by M. K. Gilroy
“So there’s something to what my mom saw?” I respond.
“There’s a lot to what she saw.”
“You don’t think it’s weird my mom was monitoring Nancy Keltto?”
“Hadn’t thought about it being weird or not weird. I’m glad she noticed something amiss in the neighborhood. Your mom delivered a gold mine. Things are not looking good for Nancy Keltto—except to us. We’re driving over right now to read her rights and bring her in.”
“Mom’s lead was that good? Oh man. What have you found?”
“She’s been having multiple affairs the past five years. She’s been with her latest lover for a couple months. She actually had divorce papers ready to be served to Mr. Keltto today.”
Mr. Keltto. Ed. Rhymes with Ned. Seemed like an awfully nice guy. Nancy seemed okay, too. What happened to those two?
“Are you looking at the boyfriend, too, Bob?”
“No, Conner. We don’t think of things like that unless you are on the case with us. We’re idiots.”
“Sorry, Bob. Just checking. Don’t blow a gasket.”
“Yeah, sorry, Conner. It’s been a lousy few months after getting busted back down to lieutenant and put through the ringer over the Durham case.”
“None of that was your fault.”
“Tell that to Czaka.”
Maybe I will. We’ve had a few run-ins over my dad’s shooting. Czaka put the investigation into the cold case files.
“But to answer your question, Conner, yes we’re looking at him. The boyfriend. I could definitely see him being an accessory. He is in LA on business so he’ll have a convenient and ironclad alibi for the time of the murder. I’ll be disappointed in him if he doesn’t.
“When I got him on the phone he tried to bluff me that he didn’t even really know Nancy Keltto. I’m not sure why potential suspects think lying on something we can check on easily or already know is going to help them. It only and always makes them look worse. The same with Nancy telling us there were no problems with her and her Edward. If she’d told us straight out they were on the ropes we’d at least give her the benefit of being forthcoming.”
“So you are going to for sure read her her rights?”
“I think we need to. She’s crossed the line from person of interest to suspect with this affair your mom handed us. I don’t want Nancy Keltto saying anything else incriminating that a lawyer will argue later on was coerced or otherwise inadmissible.”
“How about the guy? You going to read him his rights?”
“We’re not going to charge him yet. He’s flying back from LAX tonight. We’ll pick him up for formal questioning when he lands. But the talk will be voluntary, at least this once. No Miranda yet. He didn’t indicate he felt the need for an attorney to be present. I’d like to keep it that way for our first sit-down.”
“You know this is really strange for me, Bob. This is my growing up neighborhood. We weren’t close with the Kelttos or anything, but I saw them around. Nancy always seemed fine to me. Now she’s a murder suspect.”
“She was a suspect the day her husband was killed. You know as well as I do the spouse is going to be the first suspect.”
“Maybe there’s a reason I’m single,” I say with a laugh.
“Sad but true, the vast majority of murders in America are at the hands of someone close to us. We have a funny way of showing love.”
“So you like the two of them on this?”
“Why not? I’ll say it the other way around. I would be surprised if we found they were not in this thing together.”
“Any forensic help?”
“A couple things. Again, tell your mom her lead was solid gold. We went back to the crime scene and looked at things a little differently and, hate to admit it, a little more closely. The ground was frozen solid but there were just enough flurries that we were able to trace Edward Keltto’s movements the morning he died. He shoveled his walk and drive and the neighbor lady’s. But then we discovered something strange. We couldn’t find his footprints from the house to the garage. But guess whose slippers we do have?”
I don’t even have to answer.
“But Nancy found him,” I say.
“Right. But what happened to his footsteps to the garage that morning? We think someone might have done some sweeping.”
“Which means someone else might have been there.”
“True. But how did they get there?”
“And you don’t think he just slipped and fell?”
“That’s where it gets interesting. We asked the ME to take a closer look. Apparently Keltto’s got bruising on his front left cheek and two contusions to the back of his head. The ME is digging a little deeper on it. At first glance he said either of the contusions would match up with falling backward and hitting the back of his head. But not both. He isn’t confirming anything yet but he thinks he was hit in the back of the head twice, once from a blunt object and once from the concrete. You add that with no other footprints but Nancy’s—and her having motive—and I think I might have a righteous case.”
“Sounds good.”
It actually sounds horrible. Ed Keltto—Mr. Ed—he was a nice guy and now he’s dead.
“I’m just playing devil’s advocate here, Bob, but if she was planning to murder her husband, knowing she’d be a suspect, wouldn’t Nancy have thought through all this? She sounds good for it but I would like her even more if she had an alibi. Seems almost too easy doesn’t it?”
“This job is tough enough not to take a gift. I’ll take easy every now and then and be grateful.”
“No argument there. On a personal level, this is just sad. I was planning to head over to Mom’s house tonight anyway. Now I will for sure. She’ll be freaking out when word gets out that Nancy has been arrested.”
