Flight ik-8

by Jan Burke

“They tell me he’s making progress,” Matt said. “If that’s progress…” He shuddered.

  “Frank said the captain knew my father,” Seth said.

  Elena shot Frank a look of displeasure, but Matt answered, “Yes, he did. Maybe if he gets better you can talk to him about your dad.”

  Yvette looked at her watch. “We need to get going soon, I think, Matt.”

  Matt asked if Frank could help him load Yvette’s bags into his car. “I’d do it myself, but my damn — er, I’m not supposed to lift anything heavy.”

  “I’ll help you, Matt,” Elena said.

  “Oh, hell no, Elena. You and Seth should spend time saying good-bye to Yvette — in fact, I’d enjoy spending a few minutes shooting the bull with Harriman about my old friends in the department.”

  She eyed Arden skeptically, but allowed Frank to carry the suitcases.

  “Yvette tells me you’re open-minded about Phil,” Arden said when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I can’t imagine you’ll stay at your present rank if that’s the case.”

  “You want to say something, or am I just going to get the B side of the record Elena keeps playing?”

  Arden smiled. “No, I’m not as cynical as she is — and I’m damned cynical. I’m just afraid that you may not realize what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “So I should follow your example and keep my mouth shut for a decade or so?”

  Arden’s mouth flattened and his face turned red. But after a moment he said, “I suppose I deserve that — at least it must look that way from where you’re standing.”

  “I can’t help but wonder why a man with your skills, let alone your clout with the department, couldn’t have done more.”

  “You think I haven’t wondered about that very same thing every day for the last ten years? But a man’s best choices have a nasty way of being easier to see in hindsight. I’m still not sure I would have done anything differently. Look at it from my perspective — Phil called me and told me a story I wouldn’t have believed at all if anyone else had been telling it to me. But I knew him, and I knew he wasn’t a fool who would be seeing bogeymen in every corner. But this son of a bitch he told me about is inside the department, has killed a god-damn police commissioner, has perfectly set up Whitey-fucking-Dane, and — worse yet — is now on to the fact that Phil doesn’t buy the story that Dane did the killing. That was enough to make me fear for Phil’s life. And this is all on my faith in him — you understand? Because Phil couldn’t get a handle on who the hell it was, didn’t have one single goddamned piss drop of tangible proof. So, yes, I was scared — I admit it. Scared for him. The only thing I could think of was to get him the hell out of here.”

  They had reached the car by then. Arden opened the trunk and Frank loaded Yvette’s bags. “So when he didn’t show up at your place, what did you do?”

  “Worried, that’s what. Worried my ass off. I had told Phil to try to take a look at the shoes in the evidence box — to see if they were new or worn. If they were worn, we could find a way to see if they matched wear patterns on Dane’s other shoes, and if they didn’t, that might be a way to pry a little doubt into the department’s certainty that Dane killed the Randolphs. Where we could go from there, I didn’t know.”

  “Smart, though,” Frank admitted, deciding he would see what he could learn from the evidence photos of the deck shoes.

  “You think so?” He slammed the trunk closed and turned back to Frank. “Me, I’ve always wondered if that got Phil murdered. That and my other smart idea — that he should come to see me. If he hadn’t scared someone by looking at the evidence or been in that fucking plane, on his way to see me, maybe…”

  He broke off and quickly passed a gnarled hand across his eyes. After a moment, he said quietly, “That’s what I have on my conscience, Harriman — did I give Phil a suggestion that got him killed?”

  “The killer knew Lefebvre loved to fly. The way the plane was sabotaged — it didn’t matter where Lefebvre was going.”

  Arden didn’t seem convinced. “When his lieutenant — poor old Willis — called me at almost midnight that first night and asked if Phil was at my place, I knew something was wrong — really wrong. It could have been the middle of the day and I would have known — I could hear it in Willis’s voice. He was upset. If things had gone right, there wasn’t any reason for Willis to be upset. So I lied to him. I lied and he told me what had happened to Seth Randolph, and that the evidence was missing, and that it looked like Phil did it — Phil! And I felt the damned room spin, because until that moment I just thought it might be trouble, but when Willis told me that, I swear to you, I knew Phil was dead. I knew it in my gut. And I didn’t spend all those years in that line of work without knowing when I could trust my gut, you know?”

