Deadly Legacy (A Carmedy & Garrett Mystery)

by Bruce, Alison

  "But the rape of a minor is the charge that's going to have the biggest effect on his sentencing."

  Mercy smiled maliciously. "He doesn't know that yet. Next thing, one of the others gives up their drug source in exchange for being allowed to plead guilty and ask for concurrent sentencing."

  "Just ask?"

  "That's all we can offer in cases involving minors."

  "And you sold it?"

  Mercy's smile widened and she nodded.

  "I think she should give up working in the sticks and come back to Metro," said Ravensburg.

  Mercy hit him.

  Kate ignored both jabs. "So then what?"

  "Then we had a confluence of events. We brought in the street supplier the rapist had given up and he, in turn, made a deal in return for his supplier. Meanwhile, Ravensburg here got a lead on his guy's supplier and they were one and the same man. Ravensburg was setting up a sting when his guy came back with the news that his supplier was getting out of the business."

  Kate hoped she hadn't been the one to blow the man's cover. "Were you made?"

  "Nah." Ravensburg was smug. "My guy was genuinely shocked when I arrested him a couple hours ago."

  Kate nodded, relieved. "So, who is the supplier?"

  "Some guy named Rossini," said Mercy. "Francis Rossini."

  Kate cocked her head to one side. "That name is familiar."

  "He's an ex-employee of Gage Pharmaceuticals," said Ravensburg. "We're not sure how he's stealing drugs from the company. That's a can of worms we'll open once we have him in custody."

  "Gage Pharmaceuticals," Kate said. "Delano Gage dead. Coincidence?"

  Mercy sang, "'It's a small world after all.'"

  The three detectives indulged in a bit of speculation on the topic until Thorsen emerged from his office and announced all off-duty personnel were invited to accompany him to the Helios.

  "Kathleen, a word."

  Kate blushed. She must be very late now.

  Mercy gave her another tight hug and so did Ravensburg, which raised her spirits a bit.

  Thorsen put a paternal arm around her shoulder and drew her aside.

  "We've been worried about you. Are you all right?"

  The moment he asked, she remembered she wasn't all right. Her throat closed up with grief and she fought the urge bury her face in Papa Igor's chest and bawl her eyes out.

  This wasn't the time or place.

  Since she had been recruited by the department, four years ago, Thorsen made a point of being as hard on her as he could get away with. He didn't want there to be any accusation of favouritism. Nor did he want people thinking she was coasting on her father's reputation.

  Papa Igor belonged to her childhood. Here and now, he was the chief.

  He seemed to remember that and released her. "Pull yourself together, Garrett. You have a duty to perform and you are already late. You're not going to wear black, are you?"

  Kate took in the chief's fluorescent Hawaiian shirt and white duck pants and made a noise between a sniff and a snort of laughter.

  "No. I came here to get changed and got a bit distracted. I'll hurry and be right behind you."

  "Have a shower first," he said, wrinkling his nose. "You smell like an old cup of coffee."

  "Thanks, Chief!"

  Although she spoke sarcastically, she meant it.

  18

  The ambient noise level in the restaurant rose several decibels as greetings were exchanged between the police officers, Jake and the Thorsen family. There were handshakes and hugs all 'round. Jake was on an acquaintance basis with a fair number of beat cops and some of the detectives. All of them knew of him because of Joe.

  The process was repeated minutes later when a second group of Touchstone employees arrived, led by Felix Proctor. This was a smaller group, mostly members of the claims team. Jake only knew a few of them by name. Again, all of them knew Joe.

  Not comfortable with working the crowd, Jake hovered close to the Thorsens and David Kessler.

  "Have you seen Kate?" Maggie asked her husband. "We're getting a bit worried about her."

  Thorsen lowered his voice as much as he practically could. "I've seen her. She won't be long."

  "Is she okay?"

  He growled, "Of course not. She's torn apart." He put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "When she gets here, don't give her too much sympathy. It won't do her any good right now. She has to hold it together, at least until tomorrow."

  "Why?" Maggie threw up a hand up in exasperation.

  "Because that is what Kathleen needs to do and we are going to help her by being bracing—like an icy shower after a sauna."

