A Deadly Development (12 page)

“You didn’t think I’d figure it out? Was that
it? Or are you gaining from this little scheme too?”

“I swear to God, I had nothing to do with the
decision.” Bobby’s gaze met his cousin. “The managing partner made
the call. We were told that in order to get the deal done, we
needed to carve out a small portion of the property to another
developer.”

“Who just happened to be my murder victim,”
Burke stated --his voice full of contempt.

“It was only on this last deal, over the
winter. Vithous had been involved in consulting on development
projects before, but from the outside. Now, that he was the Mayor’s
Chief of Staff, he held the cards,” Bobby said while finishing up
the last of his beer. “I didn’t know anything about it until I saw
the warranty deed in the development plan and asked why we were
doing this.”

“And?” Burke asked.

“I was just told that the property owner had
decided to sell a small amount of land to Vithous at a great price
to get the project expedited.”

“That’s such bullshit, and you know it!”

Bobby nodded and sighed.

“That’s why after the managing partner left
my office, I looked up the actual documents and saw that it was
more than the small slice I had been led to believe. And that a
small sum meant one dollar. That’s why I told you Vithous was a
piece of shit. I couldn’t tell you the particulars, but I could
tell you that he was.”

“You could have quit,” Burke offered, “showed
some integrity.”

That had stung his cousin. Now it was Bobby
who raised his voice.

“And go where, exactly, Tom?” Bobby
exclaimed. “If you hadn’t noticed, development isn’t exactly a hot
market in this economy. I’ve got a mortgage, a car payment and two
kids’ tuition bill to pay.”

“It smells like shit, and you know it,” Tom
replied.

“It does,” Bobby acknowledged, “but it’s not
like you can take the high moral road. You’re not the only member
of the family who has a dad for a cop. I know what kind of shit
goes down at KCPD. So do you. So why don’t
you
quit
your
job, Saint Thomas?”

Burke was silent. Thinking. Thinking that
Bobby had a point. He was still angry; and didn’t see that anger
going away anytime soon. But, Bobby was right about one thing.
Everyone who works for a large organization has to hold their nose
from time to time and leave their integrity at the door in order to
keep their job. Tom had done it. He hadn’t liked it, but he had
done it.

“I need a beer. So do you,” he said.

Burke was already walking towards the bar and
ordering two draws. He pulled up a stool and watched the virtual
game for a while. It wasn’t going well.

“Out of bounds!?” Bobby screamed at the
machine, “Seriously???”

Tom snorted and took a big gulp of beer.

“I guess you do need to keep your day job,”
Tom said, “You don’t have a chance in hell making it as a golfer,
real or otherwise.”

“No kidding,” Bobby replied while finishing
off his first beer and starting on his second.

“I’m really sorry, man.” Bobby held out his
hand. Burke took it and then they hugged.

“I’m still pissed, you know,” Tom said. “I’m
going to be pissed for a while.”

“I can’t say that I blame you. Now that you
know, are there any particulars I can help you with?”

“Well, it makes a lot more sense about
Vithous and all his wealth,” Burke said while taking a large swig
of beer. He savored its bitter taste. It matched his mood.

“How wealthy?”

“Crestwood house, Mexico vacation house, and
car all paid for,” Tom replied, “and around $50k in savings and
checking wealthy.”

Bobby stopped playing video golf for a
moment. He looked to be collecting his thoughts, considering how
exactly to tell his cousin things he wouldn’t like hearing.

“What?” Tom asked.

“He must have been doing this kind of thing
long before he joined the mayor’s office. The amount he was getting
from our project would be nowhere near enough to cover those types
of purchases.”

Sullivan sat on the bar stool next to
Tom.

“So you are guessing people were bribing him
with cash on top of property to get their projects approved?” Burke
said in disgust.

“Maybe,” Bobby countered. “He had worked as a
consultant for years on economic development projects. With all the
people he helped get elected, I am thinking he must have been
working those connections to get the amount of money you are
talking about.”

