“No,” James protested in horror. “No; I—I wasn’t carrying—I swear it’s not mine.”
“It’s police-issue,” Geary reported ominously, and McShane wrenched James even harder into the wall.
“Call for an ambulance,” Acton ordered Williams. “And call for a field unit, also. No one moves.”
Her husband had let go of her arms, and so Doyle hurried over to kneel down next to Gabriel. As she brushed past Claudia Peterson, she noted that the woman stood unmoving—almost like a statue—as her brother continued to protest his innocence, and McShane maintained his iron grip.
And that’s what you call an insurance policy, thought Doyle, as she helped Munoz apply pressure to Gabriel’s wound. Good one, Chief Inspector.
Chapter 39
Doyle was standing in the hallway outside Gabriel’s room at the hospital, watching Munoz speak with him as he lay in his hospital bed. Things had quieted down, and it gave her a moment to think over what she’d just witnessed—especially since Acton had stepped aside to make a statement to the reporter for the London World News.
Who knew what tale he’d spin for the press—and small wonder he didn’t want her present for it—but it seemed clear that yet again, her wily husband had orchestrated the whole donnybrook, start to finish, and without even needing to straighten his tie in the process. He wanted to find a way forward for the warring factions before they destroyed their fair city’s law enforcement apparatus, and it certainly seemed that he’d managed it.
And this should come as no surprise, truly. When she was first starting out as the great DCI Acton’s support officer, he’d explained to her that human motivation was at all times fairly straightforward, and it was always best to remember this important fact in the homicide-investigation business. One only needed to understand the motivations involved, and usually a working theory would immediately leap to mind—there was no need to over-complicate things, and usually the most obvious motivator was the correct one. Often it was love—and often love of money, of course—and in many cases, it was yet another deadly sin; pride.
She took a long breath and wished she could slip off her high heels. Acton had correctly deduced that pride was Claudia Peterson’s motivator; she couldn’t bear the thought of bringing disgrace and dishonor to their illustrious family name, and so she’d agreed to allow the evildoers to stage a heroic death for her not-so-heroic brother.
And the price—the price was that the Petersons would look the other way with respect to the on-going drug-rig. They’d wind up being dirty coppers—faith, as dirty as their brother—in an ironic twist that was like a Greek play, when you thought about it.
And this motivator had allowed Acton to apply exactly the right pressure to make Claudia back down—the fear of yet another brother’s potential disgrace. There would be no coming back, if James Peterson was accused of shooting a fellow officer—a superior officer, no less—and so they were both forced to fall in line with Acton’s cease-fire plan.
It was very like her husband to orchestrate his own holy-show, hard on the two holy-shows put together by the Desk Sergeant and McShane. McShane, who’d disappeared into the night, but not before he’d had a much-deserved chance to knock James Peterson about. After all, no one understood the desire for bloody vengeance like her husband.
As she was listening to Gabriel, Munoz glanced up to see that Doyle waited in the hallway, and so she excused herself, and rose to join the other girl.
Poor Munoz looked a bit wound ʼround the axle, and small blame to her. “How’s he doin’?”
“It’s only a flesh wound—a through-and-through. We’re lucky it went wild.”
“Indeed, we are,” Doyle agreed, and kept her own conclusions to herself.
“He’s the least of their worries, though; Gabriel says everyone’s frantically calling him because Tasza’s missing.”
“No—is she?” Doyle stared in astonishment.
Munoz nodded, brimful of suppressed excitement. “They think she was drawn up to Maghaberry as a ruse, since the prisoner she’d requested to see did not actually exist.”
“Holy Mother—that doesn’t sound good,” Doyle breathed.
Munoz glanced around and then lowered her voice. “And when they searched her house, here in London, they found that her piano had a listening device planted on the underside. Someone’s been listening to her.”
The two girls stared at each other, and Doyle finally voiced what they were both thinking. “Faith, Munoz; I wouldn’t be surprised if she was involved in all this, and someone panicked because Acton was closin’ in on yet another scandal.”
“We can’t say anything, Doyle,” Munoz cautioned.
But Doyle retorted, “Not sayin’ anythin’ is what got everyone into this problem to begin with.”
“Well, they’re going to launch an investigation, so let’s wait and see what they can find. Gabriel says they’re dismantling the piano and taking it into evidence to do forensics and look for prints—presumably, not a lot of people had access to her home.”
“Do they have any leads?”
Munoz gave her a meaningful look. “They’re conducting a search, but she hasn’t used her mobile or her credit cards since yesterday morning, and the hotel up there said she never checked out.”
“Not good,” Doyle pronounced, as this was Crime Academy basic training; people didn’t just fall off the grid, especially Police Commanders.
“Gabriel says they’re worried her body may have been dumped in a bog.”
“Ballynahone Bog,” Doyle guessed. “It would be handy.” Thinking about this, she blew out a breath. “And forsenics is goin’ to have a tough time, if her body’s been in a bog. And that’s supposin’ they ever find her in the first place.”
They stood in silence for a moment, processing this unlooked-for development. Doyle then made a wry mouth, and observed, “On the bright side, this Tasza-news is goin’ to trump our little kerfuffle, Munoz—not that I’m celebratin’, or anythin’.”
Munoz nodded. “Acton told me I’m to be written-up.”
The words were delivered in a level tone, and Doyle wasn’t certain how much Munoz knew, or had guessed. She offered, “I’m sorry you’re to be the scapegoat.”
“I was derelict,” the girl admitted. “I deserve it, for thinking the kook-detail was beneath me.”
“A lesson learned—for all of us,” Doyle agreed. “Pride’s a stumblin’ block.”