  "I hate ice showers after a sauna."

  "I know, my love, and yet you suffer it anyway."

  "Not ice water," she murmured, cuddling up to him, "unless I know we're going to warm up afterward."

  Maggie's tone was highly suggestive. It said to Jake this was not a conversation he had any business hearing. Turning his attention elsewhere, he observed the guests.

  Centred around Felix Proctor were Touchstone's claims team, claims examiners from a couple of other local companies that used the services of Garrett Investigations and related civil lawyers. A subset of junior personnel had joined Piper Callan's court. With a few exceptions, they all wore weekend wear in neutral colours, and were sipping their drinks out of the glasses provided.

  Vincent Valerio was the current focal point of a second group. Surrounded by off-duty police officers who knew Joe primarily as a private investigator, he shared stories of Joe the cop who walked a beat and policed in the community, years before becoming a detective. Then an older man started correcting him and took over the centre stage.

  Old or young, male or female, active or retired, there was no mistaking these were cops. Most of them were in some variety of jeans and a t-shirt or sweatshirt. Some were a bit more formal, like Valerio with his green cashmere v-neck, or more flamboyant, like Xavier Lim with his chrome-studded biking leathers. Without exception, they drank out of bottles, jealously guarded until empty, then quickly replaced.

  Between the groups there was a neutral zone. Kessler trolled this area, partaking in conversations on either side but belonging to neither. Jake supposed he came under that category, too. He was on the edge, exchanging greetings with both sides. Mostly he watched.

  He saw Kate Garrett arrive. He had no trouble identifying her, though he rarely saw her. Standing in the middle of the social neutral zone gave him a clear, if distant view of the front door.

  No one else noticed at first. She wasn't the type to stand out in a crowd and she was dressed to blend, in jeans and an oversized, grey sweatshirt. It looked like a standard police issue warm-up jacket, a hooded pullover with half zipper. A half dozen other officers were wearing similar tops. As she moved through the congregation of police officers, Kate was given hugs and handshakes and pats on the back as they recognized her. The storytelling cop caught sight of her and stopped his anecdote with a choke of emotion. For a long moment, he just stood there and nodded his head. Then Kate moved in for a hug, moved on, and he picked up the thread of his tale.

  It seemed to Jake she was heading in his direction, albeit by a zigzagging route. A craven voice suggested now might be a good time to go to the men's room, but he stood his ground. As Thorsen would no doubt point out, they had to get over themselves eventually. It might as well be today. He was running a few decent opening lines by his internal editor when she turned toward him.

  On the warm-up jacket were the words Police Academy Class of '91. Joe's year.

  Jake's rehearsed words of comfort, to be bracingly delivered, slipped out of his conscious mind and his first words came straight from the id, bypassing his internal editor.

  "Raiding Joe's closet again?"

  The room did not suddenly fall into expectant silence. The floor did not open up to swallow him. He waited for Kate to slap him down, as she had once before when he made a similarly inappropriate remar
k. Her mouth was opening to speak when she was knocked to the floor by a hurtling ten-year-old.

  "Katie!"

  Automatically, Jake went to help Kate up. She waved him off as she comforted the half laughing, half sobbing Erica Thorsen. Eventually, she let Thorsen pull her up, while still holding the bereft girl. Jake caught sentence fragments like, "not fair," "oh, Katie," and "what are we going to do?" Meanwhile, Kate carried Erica to the nearest chair and sat down.

  Jake watched as Kate soothed the child with stock phrases, rubbing the girl's back with a slow, steady rhythm. Andrea went over to them and put an arm around Kate's shoulder and an arm around her littlest sister. Sonia held her mother's hand, clearly distressed by her sister's grief.

  "Kate's like a big sister to all the girls," said Thorsen. "She's known them all their lives. There's a particular connection with Erica. She took Maggie to the hospital and stayed with her in the delivery room. Joe and I got there just before Erica was born, but Maggie insisted Kate stay. So Joe paced the waiting room while Kate held one of Maggie's hands and I held the other."

  "I didn't realize you were so close."

  Thorsen snorted. "You might have noticed over the years I avoid going into churches."