“Vithous would look for a cut for each vote
he could help influence?” Burke guessed.

Bobby nodded.

“If I remember correctly, he was directly
involved in getting eight of the thirteen people on the Council
elected.”

“That’s messed up,” Burke responded. “Doesn’t
the city have some sort of ethics policy?”

“Yes, but you know he wasn’t technically a
city employee, he was a contractor there, too.” Bobby took another
sip of beer. “That got him around the city’s official ethics
handbook.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Please!”

“I know, it’s ridiculous, but Tom, it’s how a
lot of work gets done in this town.”

Burke sighed and drank the rest of his beer.
It rolled effortlessly down his throat.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this last
time.”

“What was I going to say,” Bobby responded,
“there’s a rumor that John Vithous was enriching himself by
utilizing his position in the Mayor’s office, but the only proof I
have is tied up in attorney-client privilege?”

“That would have been helpful.”

“Honestly, I really thought about telling
you,” Bobby put another quarter in the golf game and teed off. “I
just didn’t think I could get away with it. I’m sure they already
think I talk to you too much.”

Burke sat there. He watched Bobby hit a seven
iron 145 yards within five feet of the pin.

“Nice shot,” he offered, wanting to soften
the conversation some. He was still mad. But he loved his
cousin.

Bobby made his putt for a birdie.

“Hey man, don’t worry about it. I read the
papers; I know you’re under a lot of pressure.”

“The funeral was today,” Tom replied.

“Did you go?”

“Nope, that’s the job of the Chief. He gets
dressed up and looks dignified and classy. Humps like us are not to
be seen at those types of functions.”

“Best guess, who killed him?” Bobby
asked.

The bar was getting crowded now. A group of
over 20 people had come in since he last looked up. They had pulled
a bunch of chairs and tables together and bought at least 10
pitchers of beer. Clearly they all worked together and were having
a group happy hour. Tom wished he could be with them, laughing and
leaving work at the office without a care in the world. He put his
beer down on the table and stretched his shoulders and arms.

“Somebody who he really managed to piss off
recently and also had paid him a lot of money,” Tom responded.
“Usually murders in my line of work happen because of drug money,
not economic development money.”

“You should look at the city docket and go
through any big development deal that was passed in the last three
months. Anything over a million dollars would be a good start,”
Bobby said as he was hitting his driver into a large sand trap.

“I wouldn’t even know what I was looking
for.”

“I would,” Bobby said. “Let me pull all of
those and get back to you with a list of development attorneys to
talk to. And, because I like you, I’ll even do it
pro
bono
.”

“Thanks. Come on,” Burke said trying to
change the subject, “let me show you how a real golfer does it.”
Burke pulled out a $20 bill. “Why don’t you buy us another round
and get some quarters?”

Bobby took the money and started heading to
the bar but stopped.

“Fine,” he replied, “but you know I’m going
to kick your ass on this.”

Burke smiled, happy that –for the moment --
they were back to just being family, not homicide detective and
development attorney.

Wednesday March 15 2:35 p.m.

“You can run Tommy Burke, but you can’t
hide.”

He hadn’t bothered to look at the caller ID
before answering his office phone.

“Hi, Mom”

“Tommy, a lesser mother might think her son
is avoiding her, but not me, I am
sure
you have a terrific
reason why you haven’t called your mother in over in a week.”

The guilt. The Catholic guilt. His mother
always reverted to it because it worked. He went from a year old
grown adult male, full of confidence, to a sniveling eight year old
boy in less than two seconds.

“Mom, you know I love you, it’s just that
I’ve been consumed by this case,” he offered, knowing this would
not sate his mother.

“Tommy, I know you are a big homicide
detective who is incredibly dedicated to his job, but I find it
hard to believe you didn’t have five minutes of free time to call
your mother just to let her know you were still breathing. You know
I worry about you.”

“I’m fine mom.”

“So you say,” she replied, “but how would I
know that?”

