Other Men's Sins

by Lawrence Falcetano

  “Puts her in a bad place,” Danny said, “enough to secure an arrest and charge her with murder. You wanna bring her in?”

  “Let’s hold off,” I said. “We still haven’t concluded motive. Maybe we can clear this whole thing up if we play our cards right. Let’s pay Eileen Conlon an unexpected visit.”

  We took the Chevy to Eileen Conlon’s Long Island home. It was late afternoon when we arrived. The house was quiet. I rang the doorbell and waited. Eileen Conlon opened the door quickly. She was excited.

  “Detective Graham,” she said. “I was about to call. Come in.”

  We entered into the living room where she continued. “Troy is in a rage,” she said. “We had a huge argument. He demanded I tell him everything that was going on. I didn’t know what he wanted me to tell him. He said he was tired of protecting me for no reason and didn’t want to be left in the dark any longer.”

  “Had he been drinking?” I said. “Some,” she said, “but he wasn’t drunk. We were having a late lunch when the conversation began. He didn’t seem to believe anything I told him. Demanded that I tell him the truth or he would get the truth from somewhere else.”

  “What did he mean by that?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I got scared when he went upstairs and got the gun, then left in a hurry.”

  “You keep a gun in your house?”

  “It was my fathers; he kept it for years for home protection.”

  “Do you have any idea where Troy might have gone?” Danny said.

  “No. He was angry and determined, and he took my car. I was about to phone you when you arrived, but God sent you to me in time.”

  “Stay in the house until you hear from me,” I said. “I have an idea where he might be.”

  I played a hunch and drove to the “Red Hen”. I wasn’t sure what Troy Conlon wanted to know or where he thought he would find it, but the “Red Hen” was a good place to start.

  When we got to the “Red Hen” it was almost five o’clock. We walked into the usual noise and smoke. The place was crowded. It was “happy hour”. Danny and I made our way to the bar and looked down the length of it. We didn’t see Troy Conlon. The stage was occupied by musicians playing country songs. The volume of music was deafening. I ordered two beers, then I tapped Danny on his shoulder and indicated for us to take a table. We sat at one in the center of the room and began to drink our beers. It was dark and smoky.

  I was watching several couples dance to a slower-paced country song when thru the haze of cigarette smoke, I saw Troy Conlon emerge from a dark corner with Arnie Regan. I indicated with a nod of my head in their direction. Danny turned and looked. Troy Conlon kept his hand pressed against Arnie Regan’s back. I was sure he was holding a gun. Danny looked back at me and made an instinctive move to get up from his chair. I reached over and put my hand on his arm and shook my head, “no”.

  We watched as Troy Conlon prodded Regan out the back door. We waited until they were out of sight, then we went to the door and peered through a small window into the rear parking lot.

  Troy Conlon was pointing the gun at Regan and ordering him into the driver’s seat of Eileen Conlon’s car. Regan got in and Troy slid into the passenger’s seat.

  “What’s up with that?” Danny said.

  “Come on,” I said

  We headed toward the front door, maneuvering around dancing couples and pushing our way through the crowd. Outside, we got into the Chevy and waited. It wasn’t long before Eileen Conlon’s SUV pulled out of the parking lot and into the street. Regan was driving. I started the Chevy and followed them.

  We had no idea where we were, or where we were going. The landscape transformed from city streets to suburban roads to a rural highway. After thirty minutes of highway travel, Regan pulled the SUV over. I pulled the Chevy to the side of the highway about a half-mile behind them. We watched them get out of the SUV. Troy Conlon walked behind Regan with the gun at his back and they disappeared into the roadside trees.

  “What now?” Danny said.

  “Now we play Daniel Boone,” I said.

  Danny looked confused, then he smiled and said. “Oh, I get it. Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett.”

  I hadn’t meant it to be funny, but it was. “No,” I said. “What I mean is, now we go trekking through the woods looking for these guys.”

  “What’s Troy gonna do with Regan out here?” Danny said.

  “Let’s find out,” I said.

  We got out of the car.

