Next of Kin

by David Hosp

  The events of the day before came back to him in disjointed flashes. The interview with McDougal; his abrupt and unsuccessful visit to the lawyer’s office; Julie Racine’s intrusion into his apartment. The shame of it all tormented him, and he let out a low, tired moan.

  He reached out and took hold of the bottle of Jägermeister. There was still some left. Not enough to get drunk; maybe just enough to stop the pain.

  Bringing the bottle to his lips, he held it there for a moment. Just a little, he thought. Just enough to get through the day.

  As he began to raise his arm to take the sip, he looked over the bottle and saw a folder on the coffee table. One corner was soaking up some of the alcohol that had spilled the night before. His forehead wrinkled as he struggled to remember. It was there, in his memory, just out of focus. Julie had brought the folder, hadn’t she? Why? It came back to him in dribs and drabs. The Connor case. Phone records. Homeland Security.

  Just as the alcohol reached the lip of the bottle, the memory came clear.

  Senator Buchanan.

  He put the bottle down without taking the sip and reached for the file. The soaked corner stuck to the table, and tore when he picked it up. Inside the folder, the records were there, the information clear in black and white. Elizabeth Connor had called Senator James Buchanan five times in the weeks leading up to her death. Each time, after hanging up, she had immediately called Eamonn McDougal.

  Long stared at the information in the folder for a few moments. His mind grinded like rusted machinery. The questions were multiplying to the point at which they could no longer be ignored. What was the connection between McDougal, Connor and Senator Buchanan?

  He didn’t even realize he was standing. Instinctively, he was headed toward the bathroom to shower, shave, and brush his teeth. His mind was consumed with planning out the attack, thinking through various approaches, and considering the consequences. It wasn’t until he reached the hallway that led back to the bathroom that he turned and looked back at the coffee table.

  The bottle was still there. Sitting open on the table. Three fingers full, waiting for him.

  He took a step back, toward the bottle. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? It might even make it better, make his mind clearer. It might even be the right thing to do.

  He hesitated, then turned toward the bathroom and went in. The bottle would be waiting for him when he got out of the shower. Maybe then.

  Finn poured a cup of coffee. His hand was still shaking. ‘So, what now?’ Kozlowski asked.

  The two of them had rushed up the stairs in a panic. It took two tries for Finn to get the apartment door unlocked, and once accomplished he slammed the door open and sprinted down the hallway to Sally’s room. It was amazing how quickly it had become her room. For years it had been the guest room. Even when she first moved in, that was what he continued to call it for a while. But now there was no doubt – it was her room, and she belonged there.

  He threw open her door, and yelled, breathlessly, ‘Sally!’

  She was there. Still stretched out, asleep, under the covers, oblivious to the world. His scream shocked her out of her slumber.

  ‘Jesus! What the hell!’ she screamed.

  Finn held up his hands. ‘Oh, sorry,’ he stammered. ‘I thought … I just … Sorry.’

  He could feel Kozlowski in the doorway behind him, shaking his head.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Sally had demanded.

  ‘Nothing,’ Finn lied. ‘Just go back to sleep. Sorry.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Sally repeated. She threw the blankets back over her head, and Finn had closed the door gingerly.

  ‘Sorry,’ he’d said once more.

  He and Kozlowski had gone into the living room and reported to each other the events of the previous day. Finn made the coffee as Kozlowski described Long’s visit to the office. The adrenaline from his panic over Sally was still coursing through Finn’s veins when Kozlowski asked about next steps.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Finn replied, taking another sip of his coffee. He heard Sally turn on the shower, and he knew they only had a few moments to talk before she came out. He didn’t want to alarm her any more than he already had. ‘Howland said my mother was borrowing tons of money from her boss. If Long is right, and Eamonn was her boss …’ Finn blew out a heavy breath.

  ‘Eamonn doesn’t like it when people don’t pay him back. It makes him testy.’

  ‘Testy enough to kill?’

  Kozlowski shrugged. ‘Depends on how much money she owed, I suppose.’

