by Sydney Bauer
‘Why do you think Mom signed that donor card in the first place, J.T. ?’ asked Chelsea, trying to lift her brother’s spirits.
‘Because she thought it would protect us.’
‘And she was right.’
‘No, none of this is right. None of this has been right from the very beginning.’
Chelsea let out a sigh. ‘Listen to me, J.T.,’ she said, negotiating her handcuffs so that she might take his hand. ‘We have gone as far as we can; to say any more could make things worse.’
‘We are about to be separated for life, Chels,’ said J.T. ‘How could things get any worse?’
Chelsea stopped herself from nodding. ‘Explaining it won’t help – not now.’
‘But maybe I don’t care,’ he said, the tears falling freely down his smooth, sunken cheeks. ‘Maybe I just want to tell him everything, so that someone besides us will finally understand.’
‘You don’t need to tell David everything for him to understand,’ she said, placing her forehead against his, her breath slow and warm, her skin hot against the coolness.
‘But I want him to know – about how good she was, about what she was willing to do.’
‘He knew her, J.T., and even though he did not see her after Father took hold, he has not forgotten – I can see it in his eyes.’
J.T. exhaled, before giving his sister the slightest of nods, their tears now merging as they fell in droplets upon their shackles.
‘Then we say nothing,’ he said.
‘Nothing.’
‘And if David finds out?’
‘Then we pray he knew her well enough for him to forgive us.’
78
‘The order came from a Damien Chi,’ said Joe Mannix as he took a seat on the worn velvet stool across from David.
They were at the Idle Hour, a smoky pub in South Boston that smelt eternally of malt and cigarettes and that musky odour that came from old men wearing even older clothes and Brylcreem in their hair.
The Idle was one of Joe’s favourite haunts, and every time he suggested it as a meeting place, David protested with vigour. But not tonight. Tonight David was more than happy to be hiding in the corner of the cosy wood-panelled pub, making the most of the fact that happy hour at the Idle ran around the clock, and there was no way they would be interrupted or overheard here – in a room full of men content to drown in their sorrows while Roy Orbison sang about ‘Crying’ on the 1960s jukebox.
‘Chi is captain of the Asian Boyz New England outfit. In other words, he holds a hell of a lot of clout in our corner of the Asian underworld.’
‘Can we link him to Logan?’ asked David, noticing that Joe could not help but smile.
‘Chi just got out of Suffolk County Jail, where he was being held awaiting trial for several counts of drug distribution. But our guys from narcotics hit a snag when their major witness went AWOL – which I can tell you is a recurring problem when it comes to prosecuting people like Chi.’
‘So this Chi walked.’
‘And kept walking. Chi knows our guys are still trying to run down this witness, so he’s left the state for a while, the latest intel having him somewhere in Florida. The guy is escaping the heat by getting some sun, if that makes sense.’
David nodded. ‘Isn’t that a problem?’ he asked, knowing that beyond all else they needed to link Logan to Chi’s outfit in order to tie him to McCall’s shooting.
‘Yes, in that we don’t have access to Chi, which means we can’t ask him if what Lopez’s snitch Tsi said about the connection is true. But no, in that Chi would never give it up anyway.’
‘So in the very least, we have Logan and Chi in the same jail together for a least a space of two days.’
‘Same jail, same floor. We even have the guards saying they shared a conversation or two together – apparently Logan reached out to Chi and had the guy in tears.’
‘Logan had a gang lord in tears?’ asked David, incredulous. ‘He must have manipulated him somehow.’
‘That’s the way it looks – a theory that holds up given Lopez’s snitch claims the McCall shooting was carried out gratis.’
‘No money was exchanged?’
‘Not a cent. In fact, this Tsi told Lopez he got the impression Chi was returning some sort of favour by popping the old lady. As crazy as it sounds, Logan must have something on Damien Chi – but I have no idea what it could be.’
‘You got someone looking into it?’ asked David.
‘McKay is shaking it down,’ replied Joe.