  The woods were damp but cool. The sun was beginning to set, making it tough to see between the trees. There were flying bugs everywhere. We walked about a half-mile over a pine needle floor, stepping over fallen twigs and branches, which made the trek feel more like five miles. My legs were aching by the time we came upon Troy and Regan standing in a small clearing, well in from the roadside. Regan had his back against a large tree. Troy kept his gun pointed at Regan. We moved in a little closer so we could hear the dialogue.

  “How are you involved with my sister?” Troy said.

  He brought the gun up closer to Regan’s face. Regan looked scared.

  “She paid me to rough up that Detective, Graham.”

  “Why?” Troy said.

  “I didn’t ask,” Regan said. “It was easy money.”

  “How is Crockett involved in this?”

  “She paid me an extra hundred to say Crockett was the one who hired me.”

  “And you obliged her?” Troy said.

  “Easy money,” Regan repeated.

  What Regan was saying corroborated Crockett’s testimony. No one had paid Crockett to rough me up. It was Eileen Conlon who paid Regan and offered him an extra hundred dollars to say it was Crockett who hired Regan. Why?

  “You put my sister in a lot of danger,” Troy said.

  “She came to me,” Regan said.

  “Where is Crockett?”

  “I don’t know,” Regan said.

  Troy pushed his gun against Regan’s forehead. “Don’t lie to me or I’ll do you right now,” he said.

  “That’s all I know,” Regan said.

  “I swear you better tell me something.” Troy Conlon shouted back. “Or I’ll kill you right here and bury you in these woods.”

  I wasn’t sure what Troy Conlon was capable of, but when it looked like he was about to waste Regan, Danny and I stepped into the clearing, guns drawn.

  “Hold it, Troy,” I said. “Put the weapon down.”

  Troy Conlon hesitated. He kept his gun pressed firmly against Regan’s forehead. Regan’s eyes widened, panic causing his face to quiver. No one spoke. We waited in an intense moment, the silence broken only by the incessant sounds from birds and insects. Danny stood motionless, his gun hand steady; his sharp eyes watching Troy Conlon’s every move. I was hoping Troy wouldn’t make the wrong choice. My gun hand was sweating. My finger was on the trigger. If I had to shoot Troy Conlon to saved Regan’s life, I would. I knew Danny would, too. It wouldn’t be a pretty picture.

  “Drop the gun,” Danny said, “before you get into real trouble.”

  We waited again. I saw Danny’s hand tighten around his gun when Troy Conlon’s eyes darted from us to Regan and then back to us.

  “Do it now!” I said.

  There was an intense moment between us until Troy’s face softened and he lowered his gun and let it drop to the ground. I removed my finger from the trigger. Danny lowered his gun to his side. Troy was smart enough to make the right choice.

  Regan wasn’t as smart.

  He snatched up Troy Conlon’s gun, then turned and ran into the foliage. Instinctively, I started after him while Danny kept Troy Conlon at gunpoint. I pushed my way through tree limbs and shrubbery, but quickly lost sight of Regan. The sun was almost down and the woods were getting darker. I wasn’t sure which way Regan was running, but I took my chance and continued straight ahead. I tried to employ my meager talent for tracking someone by looking for signs of broken limbs or footprints o
n recently crushed leaves, indicating Regan had gone in the direction I was heading. I saw none.

  I removed my handkerchief from my rear pocket and wiped the sweat from my face and forehead. The woods were cool but humid, making it difficult to breathe.

  I put my gun away. I didn’t want to shoot Regan and believed he didn’t want to shoot me. I stopped and listened. Among a symphony of chirping birds and a chorus of insect sound, I could discern the occasional sound of running feet on dried leave ahead of me. Unless there was a man-size animal in the woods or a Bigfoot, those footfalls had to be Regan’s. I wondered where he thought he was going.

  My breath came , but I pushed myself to move on. When I looked behind me, I couldn’t see the clearing where I had left Danny and Troy Conlon. Finding my way back would be another challenge.

