Josefina's Honor

Police Officer Harry O'Hara had been a cop for 29 years, most of it spent patrolling this same neighborhood. He loved his job, especiall in the Fall, his favorite time of year. He knew most of the people who lived on his beat among the brownstone and brick homes of Cobble Hill and Carroll Gardens, the area just above the Brooklyn Waterfront. The homes here were built more than a century before, for the sea captains whose ships brought cargo from the distant corners of the known world to the piers in Brooklyn. Today the houses were owned or rented by executives, middle managers, storekeepers and educators, along with the dock workers and old folks who had moved in when the wealthy captains moved out. Most of their children had grown up in the neighborhood and had never left.

The weather this day was special, a typical Indian summer day. Officer O'Hara walked the wide streets and quiet avenues that were canopied by the red-and gold-leafed autumn trees. The delicious smells coming out of the open windows made saliva gather in the corners of his mouth. He took pleasure in the sounds of children playing on the stoops and sidewalks of the familiar blocks. This was his domain.

In all the years on this beat the worst things he had ever been called on to solve or investigate were street fights, auto accidents or domestic squabbles. He knew that many matters were "settled" within the confines of the home and family. When there were more serious matters the detectives of the squad were quickly called in and the beat officer's involvement was pretty much finished.

Suddenly the everyday street noises were shattered by an urgent shout. "Officer, officer, help, hurry, hurry."

The policeman began to run toward a woman on a stoop, calling and frantically waving at him. He felt a sense of foreboding at the panic in her voice.

"What's the matter, missus," he asked.

"I tink sometin's wrong," she said with a strong Italian accent. "You betta come inside and taka da look. I smella da gas," she said in a shaking voice, her forehead wrinkling , while she kept nervusly rubbing the side of her face. "Uppa da stairs," she gestured toward the hallway steps leading to the second floor. O'Hara could smell it too, a strong smell of gas.

"Watch out," he yelled, running up the steps. The door to the apartment was locked. "Do you have the key," he called down. A man lumbered up the stairs, handed hime a skeleton key, then ran down. The noxious odor of gas was powerful out in the hallway. After the lock snapped open the officer still had to push hard, brcing his shoulder an dlegs against the door several times until it gave way. Rags pushed up against the door had made it hard to open. Once inside the gas-filled room he held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. With his free hand he picked up a chaiar and smashed the window. He turned the knobs on the stove to the off position, opened the other window and waited in the hallway. After several minutes most of the choking odor cleared out. Not until then did he give his attention to the chaos in the room.

He saw a man on a kitchen chair, his upper body sprawled across the porcelain-topped table, face down and turned to the side. The man's arms werestretched out in front of him and spittle ran from his mouth. The other chairs were overturned. A fur coat and a handbag lay on the floor.

On the floor,alongside the table, a woman lay spread-eagled. Her long, jet black hair fanned out across the patterned, linoleum- covered floor. He couldn't miss the large purple bruise on her jaw -- nor the fact that she was very beautiful.

In the doorway four people crowded together to see what was happening. Three men,the one who had run upstairs to give him the key and the woman who had called him stood watching. The officer touched the man's neck to check for a pulse. He shook his head. "He's gone." Bending down on one knee he did the same for the woman.

"I think there's a pulse," he said excitedly. Since he was looking down at the woman on the floor he didn't notice the sheer panic on the faces of the people at the doorway when he uttered this remark.