Shea looked at his watch again. One-thirty. Damn it.
The waiter came over again and looked at his patron anxiously. “Perhaps the young lady wishes to meet with you some other time?” He rubbed his hands together and adjusted his white shirt with a black, clip-on bow tie.
“What? Oh, right.” Damn it! He tossed a few bills on the table and grabbed the file of papers he had carried with him. He took one last look around the restaurant as he stood in the doorway. He was reluctant to leave.
Midday in the North End. Nothing was unusual. Cars were double-parked, forcing traffic to crawl along while weaving through the open path of street. A few stooped Italian men and women went about their daily business, occasionally greeting one another warmly on the cold afternoon. Brightly colored Christmas decorations flashed in some storefronts. The air was filled with the smell of garlic and fresh baked bread. The aromas reminded him to eat. He had lost his appetite when his luncheon companion had neglected to show. He even called his office and checked his voice mail for any kind of message. Nothing.
He decided to walk back to the office and paused at an intersection, waiting for the traffic to clear. The walk signal would be coming, but he never bothered to wait for that. It was more than the usual state of gridlock that Boston enjoyed. A few taxis seemed to enjoy playing ‘Chicken’ with one another to see who would give up an inch first. He watched the test of nerves with passing interest. He just wanted to get going.
“Share a cab?” The figure herded him forward to an empty cab.
Shea resisted. “No. I’m walking.”
“No, Mister. Share a cab?” The person was wearing a red sweater and dark glasses. A scarf surrounded a head of dark hair.
He began to pull away. Before he could make a quick gesture, his arm was caught in a firm grip.
“Shea. Get into the damn cab!”
He took another look at the figure. “Jesus H. Christ. Right.” He got into the cab and asked to be taken to his office.
“Go by way of Canal Street.” Jessica leveled him with a cold stare. Fury made her eyes glow. “You jerk. You had me followed.”
Shea looked at her. He had to be more careful. Underestimating this woman would give him more problems than he cared to deal with. Truth was the best strategy for the moment. “He’s someone I’ve worked with for many years. He’s the best in the business and a trusted friend.”
“Yeah? Well, if he’s so good, then why is it so hard for him to hide from a fifteen year old kid.” Jessica spat out the words in anger.
“Kid?” Shea was having trouble following that fact.
“Yeah. I guess he’s a member of the other team.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I spotted the tail the resident assistant told me about when I left the Y. Good thing I had planned ahead. I got my wig, sweater, and money from a hiding place in a ladies’ room in the mall. I entered as a naive redhead and left as a hassled brunette. You stupid jerk. Now the whole world knows where I am and why. Nice one.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it was best. I’ll call him off.”
“Good. Now it’s going to be a lot harder to meet. And from now on it’s on my terms. Got it?”
Shea nodded. The cab inched its way through the gridlock.
Jessica handed Shea the tapes. “One original. One copy. I stashed some copies around, too. Now, turn me in.”
Shea looked at her in disbelief. “What?”
“You heard me,” Jessica presented her wrists to emphasize her point. “Turn me in.”
He brought his hands up as if to shield himself from the thought. “No way. You’re nuts.”
Jessica persisted. “I’ve thought about this. Right now, whoever or whatever this group is knows you and I have been in contact and no doubt they know why.” Jessica spoke in a low voice. “It’s a perfect time to kill both of us. You haven’t turned me in yet, and no one officially knows I’ve resurfaced. If they kill you and me now, their little secret is safe. Once it goes public that I’m alive, the publicity you’ll get will help you to uncover information and will help you with that run for Governor I read about. Once in jail, I’ll be more of a celebrity than a criminal. The notoriety will keep me alive, too.” The static from the cabby’s radio covered her words.
The attorney general sat back and weighed what she said. He focused on her eyes. Anger had burned itself out and was replaced with determination. “I’ve thought about that. Two things are wrong with your thinking.” He put his index finger in the air. “One. Going public now will not help me get some of the documents I need. We still have to find out why all of this happened. Having the media involved will bring out every kook there is with one false lead after another. It also gives the other side a chance to alter evidence. In a media feeding frenzy like the one we’d get, our jobs would get harder. You’ll just end up rotting in jail. Which brings me to the second reason.” He put a second finger in the air for emphasis. “Two. Celebrity or not, they would have you dead inside a week once you got in jail. Suicide. A stabbing. Attempted escape and being shot. No way. You’d be dead.”
Jessica knew he was right. “Okay then. What do we have so far?”
Shea clicked off the elements. “Past relationship with victim good. No monetary benefit for death. Forensics will show angle and depth of slashings to be consistent with the victim being suspended when attacked. An eyewitness. A lighter.” He looked at her. “Problems are, a lot of physical evidence at the scene. The witness disappeared after possibly faking own death. Has motive to lie, and experienced detective at the scene declared you the prime and only suspect. Remember, I saw you myself covered with Gus’ blood the next day. That holds a lot of weight. And, oh yeah, the fact that I never came forward with a record of our conversation after the murder indicating you were a witness rather than a suspect means I’ll burn in disbarred hell.”