  I came upon a second clearing. This one was dotted with tree stumps, as if the area had been assaulted by an army of lumberjacks. I stepped to the edge of the woods and looked out. In the distance, I found Regan sitting on the ground behind a tree stump. He wasn’t doing a very good job at concealing himself. He looked tired. He was sitting with his back to me with Troy Conlon’s gun in his lap. The grass was high here, which made it easy for me to approach him without him detecting my presence. I removed my gun from its holster and stepped out into the clearing, keeping a sharp eye on Regan’s every move. I was less than ten feet from him when he sensed my presence. He jumped up and pointed his gun at me. I stopped and raised my gun hand over my head

  “Put the gun down, Arnie. You’re not going to shoot me.”

  He kept the gun pointed at me. His hand was trembling. I was sure he wished he hadn’t put himself in this situation.

  “Where you headed, Arnie?” I said.

  “Away from you,” he said, “and that crazy Conlon. He wanted to kill me.”

  “It’s okay now,” I said. “You can come back with me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “We only want to find out what’s going on here.”

  “I’m not going with you. If I go to jail, I’ll never see my son.”

  “You’re not going to jail, Arnie. You’re the victim here.”

  “What do I have to go back to? They won’t let me have Kevin. I’m tired of fightin’.”

  I moved a step closer to him. He raised his gun to my face.

  “I mean it, Graham,” he said. “Stay away from me. I got nothin’ to lose.”

  “You’ve got everything to lose,” I said, “including Kevin.”

  I raised my other hand over my head to present myself as less of a threat. This guy was scared and unsure of himself. I didn’t know what he was about to do.

  “Use your head,” I said. “You’re lucky if you can find your way out of these woods, there are animals. You’ll probably get eaten before you get out.”

  He didn’t respond. I could see he was unsure of what to do next.

  I tried to create a diversion by looking quickly to my left. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book, and it usually worked.

  Regan fell for it.

  When he followed my look, I slapped the gun from his hand. He dove for it, but I got there first. He scrambled to his feet, stepped back, and raised his hands. I holstered my gun and put the gun Troy Conlon had used on Regan in my pocket. “Put your hands down,” I said.

  Regan looked at me with a pathetic sorrowful look as he lowered his arms. “Gimme a break, Graham,” he said. “I only want my boy back.”

  I struggled for an instant, separating my emotions from my professional ethics. I was willing to help Regan, but I couldn’t help him if he wasn’t willing to help himself.

  I offered no reply, but turned and started walking back to where I’d left Danny and Troy Conlon. When I looked behind me, Regan was following like an obedient puppy.

  Although the woods were dark and lighted only by a partial moon, we found our way back to the clearing with no trouble. Danny had cuffed Troy Conlon and was leaning against a tree, waiting. “I knew Daniel Boone could find his way back,” he said.

  I asked Danny to remove Troy Conlon’s cuffs. He did.

  “What did you think you were gonna do here?” I said to Troy.

  “I just wanted to scare him. I’m tryin’ to help my sister,” he said.

  “By kidnapping and threatening someone’s life?” Danny said.

  “I want answers,” Troy said. “I had to take things into my own hands for Eileen’s sake.”

  “Are we under arrest?” Regan said.

  “You’re being detained,” I said.

  Danny walked back to the Chevy and drove it back to where we were. I put Regan in the Chevy with me. Danny put Troy Conlon in Eileen Conlon’s car with him.

  Before we drove off, I said to Arnie, “I’m tired of seeing you, Arnie.”

  “I’m tired of seeing you too, Graham. But you keep popping up in my life.”

  “That may be good for you,” I said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You might have a friend you don’t know you have,” I said.

  I wasn’t sure he understood what I meant. If he could get his act together, I’d be willing to use my meager influence to help him get his family back.

  “How are things with Kevin?”

  “We’re getting along.”

  “I’m sure Gwen is willing to work with you.”

  “We’re making it work, for Kevin’s sake.”

  “Where do you want me to take you?” I said.

  “I’m not under arrest?”

  “You’re the victim here, Arnie. You almost got yourself killed. Stay out of harm’s way. And stay away from the Red Hen. Spend more time with your family.”