  ‘I need to confront Eamonn.’

  Kozlowski’s head bounced from side to side, as he assessed the idea. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘You accuse him of murdering your mother, though, and it’s gonna strain the attorney-client relationship.’

  The shower stopped, and Finn could hear Sally moving around in her room. She wasn’t the primping type, and Finn knew their time was almost up. ‘I can’t just let this go,’ Finn said. ‘Besides, he’s gonna realize I know eventually. He’ll take one look at me the next time I meet him and he’ll see it in my eyes.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s probably right,’ Kozlowski agreed. ‘When do you want to do it?’

  ‘Today,’ Finn said.

  ‘He may not be at his office,’ Kozlowski pointed out.

  ‘I’ve got his cell number,’ Finn said. ‘I’m representing his son. He’ll show up if I call him and tell him I need to talk to him.’

  ‘You’re not meeting with him alone. I’m coming.’

  ‘He may insist I come alone.’

  ‘He can insist all he wants,’ Kozlowski said. ‘It’s not gonna happen.’

  Finn nodded. ‘Can Lissa watch Sally this morning?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Kozlowski said. ‘She may want to know why, though.’

  ‘You gonna tell her?’

  ‘Some, probably,’ Kozlowski said. ‘Not all. Not until we know for sure.’

  The door to Sally’s room down the hall opened. ‘I don’t want Sally to know about any of this,’ Finn said quietly.

  Kozlowski nodded.

  She was in the kitchen a few seconds later. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Somebody want to tell me what that was all about?’

  Finn and Kozlowski looked at each other. ‘It was nothing,’ Finn said.

  ‘I’m not an idiot,’ Sally replied.

  ‘I was out running when Koz got here, and you didn’t answer when he rang the doorbell,’ Finn tried again. ‘I was just concerned that something had happened to you.’

  ‘That wasn’t concerned, that was freaked out.’

  ‘Seriously, don’t worry about it, okay?’ Finn said. ‘Lissa wants your help with the baby this morning. Is that cool with you?’

  ‘As long as you tell me what’s really going on.’

  Finn ignored the ultimatum. ‘Around noon?’ he asked Kozlowski.

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  ‘Okay.’ Finn clapped his hands together to signal the end of the conversation. ‘I’m gonna go take a shower.’

  ‘I’m going back to the apartment,’ Kozlowski said.

  Sally looked back and forth between the two of them. ‘Great. I guess I’ll just sit here by myself and try not to think about whatever it is that the two of you aren’t telling me.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Long found the connection between Elizabeth Connor, Eamonn McDougal, and Senator James Buchanan quickly. All it took was a single Google search, and the top link took him to a website dedicated to tracking the political contributions reported by politicians. Connor and McDougal were both contributors to the senator’s campaign. Alone, that might have seemed inconsequential. But as Long continued to dig, he discovered that they were not only contributors, but significant contributors. In fact, they had both given the maximum amount allowed under the law in both of Buchanan’s elections – two thousand, four hundred dollars.

  For McDougal it was a paltry sum. No one knew how much McDougal actually made for a living – most of it was obtained illeg
ally – but it was well into the millions. Long had seen the apartment where Elizabeth Connor lived, though. It was not the sort of place where most residents gave thousands of dollars to politicians. It didn’t make sense, and yet it hardly seemed enough of a motive to justify murder.

  Long continued to dig.

  A half hour later he noticed another abnormality. It seemed that all of the employees of the ‘legitimate’ companies controlled by McDougal had maxed out on their contributions to Senator Buchanan. From the managers to the janitors, each and every one of them had given the same amount.

  Long went back to Google and put in a search for the Federal Election Commission. When he arrived at the website, he pulled up the phone number for the local office. The phone rang a dozen times before it was answered. ‘FEC,’ the tired bureaucratic voice on the other end of the line said.

  ‘Hi,’ Long said, ‘this is Detective Long of the Boston Police Department, homicide division. I need to speak with whoever is in charge of investigations into campaign finance violations.’