“Thanks for reminding me. That’s why I called. I’m heading to your old neighborhood in a few minutes. You want to join me for the arrest? My new partner, Michael Shepherd, has got this flu that’s going around and went home early. I need a second. Then you can go over to your mom’s.”
“It would be weird to arrest the lady down the street I grew up with.”
“I understand. I’ll find someone.”
“Forget it. It’s part of the job. I’m on my way.”
“Good. You’re a life-saver, Conner.”
One part of this mess will actually work out good for me. It will save me having to explain to Mom why I am moving out of Klarissa’s place and in with her. I’m not ready to deal with Klarissa and Austin. Truth is, I have no clue how I’m going to handle that personally, much less with the family.
Klarissa. Klarissa. You could have had him. All you had to do is wait for Austin to break things off with me. I don’t know where things stood with us, but common sense and family loyalty would tell you to give it a few months. I would have been fine with that.
I arch my back, which is aching. That usually means I need to stretch out my hamstrings. My bed in Harlem was awful.
The phone chirps. Austin Reynolds calling. I let it go into voice mail. We really do need to talk. Just not yet.
18
I FINALLY CALL my partner, Don Squires. He gave up trying to reach me. I didn’t see him on my way in and out of Zaworski’s office on my way to Andrews’ office.
“I can’t believe you decided to call back. So you are still alive?” he answers.
“I am indeed. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
“How’d your meeting with Captain Z go?”
“Hard to say. Have you heard anything?”
He pauses. Not a good answer.
“Spill it, Don.”
“Let’s just say Zaworski has not had anything good to say to anybody or about anybody since he returned. You saw what he looks like. He’s lost about thirty pounds and he was already thin. He looks like an extra on The Walking Dead.”
“I can tell when you’re evading, Don. Have you heard anything specific on my situation?”
&n
bsp; “Right before I left the office he said I’m still flying solo until you are cleared to return to duty.”
“I met with the psychologist this afternoon. I was hoping I would be good to go today.”
“You aren’t being very realistic on this counseling,” he says. “You know, the more you fight it, the more your doctor is going to assume you need it.”
“You’re probably right,” I say, thinking he does have a really good point. “So Zaworski was still there when you left?”
“As of ten minutes ago.”
“I might call him. Maybe he’s heard from HR and I’m cleared. The therapist said she’d work on it.”
Don laughs and says, “You aren’t listening and you just won’t give up. He actually just got off the phone with HR when he called Martinez, Green, and me in to let us know we’re still down a man—or in your case, a crazy woman.”
“Ha ha.”
“Do you want me to tell you I told you so on the counseling now or later?”
“Have at it,” I say. “I deserve it. But I don’t think that’s why you tried to call me fifty times. What’s up with you?”
I hear him clear his throat and suddenly realize what I’ve done out of habit. How stupid could I be?
“Uh, Don,” I interrupt before he can start his first word.
“Yeah?”
“I might have a problem.”
“We’ve already established that.”
“Funny guy. I mean a CPD problem. I’m on my way to meet Blackshear to arrest Nancy Keltto.”
“KC . . . what the . . . are you out of your mind?”
“Possibly.”
We’re silent for a moment.
“Don, you still there?”
“Yes. Just tell me you’re not going over and then I am going to hang up. We can talk tomorrow. Devon has a hoops practice tonight and I told Vanessa I’d get him there. I’m coaching his team.”
I’m scrambling to think of how I can ask him.
“You’re not saying anything, KC.”
Just eat the frog and do it. “Don, I need you to help me out.”
19
WE’RE ALL JUST one happy family. Mom is in the kitchen with my sister, Kaylen. She’s been crying the last hour. Squires cancelled his family plans and partnered with Blackshear on the arrest. She was taken in a squad car, complete with whirling blue lights and a couple siren squawks on the way out of the neighborhood, to the booking room at the Fourth. The case might be coming to the Second because apparently they are experiencing the Plague this winter.
Blackshear followed in his car. Squires is eating a piece of blackberry cobbler and just listening to Mom and Kaylen talk without comment. I’ve been in and out of my seat at the table. He’s better at providing that reassuring presence than me.
I helped Kendra with her homework for fifteen minutes and she is watching a talent show on TV. She’s decided she wants to be an international soccer star and a pop singer and a detective like me. I’m not going to be the one to tell her that dreams have to be at least a little realistic. She’ll be ten in a couple months.
I’ve ended up sprawled on the living room floor playing toy soldiers with James, wondering when they are going to stop shooting each other and call a truce for the night. He’s tired but don’t tell a six-year-old that—in his case, he’ll get a second wind. He is slurring his machine gun rat-a-tats. I want to tell him to say it, not spray it, but that, too, will have an opposite effect.
I look over a Kendra who is lip-syncing with the performers while cradling Kelsey on her lap. Great baby. She is sleeping peacefully despite the battle her brother is staging.
