All the Hidden Sins

by Marian Lanouette

  “We’ll go after roll call,” Shamus said.

  After he hung up Jake turned toward his window, put his feet up on the casing, and closed his eyes again. He ticked off the steps required to prove or disprove Stack’s innocence. It drained his energy. Stack threw open his door, jolting him back to the present. Jake turned from the window and studied the man. Stack was looking for a fight. His body language signaled his attitude long before he opened his mouth. Carl looked like he’d slept in his suit.

  “Yes, Carl?”

  “I’m going to close the door, Lieutenant.”

  Jake nodded. “What do you need?”

  “I want a damn explanation of why you’re interviewing people behind my back and working my case. What gives you the right?” Stack asked, a blood vessel pounding at his temple.

  Oh yeah, here we go. “I spoke with the people you didn’t bother to talk to.”

  “Like Mrs. Church? The poor woman has enough stress with her son missing and now you’ve added to it by barging in on her and giving her false hope.”

  “False hope. You think he’s dead?” Jake asked.

  “I don’t know. I can’t find a trace of him. No one I spoke to has seen or heard from him in three weeks.”

  “I don’t see any interviews in your file?”

  “Because they’re in my briefcase. I planned on going back around to reinterview everyone, but I can’t find them either.”

  “And that doesn’t strike you as odd, Carl?” Jake hadn’t broken eye contact with Stack.

  “Why are you working my case?”

  “It’s standard procedure when a lieutenant takes over a department to review all cases, Carl, and give his attention to ones he finds that aren’t being handled according to procedure. This one wasn’t.”

  “How so?” Jake gave Stack credit for reining in his temper.

  “The usual trail of an investigation isn’t detailed here. An empty case folder except for a single call sheet. There are no lab reports, no evidence that a CSI team had been called in. There are no interview records in the folder either. That’s why.”

  Stack took an unoffered chair as he folded his hands over his bulging belly before he spoke. “Lieutenant, this guy’s been reported missing before. If you checked my notes, you’d see he gets involved in poker games around the state and doesn’t know when to call it quits or contact his family. His mother’s jumped the gun three times in the last three years.” Stack smiled. It reminded Jake of a teacher talking to a slow student. Well, Carl, you don’t know me. Though it might’ve been fun to play with Carl for a bit, Jake decided this situation needed a head-on-collision approach.

  “I saw your notes, which were inadequate by the way. You didn’t follow procedure.”

  “I’m frustrated—investigating Church takes time out from my other cases, from people who are really missing and require action. I did interview his gambling buddies. They believed he’d caught another game he’d been carrying on about. A high-stakes game.”

  He’s good. He’d missed his calling. Stack was an excellent actor. “I understand frustration, but procedures are in place to not only protect the public, but to cover our asses. By not following regulations you lost valuable time in the recovery of this person. It looks like this time he’s actually missing. And where was this game supposedly held?”

  Jake studied Stack as he searched for an answer. “His fellow gamblers said Church never told them. I’d be glad to take the case back and check again all the usual spots where he plays to make sure he’s not off on a winning streak.”

  “Good idea, but we’ll work it together, and from different angles. You pursue your angle. I’ll follow the evidence—it’s pointing to a grab.”

  “What evidence?” A bead of sweat ran down Stack’s cheek. Carl swiped at it with irritation. Good, he’s losing his cool.

  “Some kids in the neighborhood saw him escorted from his house by three men.” Jake withheld Mrs. Standish’s name.

  “When did they come forward?”

  “They didn’t.” Jake wasn’t giving anything away. He wanted Stack to ask.

  “They didn’t? Then who told you they saw something?”

  “Because I canvassed the neighborhood and found witnesses.” It’s called doing your job.

  “Lieutenant, you sure they’re not pulling your leg?”

  “I didn’t get where I am today by being gullible. I’ve more than paid my dues on the street, Carl. I’m absolutely sure? Yes, as sure as I sit here. This case was mishandled.”

  Carl jumped up, banged his hand on the desk and pointed a finger in Jake’s face. “You put that in my file and I…I’m going to the union…to my rep. You can’t take a case from me, you arrogant bastard. If you’re looking for a fight, Lieutenant, you’ve got one.” Now we see the real Carl Stack.