  "I know you're not Christian," Jake said, not quite seeing where this was going.

  "It's more than that. Another story for another time. The point is, so far, in my whole life, I've made three exceptions to my no-church rule. The first exception was for Kate's christening. Had to. Maggie's her godmother and despite myself, I stood as one of her godfathers. I only agreed to care for Kate, not further her career as a Christian."

  Thorsen paused for a response and Jake obliged with an amused grin.

  "The second time," Thorsen continued, "was for a play Kate's drama group was putting on. It wasn't really a church function. They were just using the basement auditorium. The third time will be for Joe's funeral."

  Well, that puts things in perspective, Jake thought. Talk about having a home court advantage. Miss Kate had it in spades.

  The noise level dropped again and Jake looked around to find the cause. Constance Gage-Imada had just entered on Leon Eldridge's arm. Mr. John Imada followed with the tall, dark and gorgeous Ms. Leigh on his arm. They, in turn, were succeeded by Felicity Gage and Daniel Ziegler. Bringing up the rear, and obviously not part of the group, was Emma Kessler. She stood out from the procession partly because, unlike the Gage party, she hadn't had a chance to change for the evening.

  "Your mother is here," Thorsen told Kate, picking his daughter up.

  Kate nodded acknowledgement. She took time to say goodnight to Erica and her sisters. While Jake's attention had been elsewhere, Maggie had suggested it was time to take the kids home. Kessler guided his wife through the crowd in time to say hello and goodbye to Maggie and the girls.

  "Are you going, too?" she asked Thorsen.

  "I'll be back. I'm just going to walk them out."

  Jake avoided the goodbyes and made a beeline to the refreshment table. There he traded his half-drunk beer for an ice cold bottle of cola. He observed the three Gage wives, helping themselves to a half bottle of wine each. Felicity and Jennifer also helped themselves to wine glasses. Constance cracked her wine open, raised it in a silent toast and drank straight from the bottle.

  "I don't think you have to worry about date-rape," Felicity murmured.

  "I'm more worried about murder," Jennifer said, putting down her glass and sipping from the bottle.

  "Never mind either." Constance chuckled. "We are surrounded by police officers. No one is going to slip us a mickey in this crowd."

  "Then why?" asked Jennifer.

  "When in Rome, drink like the carabinieri."

  Felicity trilled a laugh and put her glass down.

  "To Joe Garrett," she said, raising her bottle.

  "To Joe," echoed the other two women.

  A little further on, Daniel Ziegler was fastidiously pouring a beer into a pilsner glass, careful not to create foam. Leon Eldridge was likewise carefully decanting a half bottle of wine into a large goblet. Beside them, John Imada was staring rapturously at the ladies.

  "Gorgeous," he sighed.

  "Which one?" Ziegler asked.

  "All of them. Gage was a lucky man."

  "Right up to when he died," Ziegler said dryly.

  Eldridge gave a disdainful sniff. "I find that remark to be in very poor taste. Dying of a heart attack is tragic, not merely unlucky."

  "I always thought he took good care of himself," said Imada, never taking his eyes off the ladies.

  "You can take care of yourself and still die of a heart attack," said Eldridge.

  "He didn't die of a heart attack, did he?" Zeigler said. "At least, it was a heart attack, but it wasn't due to natural causes."

  "Oh?"

  Now he had Imada and Eldridge's full attention. He gave a brief rundown of the forensic evidence, as recounted to him, and the resulting interrogations of the family. Jake hovered at the edge of the group and observed Ziegler was a dispassionate and reasonably accurate reporter.

  "Have I got that right, Mr. Carmedy?"

  Maybe Mr. Ziegler was too observant.

  Jake nodded. "Just about. Still, tonight is about Joe Garrett, right? I have to admit, I was surprised to see you here. I didn't know you knew Joe, Mr. Ziegler."

  "I am accompanying Mrs. Gage, who was acquainted with Mr. Garrett, albeit not well. I think she is here primarily at Mrs. Imada's instigation. The three ladies were concluding business with the family lawyer prior to coming here."

  "You know Joe, Mr. Imada?"

