Nick realized that a successful investigation by his office would help his career, and he wanted to make sure that the case proceeded smoothly. “Let me know how I can help,” he told Pete.
“You can do more than that, Nick. I want you to lead our team. I need to start stepping away from the day to day. I’ll still be here to support you, but it’s time for you to fly on your own. After a high profile investigation like this one, you’ll be able to write your own ticket if we’re successful. I plan to retire early next year. I think you’d be a great choice to take my place.”
Nick liked the sound of that. As he hung up the phone he promised Mitchell that he’d tell the team about this development so they could start to prepare for the next steps in the investigation.
Finally, something had taken his mind, however briefly, off Devon.
Chapter 37
Wednesday, November 12
Harry left work promptly at 5pm. He had to get to the Catholic Charities office in Cambridge before they closed at six. He had spoken earlier with Sister Anne, who was now in charge of administration, and recounted his earlier conversation with Sister Catherine at the convalescence home.
Sister Anne was very understanding and agreed to let Harry look through the filing cabinet in Sister Catherine’s old office. Harry was determined to find the Christmas card that might be a clue to the identity of Jeremy’s birth mother.
He sped across the Mass. Ave. Bridge and turned down Memorial Drive. He took a right onto Mt. Auburn Street, and found a parking spot a block from the building. Running into the lobby, he checked the building’s directory, and found Catholic Charities listed on the eighth floor. He rode the elevator alone.
“Mr. Wainright?” Sister Anne called. She was a diminutive woman, no taller than five feet, who bustled with pent-up energy. She strode down the hall towards Harry and held out her hand. “Welcome. Come with me.” The Sister turned on her heels and glided down the hallway, with Harry following quickly in her wake.
“I really appreciate this, Sister.”
“I realize you’re in a difficult situation. I’m so sorry about your son’s illness, and I want to do what I can to help. It’s very unfortunate that the fire destroyed your son’s birth records. If the Christmas card that Sister Catherine remembers can provide the information that you need to find Jeremy’s mother, I believe God will forgive the indiscretion of releasing her name. At least, I’ll pray that He does.”
Sister Anne stopped at a locked door and fished a key from her pocket. “Not much has been done to Sister Catherine’s office because we planned to remodel it before assigning it to a new occupant. You’ll find it’s pretty much as she left it.”
They entered the office and Sister Anne flipped on the light switch. A faintly musty smell rose from the carpet. Sister Anne walked to the window, which opened with a groan. “These old windows always stick.” She brushed her hands together. “Let’s see what we can find.”
A bank of filing cabinets rested against one wall of the office. “Do we know what we’re looking for?” Sister Anne asked.
“A folder with a title like ‘Family Correspondence’ or something similar,” Harry responded. “Sister Catherine couldn’t quite remember it. I’ll start at the far file cabinet and we can work towards each other.”
They searched for about twenty minutes before the Sister said, “Ah-ha! I think I have it.” She pulled an inch-thick folder from the cabinet and brought it to the desk. “It’s called ‘Family Letters’.”
Harry pulled up a chair next to her. “I’ll take half so we can get through this more quickly.”
Thumbing through his pile, Harry looked for something that would be the size of a holiday card. The first several cards he discovered were not Christmas themed and he was beginning to panic.
“I have one here,” Sister Anne called. It has an envelope too.” She handed the card to Harry.
He opened the envelope and slipped the card out.
‘Merry Christmas!’ the card exclaimed. Below that was a brief note written in small, neat script:
“Dear Sister Catherine: I hope the holidays find you well. I appreciate the assistance that you gave me earlier this year during the birth of my baby. It was a difficult time for me, and a hard decision to give him up. But I know my son is in a better place with his new family. Please pray for me and Jeremy.”
The card was signed ‘Elizabeth Caldwell’. Harry turned the envelope over. A return address was written in the upper left corner: 21 Hope Street, Litchfield, CT.