  He sat silently for a moment, then said, “Will you take me to Gwen’s? I want to Kevin. After what I went through today, I’m lucky I’m alive.”

  “About time you realized it,” I said.

  I started the Chevy and drove away; hoping Arnie had put himself on the right track.

  ***

  After I left Arnie Regan at his wife’s apartment, I drove to the Conlon home. Danny had already arrived with Troy Conlon. Eileen Conlon answered the door. She was wearing a long pink lounge robe and bedroom slippers. The same silver crucifix was around her neck that she had worn the day she came into the bureau for questioning. She still had a bandage on her temple. She didn’t say a word as I followed her to the living room where Danny and Troy were sitting on the sofa. Troy was holding an ashtray in one hand while he puffed on a cigarette like a freight train. He was angry and frustrated. I sat down at the far end of the sofa beside Eileen Conlon. I removed her gun from my pocket and handed it to her. I handed her the clip separately.

  “I suggest you lock these in a secure place if you intend to keep them,” I said.

  She took the gun and clip and put them in the pocket of her robe.

  I pointed a finger at Troy and said, “And you need to stop playing detective. If there’re any questions to be asked, I’ll ask them.”

  Troy crushed his cigarette out and placed his ashtray on the coffee table. He leaned back against the sofa back, closed his eyes and began rubbing his temples.

  I hadn’t seen anything criminal in Troy Conlon. Other than he had tried to help his sister foolishly. I was sure he wasn’t involved in any part of something he shouldn’t be. He was not a likable guy in his demeanor and appearance, but that only made him guilty of being a degenerate “jerk”. His behavior had been erratic, at first, showing indifference toward his sister, then becoming a concerned brother. Maybe his sentiments toward his sister were genuine, maybe not.

  “You could be arrested and charged for the dumb thing you did today,” Danny said. “You’re lucky Arnie Regan doesn’t press charges,” I said. “Kidnapping’s a serious offense.”

  “I’d keep an eye on him if I were you,” he said, “and that Crockett, too.”

  He got up and walked to the bar and poured himself a drink.

  “I’m sick
of this whole business,” he said. “I just wanna get my money and get away from here.”

  Eileen Conlon stood suddenly. “If you’re in such a hurry to leave, I’ll write you a check from my account in the amount you are to receive,” she said. “Then you can be on your way. Will that make you happy?”

  “Very,” he said. “I didn’t come here to be involved with these people.”

  Troy drained his glass and walked closer to Eileen Conlon. “Your life might be in danger,” he said. “Someone brutally killed your brother, and no one knows why. Did it ever occur to you that you might be next?”

  Troy had a point, but no evidence had presented itself to suggest that. As far as I was concerned, Eileen Conlon was my prime suspect in the murder of her brother.

  Chapter 32

  Sandy and I were having dinner at “Chen’s Garden” in midtown. I was having chicken and broccoli, while Sandy enjoyed her beloved Beef chow mien. I broke open a fortune cookie and read it to Sandy. I said, “Man who fart in church, must sit in own pew.”

  Sandy didn’t laugh. “That one’s older than you,” she said. “Get some new material.”

  “The old ones are the best ones,” I said. “Funny is funny.”

  She offered me a false smile, which quickly disappeared when she took a forkful of chow mien. I poured some wine into Sandy’s glass and filled mine. Sandy wiped her mouth with her napkin, and said, “The Father Conlon case is finally coming to a close?”

  “Very perceptive, counselor,” I said.

  “I can always tell when you’re about to solve a case,” she said. “Your demeanor changes when you’re with me, from determined preoccupation to pensive thoughtfulness.”

  “Not true,” I said. “You’re always the first thought in my mind.”

  She took another forkful and waited for me to continue.

  “Danny and I have chiseled away several suspects,” I said.

  “Have you brought charges?”

  “No. We want to establish a motive before we make an arrest.”

  “Smart,” she said. “I’ve seen many cases where the judge declared a mistrial because of improperly obtained or insufficient evidence.”