A Deadly Development (18 page)

“Tommy?”

Burke squinted through the darkness. He
couldn’t make out the face just yet. And then suddenly the knot in
his stomach dissipated.

“Hey, Kevin,” Burke replied, “you scared the
shit out of me.”

Kevin Sullivan’s shoulders relaxed and he
removed his hand from his service revolver. He reached into his
squad car and turned the lights off. It took Burke a few seconds
for his eyes to adjust to the darkness again.

Burke knew Kevin mostly as a little kid.
Kevin was the last of seven Sullivans. The baby of the family. He
was twelve years younger than Bobby and Tom. Burke knew he entered
the academy a few years ago and joined the force, but their paths
rarely crossed. This night, Tom was very relieved that they
had.

“We’ve had some complaints about car break
ins down here. Don’t think we’d be sweating it, except a
Councilman’s car got broken into a few nights ago, so now it’s a
priority. You know the drill.” Sullivan rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I do,” Tom replied, now leaning up
against Kevin’s patrol car. He realized he hadn’t been breathing,
so he inhaled, but not too much. He didn’t want his cousin to
realize how nervous he was.

“Anyway, I’ve been spending some time down
here each night, hoping to catch someone in the act. When I first
saw you in this get up, I thought I had my man.”

Burke looked down at his clothes. He did look
ridiculous, like a spoof of Mission Impossible. He tried to play it
off.

“Insomnia,” Burke replied, “can’t sleep. Bad
day at work, so thought I’d walk.”

Cousin or no cousin, Kevin wasn’t buying
it.

“Uh huh,” he said, “you always sleep in
gloves and a hat?”

Burke gave in.

“Ok, you are just here looking for petty
crimes, right?”

Kevin nodded.

“Well, I’m not stealing anything. Honest.”
Burke held up his hand and crossed his heart with his right
hand.

“What’d you throw back there?” Sullivan
motioned back to the storm sewer.

“Just an empty. Didn’t want to get an open
container violation.”

Sullivan shook his head and then broke out in
a big smile.

“I don’t even want to know, do I?”

“Nope, you don’t,” Burke agreed, “And you
would being doing me a big favor if you never mentioned this to
anyone.”

“Mentioned what?”

Burke grinned.

“Thanks Kevin. I owe you.”

Do you need a lift?” Kevin motioned to his
car.

Burke shook his head.

“No, but thanks. I’ll just walk home.” They
shook hands, and Tom was off again –backtracking through the
parking garage and alleys.

He walked two blocks thinking the whole time
–
Did that really happen?
He shook his head and smiled.
Sometimes having a family full of cops really pays off.

Just a few hours later, he carefully placed
the bookend on Bethany Edwards’ dashboard. Burke launched into his
story. He told her how they had figured out the murderer was Pete
Knaak - how Vithous was blackmailing Knaak. He told Edwards that
her suspicions had been right; Viceroy was a shady deal, only one
of at least a dozen. He spoke about Vithous wanting a partial
ownership in the second phase of Viceroy, of how Vithous pulled the
ordinance off the docket, and then how he threatened to spread
rumors about a love affair between Knaak and Mayor Hughes. How
Knaak had snapped, killed Vithous. And then when confronted, how
Knaak had thrown himself off the observation deck of City Hall
instead of going to jail.

She sat very quietly, taking notes at a
furious pace. She didn’t ask any questions, she just nodded and
occasionally made eye contact with Tom to let him know she was
paying attention. He could tell that she was overwhelmed but he
pressed on.

“Chief Williams ordered us to lie on the
official police report to say there was stolen property found at
the apartment of Thomas Douglas. There wasn’t any stolen property
there; Douglas had nothing to do with it.”

“Why would he do that?” Bethany had finally
broken her spell of silence.

“He didn’t want the bad publicity,” Burke
replied, “he wants the public safety sales tax to go through and
didn’t want to anger the Mayor further. The Mayor was already
furious, he thinks us telling the world the Mayor’s personal
attorney killed her favorite aide would infuriate her more.”

“It would bring up a lot of questions,”
Bethany offered. “Have you seen this morning’s headlines? Everyone
is talking about Pete Knaak’s suicide. Two deaths out of the
Mayor’s office less than one week. Not a good time to be the
Mayor.”