I’m happy with the setup. Keeps me from thinking about what to do with Klarissa. I’ve got enough secrets in life. Would one more hurt? Can I just pretend I never saw her and Reynolds in the lobby bar of the Sheraton on Seventh Avenue? Austin says we need to talk. Fine. I agree. And I think I might be ready because I might have figured out how to handle this. He can break things off with me. I’ll act surprised and appropriately hurt—for a day or two. Then he and Klarissa can make a show of just happening to discover their mutual attraction after a couple months. Two months should suffice. It might be a little awkward if they become a couple and she brings him to Chicago, but certainly not the disaster we have brewing. If Reynolds needs some prompts I’ll provide them. No one would be the wiser except for me. It wouldn’t be the first time I kept a secret to protect my family.
I start to stand and James immediately begins to protest that he’s not tired and wants to play more.
“Shhh. You’ll wake the baby. I’ll be right back, General. I need to check on the grownups.”
“Tell mommy I’m not tired,” he says earnestly. His eyes have dark circles smudged around them.
I’m tired myself. I meet with Captain Z at eight sharp in the morning, with an emphasis on sharp. The kids have school. Mom has work. Time to wrap things up.
My phone goes off again and Kelsey is immediately awake and in full lung. I’m about to block what I assume is another call from Reynolds—I’m ready to talk but not right now—when I see a New York number pop up. It’s almost eleven, so that makes it midnight there.
“This is Detective Conner.”
“Kristen. It’s Tommy.”
I pause. Oh, Barnes.
“Yes, Lieutenant? You’re working late tonight. Or is it early?”
“Both. Have you watched the news?”
“I’ve been running all day and have a family situation I’m dealing with. Can this wait until tomorrow?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Really?”
“Not if I want to keep my job and you want to stay alive.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve got World War III going on over here—and apparently you are part of it. I’m serious. This is big, Kristen.”
“Hold on a sec, Barnes. I’m going to get my partner and put you on speaker, if that’s okay.”
“You’re out awfully late with your partner aren’t you, Conner?”
“Save it, Barnes. Give me a sec.”
“Take your time, Conner. All I’m trying to do is save your life and you get prickly about a little kidding.”
I hit mute. Prickly? Me? I guess I better start calling him Tommy if I don’t want him to pout.
“Kaylen, we’ve got it all under control here. You need to get those kids home.”
“You said you’d play more!” James shouts.
Kelsey lets out a scream. I give James the I’m-not-messing-around eyeball and he shuts it down. Kaylen looks tired. She nods and stands up to bundle everyone up.
“Yeah, I need to get going, too,” Don says.
“Don, I need you to stay just a second,” I say.
He looks at me in disbelief, taps his watch face, and shakes his head, but sits back down.
“What’s the matter, honey?” Mom asks me. She looks drained.
“Detective Squires and I need to handle a call. I’ll tell you what’s up if you’re still awake. But you need to start getting ready for bed.”
Who is the parent here?
I kiss Kendra and Kelsey and hug my sister. James is mad and tries to escape, but I snag him long enough to give him a bear hug and loud smooch kiss.
“Gross!”
Now that’s what I call a prickly attitude. Maybe he’ll work for the NYPD some day.
“Don, let’s head into the dining room. I need you to listen in.”
“Can I pour another cup of coffee?” Mom asks.
Don shakes his head no.
“Half of one for me,” I say. “Then you need to head to bed.”
Was that enough of a hint?
Don and I ended the call with Barnes an hour later. My battery is about dead. I’ve missed more calls. Klarissa. Reynolds. They can talk to each other while they wait to connect with me. They’re the least of my worries now.
Barnes wasn’t lying. New York City is in the midd
le of a war. A whole lot of Russians with names I can’t follow have been shooting each other all day. The mayor hasn’t been on good terms with NYPD and is about to drop another notch or two in their esteem. He’s ordered mandatory double shifts and is threatening to initiate a curfew to commence tomorrow night at six if the bullets are still flying.
We had to clue Don in to what happened with me in Central Park less than twenty-four hours earlier since he just got bits and pieces out of Zaworski. Don loves to gig me. But to his credit, he just listened and asked a few pertinent questions. No trash talk toward his partner.
When I asked Barnes to clarify how I figured in all of this, he said they made an arrest of one known foot-soldier in the New York bratva—I guess that’s their version of mafia. When they searched his car they found an AK-47, a sniper rifle, and my picture—along with my work and home addresses, my cell number, and a list of frequent haunts, including church and two health clubs. That is scary even if they have my old apartment address, not Klarissa’s condo.
It is suspected, with good reason, there is a death warrant out on me.
I think I do need to call Reynolds. I need to find out everything he knows and he is higher up the law enforcement food chain than Barnes.
Don watches as I hit speed dial. Reynolds doesn’t answer. Then I think of Klarissa. I wonder if it is known she is my sister. I call Barnes back and ask him to put a security detail on her.
“Good call, Conner. We should have done that already.”
“Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate it.”