Detective's Apprentice

The first cold wave of 1972 reached New Jersey, causing near freezing temperatures in the late November afternoon. The Fifth Precinct desk sergeant saw the dapper detective walk in and called out, “Hymie, the commissioner wants to see you. He’s in the captain’s office.”

Hiram Murphy waved and continued walking to the squad room. He hung his topcoat in his locker, nodded to another detective pecking at a typewriter, then took two stairs at time going up to the captain’s office on the second floor. The captain’s door was open, so Hiram walked in and smiled, “Hi Commish, you wanted to see me?”

The tall thin commissioner stood and shook Hymie’s hand. He glanced at the portly captain behind the desk and said, “Hiram, we’re both worried about your safety. Have you thought any more about the fed’s offer to relocate you with a different identity?”

“Yeah. I thought about it. I like what I’m doing. The mob bosses are all behind bars. It’ll take a long time for the syndicate to get reorganized. I think we did them in.”

“We’re not so sure. There are still some very dangerous characters around. I heard Junior Carrillo is getting the old gang together. He won’t be happy that you put his father behind bars.”

Hiram laughed, “He’s happier than you think. His father kept him under his thumb for years. Now he can do what he wants. He’s using the family capital to set up legitimate businesses. I spent a lot of time with him while I was undercover. We’re good friends. I’m meeting him at the gym in a half hour to play racket ball. He’s a good athlete and very competitive.”

The captain spoke up, “I told the commissioner the witness protection is up to you. I think you’re being foolhardy, but you know those people better than anyone else on the force. The offer to relocate stands, if you want it.”

“Thanks. Thanks to both of you. I’ll continue working here. I’ll let you know if I feel threatened. If there’s nothing else, I’ll keep my racket ball date.” 

The commissioner put his hand on Hiram’s shoulder and said, “If you ever need anything, just ask. You did one hell of a job.”

Hiram smiled, then stepped away and said, “That’s what I get paid for. I’ll let you know if I see any part of the mob reorganizing. Junior will know what’s going on. I’ll ask him this evening.”

Hiram got his topcoat and gym bag from his locker and waved to the two officers in the squad room. The gym bag was heavy with the two five-pound barbell weights he was bringing home, but it was only two blocks to the gym, so he started walking briskly to get warmed up for his match. As he approached the entrance, a man stepped out of a car across the street, lifted a submachine gun, and fired a burst at him. Hiram fell, clutching his gym bag to his chest, but the submachine gun kept firing until the magazine was empty. The big man walked over and looked at the riddled body, then trotted back to the car and sped away.

Two patrolmen entering the precinct house heard the shooting. They drew their guns and ran to find Hiram bleeding and unconscious. One stayed with the body while the other called an ambulance. Even though it was too late to do anything for Hiram, they rushed him to the Trenton General Hospital.