  Frank nodded.

  “Yeah, of course you do. Anyway, talking to Willis, for all I knew, I was on the phone with Phil’s killer. So I denied that Phil had said he was coming to see me and prayed to God that Elena would keep her mouth shut, because I had also figured out that we were both in danger. Maybe that was chickenshit of me, Harriman, but it wouldn’t have made Phil come back to life if I had told the truth, would it? And until we could figure out who was behind the murders, the only way for us to be safe was to make the killer feel safe. I figured I’d get a chance to look into things when all the noise died down.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I got nowhere. Phil looked damned guilty. So guilty, my so-called legendary rep — the one you’ve been throwing in my face all afternoon — wasn’t worth shit when it came to trying to learn the first thing about the case. They suspected me of hiding Phil or of knowing where he was. I was under surveillance. They didn’t want to hear anything I had to say about looking at anyone else.”

  “Who were his enemies?” Frank asked.

  “Phil’s? I don’t think he had any.” He smiled at Frank’s open look of disbelief. “No, I’m not kidding. He didn’t have any friends, either — at least not after I retired.”

  “Elena—”

  “Naw. I’m not saying he was just playing around with her — that wasn’t like him at all. He must have felt something for her. Who knows, maybe it was the real deal between them.”

  “You seem to be close to her.”

  “I’ve come to know her and understand why Phil liked her. And the boy — you know, if he hadn’t come along…” He shook his head. “You picture the most cynical, bitter bastard you’ve ever known in your life and multiply him about a thousand times, and you’ve got a slight notion of what I was like after Phil disappeared. I’d failed a man who might as well have been my son, and the department I’d given most of my life to was treating me like a foul little turd — a creep who was hiding a cop who killed a young witness. Yvette called and told me that Elena was going to have his kid. It was — well, the best news of a pregnancy since the archangel Gabriel made his big announcement, as far as I’m concerned. I love that child. Seth is Phil all over. When that boy was born, I cried like a baby myself.” He smiled. “He’s taken a liking to you, that’s for damned sure.”

  “It’s mutual.”

  “You would have liked his dad, too, I think. A shame you didn’t get a chance to meet him. Elena didn’t really get a chance to know Phil, either. He obviously trusted her, and if he had lived, I don’t doubt he would have stayed with her. He was a loyal person, and he was choosy about that loyalty of his — didn’t pass it down the row like a bag of peanuts at the ballpark the way some of these guys do. You know — the blue brotherhood and all that. He didn’t hang out with other cops.”

  “You must have a guess or two about who killed him.”

  He shook his head. “Not a one. Not for a lack of trying, but none that makes sense to me.”

  “Meanwhile, the killer’s still out there. That has to stick in your craw.”

  “For a time it did, but now I figure whoever it was is dead or long gone from Las Piernas.”

 
“How do you figure that?”

  “He’s been quiet for too long. I’m alive, Elena’s alive, even Whitey Dane is alive.”

  “And Seth isn’t allowed to go to school or use the name Lefebvre.”

  “Okay, so we take precautions where the boy is concerned. But there haven’t been similar cases of detectives or commissioners and their families murdered. I think the guy cut his losses after Phil and ran.”

  Frank thought of the attack on Bredloe, but said nothing.

  “All right, so sometimes I think he might still be out there,” Arden admitted. “But there isn’t much I can offer you on it — can’t get near enough to learn a damned thing. You can get in where I couldn’t. Look at the records for that box of evidence from the Randolph case. The man who killed Phil took the contents of that box.” He sighed. “I couldn’t figure out who would want Randolph and his family dead. Tory Randolph had the most to gain, but you’ll never convince me that she would have sacrificed her kids to get her hands on that money.”