  “I’m reserving action and judgment until we resolve the case. You’re dismissed.”

  Stack stood there with his mouth gaping. He started to talk, stopped, then regrouped. After a few moments Stack started speaking in a quieter voice—Jake assumed he did it to cover his outburst. “I’m not looking for a fight, but I won’t back down either.”

  “You’ve been dismissed, Detective. And, Carl, I don’t take insubordination from my men, let that be your first and final warning.”

  Jake watched Stack storm out of his office. He’d tipped his hand on purpose to put things into motion. Stack’s next move was crucial. Jake had to pay careful attention before he chose a course of action to proceed against Carl.

  Moments later Louie walked into his office without knocking. “What was Stack doing here?”

  “I’m not going to discuss personnel with you, Louie.” Jake was aware his door was partially open.

  Louie stared at Jake, shrugged, and changed the subject. “You get my report on the Wade case?”

  “I did. I agree with your findings.”

  Jake handed Louie a copy of his printed report, with his notes and directions on it.

  “Did you arrange a follow-up interview with both of them?”

  “I’m interviewing them together today.”

  “Good, but read my notes before you do. I’m sure you’ve already got the insurance information. Make me a copy of it and nail down the wife’s alibi—then we’ll reinterview them. Let’s see who breaks into a sweat first.”

  “I already started the process on the life insurance policy. I’ve booked the interview room for noon.”

  “Push it out to later in the afternoon. This gives you more time, plus it gives them each more time to sweat the details.”

  When Louie left his office, Jake typed up his notes on the meeting with Stack. He printed out a copy to hand to Shamus over coffee. The meeting told Jake two things. One, Stack wasn’t stupid. He clued right in to why Jake had taken the case from him. And two, he knew how to cover his ass. Jake needed to find the other complaints and review dates and times of the reported disappearances. He opened the Church file, reread Stack’s notes. What was he missing? Stack hadn’t listed the dates of the other reported disappearances. It’s time to dig out the buried information on other cases Carl might’ve let fall by the wayside. Time he didn’t have. If he had to, he’d reinterview Mrs. Church.

  * * * *

  Stack knew Carrington was an ace investigator. It took all the control he had not to lose it at his desk. Sweat dripped down his back as he tried to figure out his next move. He had to be sure Carrington was able to put his hands on the old files. He took blank complaint sheets from his drawer and loaded them into his briefcase before he headed out on the pretense of following up on a case. Instead he headed home. At his kitchen table with the complaint sheets, a calendar, and a tall glass of gin and tonic in front of him, he got to work. He was more afraid of Phil Lucci than he was of Jake Carrington. The lesser of two evils—Jake might destroy his caree
r, but Phil owned his life.

  The more he drank the more courage he found. He’d find a way to disgrace Carrington. Bring him up on charges. I’m sure the Miller boys would help me out. His thoughts amused him. He needed to pull it off and raise his worth in Phil’s eyes. Leverage was the key. The information he supplied Phil on each case or helped make disappear meant more cash for him.

  How to do it and come out of this clean? He slapped his head as an idea entered it. He’d ask Phil to have one of his women file a complaint and make sure Carrington was the investigator. Then have the woman file a sexual harassment charge or claim rape against the lieutenant. That ought to tie him up for a while. Stack laughed as he fixed himself another drink. The idea of that arrogant bastard defending himself amused Stack through his third drink. Without thinking, he picked up his home phone and called Phil.

  “Hello.”

  “Phil, it’s Carl.”

  “What number are you calling me from?”

  “I’m home, don’t worry.”

  “You stupid bastard, are you drunk?” Who is he to talk to me like that?

  “Nobody’s going to trace my phone. I have an idea about how we can stop Jake Carrington from interfering in our business.” Stack rubbed his ear. The bastard had slammed the phone in his ear. Anger spurted out of every pore. Who did he think he was?