  Coale was parked on the street, watching the two men in the tiny convertible. The MG was a terrible car from an engineering standpoint, he reflected. It handled okay, but the engine wasn’t powerful enough to provide the kind of spunk that usually made tiny convertible cruisers fun. When any pressure at all was applied to the gas pedal, the tiny four-cylinder engine had to work so hard an automotive critic had once likened it to driving an old biplane without wings.

  Still, as a man who understood the role of emotion in automotive enthusiasm, Coale appreciated the lawyer’s devotion. It took a particular sort of person to stay loyal to something that defied rationality as completely as a forty-year-old two-seater with few comforts and fewer practical advantages.

  He slipped the Bluetooth over his ear and dialed. McDougal answered even before Coale heard it ring. ‘They’re here,’ Coale said.

  ‘They?’

  ‘He’s with the ex-cop.’

  ‘Outside?’

  ‘Yes. They’re going in.’

  ‘Did they stop anywhere on the way over?’

  ‘The lawyer picked up the ex-cop. That’s it.’

  ‘Are you staying outside?’

  ‘No,’ Coale said. ‘I’ll tail them again once you’re done with them. Right now I’m going to the lawyer’s office. Keep them busy for fifteen minutes, and I’ll have eyes on his computer and ears on his phone.’

  ‘Make sure you don’t lose them when they leave here.’

  ‘Are you telling me my job?’ Coale didn’t care how much McDougal was paying, at his age there was a limit to his patience.

  ‘No,’ came the response. ‘I hired you because you know your job. I expect you to do it.’

  ‘They’re getting out of the car,’ Coale said. He disconnected the line.

  Finn and Kozlowski sat in the parking lot of the corrugated building in Chelsea that housed Eamonn McDougal’s office.

  ‘You know what you’re gonna say to him?’ Kozlowski asked.

  ‘Not really,’ Finn said.

  ‘You better get it figured out or he’ll tear you to shreds.’

  They got out of the tiny MG and walked over to the building’s entrance. The chain was off the steel door and they opened it and stepped inside. Finn was surprised to see McDougal’s assistant sitting at her desk. She was dressed more casually than normal, which is to say that her eye shadow was two shades lighter, and her heels were of the two-inch, not the four-inch variety. Looking up, she smiled, taking out her gum and slipping it into the trash can under her desk. ‘Hi Finn,’ she said with enthusiasm.

  ‘Hi Janice,’ Finn responded. ‘Working on a Saturday?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m here when he’s here. That’s the rule. Besides,’ she leaned forward seductively, ‘when I heard he was meeting with you, I didn’t mind. How’s everything goin’?’

  ‘Been better, actually.’ Finn often enjoyed her flirtations. At the moment, though, he had no patience for them. ‘He in his office?’

  She nodded. ‘Uh huh. Girl trouble?’

  ‘Can we go in?’

  She looked hurt. Glancing up at Kozlowski, she said, ‘I think he’s only expecting you. I don’t think he knew you were bringing someone.’

  ‘We work together.’ Finn walked by the side of her desk to the door that led to the back.

  ‘Wait!’ she objected. ‘Let me tell him you’re here!’ It was too late, though. Finn was already through the door with Kozlowski following close behind. As Janice rose to block them, she bounced off Kozlowski’s shoulder and dropped back into her chair. ‘You can’t just go in!’ she yelled.

  Finn walked through the door to McDougal’s office. McDougal was standing at a filing cabinet, placing some folders into a file. He heard Finn enter the room, and he slid the cabinet shut and locked it with a key. Then he turned and looked at Finn. His eyes narrowed. ‘Must be important.’

  ‘What?’ Finn said.

  ‘Whatever it is you need to talk to me about,’ McDougal responded. He walked over to his desk and sat down. ‘It must be very fucking important for you to come barging into my office. Other circumstances, barging in like that could be dangerous. You’d do well to remember that, Finn. You’d do very well.’ He nodded to Kozlowski standing in the doorway behind Finn. ‘And you brought the muscle. Must be very important indeed.’

