by David Hosp
She opened the back door to the kitchen. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered to lock the place up when she left in the morning. There hadn’t been any real crime in the town in more than five years. It would be difficult to find a safer place to live. Reaching out, she flipped the light switch and it gave a loud clack, but nothing happened. She flipped it back and forth three times. ‘Goddamned circuit breakers,’ she muttered to herself.
It had happened before. Too often. Her electrician had told her that she should upgrade her system and replace the board, but she had no money for that. If it meant that she had to venture into the basement a few times a month to reset the circuits, so be it. It was better than spending money she didn’t have.
She felt her way around the cabinets in the kitchen until she reached her utility drawer and pulled out a flashlight. Pressing the switch and having the beam of light to guide her provided some comfort. It was silly; she hadn’t been afraid of the dark since she was a small child.
She walked over to the basement door and pulled it open. It was an unfinished space, cold and damp. The darkness was so complete that her flashlight barely penetrated it. She walked slowly down the ancient wooden steps, each of them creaking under her weight.
The circuit breaker panel was located over in a corner. Even knowing where it was, it took a moment for her to find it. She opened the panel and shone her light on the switches, frowning at what she saw. Normally, there would be one, maybe two, that had been tripped. Looking at the rows of switches, though, she could see that they were all thrown to the wrong side.
One by one, she flipped the switches back into their proper places. Then she turned to head back up to the kitchen. She swung her flashlight around, searching for the staircase, but it was blocked. A man in a dark suit was standing in front of her, only a few feet away. She tried to scream, but the shock had winded her, and all that came out was a petrified whimper.
The flashlight found his legs first, and as she raised it up his body. She saw the knife next, dangling casually from his hand. Finally, the light reached his face. He had neat gray hair, penetrating eyes, and a light scar on his forehead. Under different circumstances, she would have found him attractive, but her terror had overwhelmed her senses.
He stepped toward her, the knife raised slightly. ‘I need to know about the file,’ he said.
Finn watched as Kozlowski worked. They were standing at the back of the building down in Chelsea. A small flashlight was held between Kozlowski’s teeth, aimed at the alarm keypad next to the door. With a small screwdriver he was removing the faceplate. Once the screws were out, he pulled the plastic off, careful not to separate any of the wires that clung to the keypad.
‘They taught you this on the force?’ Finn asked.
Kozlowski grunted. The flashlight prevented him from speaking, though Finn guessed he wouldn’t have answered the question anyway.
Kozlowski pulled a small pair of wire clippers out of his pocket, and Finn watched as he counted the number of wires coming off the computer board. In the movies, the wires were all different colors. Apparently the movies weren’t always right, because all the wires on the keypad were black.
Kozlowski counted them down, then paused between the third and the fourth wires. He moved the clippers back and forth between the two of them for a moment, looked behind him at Finn and raised his eyebrows.
‘Don’t look at me,’ Finn said.
Kozlowski turned back to the keypad. The clippers zeroed in on the third wire. Then at the last moment, they moved down to the fourth, and cut the wire. Finn closed his eyes, waiting for the scream of the alarm. It didn’t come. After a moment he opened his eyes again. Kozlowski looked satisfied. He was packing up his wire clippers and pulling out his lock pick. The flashlight was still in his mouth. He started working on the lock.
‘Wait,’ Finn said, holding up his hand.
‘What?’
Finn cocked his head, listening intently. ‘What was that?’
‘What was what?’
The sound came again, a faint scrape against the steel siding around the corner of the building. ‘That,’ Finn said. ‘What was that?’
Kozlowski had clearly heard the sound; he crouched as he slipped his lock-pick kit into his pocket and pulled out his gun. ‘Stay here,’ he said.
‘Bullshit,’ Finn replied. Kozlowski ignored him as he set out to find the source of the noise. He moved back along the building, his gun pointed into the darkness. As he rounded the corner, he saw movement in the shadows and his gun tracked it. ‘Don’t move,’ he said, his finger tightening on the trigger.