Thank god, Harry thought. He peered up at Sister Anne, a look of gratitude on his face.
Harry said, “How ironic. She lives on Hope Street.”
That’s what Harry felt now.
Hope.
Chapter 38
Wednesday, November 12
Jerry Haskins walked quickly towards the garage on Washington Street, about three blocks from the Jordano headquarters. He always got anxious when he had to meet his partner, but today he was elated. He didn’t even mind when he got stuck briefly behind two old ladies who filled the sidewalk, slowly strolling with their miniature poodles.
Jerry was looking forward to this meeting. His partner told him he’d had a change of heart. He wanted to compensate Jerry for the risks he’d been taking. Jerry’s contributions had been critical to the success of their plan.
It’s about frigging time, Jerry thought.
He wondered how much. He was hoping for ten grand, but he would be happy with five.
Jerry climbed the stairs to the garage roof. The late afternoon light was waning, and the rooftop was cast in shadow by the taller buildings that surrounded the garage. Jerry squinted to see if anyone else was there. At the roof’s far end, one car had its headlights on. When the driver flashed them, Jerry realized it was meant for him. He walked briskly to the car, already thinking about how he’d spend the money.
Maybe a week in Aruba, he thought. He’d never been to the Caribbean.
His partner climbed out and walked towards the car’s trunk, which was backed up against the low wall that bordered the roof. He waved Jerry to follow him.
“Hey. I was glad to hear from you.” Jerry blew on his hands to keep them warm. He looked around to make sure they were alone.
“Yeah, like I said, I feel it’s time to give you what you deserve. I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”
Jerry felt proud. It was unusual to get praise like this, especially from someone at the firm. He savored the moment.
“I have something in the trunk.” As the man moved to pass Jerry, he dropped his keys at Jerry’s feet. “Whoops.”
He bent down to retrieve them, but instead of picking them up, he slipped one arm between Jerry’s legs, and locked his hands together. He pushed his shoulder into Jerry’s torso, lifting him from the concrete deck.
Jerry was caught by surprise. For a moment he teetered on the edge of the wall, and reached towards his partner.
“What are you doing…”
He grasped for his partner but caught only air as his upper body cleared the wall and he began to tip backwards.
“Help me!”
Jerry’s arms began to windmill as he fell. His eyes met his partner’s and saw the hatred that resided there.
The other man didn’t wait for Jerry’s body to hit the ground. He grabbed his keys, hopped into the car and sped down the exit ramp of the garage.
“One more loose end taken care of,” he said to his reflection in the rearview mirror. “This is getting better and better.”
A wry smile crossed his face. He reached the street on the opposite side of the garage from where Jerry had fallen. He could hear shouts and saw pedestrians running.
“So long, Haskins. Rest in peace.”
He drove slowly down the street, not wanting to draw any undue attention.
Time for the final act, he thought derisively.
Chapter 39
Wednesday, November 12
&nbs
p; Harry pulled into his driveway, taking a moment to rest his head on the steering wheel once he put the car into park.
He was beat.
The stress of all that was happening, between work and home, was taking its toll. He grabbed his briefcase and headed inside.
Sandy was at the kitchen counter preparing a salad to go with the casserole that was baking in the oven.
Harry dropped his keys on the counter and said hello.
“How did you and Jeremy make out at the hospital today?” Harry grabbed a cucumber slice from the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “How was his chemo session?”
Sandy wiped her hands on a dish towel. As she brushed her hair back from her forehead, Harry noticed several wrinkles around his wife’s eyes that seemed more pronounced in recent days.
“He’s handling the treatment as well as can be expected. Dr. Snow wants to meet with us later this week to discuss how it’s progressing. The doctor reminded me again that the best option would be a blood relative match for a bone marrow transplant. In case we aren’t a good match for Jeremy.”
Both Harry and Sandy had submitted blood samples as soon as they’d learned about Jeremy’s leukemia.
