Vice Cop Ch. 13

"Are you angry at me?"

"Scared for you. But I'm glad you are alright. You're a strong warrior, honey, but I wish you had never become a cop. There were no women cops in my day. You've done so much already but I'm afraid that all this exposure to brutal reality will de-feminize you."

"You can't mean that!"

"I mean every word. You are a woman, child. You need to do something that is at least a little feminine."

"I think I dress very much like you did in your gala parties and balls when I'm out of uniform and at a social get-together."

"I don't mean that. You need to show to everyone that you can DO something feminine."

"Like play piano or sing?"

"Well, you used to. You had almost become a real pianist. I know you can remember how to play. And you had a beautiful voice."

"Nothing like yours."

"A Mr. Jensen is meeting us for lunch. He's going to talk to you about entering as a contestant on Star Search."

"Don't they do that show in Los Angeles, California?"

"I think they are doing it elsewhere this time. Come, let's get to our table."

They walked into the elegant restaurant, where chandeliers hung over a sprawling space filled with tables clothed in white, where waiters in uniform attentively waited on wealthy guests.The women were wearing chic clothes and some hats and gloves. There was a scent of roses in the air and displays of leafy plants, roses of pink and red tint were on display in vases throughout the restaurant. There was a European Old World charm about the hotel and Lexa fell instantly under its spell. Being here, in this place so uncommon for a cop to be found, already worked its magic on Lexa, making her softer and less hardened. The men wereprofessional looking and upscale, in business suits, ties and even some hats. There was a very chic, sophisticated and relaxed ambiance that began to appeal to Lexa.

Here was no sense of urgency, of having to worry about crime and or immediate civil service. No angry faces, tired faces, no cops anywhere to clash with the pastel colors. It was like a quiet little haven, that, as pretentious as it was, offered some comfort. From one end of the room by a large window overlooking the street, a man was playing a piano and Lexa remembered the melody. It was Chopin's lustrous Grand Polonaise in A.

"Ah, here he is now," Katrina said.

She offered her hand to a tall, handsome man with dark hair and a "game show" host type of look. He took her hand and kissed it in a cavalier manner.

"Miss O'Neil, it's such an honor," he said.

"Please sit down," Katrina said.

From the looks of it, it seemed to Lexa that Katrina had arranged for this man to come to them, as if she had done very little to get him to come. Perhaps all she had needed to say was that she was Katrina O' Neil, the opera singer. The man sat down and then Katrina gestured with her hand toward Lexa.

"This is my daughter Lexa."

"Ah, so you are Lexa O'Neil," he said, "I'm Jeff Jensen. I'll be hosting a televised episode of Star Search aboard a cruise that takes off from Florida to the Caribbean."

"Oh," Lexa said.

"You have an interesting background," Jeff Jensen said, "your mother is the world-famous diva Katrina O' Neil, once a huge star of the opera world who is only now in the process of making a comeback. You're a cop, a Homicide detective in Manhattan, who had no interest in singing and music although you were trained as a pianist and singer."

"That's correct."

"What a fabulous angle. And it might just work for you in Star Search, provided you don't sing opera. Our regular, middle-class American viewers won't be able to understand opera."

"I was never able to sing opera," Lexa retorted, "my mother would have wanted me to sing opera but my voice can never go as high as my mother's. Also, hers is a strong, dramatic voice that make mine seem thin and small in comparison. I can sing only modern songs at any rate."

"That's perfect. We'd love to hear you sing and play at least one piece on the piano."

"Mr. Jensen, tell me, how is this to be done? You mentioned a cruise?"

"All our contestants will be treated to an all-expense paid cruise. You will have sufficient time to rehearse and to meet other contestants and the judges. You will perform each night until there are only two finalists who will perform in the last show-down."

"Sounds very exciting. Oh, honey, don't refuse. You could use a good cruise. You can bring your hard-working detective Mr. Holmes with you. That would be nice for him too."

"Alright. I'll do it. Are you coming too, Mamma?"

"Of course. I'm the one who made you do this, remember?"

They shared a hearty laugh.

