“How about his life insurance? Anything if he’s found to be murdered?”
“You mean double indemnity, like the movie?”
“Well. Yes, I guess I do, Larry.”
“The policy pays five million regardless of cause of death, except for suicide. The money goes to a trust, with an attorney as a trustee, and all of his family as beneficiaries. Evenly divided, basically.”
“Anyone in the family in financial trouble?”
“You been hanging around with Phil Lacombe? He spent two days on all of that. The bad part is that I didn’t do it sooner. The good part is that it didn’t make any difference. No reason on the money side to kill him.”
“Smart cop.”
“And he’s dying.”
“What?”
“Liver cancer. He has maybe six months. He used to be this big burly guy, but now he’s leaning out. He can only work for another few weeks.”
“Family?” I asked.
“Nah, his wife died three years ago, no kids, no fucking nothing, except the job.”
I was silent for a time, thinking, before I spoke. “Nothing to say. It sucks. I’m sorry.”
“I’d like to make sure he shows up on the arrest.”
“If I can help, I will.”
There was a pause, while he thought. “Want to hear about Petersen?”
“My favorite guy, sure.”
He brightened for a moment, “Well, Pus Pockets Petersen is going to be arraigned, on Monday. The State guys found all kinds of money he can’t account for. His wardrobe is supplied by some clothing store that he works for. He keeps building inspectors and so forth away from them. There may be enough to show that he did some side work for Morley. Should make it an interesting trial, if it gets that far. I think he’ll make a deal. Even that atomic cannon he likes to carry was a bribe, and the ammo is way the hell outside of guidelines. He’s suspended and his assets are locked up. It’ll be in the papers by Monday night or Tuesday morning.”
“I needed some good news. I know it isn’t really good news, but you know what I mean. I hate to ask but do I have to keep looking over my shoulder for traffic stops?”
“I’d be careful for a bit. He made a lot of noise about you and how he’s gonna get cleared and how you framed him, and like that.”
“You watching your back?” I asked.
“Yup, and Phil is, too. Phil’s sort of old fashioned. And doing a politician’s dirty work? Phil hates politicians.”
“Sorry I opened the can of worms.”
“It would have happened anyway. Petersen’s too stupid to last much longer,” he said quietly.
“Still, it can’t be good.”
“Yeah. Now they’ll look at the whole department, and it’ll show up in the news for a while. Plus he could have been a good cop. The only good thing is that we tipped off the State guys ourselves. We don’t have an internal investigation group. Never needed one before this. Makes us look a little better, anyway. I know he’s dirty and all, but he was still a cop, you know?”
“I guess I do. In a way, I’m sorry I was right. Look, try to keep your head up. You got a couple of kicks in the balls, but it’s not like there haven’t been others.”
“And won’t be more, I know.”
“Take care of yourself,” I said, as if it meant anything at all.
Marisol came in a few minutes after we hung up. She caught me staring into space, sitting on the couch.
“Daddy?”
“Hi, honey. How was your day?”
“Great! I got my grade for the special project and I got an A, and they cancelled gym. If it’s okay, Terri’s coming over tonight,” I agreed, remembering the call I’d made to her mom.
“That’s slamming, Daddy. Mad good.” I was pretty sure that meant she was happy. Then I stopped dead. If the news guy did what I wanted, then another little girl would be here, so I couldn’t send Marisol and Mrs. Pina for their “visit” to keep them clear.
“Daddy?”
“What, ‘Sol?”
“You just kind of stopped, like you remembered something.”
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
She went to her room to do some homework.
While she was doing that, I called Bill the TV guy. “No, I tried, but I couldn’t get it into tonight’s budget.”
“Budget?”
“Yeah, we get twenty minutes, total, that’s our budget and there was a huge fire down in Westerly. The local politician thing wasn’t enough to make it in. I have a commitment for Monday, if nothing major breaks, though.”