  “I agree. Even if I could believe she killed her own children, she didn’t have access to… no, wait… Jesus, she did.”

  “Did what? You look like you swallowed a damned lemon.”

  “I was going to say she didn’t have access to the evidence. But if she got help from the man she later married — Dale Britton — she could have easily managed it.”

  “That stumbling clod?” Arden scoffed.

  “He worked in the lab. Could he have lasted at that job if he was dropping beakers all over the place? Maybe he’s not clumsy all the time.”

  “Maybe.”

  “There’s a lot to sort out about Dane and Randolph, too. One of Dane’s men watched the funeral today.”

  “The gent under the jacaranda?”

  “Yes.”

  They heard the door to the condo open above them.

  Arden lowered his voice. “I wish you luck. Trail is colder than a polar bear’s nuts and the department wants this whole business out of sight and out of mind. But if there’s anything I can do, you let me know.”

  He held out his hand and Frank shook it, saying, “It’s been an honor.”

  There was the slightest questioning look in Arden’s eyes.

  “I mean it,” Frank said.

  The old man smiled. “You call me if I can help,” he said again as the others arrived.

  Frank stood apart from the group as Seth and Elena said good-bye to Arden and Yvette. As these two members of Seth’s extended family drove away, Frank noticed a white van parked in the guest parking lot which was at the far end of the alley, at the intersection of the nearest street. He started to walk toward it when Elena said, “I guess you’ll have to be going now.”

  “My jacket’s upstairs,” he reminded her, reconsidering his plan to approach the van on foot. “Seth, would it be okay if I took a look through your telescope before I go?”

  “Sure!”

  Elena made a sound of exasperation, but led the way.

  “I’m not allowed to spy on the neighbors,” Seth said, when Frank lowered the angle of the telescope to look toward the guest parking area. Elena, who was apparently not going to let Frank have another minute alone with her son, smiled from the other side of the room.

  “That’s a good rule,” Frank said. “I just want to see if this would be a good kind of telescope to use at work.”

  “What do you mean?” Seth asked.

  Frank could see only part of the van’s plate, but enough to tell that it began with “2JST.” It was not the same plate number as the one he had seen at the cemetery.

  “I mean that sometimes we have to see things that are happening too far away to see with the naked eye.” He looked out onto the parkway between the buildings. Other than a gardener carrying a bulging green trash bag and a rake, there was no one nearby.

  “Do you want to borrow it?”

  “No, I’ll make the police buy their own if they want one. But thanks for letting me try it.”

  “Thanks for visiting us,” Elena said. “Here’s your jacket. Say good-bye, Seth.”

  Seth looked disappointed, then asked, “Can I visit you at your house?”

  “Seth!”

  “Sure you can,” Frank said, putting on the jacket. He smiled at Elena and said, “Don’t worry, he’s more interested in my dogs than me.”

  “No, I’m not!” Seth said, laughing, then quickly added, “But they don’t bite, Mom, so can I visit them?”

  “Seth…”

  “I won’t bother him. He likes me, Mom.”

  Until that moment, Frank was certain she would refuse. But at these words, she seemed ready to relent.

  “That’s true,” Frank said. “We’d be happy to have both of you over. My wife used to know Seth’s dad, and I think she’d be pleased to meet Seth.”

  “Your wife?” Elena asked. “The woman who was with you at the funeral?”

  “Yes. Irene Kelly.”

  “Irene Kelly — now I remember where I’ve seen her before. You married a reporter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Man, you must already be on the outs with the department.”

  “What do you mean, Mom?” Seth asked.

  Before she could answer, the guinea pig began making squealing noises, sounds of distress.

  “What’s wrong, My Dog?” Seth asked, then sniffed. “Do you smell smoke?”

  The smoke alarm went off before anyone could answer.

  “Are you cooking?” Seth asked his mother.

  “No,” she said, “but let me check the oven.” She hurried out of the room, ignoring Frank as he called after her.