TEN

It had been only three days since he first began to work with Lexa's father Emeric on tracking the activities of the Mafiosi in the Dino family. The investigation was conducted even without the knowledge of the precinct. Homicide only dealt with major cases and that was Mason's specialty, but he managed to squeeze in time for this special case which was of personal importance to him, and to Lexa's father. He knew Captain Barry Hiller would disapprove, as well as other big wigs in the Department. Not to mention Lexa. She knew her father was working with the precinct but he had led her to believe he was not actively investigating Mafia activity but rather getting a feel for the new changes in the NYPD, trying to fit in again.

Lexa worried about her father so he tried his best to conceal his more dangerous work. Nevertheless, Lexa was beginning to suspect something. One evening, after dinner, she decided to confront Mason about it. They were in the kitchen, Lexa finished with the dishes and waiting for Mason to open up a bottle of wine from the wine rack. She was tired from her day and didn't want to scream at Mason, but she was determined to know what he was doing without her. She knew it was about some special case that most likely he didn't want her to be part of. There had been previous instances in which he kept her out of cases which he felt were unsuitable to her or too dangerous.

"Mason, darling," Lexa said, "care to tell me what's been going on with you lately?"

She said this so flatly and directly that it startled Mason. He turned to look at her, trying to read her face. Good God, he thought, she's starting to suspect something. He cleared his throat and put the wine bottle on the table where glasses were already waiting. He did not respond and poured the wine on the glasses.

"What do you mean, Lexie?"

"You're acting strangely. You're keeping something from me. I can feel it. What is it, Mason? What's the case about?"

"Case? What makes you think it has to do with work?"

"It's always about work. You don't want me to be part of some case you find too difficult for me. I think that's very unfair. We're in this together, Mason. I became a detective because

you taught me, I learned from you and you're terrific. You believed in my potential. When you

deny me working in certain cases, it hurts my feelings. I feel like I'm not good enough."

"It's -"

"Tell me."

"I don't wish to tell you. It's very personal and I don't want you to be involved. I -"

Lexa drank her wine in an obvious effort to calm her nerves. She looked at him and sighed.She began to walk around the kitchen and she was clearly upset. Mason sighed too. He hatedwhen they had little quarrels, hated when they disagreed about things.

"Mason if we're to survive as a couple you can't keep any secrets from me," Lexa told him, "it's not very loving. It's unequal. I must know what's been going on with you. You have a very vexed look in your face and I've never seen you so involved in anything before. Is it about your book? Are you doing "research" in a dangerous way?"

"Yes in part. I really don't want you to know. I kept a promise to someone that I wouldn't tell you for it would upset you too much. You cant be part of this because it really is too dangerous. You say it's very mean of me to exclude you from it, but I don't see it that way. I'm protecting you, Lexie. I don't want any harm to come to you. Remember, we're cops. There is an entire class of people who want us dead for ruining their "work" if you know what I mean."

"It's about the Mafia isn't it? Mason, maybe it's not such a good idea to write that new book. Sure, your motives are good ones but -"

"Lexa, I've been a detective for a good number of years. I've been a cop in LA and I know how to take care of myself. Even though Banach and other officers think I'm a "suit" and don't know how to fight or have seen action, I have. I've seen a lot in my time. I'm fifty. I know what I'm doing."

Lexa finished her drink and looked tired. She didn't wish to argue any further.

"I'm going to bed," she said, defeated.

* * * *

In the course of one week, Roxella Peters fell in love with New York City and with HudsonBanach. It was just what she needed. It was as if she had been in a cage and finally released. Forthe first time in her young life, she was free. She found pleasure in smelling fresh air, inthe singing of birds, in smelling the flowers and in the company of a good man. This was nota man who had merely paid for sex with her and moved on to some other girl. With Hudsonshe did not feel like a prostitute or a stripper. She was certain she'd never go back to thatlife. The first time she saw Hudson's house in Brooklyn, that unassuming single home, she was a tad surprised, though not disappointed. She had been used to living in a bigger and nicerhouse.

Floyd's Miami beach home was nothing like Hudson's modest home. She knew he wasonly a cop and therefore did not make a lot of money so she would have to become accustomed to an entirely different lifestyle. Hudson wondered if she'd adapt. To his pleasant surprise, she did.

"My parents were poor," she said to him, "even my white father was an Irish immigrant who came to work as a landscape gardener. My mother was poor and worked as a housekeeper. I was very happy in those days because they really loved me. It was traumatic to see them die in the car accident. I wish I had died with them."

"You have no brothers or sisters?" Hudson said, raising an eyebrow.