David nodded in gratitude. ‘So now we have Malcolm Tyler’s exhumation in the works, a viable link to the Asian Boyz, and that autocue reflection,’ said David, taking a sip of his thick, sour Guinness before looking up at Joe once again. He had told Joe what he had seen in that gravy boat the moment he had walked into the dimly lit pub – unable to hold it in any longer.
‘That’s right. Susan will give us a heads up on the gravy boat thing tomorrow or Friday at the latest,’ he said, referring to their FBI agent friend and the fact that he had already called her to arrange the isolation and enlargement of the images in question. ‘She has a mate in Special Agent Bond’s unit who promises to do it after hours, away from 007’s prying eyes. She says she’s pretty sure they can blow up the gravy boat and enhance the reflection so whatever words might be on it are readable, and if those words match the audio then . . .’
‘Bang!’ said David, who had told Joe about Logan’s ‘friendly’ gesture of late that afternoon.
‘Bang!’ said Joe, pointing his own finger as he lifted his Guinness in cheers.
‘We’re getting there, Joe,’ said David at last. ‘Which is good, considering my clients are at cracking point.’
‘They’re strong kids, David.’
‘They’ve had to be. But I . . .’ David hesitated as if not sure he should go on.
‘What is it?’ asked Joe.
‘Well, I don’t mean to sound greedy, I mean, at this stage Chelsea and J.T. are looking as guilty as all hell. But if we do manage to pull this off, Joe, in the unlikely chance that we beat Logan at his own game, what will become of those kids – with no mother, no father.’
‘They have each other, David.’
‘That’s not enough.’
‘Then maybe there is someone else out there – someone who the kids have come to trust and respect, who might open her heart to . . .’
But Joe was interrupted by the ringing of his cell – and, as if by fate, the very subject of their conversation was now on the other end of the line.
‘Katherine,’ said Joe. ‘What’s up?’
‘Lieutenant,’ she said, David now hearing de Castro’s voice as Joe flipped his cell onto speaker. ‘I . . . we have a problem. I don’t know what to do. This isn’t going to plan. It is too soon, I am not ready.’
‘Whoa,’ said Joe, his eyes set on David. ‘Slow down, Katherine. What is it? What’s happened?’
‘It’s Jeffrey, he called me five minutes ago and said he wanted to see me. He said that he needed some fresh air, so he was going to shower and then walk across the Common, which means he could be here in less than an hour. And I . . . I am not ready.’
‘Can you fob him off so we can go with the Friday night rendezvous as planned?’ asked Joe.
‘No! I mean, I can’t do this twice, Lieutenant. I am not sure I can even do it at all.’
‘Katherine,’ said David. ‘This is David Cavanaugh. Did he tell you what he wanted to see you about?’
‘No. But he said he had a great day in court. That the tide was turning and luck was coming our way and all of this would soon be over. Oh God, David, I can’t do this, I can’t.’
Joe put his hand over the phone. ‘She’s losing it. If this is going to happen it has to happen tonight.’
‘But she isn’t wearing the wire.’
‘We can get Frank to grab George from audio and be at her place in fifteen, wire her up before Logan gets there.’
David
nodded, pulling out his cell to call McKay while Joe was still talking.
‘Katherine,’ said Joe into the speaker. ‘Listen to me. Detective McKay and a police audio technician will be at your place in fifteen minutes. The tech will wire you up while Frank goes through what we’ve practised step by step. You’re a smart woman, Katherine, smart and strong and more up to this than you think. And if Logan tries anything we will be right outside your house in an unmarked audio van, and in your front door in seconds.’
‘I don’t think he is ready to hurt me yet,’ she said after a pause. ‘He needs to own me first.’
‘That’s right,’ encouraged Joe. ‘So as long as you stress you are on his side . . .’
‘Yes. I will tell him that Sara came to see me today, and that she tried to turn me against him, and that I was glad he called so that I could warn him, that Sara and David claim to have evidence that he organised Stephanie’s murder, and you want me to mention his mother and . . .’