“Dr. Snow will have the results of our blood tests by Friday. Can you take the afternoon off from work so we can meet with him?”
“I’ll be there,” Harry replied. That gave him two days to track down Jeremy’s birth mother. He reached into his suit coat pocket and removed the envelope that he got at the adoption agency. I finally have some good news, I think.” He waved the envelope. “We have an address for Jeremy’s birth mother.”
“That’s great news, Harry!” Sandy walked to the other side of the kitchen island and looked over Harry’s shoulder. She’s from Litchfield, Connecticut. That’s only a couple of hours away.” Sandy hugged Harry from behind. “Let’s hope she still lives there.”
Sandy returned to the counter to finish making the salad. She grabbed a large bowl from the cabinet and gathered up the ingredients that were spread across the granite counter. “Can you call Jeremy for dinner?”
“Sure.” Harry headed upstairs and knocked softly on his son’s bedroom door.
“Jeremy? Time for dinner.” Harry got no reply.
He turned the knob and opened the door slowly. He remembered when he was Jeremy’s age. He hated the lack of privacy whenever his parents dropped by his room uninvited and unannounced. “Jeremy?” Harry called again.
Jeremy was lying on his bed, chin propped up by his arms. He was gazing out his window, eyes unfocused. Harry noticed for the first time how much Jeremy had grown since the summer. His body was maturing, arms and legs were gaining muscle mass, and his face was beginning to lose the little boy look that Harry loved. His son was growing up.
“Hi, Dad,” Jeremy said without turning.
Harry sat on the end of the bed. “Everything okay? Ready for dinner?”
“I guess.” Jeremy turned slightly towards Harry, a serious look cast on his face. He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Dad, am I going to die?”
Harry’s heart tore. Jeremy asked so matter-of-factly, with such innocence. Harry was at a loss for words.
“No Jeremy, you are not going to die! I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. You’re being treated by the best doctors at the best hospital in the world. They will take good care of you. Your mom and I will see to that.”
Jeremy seemed unconvinced.
“But you really can’t stop leukemia. If it wants to kill you, it will.”
Harry sat on the edge of the bed and began to rub Jeremy’s back.
“Sometimes things happen that are out of our control. It’s fate. But we can fight back. That’s why it’s so important for you to stay positive. The doctors have told you that, right?”
“Yeah, they have. But I was reading a story online about a boy who was my age and he got leukemia and he died from it. The story said he was really scared, but then he decided to do something that would help other kids. So he started a website and asked people to contribute whatever they could. He said it helped him to be less scared, plus he was doing something to help others. Maybe I could do something like that too.”
“That sounds like a great idea. We can talk to your mom about it. She might have some thoughts on how to do it. But get it out of your head that this thing is going to beat you. We won’t let that happen, okay? Okay?”
Jeremy nodded his head slowly, seemingly lost in thought again. “Sure, Dad.”
“Come on, let’s eat.”
“Alright.” Jeremy hopped off the bed, his morbid thoughts from a moment earlier vanquished. He headed to the door and down the stairs.
Harry followed more slowly. His thoughts turned to the meeting scheduled on Friday with Jeremy’s doctor. Harry knew that the chances were slim that he or Sandy would be a good match for Jeremy’s bone marrow.
“I need to find Elizabeth Caldwell,” he muttered under his breath.
Chapter 40
Thursday, November 13
Nick arrived at work before 7am. He had finished his morning run in record time, and it made him feel exhilarated.
He knew today was going to be hectic. There was a meeting scheduled at 11am with Pete Mitchell and the federal prosecutor, Sarah Monetti. Nick hoped to learn more about the blanket immunity they planned to offer to the Jordano informant. He also wanted to know when the meetings with the informant would occur—Nick expected to participate in the interviews. If Pete Mitchell was going to give him an opportunity to lead the SEC’s investigation, Nick was damn sure that he was going to give it his all.
Nick lifted the cover off his Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and blew on it to help cool it down. He spread a heavy layer of cream cheese across his raisin bagel and took a big bite. He was starving.