"None. It was just me. I'm all alone in this world. I don't know of any other relatives since my family was never in touch with any of them."

"You're not alone anymore."

Hudson took her hands and kissed them as if they were holy relics.................

ELEVEN

After a few days, Hudson had given Lexa a good tour of New York City, much as he had once done with his mail-order bride Cherry. Roxella enjoyed the food and the rides at Coney Island, enjoyed the Statue of Liberty, Central Park and her favorite site of all, the Empire State Building where she looked out from the observation deck to Manhattan in all its glory. This was a vast city by the ocean, a beautiful and strong thing, dangerous and yet dignified.Hudson warned her that no more how lovely the city was, there was also danger. It was the same talk he gave Cherry. Being a cop, knowing many bad people,he told her not to be too trusting. In this city there was a lot of crime which ranged from kidnapping to sexual slavery to murder.

"In Miami, it wasn't always Paradise," she replied, "I learned to take care of myself. Before I met Floyd I had been on my own for a long time. I'm strong enough to survive on my own so don't worry about me."

Still, despite her strong self-assurance, Hudson worried she could fall victim to danger. He always felt this way around women, and especially beautiful women. One day, Hudson took her to meet Professor Ezra Goldstein. They were at his doorstep in Park Slope waiting for him to open the door. Hudson had called ahead of time, telling him he hadmet a wonderful woman and he wanted him to meet her.

"He's been a Music Professor for many years," Hudson told her, "he's in his seventies and he was quite an accomplished pianist, even accompanying many great opera singers in recital. His wife of many years died of lung cancer and he's been a single widower ever since. He's a good man. He's my best friend. I want him to like you."

The door opened and the same dear little man who had been like a grandfather to Hudson emerged, smiling and giving Hudson a huge hug.

"I'll make tea," he said.

They entered his living room. The same one where he had first met Lexa O'Neil, with the fireplace still in its place, with the fine carpet and furniture and the quaint Victorian style charm. This time, he had re-decorated his home to look more like something out of a 19th century home. On the walls were portraits of opera singers he had once known, including Maria Callas, Anna Moffo, Franco Corelli, Birgit Nilsson, Richard Tucker, Luciano Pavarotti, Placido Domingo and many others. Leafy and showy plants, velvet curtains and delicate porcelain, everything so beautiful and old, like him. On the phonograph was a recording of La Traviata.

He went to get tea while Hudson and Roxella sat down on the couch. Roxella looked around her with wide eyed curiosity. She had never been to a decent home. Floyd's friends were figures of the underworld, not only Mafiosi but drug lords, pimps, gamblers, thieves and corrupted men who enjoyed doing drugs and having sex with prostitutes. Roxella had kept this from Hudson, saying that Floyd had no friends and that they had only partied with clients of the strip club. He didn't want him to think that the friends she had once known had in part made her a tad corrupt herself. But here, in this charming home, she felt like she would know a good friend and an entirely different kind of world.

"Here we go," the Professor said returning with tea.

"Professor, this is Roxella Peters from Miami," Hudson said. "

My dear, any friend, wife or girlfriend of Hudson's is a friend of mine, I'm delighted to meet you," the Professor said to her, taking her hand and kissing it.

She felt very strange. No one had done that to her, with the exception of Hudson. How comforting it felt to know that some men were good.

"You are beautiful," the Professor said, "very beautiful. You are Spanish?"

Hudson was surprised. How did he know just from one look? Hudson corrected himself. It made sense. Professor Goldstein had lived for many years and knew all kinds of people. He was probably quick to identify background immediately.

"My mother is from Puerto Rico and my father is Irish," Roxella replied, "they passed away in a car accident when I was younger."

"I'm very sorry. But you turned out alright."

Roxella said nothing and smiled awkwardly.

"Tell me, my dear, what do you do?"

"Do?"

"For a living."

She paused, taking that uncomfortable moment to drink her tea. At the same time she thought up a good lie.

"In Miami, I worked as a fashion model and waitress."

Hudson said nothing but knew that she couldn't tell the Professor that she had been a stripper. From the expression on the Professor's smiling face, Hudson knew he had bought it hook line and sinker.

"Well, I must say my boy," he said to Hudson, "this time it appears you've struck gold. She is a most delightful woman. Will you be modeling in New York?"

Hudson looked at Roxella while drinking his tea.