  But the acrid scent indicated more than a kitchen mishap. As it rapidly grew stronger, he saw smoke billowing outside Seth’s window. Seth’s eyes widened in fright. Frank put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and kept his voice calm as he said, “Let’s all go outside. Why don’t I carry My Dog’s cage?”

  Seth ducked out from under his hand and got down on the floor, scattering toy soldiers.

  “Seth!” Elena called out frantically as the air in the condo itself began filling with smoke.

  “My treasures!” Seth said, pulling a small wooden box from beneath the bed and tucking it inside his shirt.

  Frank grabbed hold of him and lifted him into one arm, and took the guinea pig cage with his free hand just as Elena struggled back to them.

  “I’ve got him!” Frank shouted. “Go!”

  Eyes tearing, he felt Seth gripping tightly to him, the edges of the wooden box pressing into his side. They found their way to the front door, coughing. Elena started to reach for the doorknob, but Frank yelled, “No! Feel the door first.”

  “It’s hot,” she said, backing away from it, a look of panic on her face.

  “The fire ladders!” Seth shouted, squirming.

  “Where are they?” Frank asked.

  “In the bedroom closets.”

  “You stay here with your mother. Get down on the floor — more air there!” Handing Seth over to her, he hurried back toward Seth’s bedroom, the nearest of the two. The smoke had thickened. He stumbled over toys but located the closet and yanked the door open. He bent close to the floor, but still the smoke made his nose and throat and lungs feel as if he were breathing hot needles. He found the ladder and made his way out to the living room in time to hear glass shatter. Elena had picked up a chair and used it to break out the large front window. It sent a rush of cooler, less smoky air into the room. He hooked the chain ladder on the sill and dropped it down. The distance from the bottom rung to the ground would not be difficult for an adult to manage, but he was afraid the boy would be hurt or might freeze halfway down the rungs, trapping them. “You first,” he rasped to Elena. “I’ll send Seth down after you.”

  She didn’t argue. Seth held on to Frank as he watched her maneuver her way out. He put Seth on the ladder as soon as she was clear of the window. Seth seemed unafraid of the height, but balked at leaving the guinea pig behind. “My Dog
!”

  “I’ll bring him!” Frank said. “Now go!”

  Seth obeyed the commanding tone. Frank reached in the cage, grasped the frightened animal by the scruff of the neck, and forced it into his inside jacket pocket, where it squirmed nervously. He was certain it was going to jump to its death when he was halfway down the ladder, but it seemed to realize the pocket was the lesser of two evils, and after that, was subdued. Elena had already moved Seth away from the building. She held him tightly, asking him again and again if he was all right. Frank handed the guinea pig over to Seth, then used his cell phone to report the fire.

  Neighbors had already reported it, though, and no sooner had he hung up the phone than they heard a fire truck. It pulled into the alley and the firefighters immediately went to work. One of them hurried over to them and asked if any of them were injured and if anyone else was inside. Frank told him that everyone was safe and showed the firefighter his identification. “We’ll be right here,” Frank said. Reassured, the man joined the others. In a matter of minutes, the fire was out.

  During those few minutes, Frank made a second call, to the department. He asked for the chief and was put through to Hale.

  “Detective Harriman,” Hale said, “I hear things are going better today. Are you calling to tell me we’re about to arrest Dane?”

  “No, sir. I’m at Lefebvre’s condo.”

  “I thought I told you—”

  “I know you think it’s useless for me to investigate Lefebvre’s death, sir, but apparently not everyone feels so sure about that.”

  “Speak up! What the hell’s wrong with your voice?”

  “Sorry, sir. It’s the smoke. Someone just tried to set fire to the condo while I was in it — there were two other people inside at the time as well — a woman and her son. I’d say more, but I’m not on a secure line.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Frank waited.

  “Anyone hurt?” Hale asked.

  “No, sir, but we had to escape through a window — a fire was set on the stairwell outside the door.”

  Hale sighed. “No accident then.”

  “No.” He looked toward Seth and Elena, huddled together. “I have a favor to ask, sir.”