“Got enough cream cheese on that bagel? You trying for a heart attack today, or are you saving up for a big one at the end of the week?”
Nick glanced up and saw Devon peeking over the top of his cubicle wall. The smile on her face was a sight for sore eyes.
“Hey…” he garbled trying to talk with a mouthful of bagel.
“Don’t try to talk yet.” Devon laughed as she stepped into Nick’s cube. “I don’t want to have to perform mouth to mouth so early in the morning. At least, not on that mouth.” She grabbed a napkin from Nick’s desk and wiped a mound of cream cheese that had seeped out from between his lips.
Nick finally swallowed his bite and took a sip from his coffee. “Sorry you had to see that,” he responded, chagrined. “I get really hungry after running in the morning.”
“I can see that.” Devon leaned against the edge of Nick’s desk. “Are you still able to go out this weekend? I know you’re really busy with the Jordano investigation.” Devon’s voice had a slight lilt of optimism but her face showed she was ready for disappointment.
“Absolutely!” Nick said. “I want to see you again. I had a great time last Saturday.” Now it was his turn to seem uneasy. “I just haven’t been able to think of anything yet. I wanted to find something special.”
“Well that’s perfect.” Devon clapped her hands. “Because I have an idea. It’s something I’ve always wanted to try but never had the nerve. I thought maybe a big, strong, ex-Army guy might give me the courage to do it.”
“Uh-oh, I’m not sure I’m going to like what’s coming, but I’ll play along. What is it?”
Devon pulled a small brochure from her pocket and pointed to it. “Each year they have a hot air balloon festival in Rhode Island. I’ve always wanted to try it, but I could never get up the nerve. Would you want to go this weekend?”
Nick relaxed. He had parachuted several times from a B52 while in the Army. He could handle a hot air balloon ride.
“That sounds like fun. We can make a day of it.”
Devon smiled and clapped her hands again. “Terrific. I’ll make a picnic lunch. Do you like chicken salad?”
“I do. I’ll buy a
bottle of wine. Red or white?”
“Hmmm, let’s get white. Maybe a chardonnay. ”
“It’s a deal.”
Devon looked briefly outside of Nick’s cube and saw the aisle was empty. She turned back, bent down and gave him a quick kiss.
“I was just kidding when I said I wouldn’t give you mouth to mouth,” she whispered. “I’d be happy to do that any time you need it.”
She smiled, and then was quickly gone.
Nick stared after her. The soft feeling of her lips on his lasted much longer.
*****
The meeting with the prosecutor, Sarah Monetti, wasn’t going well. Nick had remained silent during the discussion, only answering questions about the Jordano subpoena when presented to him.
Sarah and Pete had spent ten minutes arguing about the roles each government agency would play during the investigation. The Attorney General’s office clearly wanted to take the lead. Mitchell was fighting to ensure that the SEC wasn’t frozen out of key assignments.
“Look, Sarah. There’s no question that your folks are the legal experts. I don’t dispute that. But my team understands the financial nuances of mutual fund operations. We’re in the best position to identify fraudulent transactions. We can help your team build a case with strong and irrefutable evidence to substantiate what the informant tells us.” Pete Mitchell gestured towards Nick. “Doyle has been involved from the start, and he has plenty of experience with cases of this nature. His team will work well with your lawyers. All of us want this investigation to succeed, and the only way to do that is to let everyone play the role they’re best suited for.” Mitchell leaned back in his chair. He seemed exhausted, as if he had just finished running the Boston Marathon.
Sarah looked pensive. She tapped her pen rhythmically on the faux wood table. She looked at Nick, then back at Pete Mitchell. “Alright, we’ll try it your way, Pete. So long as Nick works effectively with my team, I will hold off assigning tasks to any of the financial analysts at my disposal.” Sarah turned to Nick. “You good with that, Nick?”
Shell Game Page 17