattan?”
    “In one of those classy tenements all
the way east on Seventy-second Street. They found her on the floor of the
bathroom. Either she fell and cracked her head or someone did it and made it
look like a fall.”
    “When you get one of those stomach
viruses, you feel faint and—”
    “She was a nice girl,” Silvestri
said. He pushed his plate away. It was still full of food.
    “Was she married?”
    “No. You still hungry?”
    “No.” The news about Metzger’s
sister-in-law had put a damper on everything.
    Silvestri waved the waiter over.
“Pack it up,” he told him. “We’ll take it home.” To Wetzon he said, “They’re
sitting shivah at Metzger’s house.”
    “I’m glad we’re going. Shouldn’t we
bring food or something? I can go over to Zabar’s right now—”
    “I’ll take this stuff home, get the
car, and pick you up in front of Zabar’s.”
     
    Early morning was the best time to
shop at Zabar’s; second best was near closing. True, a few people were still
waiting at the cheese counter, and more than a few stood in front of the deli
counter clutching their numbers, but there were no long lines And you could get
in and out in minutes.
    Wetzon decided that the rugalach were
the safest choice. She picked out a box and got on the cash-only line. An
attractive young couple in front of her were discussing whether they had enough
food as they unloaded their shopping cart. It was enough for an army. Her mind
wandered over her day as she Watched the clerk check them out.
    That’s when she realized that she
hadn’t asked Silvestri the most important question. Maybe she didn’t want to
know and had in some Freudian way avoided asking it.
    Silvestri’s black Toyota sat in a
line of double-parked beauties, mostly BMWs and Mercedeses, in front of
Zabar’s.
    After Wetzon got in and fastened her
seat belt, she asked the question.
    “Was there something between you and
Sheila, Silvestri?”
    He didn’t answer right away, so she
knew there had been. Of course there had been. Metzger’s wife’s single sister.
They would have fixed Silvestri up with her.
    “It was a long time ago, Les,”
Silvestri said, not taking his eyes off the road.
    “Long before I met you,” Wetzon sang
softly.
    “Long before I met you,” he repeated.
A damp fog made the city lights fuzz around them. Beads of moisture formed on the
car windows. They were heading for the Triborough Bridge to Long Island.
    “Was she pretty, Silvestri?”
    “Yes. Sheila was pretty and smart,
and a good guy. You would have liked her, Les.”
    “Were you