‘How well did you know Elizabeth Connor?’ Long asked Buchanan.
James Buchanan glanced at his lawyer, who gave a permissive nod. ‘I didn’t,’ Buchanan said.
‘She was a donor to your campaign,’ Long said.
‘As I told you the last time we spoke, I have many donors,’ Buchanan said. ‘There is simply no way I could know all of them.’
‘All of them don’t give the maximum contribution.’
‘That’s true. But many do, and even for them there is no way I can personally keep track.’ Buchanan’s expression never changed as he answered Long’s questions. If he was lying, he’d been well coached. Long had to find a way to break his confidence.
‘You talked with her on the phone,’ he said. It wasn’t a question.
‘You’re wrong,’ the senator said.
Long reached into the file he’d brought with him and pulled out a stack of papers. He laid them out on the table. ‘These are Elizabeth Connor’s phone records,’ he said. He was gratified that Buchanan’s face seemed to turn a shade grayer. ‘Do you see these entries here?’ He flipped pages, identifying highlighted phone numbers. ‘These are outgoing calls from her home phone. Do you recognize the number?’
Buchanan swallowed hard. ‘That’s my number.’
Long nodded. ‘You still sticking with your story that you never knew her?’
Buchanan looked at his lawyer. Long couldn’t read the signals exchanged, but there was clearly something there, because after a moment Carleson said, ‘My client has answered the question, Detective. Move on.’
‘Move on? Fuck you, move on. This is a murdered woman we’re talking about. She called the senator repeatedly, and he expects to just sit there?’
‘Perhaps one of the senator’s staff took the call. There’s nothing to prove that the senator ever actually spoke to the woman. She may have tried to reach him, and simply been turned down by one of his secretaries.’
Long shook his head. ‘Take another look,’ he said. ‘Two of these calls lasted more than fifteen minutes. All of them lasted over five minutes. You telling me it takes fifteen minutes for his secretaries to hang up on someone?’
‘My client has answered your question. These records prove nothing. Move on, Detective.’
‘These records prove he’s lying,’ Long said.
Carleson’s face turned magenta. ‘Captain Townsend, I will not tolerate those kinds of accusations against my client. He is a United States senator, may I remind you!’
Townsend dismissed the lawyer with a wave.
‘How about Eamonn McDougal?’ Long demanded, remaining focused on his attack. ‘How well do you know him?’
Carleson held up his hand to stop Buchanan from answering. ‘I want to know what this has to do with the murder investigation before my client answers that question.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ Long replied. He looked at Buchanan, waiting for an answer.
‘Understand, Detective,’ Carleson growled, ‘the senator doesn’t answer any questions if I don’t instruct him to. You want information? Then I’m going to have to be satisfied that it is relevant to the investigation. I will not allow this bullying to continue.’ Long had to give the rotund little man credit, he could bark.
‘Mr McDougal was Ms O’Connor’s boss,’ Long said.
‘So?’ Carleson said. ‘That’s hardly a jus
tification for this line of inquiry.’
Long pointed to the phone numbers listed after each of the calls to the senator’s residence. ‘You see these?’
‘Yes.’
‘This number here, which was dialed immediately after each call she made to the senator’s home, is the office number for Eamonn McDougal. Are you really suggesting this is a coincidence?’
‘We’re not suggesting anything, Detective,’ Carleson said. ‘It’s not our responsibility to suggest anything. It’s your job to convince me that any of this is relevant to this woman’s murder. So far, it doesn’t appear that there is anything to justify the kinds of questions you are pursuing.’
Long looked over at Townsend. ‘Is he kidding?’ he asked. ‘Nothing to justify the questions?’ He turned back to Buchanan. ‘Senator, all due respect, but we have the phone records, we have the connection between the Connor woman and McDougal, we have records that show that each and every one of McDougal’s employees donated the maximum amounts allowed by law to your campaign funds in each of the past four years. And we have Ms Connor’s body lying dead in a pool of blood. Are you really going to tell the press that you have no comment about this?’