He had often wondered how much of the guilt
trip was for him, and much of it was the leftover residue of her
anger for his often absent father. He remembered the fights. He
would be upstairs, often fast asleep when his father would come
home. Laying in the darkness, he could tell that the tense words
were being spoken almost immediately. The argument would rise in
anger and intensity until usually his father would yell something
like “I’m fucking out of here!” and then the front door would slam
and he would be gone for hours. Sometimes Tom or his sister Megan
would go downstairs to comfort his mother. Many nights, Tom would
just pretend to be asleep and he would hear his mother’s muted sobs
through the thin walls.

“You’re coming Friday, aren’t you Tommy?
Promise me you’ll be there.”

“I’ll be there on Friday,” Tom said
reassuringly. Thurber was looking at him from the adjoining
cubicle. A shit-eating grin on his face. Jack was enjoying every
moment of the conversation.

“Good, did you invite Julie to come?” Mary
Burke asked. She was completely serious.

His mother’s naïveté often left him
awestruck. Once, when he was in vice on a stakeout, his mother had
driven past him and waved. Tom ignored her, trying to avoid having
attention drawn to himself and his car. His mother actually backed
up her car, right in the middle of the street and proceeded to honk
the horn and wave frantically at him. He had to call her on her
cell phone.

“Tommy, why are you on ignoring your mother?”
she asked when she answered.

“Mom, I am on a stakeout, I can’t be waving
at you, you are blowing my cover.”

“Oh,” she said sheepishly, “sorry.”

“Mom, you need to keep driving.”

“What?”

“You’re still parked in the middle of the
street; you need to drive away now.”

“Gotcha,” she said while giving him a big
thumbs up through her windshield. It took her a full ten seconds
before she was actually moving.

He knew that his mother liked Julie, but true
to her form, she mostly was trying to pretend the divorce had not
happened. Since they had split up, she always asked him if Julie
was coming to birthdays, Thanksgiving, even Christmas. Reminding
his mother that Julie and he were divorced usually was met with
protest. “Yes, I know you and Julie are divorced, but she’s such a
lovely girl and the family all love her, can’t you two just be
friends now and move on?”

How he hated the meddling. He wanted to tell
her no, he was not calling Julie. Not now. Not ever. He wanted to
tell her about the lies. About how Julie would tell him she was
working late, or going to happy hour with friends, but Tom
suspected it wasn’t true. He really wanted to tell her about the
night when his suspicions finally became too much, and he tailed
Julie from her work. She had told him that she was going out with
some of her nurse colleagues to celebrate someone’s birthday. But
almost immediately, she headed for the interstate. He followed her
as she drove across town to a motel close to the stadiums. As he
watched her get out of her car and check in, he punished himself by
waiting to see who else was coming. A few minutes later, a man he
had met only once, a doctor that worked with Julie, pulled up in
his nice new Mercedes. Burke watched him as he locked the car,
walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. Burke felt the wave
of nausea overcome him and he opened his car door and deposited the
contents of his stomach all over the motel parking lot.

He had wanted to tell her all of it. But he
didn’t.

“She works Fridays, mom, she won’t be able to
come.”

For once, Mary Burke let it drop.

“Ok, just as long as you are there. It’s
supposed to be 75 and sunny on Friday. I bet the turnout will be
tremendous.”

“I am sure it will be,” Burke responded,
“Mom, I would love to talk more but I got to go.”
Thurber was pretending he had a gun in his hand, and was now
putting the gun in his mouth.

“Oh yes, I am sure my son is very busy. What
are you working on exactly?”

Of course she didn’t know why would she?

“The murder at City Hall. In Mayor Hughes’
office.”

“Tommy! How exciting! Let me hear all the
juicy details!” She practically leapt through the phone.
“All confidential, Mom, all confidential,” Burke replied. He didn’t
have time for this. His mother watched way too much CSI. “I gotta
go”

Burke could hear his mom still talking while
he put the receiver down on the cradle.

“Inspector mom on the case?” Thurber
teased.

“As always. We should hire her, get this case
solved before quitting time,” Burke replied, snapping his
fingers.