“Look, Paddy,” Tony Ciccone said. “Our hands are tied. You know we need to keep our friends downtown happy.”
“What can you do?” Paddy Quinn asked coldly as he sat in the office, Joe’s cell phone pressed to his ear.
“We’ll keep your kid safe. She walks away.”
“No one else?”
There was a long pause. “Maggie’ll be fine. That’s a good thing. You should be happy.”
“I am happy. Thank you, Tony.” Paddy Quinn ground his teeth. Happy, my ass, he thought. Maggie wouldn’t be fine, not after the bodies fell. “Please send my sincere thanks.”
“I will,” Ciccone’s voice was cheerful. Paddy was rolling over again. The old man always did when it came to his kid. It’s something the Outfit relied on. “You might have her take a little vacation. Some time away from the city wouldn’t hurt.”
“I understand,” Paddy said.
“You know I’d do anything for Maggie,” Tony said.
Paddy smiled. Tony had a crush on his daughter for most of their time growing up. The chubby, awkward boy had grown into a good looking, smart manager. If Maggie had married him instead of that asshole lawyer, things would’ve been different.
“I’ll tell her.”
“Hey, you got everything you need in there? Nothing new we can supply for the store?”
“No, nothing.” The acid rose in the old man’s throat. They already supplied him with a nice little room for the rest of his life. “Thank you.”
“You take care of yourself, Paddy.”
“You, too.”
“And tell Maggie to come around when things cool off,” Ciccone said. “It would be nice to see her again.”
The old man handed the phone back to the guard.
“Everything okay, Mr. Quinn?” asked Joe.
“No, nothing’s okay.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
The preliminary hearing started in fifteen minutes. Maggie wore her blue suit, the lucky one she reserved for court. She’d need it. She thought of coming early so she could talk to Harley and Dublowski, then realized it didn’t matter. She knew what was going to happen in court, knew it as soon as Tierney told her about the witness list. Her father was working his end to see what could be done, but Maggie hadn’t heard back from him. Not a good sign. She’d spent every day trying to devise a strategy and the best she came up with was to tell the truth and hope Harley didn’t. That was the only way anyone she cared about walked out with a life.
The door to the chambers opened and Judge Winnick lumbered in, lowering himself uneasily into his chair. Fuck. Winnick wasn’t scheduled to sit on this one. Pavlak was really stacking the deck.
Carly Weston presented the state’s case which relied on the facts, most of which connected to Rayney’s earring. Nick Dublowski, Harley, and a handful of expert witnesses were asked clean, concise questions with clean, concise answers. It was short, sweet, and to the point. The whole time, Pavlak barely made a peep until he was up to bat.
“Your Honor, if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to call Detective Nick Dublowski again,” Morris Pavlak smiled.
The detective looked a little confused as he took the stand again.
“How long have you been with the Chicago Police Department, Detective Dublowski?” Pavlak said with a smile.
“This is my fifth year.”
“And as a detective?”
Nick paused. “Almost six months.”
“And you’ve worked the cases involving my client for how long?”
“I don’t know… A while, sir.”
“Almost six months.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your entire time as a detective?”
“Almost, sir.”
“So you were cutting your teeth on probably one of the most complex series of homicides the city has seen in years.”
“Objection,” Weston called out. “Not only is this whole thing a little dramatic, it has nothing to do with this case. We’re talking about the murder of Antoine Rayney.”
“I’m simply illustrating how inexperienced Detective Dublowski was when he started…”
“Your Honor, I think that was illustrated when Detective Dublowski informed us that he has been a detective for six months.”
“Sustained,” Winnick huffed. The old man was red-faced like he just ran a marathon.
Pavlak shrugged it off. “How do you know Margaret Quinn?”
“She was brought on as a consultant for the Phillips case.”
“Just the Phillips case?”
“Well…” His eyes flicked over to Maggie. “Yes, at first. Then when we realized we were looking at a serial situation, she stayed on.”
“To assist?”
“Yes?”
“Who?”
Nick paused. “Area One. The Chicago Police.”
“And you?” Pavlak smiled.
“Yes.”
“And who told you Miss Quinn would be assisting you?”
“The chief.” Dublowski cleared his throat. “Deputy Chief John Tierney.”
“Didn’t you think it odd to have someone from outside the department play such a key role in the investigation?”
Dublowski hesitated. Someone coached him on this one, Maggie thought. He was making sure the wording was exact.
“Miss Quinn was brought in because she was familiar with previous cases which had a possible link. She also completed training at Quantico.”
“Behavioral Science?”
“Yes.”
“And was Miss Quinn helpful?”