‘This is unacceptable!’ Carleson yelled, rising out of his chair. ‘Captain Townsend, our ground rules were clear, this will not go to the press!’
Long was standing now, too, and he was several inches taller than the lawyer. ‘You said he would answer questions!’ he hollered back into Carleson’s face. ‘You didn’t live up to your side of the bargain, so your ground rules don’t mean shit to me!’
Carleson looked at Townsend. ‘Then both your careers are over!’
‘Wait, wait!’ Townsend insisted. ‘Just hold on, everyone!’
‘You think I can’t do it?’ Carleson yelled. ‘Just try me. You’ll both be out on the street on your asses so fast and so hard you’ll be shitting asphalt for a month! You think about that, Captain Townsend, before you let this maniac run loose!’ He stood up and ushered his client out of his chair. ‘Come on, Senator,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to subject yourself to this anymore.’
‘Yes, he does,’ Long said. ‘Whether it’s here or down at the station later, he does have to answer these questions.’
Carleson smiled at him. It was a cold, humorless smile. ‘Try to call him down to the station. I dare you. I would give anything to see what happens to you.’ He looked at Townsend. ‘I’ll send my secretary to show you out.’
Long and Townsend were left alone. They were both standing, hunched over the table, like sprinters trying to catch their breath. Townsend looked over at Long. ‘Well, that went well,’ he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kozlowski almost pulled the trigger. Someone with less experience would have started shooting as soon as they saw the shadow back behind the warehouse move again. He hesitated, though. His finger was tight to the trigger, but he allowed a moment for the shadow to take shape. When it did, he let out a loud sigh and put the gun down. ‘Jesus Christ, Sally,’ he whispered. ‘I almost shot you.’
She was crouched down behind a stack of wooden palettes.
‘Come out of there,’ Kozlowski hissed.
‘What is it?’ Finn asked from behind him. He peered around Kozlowski and saw Sally emerge. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he demanded.
‘I came to help,’ she replied.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I heard you. This afternoon at the apartment. I heard you saying you were breaking in here tonight.’
‘How are you going to help? By almost getting yourself shot?’
She frowned. ‘I can help,’ she said stubbornly.
‘You don’t even know what this is about.’
‘I don’t need to. I know you’re in trouble.’
Finn shook his head. ‘What happened to Lissa? Why aren’t you with her?’
‘I told her I was going to do some homework in the guest room, and then I slipped out.’
Finn looked at Kozlowski. ‘Call her; she’s probably freaking out by now.’
Kozlowski already had his phone out. ‘On it.’
‘How did you get here?’
‘Duh, I took a cab.’
‘ To this neighborhood?’ Finn looked around.
She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a much safer neighborhood than any of the places I grew up.’
Finn realized it was probably true. ‘You have to go back. You can’t be here.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re a kid. You can’t be screwing up your life getting involved with something like this.’
‘Look who’s talking,’ she replied. ‘If I get caught, I’m a minor, so I’d get a slap on the wrist – maybe two months in juvie in a worst case, which gets wiped off my record when I turn eighteen. You get arrested out here, it’s for real. Who’s taking the bigger risk?’
Kozlowski hung up the phone. ‘Okay, at least Lissa knows she’s all right.’ He looked at Sally. ‘You may want to avoid her until she cools down; she’s not exactly happy with you right now.’
‘Sorry,’ Sally said. ‘But I’m not leaving.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Finn said.
‘How?’ Kozlowski asked. Finn looked at him. ‘It’s not like there are any cab stands around here.’
‘We’re not taking her with us,’ Finn said.
‘It’s up to you,’ Kozlowski said. ‘But I’m not coming back tomorrow night. The alarm’s disabled already, and I can’t reset it. Chances are they’ll notice tomorrow. They may just assume the circuit was tripped, but maybe not. Anyway you look at it, we’re not coming back after tonight.’
‘You can’t seriously think it’s okay for her to be involved.’
‘No,’ Kozlowski said. ‘It’s not okay for us to be involved, either. We’re gonna be in and out in a matter of minutes. One file, that’s all we’re looking for.’ He looked at her. ‘You can be quiet, right?’