“That works out better, Bill. By the way, anyone hurt or anything in the fire?”
“Two firemen and a lady firefighter treated for smoke inhalation. How they inhale smoke wearing those masks is one of the mysteries of the business. Monday is better? Better for who? Sorry, whom.”
“Just plain better.”
“Okay, then, don’t forget that I produce Sandra’s exclusive, and you owe me some video.”
“I owe you a free drink or two, too.”
“Love a guy with a good memory. I’ll be keeping an eye on our sleazy young politico.”
I was making my interpretation of a fast food burger meal, when Mrs. Pina came to the door. Terri and her mom were behind her with an overnight bag. They were both grinning about something. “Thanks.” I took her bag and walked with her to Marisol’s room. Mrs. Pina began to set the table.
“Hey, there, muffin. Look who’s here.”
“Terri!”
“Hi, Marisol!” They were hugging and I liked how it looked. Marisol walked Terri to her room. I smiled, and waved to the two of them and went back into the kitchen. This would be good practice, for a full blown sleepover, I hoped.
I was an audience for supper. Mrs. Pina, Terri and Marisol chattered and laughed and teased me. It was a wonderful time. My graying hair came in for some humor, as did some of my speech. ‘Sol got some mileage out of the way I said “Fall River, New Bedford and Warwick.” I went to my room to dress for work.
I came out and they were sitting around the living room. The stereo was playing one of my jazz CDs. “You were born to wear black and white,” said Mrs. Pina.
“That’s because I have no color sense.”
‘Sol giggled.
“You ladies have a fun evening. Call me if you need anything.” I couldn’t help thinking that they couldn’t wait for me to leave.
The Saab started on the first try.
***
Diane and Teddy were both working, and the hotel had hired a dance band, and had some specials on drinks. Of course, nobody changed the prices on the computer, so I was adjusting as I went.
It was busy, and the tips were good. Larry DaSilva stopped over and dropped the flashdrive. He stayed long enough for a beer and left for a weekend with his family. The crowd was friendly, older than usual because of the band, and was ordering drinks I hadn’t mixed in a long time. It was fun, and my tricks earned some applause and a few big tips. When the shift ended, we were tired, but smiling.
I got into my car for the trip home. There was a set of headlights behind me. They were brighter than usual, and bluish. They followed me until I turned into my street, slowed after I turned, then sped off. He was almost quick enough to hide the plate. The car was a silver Infiniti sport sedan, just the kind of thing that Detective Asshole Petersen would drive. I wrote the number on the back of an envelope and carried it into the house with me.
It was ten or so when I woke up, and smelled coffee. We sat around for an hour, sipping coffee, eating muffins and trying to make plans for the day. Finally, I herded them into my car and headed north, then east for Cape Cod. I parked at one of the huge lots in Woods Hole, and we caught the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard on time.
The day trip was a big hit with them. What was left of the weekend was spent playing board games, cooking, eating and dozing through the day. Very early on Monday morning, Marisol was in the bathroom when the phone
rang. “A little shop talk?” Dana asked.
“Sure,” I answered.
“Petersen.”
“According to DaSilva, he gets arraigned this morning.”
“That’s for state and local stuff. We haven’t taken our shot at him, yet. His involvement with the Congressman and the overall law enforcement overview thing is ours to use, as well.”
“Has he got anything to trade?” Which reminded me. “I have to remember to tell DaSilva about the car that followed me.”
Dana sounded tense, “You were tailed from the bar?”
“Might be paranoia.”
“And they watched your house?”
“Might be somebody else.”
“Did you think that maybe I should know about all of that? Being the FBI agent in charge of the case?”
“Dana, I should have, and I’m sorry. I guess I forgot about that, with what we have, it’s like you work for the FBI, and I work for the hotel, but that isn’t what’s important.”
“I’m a Special Agent.” Her voice was cool and different.
“I did say I’m sorry. I think about you, not your job. That isn’t trying to ignore it.”