  An hour later, on his way to sober, Stack had to take a chair. His head spun, his stomach heaved—he’d called Phil—and on his home phone, no less. Jesus, he was losing it. Not only did he give Carrington ammunition, he’d made Phil Lucci mad. The last thing a person wanted to do was make Phil Lucci mad and me being a cop didn’t matter to Phil. How do I fix this? I’ll leak the information I have, then if he whacks me it will lead right back to Phil. Calm down. I’m privy to Lucci’s organization and where all the bodies were buried. Somehow, that didn’t settle his nerves.

  Nothing ever went right in his life. His wife had left him. His kids didn’t talk to him and his girlfriend had called him a pig and dumped him last week. Now he’d aggravated Lucci and his nice, easy job looked like it was going away. What should he do? Cash in his bonds and take off. Hell, why should he let Carrington scare him?

  Stack’s bravado didn’t last long. He poured himself another drink for courage, this time more gin than tonic.

  * * * *

  “Angelo, get in here,” Phil shouted.

  “I heard. Stack’s becoming a real problem. We need to take him out now.”

  “Agreed, how do you want to do it?”

  “I have a few ideas, give me a half hour to set it up.” Angelo said.

  “I’m playing with several of my own, but nothing smart.”

  “I need to make a few phone calls. Let’s discuss it after I do some research.” Angelo left the room.

  Phil sat at his desk, steaming over the new developments. Though he knew this screw-up had nothing to do with Kyra, it all seemed to lead back to her and her cop. It’d best if he got rid of Stack and Kyra together or did he need to stagger them? If he did this right, he’d be able to lay the blame for Kyra’s death on her husband and Stack’s on Carrington. Phil smiled. A different scenario for each played out in his head. He’d wait to see what Angelo came up with before he presented his ideas on the subject. Oh yes—he rubbed his hands together and smirked—those two disposals would bring him immense joy. What a shame to waste a woman like Kyra, though—he’d get a little taste of her first before he did the deed. Show her what she’d missed out on by choosing the cop.

  Chapter 28

  At his meet with Shamus, Jake outlined everything he’d discovered about the Church case. McGuire agreed Jake hadn’t enough evidence at this time to present an official complaint to IA. Shamus gave Jake the go-ahead to continue his investigation. The captain laid out the guidelines. More to cover their asses instead of Stack’s, in case the investigation blew up in Jake’s face.

  The meeting took about an hour. Jake got back to his office around ten thirty. He created a password-protected file on his computer and made sure to name it something unrelated to Stack. He was reaching for his cell phone to call Kyra when Louie walked into his office. I need to remember to close my door.

  “Here are your copies of the life insurance policy. Mrs. Wade’s the sole beneficiary. Last month, Dwight Wade increased his policy from fifty thousand to two hundred fifty thousand. It looks like that was his death warrant.”

  “Looks like it. How about her alibi?”

  “It’s hard to substantiate. She was at home with the children while her husband was out drinking.”

  “Call the bartender at that dive again and reverify the time Kevin Long left that night. Then call his employer to see what time he started work the next day. It’s surprising the guy didn’t die of alcohol poisoning with his level of intoxication. Also ask the bartender if it was normal if Dwight Wade got that trashed when he was there.”

  “I’ll get back to you on this. I changed the appointment with Mrs. Wade and Mr. Long to four thirty this afternoon, at her house instead of here.”

  “Good.”

  When Louie left, Jake reached for his cell phone again as it started to ring. He had to call Kyra. Looking down at his phone, he narrowed his eyes. Why is Mia calling?

  “Carrington.”

  “Jake, I wanted to touch base with you today.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to connect on Monday?” He didn’t have time for personal bullshit.

  “I was curious. How did it go with Kyra?”

  “I haven’t talked to her yet. It’s been a busy morning.” Pissed off at the idea of Mia checking up on him, Jake took a deep breath before he said something stupid.

  “Oh, I’ll give you a call tonight?”

  “No, let’s leave it for Monday, like we planned. I don’t mean to rush you, but I have to go. It’s a zoo around here today.”

  After he hung up, Jake walked over to his door and closed it then punched in Kyra’s number.

  “Hey.”

  “Kyra, are you okay? You sound terrible.”

  “Nice way to greet someone, Jake. I had a bad night.” Her voice sounded strained. Was he the cause?

  “Me too. I’d like to see you tonight. Are you free?”

  “No, but damn reasonable.” Her attempt at humor failed.