She nodded.
‘’Cause if you make a sound, I might have to shoot you, which would be a pain in the ass for all of us, you understand?’
She nodded again.
Kozlowski looked at Finn. ‘Your call, but I say we get it over with.’
Finn felt completely outnumbered. ‘Fine,’ he said. He looked at Sally. ‘But you do exactly as you’re told. If we say run, you run like never before, and don’t look back – got it?’
‘Got it,’ Sally replied.
‘Okay,’ Finn said reluctantly.
The three of them crept to the back door. It took Kozlowski less than a minute to pick the lock.
‘Can you teach me how to do that?’ Sally asked.
‘No, he can not,’ Finn answered.
Kozlowski looked at her and shrugged. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Finn said.
Kozlowski nodded toward the door. ‘It’s open, at least.’ He turned the knob and pushed. The door swung inward a foot or so, and then stopped abruptly. Kozlowski pushed the door harder, but it didn’t budge. ‘It’s blocked,’ he said.
Finn stepped forward and threw his shoulder into the door, but there was no give whatsoever. He tried it again, with the same results. ‘Whatever’s blocking it is heavy,’ he said. He reached his arm through the opening and tried to squeeze through. It was wide enough to get his head in, but his torso jammed. He tried sucking his ribcage in, but it was no use. After a couple of tries, he gave up and pulled his head back out. ‘So, we try the front door now?’ he said.
Kozlowski shook his head. ‘I got a good look at the locks there. I’ll never get through them.’
‘There’s got to be a way,’ Finn said.
‘There is,’ Kozlowski said, looking at Sally.
Finn stared back at him. ‘Other than that.’
‘You got a better idea, I’m all ears.’
Sally piped up. ‘I don’t mind.’
Finn shook his head. ‘I’m not letting you do it.’
> ‘Why not?’ Sally asked. ‘You need to get into this place. I’m small enough to get through, I can find the front door and unlock it. Boom, we’re all set. What’s the problem?’
‘The problem is that it’s breaking and entering.’
‘You already crossed that line,’ she pointed out.
‘Yeah, but you haven’t.’
‘I crossed that line when I was nine.’
Finn looked at Kozlowski for help, but found none forthcoming. ‘Like I said before, it’s your call,’ the ex-cop said, ‘but she’s making sense.’
‘What if she can’t find the front door?’ Finn asked. ‘What if the back section is locked?’
‘No sweat,’ Sally said. ‘Then I come back out the way I went in, and no one is the worse for it.’
‘I still don’t like it,’ Finn said.
‘Deal with it,’ Sally said. She didn’t wait for a response; she ducked past both men and slipped through the half-opened door.
‘Wait!’ Finn objected. His arm shot through the door to grab onto her, but she was already out of reach. ‘Get back here!’
‘No,’ her voice answered from the darkness. ‘Where’s the front door?’
‘In the front,’ Kozlowski replied. He looked at Finn, who shot him a death stare. ‘What? It is.’
‘Which side?’ Sally asked.
‘Front right,’ Kozlowski said. ‘Knock three times when you get there. I have to disarm the alarm on the front door. When we knock back three times, it means the front alarm is disabled and you can unlock the door.’
‘If I’m not there in ten minutes, come back and find me; I’ll be here.’ She was gone, and Kozlowski closed the door behind her.
‘This isn’t right,’ Finn said to Kozlowski. ‘She shouldn’t be doing this.’
Kozlowski replied, ‘If you want to find out what happened to your mother, we don’t have much of a choice.’ He nodded toward the corner of the building. ‘Let’s go out by the front door. We don’t want to keep her waiting; she reminds me of Lissa, and I don’t want her pissed at me.’
They slid along the rear of the building, walking quietly, staying in the shadows. Kozlowski reached the corner first and started around toward the front door. He came up short, though, and Finn bumped into him from behind. Kozlowski pushed him away from the corner. ‘Shit!’ he hissed.