Jessica looked at him. “Not if we win.”
The cabby raised his head and asked where one of his passengers wanted to be left off. They were turning the corner onto Canal Street. Jessica indicated a spot another block up.
Shea looked at her for a long moment before he continued talking. “I told you. What we have to do is find out why someone else would kill Gus. Tell me about your family.”
Jessica opened the door to the cab. “No time. I put some background down on paper. It’s in one of the tape boxes.” She got out of the cab and stood on the curb. “Take a call from Rita Harrison. It’ll be a while.” She slammed the door and entered a building. The cab pulled away.
Jessica bounded up the steps of the building, ran down a hall and stood next to the back door. From there, she could see the trains chugging into North Station. Glancing quickly around, she took off her scarf and glasses and reversed her coat so that its bright blue lining was showing. She had to find that lighter.
Shea paid the fare and watched the cab pull away from the curve. He was pissed. He wanted to have more control over the situation, over her, and now she was going even further into hiding. It was his own damn fault, he muttered to himself as he walked back to his office. He should have been more specific with the instructions to Granger Lipinski, an old friend he had asked to keep an eye on her. He would have to get her back in line, somehow.
He had to hand it to her, though. She knew the score when it came to him. He was willing to help her because he failed to do so as a cop. He stood to great publicity from her. Still, he was more drawn to her than he wanted to be. He would help her, but for a lot of complicated reasons. Guilt. Greed. Glory. What did it matter, he was still helping, right?
He thought about what she said about Granger being eyed by some kid. He knew both Granger and Jessica were good at dropping out of sight, and some kid could not possibly keep up with either one of them. Kids were only used for the easy tags. He decided to test a hunch.
Walking into the men’s
room, he placed his files and tapes down and washed his hands. Satisfied no one was there, he quickly entered a stall and used the toilet as a footstool. In fast motions, he hid one set of tapes behind the ceiling tiles.
Leaving the men’s room, he nodded to the guardian receptionist and greeted his secretary as she thrust a fistful of messages at him. He calmly entered his office and made a few phone calls. He left a message for Granger to meet in Back Bay for dinner at six. At quarter of six, he mentioned he was going to do some research at the Suffolk Law School library and left.
It was cold. He pulled the collar of his overcoat up around his neck. He was just one of many men in a gray overcoat, huddled against the cold. He blended in with the commuters and Christmas shoppers.
It was a short walk to the law library along the darkened streets. He came into the courtyard through the back path, pushed himself into a nook in the wall of a building and waited. In a few minutes, a wiry boy with red hair appeared and showed interest in the few bicycles chained outside. He barely nodded to a student entering the building. The student wore the typical uniform—chinos, turtleneck, sweater, parka, backpack. The red-haired urchin walked up and down the walkway, looking in the library’s windows and at the passersby. Occasionally, he looked around in a bigger circle. Shea kept close to the darkened doorway he had taken shelter in.
A few minutes later, the student emerged. He did not look at the boy, but shook his head as he walked down the steps. One minute later, the boy turned and walked in the opposite direction.
Shea narrowed his eyes—his secretary could not be trusted. He walked the long way to the restaurant to meet Granger. The student had arrived first and was joined by a young woman. They emerged from the restaurant laughing. The girl leaned up against the building and the student placed his outstretched arm against the wall, next to her head. It was obvious they were going to stay a while.
“Shit.” He spat the word out, and his heart began to pound. His office was totally open. Most likely his phone was tapped and either the secretary was in on this deal or her desk was bugged. Same was probably true for the receptionist. That explained the uncanny abilities of some of the defense attorneys he had been up against. He was just plain stupid to meet with Jessica at the same hotel his office always used. They probably had the suite wired. He had been working in a house of cards and he did not realize it until it crumbled.
As he made his way back home, he considered the quagmire he was in. Part of him wanted to turn her in right now and wash his hands of the whole mess. But the tape had him saying he had notes on an investigation that were not part of the official record. He could be brought up on charges of tampering with an investigation or withholding evidence. That would not play well in the press. He owed her one, and he had to settle the score.
Electra was busily planning her annual Christmas party. She was standing in her front hall, directing the placement of pine rope and red ribbons that were to weave their way up the sweeping staircase. Workmen stood out in the cold, damp air waiting to be summoned. Two huge blue spruce trees lay on their sides on the front lawn.
“NO! I said the ribbons go on every fourth pillar, not fifth. Please make the change now.” She turned to face the workmen outside. “Okay. Now the large tree goes beside the staircase. The smaller one goes in the main living room.” She stood back and watched the workers swarm around, performing their duties. She was pleased with the way things were going today.
“Mrs. Lavielle, a phone call for you.” The uniformed maid timidly handed a portable phone over to Electra.
Electra shot an impatient glance at the cowering girl. “I beg your pardon. I believe I said I did not want to be disrupted this morning.”