  “What time’s good?”

  “Eight.”

  “Do you want me to bring dinner?”

  “That sounds good, I’ll see you later,” Kyra said.

  Jake placed his phone on his desk. Stared at it as if it had burst into flames. She’d hung up on him, not waiting for a reply. Kyra continued to surprise him. Unlike Mia she didn’t ask about last night. Thank God she didn’t force his hand. His news was better dealt with in person. For dinner he decided on the Steak and Brew. A quick email to the place with his meal choices and time of pickup done, Jake turned his attention back to the Church case.

  A ping announced a new email. My fingerprint results. Way to go, Neville. Jake raised his coffee cup in a salute to the nerdy lab tech. One set belonged to Church, one was an unknown, the other two sets belonged to known criminals with mob connections. Gus Spinela, age forty-two, did two years at Somers for assault. Two years. Jake’s head throbbed at the injustice of it. Why did they bother to get these guys off the street when the system put them right back out there again? The second guy was Patrick Doyle, age thirty-seven. He did five years for assault with a deadly and racketeering. Racketeering? Enforcer was more like it. Nowhere in either file did Phil Lucci’s name come up—the name that came up in both files was an Angelo Rainford.

  Jake’s run on Angelo Rainford showed he’d done one stint for armed robbery twenty-five years ago—well, well, look here. Angelo did his time at Radgowski, at the same time that Phil Lucci did his time there. Angelo, two years younger than Phil, gave him a thread to follow. Jake
didn’t believe in coincidence. There had to be a connection. Following the trail, Jake grabbed a pad. He started with Stack, he drew a line, then added Church. Adding another line to continue the pattern forming. Jake added both Spinela and Doyle along with the unknown man. Next, he added Rainford and Lucci. Adding a last line, he drew one from Lucci back to Stack. He wasn’t sure why, but Jake put Kyra’s name in the center. What did she have to do with Stack and Church? Lucci was the only connection here to Kyra. Or was he? There was an Angelo at the cemetery that day. Lucci should be in the middle, with Kyra on the fringe of things. He made the corrections.

  * * * *

  It was going to be a hell of a night. First, he needed to explain about Mia to Kyra. Then deal with her emotions. After that his urgency to extract what Kyra knew about Phil Lucci had become paramount to saving her. If the dominos fell, Lucci would neutralize Kyra in an instant. Jake had ignored her connection to him in the beginning. Now, it bit him on the ass. Christ, what if she was involved in Church’s disappearance?

  Had Kyra worked him from the get-go? Love and hate fought with each other in his heart. They’d met at Dina’s house. Stack wasn’t there. The thing that flagged Kyra was her gambling and the fact she dated Lucci. Gut versus heart. Jealousy versus fear for her? Was this the excuse he was going to use to end the relationship? He’d chosen Mia, not Kyra. If Kyra was involved what capacity did she work for Phil Lucci? All those questions spun around in his mind. Some answers dropped hard from his subconscious to his conscious mind. Shaking his head, he repressed them, listing them as absurd.

  He needed to focus. Caffeine should do the trick. He pushed up from his desk to grab a cup. With mug in hand, he emptied his mind as he stared out his window. This day had gotten away from him. Shifts reported in, shifts went home. Three o’clock, but his and Louie’s day wasn’t done. They still needed to interview Mrs. Wade and Kevin Long. Jake rubbed the fatigue from his eyes. No sleep last night didn’t help matters.

  A quick stretch worked out some kinks before he glued his ass to the chair and continued his research. The printout on Angelo Rainford bothered him. Like Phil, Angelo had kept out of the system after serving his time. All that meant to Jake was that Lucci and Rainford had learned how to stay under the radar. There was no speculation about Angelo’s recent activities as there was in Phil’s. He scratched his head. Either Angelo had learned crime didn’t pay or he’d become a more cautious criminal. Jake opted for more judicious, which made Angelo more dangerous. He turned to his computer, searched for a photo of Angelo in his prison files but came up empty. He’d have to search old mug shots for any photo even if it was over twenty years old to identify Rainford. Jake typed up his request and sent it out to the state police. He figured he should have something back by the end of the week if he was lucky.