"That's why I came here," she said, "to try my luck with modeling here. Even if it means modeling for auto shows or of course, attempting to land roles in TV or film."

"You want to be an actress."

"Yes."

"I wish you the best of luck my dear. You are very charming."

"Is that Traviata you're listening to on the record player, Professor?" Hudson said, changing the subject to help out Roxella from saying any more lies.

"Why yes. It's playing at the Met. Has Ms. Peters been to the opera yet?"

"No. I am going to take her to Traviata."

"O my dear girl. That's the most beautiful, sad, romantic opera ever made. You will love it."

"I'm sure I will. I've never seen an opera."

"Speaking of which, my boy, did you hear the news?"

"What news?"

"Lexa's mother, the former opera singer Katrina O'Neil, is making a return to the stage. She is working with an accompanist and she's rehearsing for her comeback role in Tosca. I read about in the society page of the paper. She hasn't sung in years and I was her biggest fan. She looks wonderful for her age. I saw a photograph of her in the paper. We must go see her perform."

Hudson was quiet for a moment and a bit surprised. He had only seen Lexa's mother from a distance in a nightclub in Long Island when Lexa was visiting her. He had not spoken to her and he was nervous. It was inevitable that he would have to talk to her and to Lexa. Roxella would have to meet them as well. Somehow, strangely, he felt as if showing off Roxella toLexa would be very uncomfortable. It was strange how things worked. Lexa with Mason Holmes and him now with this beautiful but damaged woman.

Would Lexa be able to recognize her as being a former stripper? Would Lexa feel that he had hurried into a relationship out of jealousy for her being with Mason? There was still that indefinable, unspoken and strong connection. Lexa had proven herself a formidable cop, his equal, and in truth they had made quite the team when they were in missions together. Part of Hudson still longed for her, still saw her in a romantic light, albeit a far-off light.

"Oh, that's wonderful," Hudson said, "I'm sure Lexa's mother will be a sensation."

"Who is Lexa?" Roxella asked.

"She's a cop in my precinct, she works Homicide. I first met her right here in the Professor's home," Hudson replied.

"A stronger and more beautiful mulatto woman you're hard-pressed to find," the Professor said, "she's as terrific cop. The best female cop in all Manhattan."

"I think I'd like to meet this Lexa you both speak so highly of," Roxella said sipping her tea.

* * * *

Roxella Peters cried into a handkerchief silently at the end of La Traviata. Hudson sat next to her on her right and the Professor to her left. Her silent tears did not go unnoticed. Roxella had been deeply moved. Here was a story almost similar to her own life's story. Violetta, the beautiful but sad Parisian courtesan, a woman considered a prostitute in the 19th century, ill with tuberculosis, surrounded by false friends who partied and did little else, finally finding true love with Alfredo, only to sacrifice that love and give him up to please his father who did not want her as his son's wife. When her consumption becomes intense and she is out of money and without friends, Alfredo finally returns to her but she dies in his arms. Everything spoke of realism, albeit in a romantic way, to Roxella. She, too, had been a prostitute and she had found true love with Hudson. Everything except for the tuberculosis.

"My dear, you will always love opera now," the Professor said to her.

They got up from their seats and after applauding the cast who bowed on the stage, they went into the main lobby of the Met. There they drank some champagne, laughed and enjoyed conversation. Then the Professor had a surprise for them.

"I've been invited by the soprano who sang Violetta and the conductor to an after party at the Plaza Hotel. I included you two as guests."

"Oh Professor that's great," Hudson said, "how can I ever thank you?"

"We're already dressed for it at least," Roxella said, laughing.

She looked scrumptious. She was in a backless red gown, her red hair a perfect match as it flowed down her back, her neck adorned with a diamond necklace that Hudson had bought her from Tiffany's. Hudson was as always very handsome in his tuxedo. They walked out of the opera house and headed to the Plaza Hotel...........

At the party, everyone, but especially the men, couldn't keep their eyes off Roxella. She was timid amongst such a different crowd, all of them wealthy and important. Hudson had never been with such a beautiful girl. He was the envy of every man at the party and he took note of it. Roxella cast a strange spell over everyone, unknowingly. It was like that scene in "My Fair Lady" in which Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle dressed beautifully as a princess managed to fool everyone at the Embassy Ball into thinking she was royalty when she was in fact a poor flower girl. No one could ever guess that Roxella had been a stripper.