Passing Paper

Back in the late 80s my friend, Rocco, was a narcotic detective for the NYPD. The 27 year-old Brooklyn native raided crack houses and dealer’s apartments. He was the first man through the door. A shotgun was his calling card. Once the battering ram smashed down the door, Rocco dropped to his knee with the shotgun seeking any danger. Most suspects froze in his sights. Some fled through elaborate escape route chopped through the walls of tenements buildings. Rocco was infamously known as ‘Dead-eye’, although he swore to me that he had never pulled the trigger on a fugitive. His salary was $27,000 a year.I was working at the Milk Bar. Rocco came for pleasure, not business, however every drug dealers left the club in a hurry. Even in his street clothes they read him for what he was. A narco cop.

One night he arrives at the club and asks if he can use the office. I shut the door after him and Rocco pulled a paper bag from under his jacket. It was packed with cash. $20s. All very crisp.

“What you think?” He handed me a bill.

“It’s good.” The touch was silky same as a $20. The images were clear. I held it up to the light. Something wasn’t right. “It’s a fugazi. Where you get them?”

“I was raiding a dealer’s apartment in Bed-Stuy. I knocked down the door. The perps scooted out the windows. My boys chased them. I was in the apartment by myself. There were paper bags in the corner. I looked inside. I found this.” Rocco took back the bill. “I thought I’d give myself a raise.”

“How much you think is in there?” Cops are honest whenever there’s more than one of them around, but like everyone else in the world, no witness breeds thieves.

“Only one way to find out.” Rocco dumped the phony cash on the desk.

We counted out just under $5000.

“You know someone who can rid of this?” Rocco only believed in breaking one law at a time. He had done his share, now it was my turn. “I can get you 20 cents on the dollar.”

“Then do it.”

I stashed the money in the safe and told Rocco, “Don’t tell anything about this.”

And he didn’t. We split the money two ways later that week. He never asked where the fugazis went. I never said where. Secrets are better that way. Rocco retired from the NYPD a hero. I never questioned his valor.