‘That’s it, Katherine. You got this nailed.’
Then Joe offered some last words of encouragement, promising Katherine that all would be okay before hanging up his cell and looking to David once again.
‘It’s too early,’ said Joe.
‘It is what it is.’
‘She’s not ready.’
‘She has to be – in fact . . .’ David’s brain was in overdrive. ‘Listen, Joe, this may not be such a bad thing after all. I mean, there is no way Logan is going to miss tomorrow – his much-anticipated day in the sun.’ Carmichael was due to call Logan as her star witness tomorrow afternoon.
‘You think that even if Katherine’s baiting pops this psycho’s cork, he will hold on and delay going for the guns until after he gives his testimony.’
‘He has no choice.’
‘On the contrary, David, this fucker has the habit of doing whatever he damn well pleases.’
But David was shaking his head. ‘No. I know this guy, Joe. He won’t miss his opportunity to put the final nails in his children’s coffins, which means you can use tomorrow to set up the surveillance as planned. We can track his car, Joe, follow him all the way to Chatham.’
But Joe was already on his feet, pointing at his watch and throwing a twenty on the table as David grabbed his jacket from the stool behind him.
‘You better be right about this, Cavanaugh,’ he said.
‘I know him, Joe.’
‘No, you don’t, David. Nobody knows this guy, and that’s been his advantage all along.’
79
Jeffrey Logan was in exceptionally good spirits. In fact, he could not remember the last time he felt so fine. It had been a great day, topped off by that somewhat self-indulgent gesture he had granted himself, and now this – the appearance of the woman before him, his Katherine, wearing both the Bulgari necklace and the Rolex he had sent her weeks before. She was coming around. She was succumbing. He could imagine himself swallowing her – and she tasted good.
‘Katherine,’ he said, not hesitating before moving into her hallway and drawing her into an embrace. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘Thank you, Jeffrey,’ she said, her arms resting lightly across his shoulders.
‘Did you get my other gifts?’
‘Yes,’ she said, stepping back with a smile. ‘Jeffrey, it is all way too much. I should have called to thank you, but it was all so overwhelming. I . . . I don’t know what to say.’
‘You could say yes.’
‘To what?’ she asked evenly.
‘To the question I am building up to.’ He smiled, before shaking his head and leading her down her own corridor. ‘But I am getting ahead of myself. I have had a very productive day and I would like nothing better than to share it with you.’
‘And I with you,’ she said, as they entered the living area, Katherine making a detour towards the kitchen to pour them both a glass of wine. And then she hesitated, her attractive face breaking into a frown.
‘What is it, Katherine?’ he asked, taking the chilled sauvignon blanc and leading her towards the sofa.
‘Well, I don’t know how to tell you this. It really is quite distressing.’
‘You can tell me anything, Katherine.’ He ran his hand down the back of her right arm.
‘But – you have been so busy, trying to do what is best for your children and . . . well, it is nothing short of criminal.’
Despite his recent elation, Logan found his own brow starting to furrow. Something was going on, and he had no doubt that David Cavanaugh was behind it.
She began at the beginning – or at least where Detective McKay had instructed her to start – with her general concerns that the children’s defence attorneys had an unhealthy view of this case from the outset, that David Cavanaugh’s past relationship with Stephanie had robbed him of his ability to be objective. And then she explained how she had always felt quite intimidated in David and Sara’s company – she sensed they had a desperate need to ignore the truth that Stephanie was a hardened emotional abuser, which meant they were determined to find somebody else to blame.
‘There is something not right about them, Jeffrey. I know David Cavanaugh has a stellar reputation, but now I think I understand why you were wary of his involvement in the first place.’
‘I agree,’ said Jeffrey wholeheartedly. ‘Which is why I applied for that APO.’
‘Yes,’ she said, allowing him to take her hand. ‘I know they are losing in court, Jeffrey – and this will all be over soon.’
‘Over in one sense, Katherine.’ He gave her a smile. ‘But it will be just the beginning for us.’