“Yes. She gave insight into possible leads, witnesses…”
“So she pointed you toward witnesses. She told you what leads to follow and what to ignore.”
“Objection,” Weston said. “Is it possible for Detective Dublowski to actually finish his answer?”
“Sustained.” Winnick nodded. “Detective, please finish.”
“Yes, your honor. Miss Quinn gave insights into possible leads, witnesses, and interpretation of evidence. She never told me to ignore any leads.”
“Did she suggest any possible suspects?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Dublowski paused. “Marcus Galen.”
“Dr. Marcus Galen.” Pavlak smacked the word “Doctor.”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you find that odd?”
“No, sir. The evidence pointed to Dr. Galen.”
“So much evidence that you took my client into custody… what… three times and couldn’t make a valid arrest.”
“There were issues that…”
“And what is your relationship with Miss Quinn, Detective?”
“What?”
Nick didn’t see where the line of questioning was leading.
“She is a consultant,” the detective said.
“Nothing else?”
“No, sir.”
“Didn’t you recently have a falling out with your wife?”
“Objection,” Weston called. “Relevance again, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Pavlak?” Winnick puffed. He already knew where the lawyer was headed. It just needed to look fresh for the audience.
“The relationship between Detective Dublowski and Miss Quinn directly affects how this case and my client were handled.”
Winnick pretended to think as he doodled in his notebook. “I’ll allow it.”
“Again, Detective, did you recently have a falling out with your wife?”
Nick wet his lips. “Yes, sir.”
“Was that falling out because of your relationship with M
iss Quinn?”
Weston was about to object when the Judge raised his hand. “Miss Weston, this is a preliminary hearing. We’re not deciding guilt or innocence. Let’s allow a little latitude.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Pavlak turned back to Nick. “Well, was it because of your relationship with Miss Quinn.”
“No, sir.”
Pavlak paused.
“It was because I worked long hours.”
“That’s it?”
“I spent more time on the job than with her.”
“More time with Miss Quinn?”
“Obj…”
Winnick held up his hand. “Latitude.”
“No, I worked a lot of cases. Most didn’t involve… Miss Quinn.”
“But you were the primary liaison between the Area One office and Maggie Quinn.”
“Yes.”
“And you spent quite a bit of time at Miss Quinn’s house?”
“Not that much.”
“Did you go there after work?”
“Sometimes.”
“Before work?”
“If I had to.”
“Weekends?”
“Sometimes.”
Pavlak smiled as he leaned in. “Well, Detective, that sounds like a lot of time. We pulled your log. You spent a lot of time talking to her on the phone.”
“Yes. She was our consultant.”
“More time at her place. Not the Area Office, but her house.”
“She didn’t… Miss Quinn didn’t feel comfortable at the office.”
“I see. But things were much more comfortable at her place.” Before Dublowski could answer, Morris Pavlak pressed on. “Do you like Miss Quinn?”
“What?”
“Come on, Detective. It’s a simple question. Do you like her?”
“Yeah, I like her.” Dublowski tossed the answer off, trying not to show how stupid he thought the question was.
“Like to talk to her? Listen to what she has to say?”
“Sure.”
“Did the relationship ever go beyond talk?”
Maggie looked at Galen. He was smiling. He had been watching the day Dublowski was at her house.
“Excuse me?”
“Did your relationship…”
“No. I’m married. I love my wife.”
Stay calm, Maggie thought. Don’t let him shake you or they’ll think you’re lying.
The detective paused, reined himself in. “Miss Quinn is my partner. That’s it.”
Pavlak smiled. “Your partner? Don’t you already have a partner, Detective.”
“Ob…” Weston began.
“Withdrawn,” Pavlak said smoothly. “So the relationship never went beyond talking?”
“No, sir,” Nick said. “Our relationship is purely professional.”
“I see.” Pavlak smiled. “So nothing ever happened?”
“We worked.” Dublowski sat up straight.
“And this relationship had no effect on your marriage.”
“No, sir.” Nick paused. “I let the job take over. I lost the balance between work and home. Being a detective is demanding.”
“I’m sure it is,” Pavlak said as he paced. “Let’s move on, shall we? Detective, in all the time you spent with Miss Quinn - nights, weekends - did you ever see her break down, lose control?”
Nick was silent.
Tell the truth, Maggie thought. Don’t try to protect me. They have records. Tell the truth.
“No,” Dublowski said. “Not really.”
“Not really?” Pavlak cooed. “On August 2, wasn’t she admitted to Grace Hospital because she collapsed after assaulting my client? Weren’t you in the hospital with her?”
Silence.
“Answer the question, Detective,” Winnick said harshly.
“She was admitted to the hospital because she was exhausted and dehydrated.”