“True, but I guess I’m an old fashioned cop;
I believe you should tell the truth,” Burke said, “and, Douglas
might have been a druggie and a petty criminal, but he wasn’t a
murderer. He already paid more than enough for his sins.”

“So you guys falsified the report like he
asked?” Edwards asked.

Burke shook his head.

“I didn’t, but they made Jack Thurber sign
it. They blackmailed him – but I don’t want to get into the
particulars of that right now.” He felt bad for Jack. Jack had been
the one upstanding person in the whole crappy week. He owed him,
and he had no idea how he would ever pay him back.

“I’m on vacation for the next two weeks.
Their hope is that this all goes away in the next few days. A
tragic suicide and a junkie murderer is a much smaller story than a
revenge murder between members of the Mayor’s inner circle
implicating to economic development schemes.”

Burke stopped. Now came the lie.

“Here’s your proof that all what I said is
true,” Burke said as he pointed to the bookend. “Pete Knaak told me
before he killed himself that he threw the bookend off the side of
the Paseo Bridge the night of the murder. Turns out that he didn’t
throw it far enough. I found this last night, in some deep weeds,
on the southern side of the bridge, right by the jogging
trail.”

He stopped. It sounded a little farfetched,
but no crazier than him crawling into a storm sewer and digging it
out in the middle of the night.

“This next part is extremely important,”
Burke said, slowing down so she would hear the extra emphasis in
his voice. He waited for her to make eye contact before he
began.

“You
cannot
hand this over to KCPD. If
you do, it will disappear into their evidence room, never to be
seen again. You need to take it to an independent lab and get DNA
samples from it. That lab will find Vithous’ blood, hair and skin
are on it. I’m willing to bet the lab will find Pete Knaak’s
fingerprints on it too. Find the best independent lab in the
country. Do not skimp on this.”

“Ok, that shouldn’t be a problem,” she said
as she nodded.

“I am deadly serious about this,” Burke said.
“If you don’t remember anything else I say, remember this.”

He paused and watched her write. She wrote
‘independent lab’ and then underlined it three times.

“
Then
and only then you need to turn
it in to the FBI or the highway patrol. Once that’s done, and not a
moment before, you let Chief Williams know that you have the murder
weapon.”

“Where do I tell him I got it?”

“Tell him you got it from an anonymous
source. But, this is important too, tell him you didn’t get this
from your anonymous source until Monday –two days from now, ok?”
Burke stared directly into her eyes to let her know he was dead
serious.

“Why the delay?” Edwards asked. “I’m not
comfortable with holding back information.”

“Because, if Williams finds out you got this
while I am still in town, he’s going to suspect me,” Burke replied.
“Granted, at the moment he doesn’t know that the murder weapon can
be found, but he’s smart and he’ll put two and two together.”

The sun had risen fully. The purplish hues of
the morning had been replaced by a beautiful blue sky, without a
cloud to be found. It was going to be a wonderful day for most of
Kansas City.

“Where will you be on Monday?” Bethany
asked.

Burke shrugged.

“A long way from here, and I’m not taking my
phones or computers, so you won’t be able to reach me for at least
two weeks. I want it to look like I had nothing to do with this. I
want Williams to think he just had some really bad luck.”

They went over everything again, point by
point. Burke wanted to be sure,
had
to be certain that she
got all the points right. That she wouldn’t turn it over to KCPD,
and she wouldn’t ever reveal her source.

“This story most likely is going to end Chief
Williams’ career,” Bethany remarked, “and will do real damage to
Mayor Hughes.”

“So be it,” Burke said. “You should be happy,
this will be the best story you’ve ever written.”

“No doubt, Sergeant,” Edwards replied, “Thank
you for trusting me.”

Burke had her drop him off a couple blocks
away from his apartment. He showered and ate some oatmeal for
breakfast. He then scrounged through his closet until he found his
favorite green t-shirt and put it on.

He was running late, but there was still
time. He knew which roads would be open, which ones would be
blocked off. He cut through the Valentine neighborhood, and
squeezed his car into a tight parking space only two blocks from
Broadway. The pre-parade party was well underway. A throng of young
partiers were out in full force. Head to toe green, utilizing a
beer bong to get their buzz on faster.