‘Yes,’ she said, forcing her own mouth to widen. ‘But, the thing is, after today, I . . .’
Katherine diverted her eyes, hoping beyond anything that she was doing what Frank McKay had suggested – drawing Logan out, slowly, carefully, pulling him along with the finest of invisible strings.
‘What is it, my dear?’ he asked. ‘What happened today to upset you so?’
‘I . . . I wasn’t going to tell you. I mean, you already have so much on your plate but . . . It’s Sara Davis, she came to see me – here, at home, while you and her co-counsel were in court.’
Logan shifted in his seat. ‘What did she want?’
‘She wanted to blind me with her lies.’ The line was a little over-dramatic but Katherine met Logan’s eye and was reassured when he did not flinch. ‘She told me things, Jeffrey, horrible things about you and what you are supposed to have done.’
Logan’s eyes narrowed, his dark orbs boring into her own pale brown ones. He was looking into her soul, she knew, but she did not falter, she did not blink.
‘It was awful, Jeffrey,’ Katherine went on. ‘She told me they were getting proof that you forced J.T. to murder his mother, that you were the one who altered Stephanie’s life insurance policy, and that you framed your own daughter as a co-conspirator and . . . and . . .’
‘What else?’ asked Logan, his voice now rising just a little.
‘She said they knew about other things – things you had done in your past, something about your father dying in a car accident – and your mother . . . Jeffrey, they told me she was alive but that someone had recently tried to kill her and . . .’
‘Both my parents died in a car accident a long time ago, Katherine,’ said Jeffrey. ‘I told you that when we first met.’
‘I know,’ she said, reaching for her wine with her free hand and taking a long, slow drink. ‘So how can they make this stuff up, Jeffrey? I mean, Stephanie, your parents – and then there were their claims about the gun.’
‘What gun?’
‘The one that killed Stephanie, of course – that big-game rifle. She said it was your gun, Jeffrey. That you had bought it years ago, under another name, and sold it and bought it back and . . .’
She paused then, trying desperately to read his reaction without giving the game away. But Logan said nothing, merely reached for his own glass of wine and sipped it, slowly,
as if rationing every drop.
‘Is that all she said?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but she said there was more and they would find proof. I am afraid, Jeffrey. These people are very determined. What if they start making these accusations in public? I mean, we both know they are ridiculous, but if the press gets hold of such claims . . .’ And Katherine let that one hang.
‘You have worked too hard, Jeffrey, we both have, to build a career where trust and believability are paramount. But their lies – their dirty filthy fabrications – could do some serious damage if they were to get out. And I would not put it past them to leak this. They are dying in court, Jeffrey, and desperate times call for desperate measures.’
And then she paused again, hoping for some indication of how Logan’s complicated mind was reading the information she had shared. But he gave her nothing – a good thirty seconds of pure stoicism, until his features broke suddenly, disconcertingly, into a wide and reassuring smile.
‘Dearest Katherine,’ he said. ‘I do not want you to worry. These people are maniacs – slanderous criminals who are committing career suicide by taking the route that they have. You and I both know that the phenomenon of celebrity is both a blessing and a curse – and we have ridden a wave of positivity for a very long time. But everyone faces a storm at least once in their career, my dear, and I am afraid ours is more tumultuous than most.’
Katherine nodded, forcing herself to squeeze Logan’s now cool and clammy palm.
‘Sara Davis asked me if I had any other evidence against you, Jeffrey – anything else that would help their cause. But of course there is . . .’
‘Nothing,’ finished Logan, his voice resolute.
‘Of course not.’ She smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Jeffrey, if she calls again I shall not answer the phone, if she knocks I won’t be in.’
‘That’s a good idea, Katherine,’ he said, inching that little bit closer. ‘In fact, I would not open the door to anyone but me until this trial is over. For as Shakespeare once said: “Love me, trust few.” ’
‘I believe that was “Love all, trust few”, Jeffrey,’ she found herself correcting him, as he moved towards her.