He remembered what the doctor said. Nice cover, thought Maggie.
“So you think she was in perfect mental health at that point?”
“Yes.”
“You are aware that Miss Quinn spent considerable time in a psychiatric ward after attempting suicide?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that she recently lost the nurse who was caring for her. Antoine Rayney, the man with whom she lived. With whom she had a relationship.”
“Yes, Antoine Rayney was killed. I don’t know the nature of their relationship.”
“Of course, how could you?” Pavlak paced as he thought. “After losing her daughter, Maggie Quinn tried to take her own life, yet she was in perfect mental health after the man she lived with was killed in her own house and after she assaulted Dr. Galen. Is that right, Detective?”
“I’m not an expert in that area. I wouldn’t know.”
“That’s all, Detective,” Pavlak smiled. “Oh, one more thing. After Antoine Rayney was murdered, you searched Miss Quinn’s house. Correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was there anything unusual in her kitchen?”
“Sir?”
“Was there a locked cabinet?”
Maggie looked over at Galen. A smile curled the tips of his lips. Right, the cabinet he broke into to get the X-Acto he used to kill Rayney. Bastard.
“Yes, sir,” Nick said in a steady voice.
“What was in that cabinet?”
The detective glared at Pavlak.
“What was in the cabinet, Detective?”
“Medication.”
“And what else?”
“I don’t remember?” Nick lied.
“Razors?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Knives?”
“I don’t remember.”
“According to a report signed off by you, in the cabinet was prescription medicine, an opened pack of razor blades, four steak knives, a paring knife and a bread knife.”
But no X-Acto knife, thought Maggie. That was with Rayney.
“Like I said, I don’t remember the exact items,” Nick finally answered.
“Medication, razors and knives. Anything that needed to be kept from an individual who wasn’t particularly stable. Anyone who might try to harm themselves or even others. Is that safe to say, Detective?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“You couldn’t? You’re a detective. You deduce. What would you deduce from a locked cabinet full of medication, razor blades, and knives in the home of a person who had been hospitalized in a psychiatric ward for months after attempting to commit suicide? After cutting her wrists. What could you say about that individual?”
“Objection!” Weston said.
Finally. The chick should’ve objected ten minutes ago. Maggie knew it didn’t matter. Not after they called all their witnesses.
“Sustained,” Winnick huffed. “That’s enough, Mr. Pavlak. I think we all know what you’re getting at.”
And they did.
Maggie passed Nick Dublowski on her way to the stand. When the day started, she thought maybe there were enough facts to save the case and Galen would go to trial. Now, as she looked around the room, the truth was obvious. Maggie kept her eyes on the attorney as she sat, acting attentive, offering an earnest, stable expression.
“You lost your only daughter less than two years ago,” he began.
The guy wasn’t wasting any time.
“Objection. Relevance,” called out Weston.
“Miss Quinn directly influenced this case and the targeting of my client. She holds a strong bias against my client. This bias was and is influenced by Miss Quinn’s current and past mental state. It caused her to focus undue attention on
my client including, but not limited to personal and professional harassment.”
“I’m listening, Counselor.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” The attorney grinned as he turned back to Maggie. “Miss Quinn, you lost your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“What did she die of?”
Maggie’s mouth suddenly went dry. “Her heart.”
“Was this a congenital heart condition? Something she was born with?” the attorney countered.
“No.”
“So what caused it?”
Maggie paused and looked out at the gallery. Richard was sitting in the back row, watching his feet.
“Rheumatic fever.”
“Don’t hear that much anymore. And what caused the rheumatic fever? Did she just pick it up?”
Maggie swallowed and looked at Richard again, then at Carly Weston. Both were staring down. “No. She had a strep infection a few weeks earlier. Rheumatic fever can sometimes develop after that.”
Especially if the strep isn’t treated properly. Especially if someone puts off taking their child to the doctor because it’s just a sore throat.
“And because she developed rheumatic fever, she needed heart surgery and she died. She died of strep throat.” Pavlak seemed very proud of this oversimplification.
“She died of surgical complications experienced during the Ross procedure to correct the coarctation of her aorta,” Maggie said. The Ross procedure. The same procedure performed on Angela Murphy. Only a cardiac surgeon would know it and only Marcus Galen would get such pleasure from making the connection.
The attorney took his time. He eyed the judge as if sharing a special secret. “But it was an operable heart condition?”
Maggie glared at Marcus Galen who sat at a table with his attorney’s assistant.
“But the surgeon wasn’t able to repair your daughter’s heart, was he?”
She forced the air in and out of her lungs, forced herself to stay in the chair. C for Chair. C for Civil. C for Controlled. She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at Pavlak. “No.”
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