Her voice softened. “I think I understand, because I haven’t been chasing you for answers, either. Could you maybe try, say, once a day, to ask yourself if there’s anything you should tell Agent Kilroy? Then maybe you could think about how wonderful I am.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“And if you forget, I’ll shoot you in a place that will only hurt for a month or so.”
“Can we get back to Petersen?”
“Sure. The US Attorney is looking. It looks like Petersen had a couple of friends in Newport, one or two in Warwick, and so forth. He was a busy boy, and probably worked into Massachusetts, Connecticut, too. That makes it Federal, and we should be able to make it. He can only trade his colleagues and the operations of the people who paid them off. Depends on what he can offer.”
“So?”
“Somebody would have noticed something pretty soon, but, yes, we do owe you one.”
“I’ll take it out of your hide.”
“Promises, promises,” she said, just before we got off the phone.
Terri’s mom showed up to drive the girls to school, and I was left alone.
***
It was the day for Petersen’s arraignment, so I went to the courthouse. There were quite a few TV vans, with their phallic antennae extended towards the sky, with cameras and earnest-looking people speaking into microphones. As I threaded my way through the crowd, waving my brand new badge, I was stopped by a guy in jeans and a golf shirt. “Paul Costa?”
“Yes,” I said warily.
“Bill Latronica.” The TV guy that had followed Jason and Adam.
“Hi, it’s good to meet you,” I extended my hand.
“You, too. Listen, we’re on for six o’clock tonight.”
“Outstanding!”
“About the tape and the exclusive?”
“After the hearing, I’m parked over there. If you can bring a blank tape, can you dupe it in your van?”
“Yup. So, I’ll meet you out here after the hearing? So what’s your interest in this guy Petersen?”
“He was involved in the initial investigation into the Congressman’s death.”
“And?”
“And he wasn’t, after awhile.”
“Will I get anymore when you talk to Sandra?”
“Whatever you want,” I said it over my shoulder, headed into the courthouse. At the door, I had to check my pistol into a lockbox, and empty my pockets and walk through a metal detector, twice. I was scanned by an electronic wand, and showed my permit three times. Finally, I made it in, and bullied myself into the courtroom.
DaSilva was there, with Phil Lacombe. They saw me at the same time, and Larry made a face. We squeezed in, three middle aged male butts packed into a space that could have handled one and a half. We rose when the judge entered, sat when she told us to, and waited for her to adjust her glasses and shuffle some papers. A clerk stood and whispered to her.
The clerk announced “Case this” and “Docket that” and “State of Rhode Island versus David Laramie Petersen.” He was led in through a side door, handcuffed and dressed in a set of red surgeon’s scrubs, with RICI stenciled over the pocket, on his butt and back. Both Phil and Larry looked down, Larry shaking his head.
Bail was set, and a Police Union Representative stepped forward to make bail on the bond. It all took less than fifteen minutes. The stripper girlfriend, dressed in a conservative pantsuit, handed Petersen’s lawyer a suit on a drycleaner hanger and a pair of shoes. I noticed that the shoes were two-toned and hideous. The judge rose, we rose, the judge left, and we shuffled out of the courtroom.
We hadn’t exchanged a word, but I shook hands with them. I asked DaSilva if he would be around later, and he nodded. “By the way, that plate number, the one from the car that followed you? It came back as belonging to a rental company. I’ll let you know who rented it.” They left the courthouse together, but each seemed isolated. Cameras crowded around them, and they “no comment-ed” their way through and got into a marked police car. They had to use the lights to get the crowd to part.
There was a rush towards the front doors as Petersen appeared, with his girlfriend and lawyer. They finally pushed their way down the stairs to the lawyer’s SUV. The District Attorney came out, made a speech and turned to walk back into the courthouse.
Bill Latronica walked up to me, looking gleeful. “I think this one is going to go national.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“I’d rather work for a network than an affiliate.”