  Finn and Kozlowski walked into the office. Finn sat in the chair across the desk from McDougal. Kozlowski stayed standing.

  ‘Kozlowski.’ McDougal nodded a greeting. ‘You wait outside while Finny and I have a conversation.’

  Finn answered for Kozlowski. ‘We work together.’

  McDougal looked at Finn. ‘Careful with your tone, boyo. You’ll have me thinking you don’t trust me. Relationships are based on trust. We lose that …’ he shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

  Finn leaned in toward McDougal. ‘You wanna talk about trust?’ he demanded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about Elizabeth Connor?’

  McDougal frowned theatrically. ‘Elizabeth Connor,’ he repeated. ‘Now why does that name seem so familiar?’ He closed his eyes, as though thinking hard. Then the eyes flashed open and his brow cleared. ‘Ah, yes. Of course, I remember now. She worked for me. In fact, I have her file right here.’ He pulled a manila file toward him, opened it. ‘You know, lots of employers just keep the basics about their employees in their files. That’s not how I work. I like to know everything about the people who work for me. You’d be amazed what kind of information you can dig up on people.’

  ‘Did you kill her?’

  McDougal didn’t flinch. In fact, he didn’t move at all. He just sat there, staring at Finn, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he asked, ‘Are you asking as my lawyer? Or are you asking in some law enforcement capacity.’ He nodded to Finn’s chest.

  Finn reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to reveal his bare chest. ‘I’m not working for the cops, and I’m not wearing a wire.’

  McDougal nodded toward Kozlowski. ‘What about him? I don’t see him showing me what’s under his shirt.’

  ‘You haven’t bought me dinner,’ Kozlowski responded.

  ‘We’re here on our own,’ Finn said. ‘I heard she was into you for a lot of money. I just want to know if you killed her.’

  ‘Why do you care?’ McDougal asked. ‘What’s it to you?’

  Finn could see the smile tugging at the corner of the man’s lips. At that moment, he was almost overcome by the desire to launch himself across the desk and grab him around the neck. He found himself wondering what it would be like to strangle him; to feel his life slip away, to hear his last breath. ‘You know why,’ was all he said.

  McDougal’s eyes were almost black. They reminded Finn of pictures of great white sharks he’d seen. ‘I want to hear it from you.’

  ‘She was my mother,’ Finn said.

  The smile spread from the corner of McDougal’s mouth to his entire face. ‘That’s in the file, too,’ he sa
id. ‘Goddamn, it’s a small world, ain’t it, Finny-boy?’

  ‘Did you kill her?’ Finn asked. He was seething, and he wondered what his reaction might be if McDougal said yes.

  Instead McDougal shook his head. ‘No. I didn’t. She wasn’t important enough for me to kill. I have a pretty good idea of who did, though.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘It’s all right here in her file.’

  ‘Then let me see the file.’

  ‘If only life was that fuckin’ simple. It’s not, you know? Life is never that simple.’

  ‘Why not?’

  McDougal shrugged. ‘There are other considerations to take into account. I’m not a rat, by nature.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Finn said. ‘You’d send your mother away if it gave you an advantage.’

  ‘Be careful bringing up a man’s mother,’ McDougal said. ‘I know you’re not used to it, but it cuts close to home.’

  ‘So I’m learning,’ Finn said.

  ‘I guess you are. You want to know who killed your mother? That’s fine, but you’ve got to do something for me, first.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Finn asked.

  ‘You know what I want. I want my boy off the hook,’ McDougal said.

  ‘I’m already representing him,’ Finn said. ‘What more do you want from me?’

  ‘I want you to do what needs to be done!’ McDougal thundered.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘That’s the fuckin’ question, now, isn’t it?’ McDougal said. ‘You’ve been in this game, what, fifteen years? You must have favors you can call in, people you can lean on. Right now, you’re not doing all you can, and you and I both know it. Right now, you’re playing by the rules. I know you, Finn; when you want to you take care of things, you do. When you want to fix things, you find a way. But right now, you don’t want to fix this thing for me bad enough. Well, maybe now I have something to trade.’