They paused for a moment, and in the silence, Munoz’s gaze drifted down the empty corridor.
She’s watching for him, thought Doyle; and meanwhile, the other one’s lying here wounded. Poor Munoz, I’m half-inclined to feel sorry for her.
The other girl broke the silence. “I feel so—so stupid, I guess,” she offered. “Especially compared to everyone else.”
Doyle nodded in agreement. “Yes. We’re seein’ a lot of good men, doin’ what good men do.”
Munoz said abruptly, “Geary is one of them.”
There was a small silence. “You might like Ireland,” Doyle offered.
“I don’t know. But he doesn’t want to wait if there’s no hope—he wants to start a family.”
Smart man, to play his trump card, thought Doyle. “Mayhap he’d like London, then.”
“I don’t know.” In a rare show of frustration, Munoz put her palms to her temples. “I don’t know whether it could possibly work—we haven’t had a chance to spend much time together. And he’s such a Puritan—he won’t have sex unless we’re married.”
Another trump card, thought Doyle; the man’s a genius.
“Here’s Acton,” Munoz announced suddenly, and lowered her hands. “I’ll go back to Gabriel, then.”
“Good luck,” Doyle called after her, because she wasn’t certain what one said in such a situation. Lucky for me, she thought, that I’d no love-life dilemmas whatsoever; instead my only dilemmas are strictly restricted to the keeping-the-husband-out-of-prison variety.
Acton drew her into his arms and kissed her. “All right?”
“Right as rain,” she said, leaning back to look up at him. “How’d it go?”
He bent his head and smoothed down the front of her coat. “I played if off as a lover’s triangle, and spoke of my consternation that such a violent event marred the opening show for our favorite artist.” He paused. “I may have given the impression that the artist was the reason for the quarrel.”
“Good one,” Doyle laughed. “The orders should come rollin’ in like a mighty flood.”
Acton tilted his head toward Gabriel. “How is he?”
“He’ll do; mainly, he’s agog because Tasza’s missin’; did you hear?”
“I did.”
Doyle followed his gaze through the door of the hospital room, where Gabriel was speaking with Munoz. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a surprise to find out that someone panicked and did her in, when they realized the drug rig had been twigged.”
“We cannot be certain Tasza was involved in the drug rig,” he reminded her with a hint of reproach.
But Doyle wasn’t having it. “It seems too much of a coincidence, Michael—even I’m not that dumb.”
“Then I’ll make no comment.”
But Doyle only said darkly, “And there’s the problem in a nutshell; everyone’s runnin’ around and tryin’ to cover-up for their team—even you.”
He smiled slightly. “There is a silver lining; you will not have to attend any more task-force meetings.”
“Thank God fastin’—although shame on me, for even thinkin’ such a thing when the poor woman’s corpse is probably molderin’ in a bog somewhere.”
“Yes, her loss will be a blow to many.”
“But not you,” Doyle observed shrewdly.
“I’ll not speak ill of the dead,” he demurred. “Assuming she is indeed dead.”
Doyle quirked her mouth. “Let’s hope you won’t have to make a speech, Michael, when she gets her star on the wall.”
“A faint hope, I imagine.”
With a troubled brow, she leaned back to gaze at him. “Which leaves me with one niggling loose-end, husband. If Tasza was involved in the rig, could Gabriel have been involved, too? Was his name on the Desk Sergeant’s list?”
There was a long pause, whilst he kept his gaze on her buttons.
Doyle ventured, “Did you want to keep him sidelined—is that why you had him shot? Geary is the one who shot him, I think, and then he planted the gun on James. But I wondered if there was a good reason that you wanted Gabriel to serve as the officer down.”
Slowly, Acton revealed, “Gabriel was not an instigator, perhaps, but he was indeed a beneficiary of the illicit operation.”
She stared in surprise. “Gabriel’s a user?”
Her husband met her eyes and nodded.
With some astonishment, she exclaimed, “Why—I’d no idea.”
“Oftentimes, that is the case.”
In wonder, Doyle turned to view the couple through the door. “Munoz said he’d a drawback.”
“I imagine she was aware, then.”
Slowly, she reasoned, “So—so now he’s in the hospital, where they’re bound to find out.”
“He will be enrolled in a rehab program, while he is here. We can only hope he has learned a lesson.”
“And so, he’ll sidestep the drug-rig investigation.”
“It seemed the best thing to do.”
Doyle had to smile. “Well, I think that’s a favor to me and Munoz, Michael—and it’s much appreciated—but I think Munoz is in love with Geary, and he with her.”
Acton lifted his brows. “That is indeed a complication.”
She spread her hands on his chest. “Lucky, it is, that you and I aren’t complicated a’tall.”
“I don’t think we are,” he protested, as he drew her close. “I love you, and you love me.”
You don’t have to say, Michael; not to me,” she teased. “And speakin’ of such, how soon can we go home?”
“Now,” he decided. “It has been a busy day.”
“About to get busier,” she said with some meaning.
“You alarm me,” he replied, and steered her down the hallway.
Epilogue
Hudson stood in the hallway outside the library at Trestles, and—with a sense of wonder—listened to the music as it poured out from beneath the master’s fingers. Surely, it was a good sign—that the master was playing again, despite the memories it must bring of his father.
The piano was a rare one, Lizzie had said, and he was rather worried about placing it next to the windows, what with the sunlight coming straight in on it, but the master had expressly asked that it be re-assembled just here, and he was not one to question the master’s wishes—it was enough that he seemed well again.
And so Acton played, and Hudson listened, and unseen by either man was the figure of a knight, standing in the corner of the room and, with an air of immense satisfaction, idly swinging his broken sword in an arc before him.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Murder in Just Cause Page 21