Marnie. Her thoughts drifted to the few intense days they’d spent in Provincetown right before they’d deployed. They’d acknowledged the very real possibility of one of them dying in Afghanistan and every touch, every kiss, every meeting of eyes said I love you, I cherish you, you will be in my heart forever. Marnie had insisted they grant each other the freedom to live should the other die. They clung to each other and cried as each of them repeated the promise: “I will mourn, but not forever; I will not forget, but I will let myself love again without guilt.”
Easier said than done. But seeing Brett alive and well, holding her and talking to her had broken through the wall of anxiety she’d built, flooding her with the feelings she’d been fighting. She would always love Marnie, but maybe she was ready to open her heart. She ducked her head, letting the bathwater mingle with her tears, letting her guilt wash away. Marnie would laugh at her for making her attraction to Brett into such a big deal that she couldn’t think straight. Once this case was over, she would call Brett to talk. Maybe if they spent a little time together her feelings for Brett would evaporate as quickly as they had appeared. Or not.
The kittens had trained her to leave her bedroom door open. If they couldn’t get in to sleep with her they would scream bloody murder, scratch, and throw themselves at the door until she opened it. She put her gun in the drawer so she wouldn’t accidentally shoot them or one of the kids overnight. She drifted, half asleep, half awake, and when she did fall asleep she had a nightmare, but this time it was about Brett. Someone was trying to kill Brett in the next room and she couldn’t find the door to get in to save her. She woke covered in sweat and listened for the kids, but either she hadn’t screamed, or they were in the deep sleep of untroubled teenagers. As if they sensed her terror, the kittens strolled in, jumped on the bed, and snuggled on her chest. Comforted by their warmth and soft snores she dozed off.
By six a.m. when Nicky stumbled out of bed, she had already been out to the all-night bagel place around the corner on Fourteenth Street and was at the table reading the papers, drinking coffee, eating an everything bagel, and fighting off the kittens, who were having a grand time climbing up and down her legs.
“Morning, Auntie.” He helped himself to coffee and a bagel and joined her at the table. “We tried to wait up but we were both zonked. I guess you got in really late.”
The cats switched to climbing up his legs. Jeans were much better for climbing.
“About one thirty. Parker and I were with Brett Cummings until we could get a police officer to stay with her.”
“Is she okay? I mean, how horrible to hear your best friends have been…” He looked down at the kittens, took a deep breath, then looked at her, “…have been murdered.”
Chiara felt protective of him and of Brett’s privacy so she went with the short answer. No need to share Brett’s anguish. “It was a shock. I’m sure it will take some time before Brett and Kate and the others are okay. But Kate arrived just as we were leaving. They’re both strong women and they’ll support each other.”
He pulled the kittens into his lap and took a bite of his bagel before speaking again. “Brett’s dynamite. Do you know she speaks really good Italian? We chatted with her and Nardo for a long time. She couldn’t get over how much we both look like you. Spencer—” He looked away.
Corelli reached for his hand. “He was your friend, Nick. Crying is allowed.”
He nodded and sniffled. “It’s just hard to believe.” He turned to her, a pained smile on his face, patted her hand, and picked up his bagel. “Anyway, Spencer bragged on Brett, said she’s a super sailor, a super woman, and a super successful stockbroker. She offered me the opportunity to intern with her this summer, you know, learn the stock market. Cool, huh?”
Corelli’s lips twitched. Busy woman that Brett Cummings, seducing my sister and my nephew. Even speaks Italian. As if it wasn’t hard enough to resist her.
“What are you smiling about, Auntie?”
“Speaking of Spencer. Are you involved with anyone?”
He blushed, tears filled his eyes. “No. I had a crush on Spencer but, you know, he said he was still mourning his lover, and anyway it would be better for me to be with someone more my age, that I should be patient, that I would meet somebody special.”
She hesitated to ask, this was her nephew for god’s sake, but she needed to be sure. “You know about safe sex, right?”
He looked amused. “Yes, Auntie. Spencer made sure the whole group knew about it.”
She sipped her coffee and peered at him over the rim of her cup. “So how did you know you were gay? How could you be sure?”
“I didn’t know. I always had lots of girls as friends, but not, like, you know, girlfriends. But my friends and I went out in a group, guys and girls, not paired up in couples, and I didn’t give it a second thought. I was only sixteen and I told myself I just hadn’t met the right girl, that there was plenty of time for dating. But then I met this high-voltage guy and I knew I was in love. But we just had a brief fling and he moved on.” He shrugged. “When I thought about it, I realized I had always had crushes on my friends and male teachers. I just hadn’t noticed.”
“How do you feel about it? About being gay?”
“I’m okay with Simone and my friends, but when I’m home or with the family, I feel anxious they’ll hate me.” He shrugged and looked embarrassed.
She reached over and took both his hands. When he looked at her his eyes filled. “I’m afraid to tell them. I think Auntie Gianna and Uncle Marco will be okay, like you, but my mom and dad and Grandma and Grandpa, maybe they’ll disown me. Grandpa disowned you just for being a cop before he even knew you were a lesbian.” He sniffed.