Burke was walking fast. He didn’t want to be
late; he cut across a couple of yards, through a used-car
dealership until he reached Broadway. He first saw the convertible,
then the sign
Mayor Jane Hughes
and then the lady herself.
She wasn’t looking at him, instead she was waving to a group of
school children who shouted out her name and waved frantically.
Burke used the opportunity to tuck his head down, make a hard pivot
to his right and push himself into the crowd so no one would notice
it was him. He didn’t think anyone had, but he couldn’t be
sure.

He found the family float five blocks down
from the Mayor’s convertible and the start of the parade. To get
there, he ran a gauntlet through drunken college boys, families,
drill teams and bands. What should have taken him less than a
minute had taken ten. Finally, he saw his mother, his sister Megan,
Aunt Helen and Uncle Terry. The whole crew. Bobby and Lisa,
too.

“Your morning beverage, sir,” Bobby said,
handing him a can of Guinness. He was using a rolling cooler as a
seat.

“You are a good man, Bobby Sullivan. I cannot
tell you how much I needed this this morning.” Burke drained almost
half of it in one swig.

Bobby knocked on the cooler between his
legs.

“More where that came from,” Bobby winked.
“Want to pretend we are young again?”

Before he could answer, he felt a strong tug
on his arm.

“Tommy, you came!” He felt a large hug from
behind him, and a big kiss on his cheek.

“Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Mom!”

“Now it’s a happy,” Mary Burke said, hugging
him and then Megan, “I got my kids here, my nieces and nephews,
feels like old times.”

“I’m glad to be here, Mom,” Burke said, “it’s
nice to be around people who love you.” He took several minutes
talking to his other family members. Some he had not seen since the
last St. Patrick’s Day. It was nice not to think about murders,
shady deals or betrayal. The levity of the day gave him a surge of
energy he had not expected.

“Heard your case is over,” Bobby said.

“Oh yeah?” Burke said, as the float started
to move. Bobby and Tom hopped aboard.

“So a junkie killed John Vithous?” Bobby
asked as they pulled onto Broadway. The crowd was at least ten
people deep on each side. Cheering, screaming, and clapping. A sea
of green opened up to them.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Tom replied. “But I
have a feeling things will sort themselves out in the next few
days.”

“Really?” Bobby said, sounding suspicious.
“You up to something, Sergeant Burke?”

“Not me,” Burke said, draining his beer and
grabbing another, “I’m on vacation. I don’t know a fucking
thing.”

The float headed south, away from midtown,
toward Westport. Burke enjoyed as much as anyone could, considering
the circumstances. For the first time in over a week, he
relaxed.

“You going to see Dad today?” Megan yelled in
his ear.

Burke shook his head no.

“Have to go sign some papers before grabbing
a plane.”

“Papers, plane?” Megan asked. “What are you
talking about?”

“Sold the house,” Burke shouted in his
sister’s ear. “And the plane is taking me far away from here.
Starting a new chapter in my life.”

Two hours later, he was sitting five miles
away in an empty realty office building. He was late, but Seth had
waited for him. Burke walked past a slew of empty cubicles -- all
dark. One the wall he saw a whiteboard with a list of sold
properties. Four rows down, he recognized a specific address he
called home for so many years.

West offered Burke a chair, then left to make
copies. Burke was antsy. He wanted to get on the road and be as far
away from Kansas City the second the shit hit the fan. Without a
cell phone, Tom couldn’t make a phone call or read any emails. He
wasn’t used to be this disconnected to things and he didn’t like
it.

West appeared a few minutes later,
apologizing for the delay. He sat down in front of Burke and began
to go over the documents. Burke nodded as though he was listening,
but in reality it was all white noise to him. Burke signed as
quickly as possible, barely reading what he was signing. The only
thing that stood out to him was Julie’s signature. Over and over
again, it read ‘Julie Thompson’. Her maiden name, in her perfect
handwriting. Burke didn’t know why it bothered him; he just knew
that it did. He signed right below her signature. Thomas Burke. The
“T” and the “B” being the only legible letters.