He had thinning sandy hair, blue eyes and pale skin. Except for a plastic digital watch, he wore no jewelry, and his waist had fallen to make a rain gutter for sloping shoulders.
We walked over to my car, and I handed him the tape. “I need a copy,” I said.
“I remember.” At his van with its garish sides, he handed it to a technician who made a copy.
“I’ll watch this on the way back to the studio,” said Latronica. “Watch the news tonight, Paul. I wrote the narration almost word for word as you gave it to me. You might consider coming to work for us.”
“No, thanks, too much excitement for me,” I said with a grin. I could have added, “And I prefer honest work.”
When I got home, I did some housework, and pulled together a clean outfit for work. There was a brownie mix in the cabinet, so I made that up, and had it cooling on a rack when my daughter got home from school. She was subdued, but didn’t seem sad or upset, so I gave her a brownie and a glass of milk, poured myself a coffee and sat down with her. We chewed and sipped and looked at each other once in awhile. She gathered up her backpack and headed into her room to do her homework. “Anything you think you might need help with, muffin?”
“No, thanks, Daddy. It’s all easy stuff.”
I sauntered to her door. “Everything okay, honey?”
“Yeah, I guess I was hoping Dana would be here.”
“You know that her job’s way up in Boston, right?”
“Uh-huh. And it takes a long time to get there. We went to Boston to see the Red Sox.”
“That’s right. She’ll come again, or maybe you and I can go up and visit her sometime soon.”
“That would be cool!”
“I don’t know when or how soon, but we’ll see, okay, honey?”
“I know, Daddy, and I have to get all this dumb stuff done.”
“And I have to go to work, tonight.” She ran over and gave me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. It felt sweet. I held on too tight, and maybe a bit too long, but she stayed with me.
“Love you, Daddy!”
“Love you, my sweet Marisol.” She craned her head up to look at me.
“Do you miss Dana too?” It was tough to get anything past her, even if she was guessing wrong.
“You only hug me t
hat tight when something’s wrong, Daddy.”
“Everything’s okay, honey.” I left her as Mrs. Pina came down the stairs.
She walked in, carrying her huge satchel. She patted it, and nodded.
“Tomorrow, Mrs. Pina, can you pick up ‘Sol at school and take her to your sister-in-law’s for the night?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“From tonight, onwards, I will need you to be on guard. Tomorrow, you and Marisol have to be away, probably until Wednesday.”
“Will it be over then?”
“One way, or the other.”
“It shall be your way, Paul. You will do what you must.”
“It won’t come to that.”
“Sometimes, I know about things, a little before they happen. Be hard, my son.”
I felt my eyes sting, but managed to hold it in. “VooVoo, please take good care of my child for me.”
Her eyes filled and spilled over. “She’ll be safe, and so will you.”
I got to work early, and watched the six o’clock news. Just before the weather, a short clip of Jason and Adam, parked two houses away from mine appeared. Then the magic words. “This video showing congressional candidate, Jason Morley, surveying one of the district’s neighborhoods will soon be followed by others, as soon as suitable arrangements can be made. We look forward to obtaining more on this candidate’s work with the voters.”
Perfect. I had to move quickly, but for now, I had a bar, and a quiet night to look forward to. It was one that seemed to last forever.
After we closed, Mike met Sarah at the door, and Detective Sergeant Larry DaSilva met me, with his friend and partner Phil Lacombe. They all nodded at one another. Mike looked at me.
“It’s okay, they just need to talk to me about something,” I said.
He smiled and left, holding his beautiful wife’s hand. They glanced back at us once, in unison.
“I suppose you have an explanation for tonight’s news?” Phil Lacombe said.
“Sure do.”
“I suppose you’d rather not share it with me?”
“Wrong. You and Larry and I need to talk, follow me home?”
Larry nodded, and we walked out to the parking lot.
Last Call Page 20