She squeezed his hands. “It’s hard to be different, isn’t it? And you’re right, they will be very upset for a while, but they love you and with time they’ll accept you for who you are. And if they don’t, you’ll still have family, like I do. It’s painful to be rejected just for who you love but if you’re ever going to be happy, Nicky, you can only be who you are.”
“Thanks, I know I’ll be okay. I just forget sometimes.”
“Take your time. When you’re ready to tell your parents, I’ll come with you and so will Gianna and Marco.” And, who knows, by that time, maybe Brett will be there too.
Chapter Forty-Five
Tuesday – 8:30 a.m.
Parker rang Corelli’s bell at eight thirty. When Corelli came down a few minutes later, Parker was sitting in the car with an easy listening station on the radio. She looked tired but relaxed, and there was something different about her, hard to put a finger on it, though. She wasn’t smiling but she seemed to be enjoying a memory or a thought. She almost glowed, like she had a secret. Maybe she had met someone after they’d left Brett’s apartment last night, even though it was so late.
“Good morning, Parker, get some sleep last night?”
“Fair amount,” she said, with a dreamy smile on her face.
Not sharing, so that must be a sexual glow. Nice to see Parker looking so relaxed. Almost happy. Made her realize how tense Parker was most of the time.
Corelli sat back, closed her eyes, and let the music flow over her during the short drive to the stationhouse. Maybe some of the good vibe would rub off on her. But soon enough they were at the house and a howling media mob waited to devour them, or at least her. Had something happened? Or were they frantic because she arrived much later than usual?
Since the captain had decreed that whether at the precinct or at a crime scene, the media was to be restrained behind barricades in order to allow free, unobstructed access to all personnel, it had been easier to ignore them. But the distance didn’t stop the mad dog press. Either they were optimistic or desperate because nearly every morning they lay in wait behind the barricades. They didn’t seem to get that as long as they were a mob, she would refuse to talk to them.
Well, maybe it was her lucky day after all. Only twenty or thirty police were
outside waiting for her. Whatever. She and Parker were getting to be old hands at this.
Parker took a deep breath. “The usual?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
They got out of the car and strode toward the door shoulder to shoulder. As she expected, the police turned their backs and a few hissed. The press, however, kept howling, screaming her name and questions she couldn’t even hear over the din.
She relaxed as the door closed.
They took a minute to observe Councilman Collins through the two-way mirror. He was sitting with his elbows on the table, head cradled in his hands. Hard to tell whether he was hung over, upset, or feeling sorry for himself, but like any politician faced with his public, he pulled himself together when he heard the knob turn and they stepped in.
“I’ll have your job for this.”
Right. She smiled, a feral smile. For once she was dealing with someone even higher on the mayor’s “shit list” than her, but even without that, she had Kate Burke on her side, so he could stuff it.
“Be that as it may, Councilman Collins, you’ll have to answer a few questions first.”
“Detective Parker, please read the councilman his rights.”
He jumped up. “Wait just a minute here.” His voice was tinged with fear. “I already told you I have nothing to do with the GALS killings.”
Corelli circled him. “Yes, you did. But I’m not convinced. Why were you boarding a plane for Washington this morning?”
His head spun trying to follow her. “I often go to Washington on city business.”
“And what business was so critical that you ignored the request not to leave the city?”
He bit his lip but didn’t respond.
“I see. Maybe you can explain why we haven’t received the documents we requested from last week’s trip to Washington, the receipts and the list of the people you saw?”
“I told you, it’s not relevant to the GALS investigation.”
“Maybe you could explain why you needed a copy of the guest list the day of Speaker Burke’s election?”
“Stop circling me. You’re making me dizzy.”
“Your obfuscation makes me dizzy. Answer, please.”
She inched toward him, totally focused, as if he were prey. He stepped back. She resumed circling.
“Could we sit?”
“It was your idea to stand.” She waved him to the table, but remained standing, leaning against the wall, facing him. He averted his eyes.
“I don’t have a lot of time, Councilman, and I’m getting impatient, so if you’re not ready to answer my questions, we’ll go off and do other things while you think about it. And later tonight or tomorrow morning when we’re back in the office, we’ll check to see if you’re ready.”
He paled. “You have no right—”
“Oh, but I do.” That feral smile was back. She moved toward the door. Parker followed.
“Wait. Anything I say must stay in this room.”
She put her hand on the doorknob.
He reached an arm toward her as if to hold her back. “Wait,” he said through clenched teeth. “I planned to use the list for fundraising when Burke fucked up. But I swear I never saw it. Security sent it to my assistant and she put it in the fundraising file.”
Corelli stepped out of the room and a minute later Dietz appeared. “Check with security and his assistant to see if he’s telling the truth.”
Corelli stepped back in and went back to the wall.
Collins removed a neatly folded white handkerchief from his back pocket and swabbed the perspiration from his face. Clutching the damp cloth, he met her eyes.
“I’ve answered your question. I’d like to leave now.”