  "Me? Not really. Well, I've met him a couple of times. Constance knew him back when she was still married to Gage and our company hired him once to investigate a possible environmental audit fraud."

  "I remember that." Jake grimaced. "I was hip deep in swamp water and being eaten alive by mosquitoes. It made me nostalgic for the Afghan mountains."

  Imada chuckled.

  "If you'll excuse me," Eldridge interjected, bowing out of the crowd.

  "Your wife must know Mr. Eldridge, as well," Jake suggested. "Did you come here together?"

  "Oh, no," Imada said, shaking his head. "We met outside and my wife gathered him up into our entourage. I should point out, Mr. Carmedy, that everyone might know Joe but Constance knows everyone."

  19

  Kate had run the gauntlet of mourners, faced a man she had been avoiding for the better part of a decade, and comforted an upset child, all without food or drink to sustain her. She began wishing she had ordered a proper dinner when she was with Felix.

  There was plenty of food to be had, if only she could get through the crowd surrounding the refreshment tables. Before that, she had to escape the circle of well-wishers surrounding her. She exchanged condolences, occasionally shooting a wistful glance in the direction of the comestibles.

  Peter Filandros came to the rescue. He brought a large plate with a sample of everything going and extra helpings of souvlaki and dolmades, her favourites. With most of the guests milling around, it was easy for him to find her a table and set her up. A moment later, one of his daughters arrived with a carafe of coffee and a mug. A second arrived with a tray full of shot glasses and a bottle of Metaxa. Peter poured a couple of shots of the Greek brandy and pushed one toward Kate. He raised the second glass for a toast. He cleared his throat noisily and rapped an empty shot glass on the table. A ripple of coughs and clinks signalled to the outlying guests a speech was forthcoming.

  "Welcome and thank you for coming. To turn Shakespeare on his ear, we have come to praise Joe Garrett, not to bury him."

  A ripple of polite laughter answered the quip.

  "I have known Joe Garrett since I was a busboy working in my father's restaurant. He and my father always seemed larger than life to me. They were both big men." He grinned. "Joe in height, my father in width. That was just their physical size. Both were big of heart and big of courage. Neither was afraid to ta
ke a risk."

  Peter flourished his glass in the direction of the police contingent. "Many of you can tell us of Joe's courage in the line of duty. I would like to tell you about his daring in a more mundane sphere. He and my father saw the Downtown was dying a slow death. New development was shifting the core of the city and was going to leave the historic downtown behind.

  "Joe loved the city, but really loved the downtown. So did my father. They used to talk about it all the time, what should be done, what was being done and how it wasn't working. Then, in the middle of one of the most difficult times in his life, Joe suggested they finally do something about it. Joe and my father risked everything they had to buy and renovated this building, and to do it with a lot of publicity, challenging other businesses to do the same. Their gamble paid off and all of us are winners. So, my friends, I would like you to toast Joe Garrett, the community leader."

  Peter tossed the shot of brandy into his mouth as everyone clapped or clanked glasses. Taking a fresh glass and filling it, he invited a taker. Thorsen stepped up and took the glass.

  "I've known Joe since I joined the City PS. He was best man at my wedding. Hell! He dated my wife before I did." Thorsen laughed heartily at the memory. "What a day that was. We were meeting for dinner, Maggie and I and Joe and Emma. I was so nervous that my best friend might not like the woman of my dreams and vice versa. I start the introductions and Maggie throws her arms around Joe's neck, screeching, 'Howdy, stranger! How you been?'"

  There was a gurgle of laughter and Kate could see her mother mouth the words, "I remember."

  "It could be argued Joe was not the best husband in the world, or even the best father, though I'm not going to argue that with Kate here. She might deck me."

  Kate smiled. The idea Kate could deck Thorsen prompted chuckles from several people, none of whom was anyone Kate had actually worked with. They knew his size wouldn't stop her trying if she felt the need.

  "What is indisputable," Thorsen continued, "is that Joe was a great friend. It wasn't just he remembered people's names, their family or their interests. Any salesman or politician can do that. He cared about people and it showed. He was the best friend I ever had. I'll miss you, Joe."