“I... I am sorry, Ma’am. But she said it was urgent.” The girl could hardly bring her eyes up to Electra’s. The phone remained in an outstretched hand.
Electra snatched it away. “Very well, then.” She began to walk into the study where the noise of the work would not disturb her. “Yes? Electra here,” she chirped brightly into the phone as she settled into her favorite chair for a long chat.
“Electra? Hi! It’s Tess.”
“Tess! Darling! Great Heavens, child! Where are you?” She sprang immediately to her feet and nearly ran up the stairs to her office. “I can barely hear you on this phone, let me switch.” She closed the door firmly behind her. “The house is filled with people today and I can’t hear myself think.” She picked up the handset of the desktop phone and clicked off the portable. “There, that’s much better. Now, where the devil are you?”
There was a short pause. “Well, I decided to take some time off. Things got pretty awful, and I just needed to get away for a bit. How are the horses?”
Electra allowed the conversation to meander to the care and status of the horses. “That foal still needs a name, you know.”
Jessica laughed. “Hey, talk to the owner. I think I’ve done enough for that foal.”
Electra could hear the soft sounds of people in the background. An announcement of some sort was being made. “We all are worried sick about you. It’s been over two weeks! When are you coming home?”
“I am sorry you are all worried about me. I’ve been so accustomed to minding my own schedule that I forget now that people might notice I’m gone. I’ll be away a while longer. I made sure that Jeff Curtiss at the bank transferred some funds over to Chad for the horses he has of mine. I know he’d refuse it if I talked to him, so I won’t call him. I’m sure you can relay the message.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“I’m calling because I need you to do me a favor. Can you get my mail for me? I talked to an old friend in Utah that mentioned he mailed something to me. The return address would be from Saddle String, Jake Masterson. I just need to know the package is there.”
“I’d be glad to send it to you. What’s your address?” Electra reviewed a page of notes on her desk.
“Well, I’ll be moving around a bit, just seeing the countryside, you know? Anyway, I’ll call again after you have a chance to get the package. Jake said it was in a small brown box, and it should be there by now. Sounds like you can’t miss it. Anyway, thanks. I’ve got to go.”
“Tess.” Electra lowered her voice. “Tess. What’s going on with you? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“What? Oh. No. No. Not at all. It’s just that this is a hard enough time of year without your barn burning down. I just had to get away.”
“Tess. I don’t buy that. Michael said he was very worried about you.”
Another announcement could be heard over the phone line. A baby cried in the distance. “Just what exactly did he say?”
Electra considered her response. She looked down again at the papers on her desk. “He said he thought something was scaring you and that you could trust him to help. You should call him.”
“Electra,” Jessica paused as she tried to force her voice to sound normal, “Thank you for all of your help. There is nothing that concerns Michael. I’ve got to go. Good-bye.”
Electra held the dead phone in her hand for a long while. Finally, she replaced it in its cradle and picked up another phone. She pushed the numbers quickly.
“Did you get it?” She was anxious.
“Almost perfect. Concord, New Hampshire. On replay, we’ll catch more of the background noises.”
“It’s got to be the lighter she’s after.”
“Right. I’ve gotten what I need from it. She can have it back. Follow the same procedure when she calls again.”
“She thinks I don’t know about the murders.”
“We’ll keep it that way for a while. Thanks for your help.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What I should have done in the first place. She needs to be stopped.”
“But she’s gotten so far!”
“Not far enough. Sh
e just made her first mistake.”
The large screened television flashed images of a battalion of police officers in full dress uniform marching solemnly to the beat of a dirge. A hundred or more white gloved hands moved forward and back, forward and back as polished shoes struck counter beats on the pavement. City officials from all levels of government lined the gray granite steps of the church. The huge casket was removed from the shiny black hearse and carried with honor past the officials, down the aisle, and placed upon the catafalque. Several women sat in the frontmost pews, their heads bowed under drapes of black veils. An occasional flick of a white hanky dabbed their eyes.
The room was suitably silent. Men stood in silence as the images came into focus on the screen and then faded. Their eyes shifted from the television to the old man. They would not move until he gave permission. After a minute, the anchorperson broke in and narrated the scene. The old man turned up the volume.
“Funeral services for Detective Terrance Coogan of South Boston were held today at the Our Lady of Divine Grace Cathedral. Among the many city officials attending today’s services for the fallen police officer were the police commissioner, mayor, and many prominent business personalities. The shock and horror of the Detective Coogan’s death have stricken the closely-knit community to its core and the services today are hoped to serve as a reminder of the dignity and strength this community possesses. Sources state they are following every lead connected to the investigation of the brutal slaying of the police veteran, but look to the community for help in their investigation. Past investigations have been hampered with a “Code of Silence” that intimidated witnesses from coming forward. Officials hope that the display of honor and support for the fallen officer will act to counterbalance the grizzly and horrific circumstances of his death and encourage anyone with information to come forward. This is Colleen Shaunessy-Carillo in South Boston for WBZ-TV News.”
The Charity Page 31