“Ah, but we’re just beginning. You haven’t provided the requested documentation for your trip to Washington—names of people you met with and receipts for hotels and meals, et cetera. So why don’t you tell us where you were Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday nights and give us the documents later.”
He leaned back, passed the handkerchief over his face again. “I told you. It’s not relevant to your investigation.”
“I’ll decide what’s relevant.”
Parker stood. “He’s wasting our time.”
“You want to book him, Parker? I thought we’d give him another chance.” She stretched her legs and leaned back. “But my patience is running out too. What about it, Councilman?”
Parker sat again.
He looked from one to the other. “Good cop, bad cop. I get it.”
Corelli straightened. “No, sir, you don’t get it. If I don’t hear an explanation in the next couple of minutes, we will hold you and get a warrant to search your office. How will that look to your constituents?”
“You can’t.” His voice was defiant.
“I can and I will.” She locked on his eyes. “Your decision. How do you want to handle it?”
He stood. Parker bounced up and moved between him and the door. He ignored her and paced in the small space, pulling at his neatly coiffed hair.
“This will ruin me if it gets out. Promise you won’t mention it.”
“Councilman, you’re going to have to take my word that I have no interest in ruining you or anyone. All I want to do is eliminate you as a suspect.”
He glanced at the mirror. “Who’s watching? I’ll tell you two but no one else can hear.”
“There’s no one there.” He seemed unaware everything he said would be included in their written report.
He sat again, put his face in his hands, rubbed his eyes and face, and took a deep breath. “All expenses for the trip were paid for by Longford Development Associates. I have no receipts.”
“And they are?”
“They’re bidding on a big development project in my district.”
“Would that be the billion dollar project opposed by your constituents?”
“Yes. I…They wanted me to spend a few days with them so they could help me see the benefits of the project.”
“In Washington?”
“No, Puerto Rico. My wife and I flew on their private jet and they wined and dined us.”
“And do you see the benefits now?”
He flushed.
“Why were you taking the shuttle to Washington?”
“I wanted to get them to fake some receipts or something, to avoid this, my having to tell you I—”
“Took a bribe?”
He stared at his hands.
“We need some names so we can corroborate your story and once we do you’re free to go on the condition you tell Kate Burke about this when she gets here in a little while.”
“You promised,” he moaned like a kid denied his ice cream cone.
“No sir, I said I have no interest in ruining you, which I don’t, but I do have a strong interest in honesty and integrity. It will be easier for you if you confess. Maybe if your wife stands next to you while you apologize publicly, you’ll get to keep your job.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Wednesday – 9 a.m.
Corelli positioned herself at the top of the steps near the main entrance to St. Patrick’s Cathedral and reviewed, for the hundredth time, all the precautions they had put in place to protect Brett, Kate Burke, Abby Wong, and Nelson Choi. When the del Balzo family had opted not to have a wake with an open coffin, Corelli arranged for the four friends to spend a short while with Nardo’s body late one night at the morgue, hoping that would satisfy their need to say goodbye to their friend. As the person responsible for their safety, she argued against their presence at Nardo del Balzo’s funeral today.
But the four were adamant, saying they would attend the funeral with or without her permission and with or without her protection. Nardo was their close friend, the first of their three close friends to be buried, and they would show their love and respect by attending his funeral. He would do no less for them. In her heart she knew if it were her friend, she would do the same. She
was confident, or at least as confident as one could be when dealing with an obviously deranged killer, that he wouldn’t try to kill any of them at the funeral. He liked privacy and time to arrange the body, so a public killing didn’t fit his pattern. Yet, these murders were so personal, she assumed he would attend the funeral and she had planned for the possibility of an attack on the survivors. She had arranged extra security for each of them amidst the heavy security provided for Ambassador del Balzo, his family, and other dignitaries.
Now she and the numerous other detectives and uniformed officers spread along the top step of St. Patrick’s Cathedral scanned the faces of mourners, checked hands and the bulkiness of clothing, and attempted to identify anyone who appeared out of place. Shoulder-to-shoulder uniforms with their backs to the cathedral faced the spectators lining the sidewalk behind the metal gates used for crowd control. The officers struggled to maintain a clear path from the curb to the cathedral entrance while scrutinizing the crowd for danger. Contained on one side of the entrance, newscasters pushed forward, shouted questions, and tried to stick their microphones and cameras in the faces of the guests arriving for the funeral. She spotted Bear, towering over some of the others. The del Balzos had approved one camera in the church to be shared by all networks, and Corelli had allowed newscasters who could be trusted to take notes but not broadcast, to attend the service in the cathedral. Darla was probably inside already.
Cars and limousines lined up for blocks. A police team checked the identification of the passengers in each car before releasing it to dispense its occupants at the cathedral’s entrance. The Secretary General of the UN, a number of UN ambassadors, the governor, two senators, several representatives, the mayor, the chief of police, and other high level politicians had already entered when a voice in Corelli’s earpiece informed her the next car at the curb would be Speaker Kate Burke and her partner Abby Wong, with their security detail.
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