A Prayer for the Devil (24 page)

The detective placed his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I’ve arrested him at least half a dozen times.”

“For what?”

“Disorderly conduct, identity theft, possession of stolen goods, selling drugs, and probably a few other things I can’t remember right now. He was a great con man who could make you believe almost anything. One time he tried to convince me that the stolen television he was trying to sell on the street was his mother’s. And I almost believed him until we figured out that his mother had died over twenty years ago, long before they began making flat screens. Once, I sent him to jail for a year.”

Luke was shocked at what he was hearing and asked, “So you wouldn’t believe anything he said?”

Romo laughed. “I wouldn’t believe a word he said.”

Turning to the medical examiner, Luke asked, “How did he die?”

The man looked at Detective Romo, who nodded, giving him permission to answer. “It was a drug overdose. The needle was still stuck in his left arm when he was brought here. From what I can tell it contained almost pure heroin, sometimes referred to as black tar because of its color and purity, usually imported from Mexico or Asia. It’s not uncommon to find victims with the needles still in them because it kills so quickly. He also smelled like alcohol.”

Based on Romo’s predetermined opinion of Blade, Luke decided to keep his mouth shut. He listened for several minutes as the detective and medical examiner talked about Blade as if he never existed. Their minds were made up: A homeless guy kills himself with drugs in the Common; just another day in the city of Boston.

As Luke walked to the door and said good-bye to the detective, John pulled Luke aside and whispered, “I would like to go see Blade to tell him I’m sorry.”

Luke put his arm around the heartbroken man and asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s the least I can do.”

Walking back into the room, Luke explained to the examiner that John was a friend of Blade’s. Understanding, the doctor said, “Take as much time as you want.”

John approached the body slowly. After looking at Blade for several seconds, he fell to his knees and prayed. Luke extended his arms out to his sides and said a prayer. Before they walked out, Luke asked the doctor one last question. “Did you find anything else when you examined the body?”

Curious, the man asked, “Like what?”

“Bruises or any signs that he was beaten up or restrained.”

“Restrained? From what I can tell he was so drunk that I doubt he could have stood on his own. There was a mark on his head, probably from when he hit the ground.”

When they reached the door, the examiner said, “Well, now that you mention it, there was one thing I couldn’t figure out.”

Luke and John walked back to the table. “What was that?”

He pulled the sheet off, exposing Blade’s naked body. Moving to the other side of the table, he said, “Take a look at this.”

They followed him and were speechless.

The examiner continued, “I don’t know what the hell this is, but it seems to be self-inflicted. There was a hole in his pants pocket, and his own skin was under his fingernails.”

Luke looked meaningfully at John and shook his head slightly to indicate that he shouldn’t say anything.

Again, they thanked the examiner and walked out the door.

Reaching the street, Luke told John, “Not here. Meet me at the house.”

LUKE RACED TO THE
house with John following closely. After passing through the gates, they jumped out of their vehicles and Luke said, “This way.” Side by side, they walked around the house to the backyard. Luke slowed his pace, and John said, “Did you see that mark on his leg?”

Luke looked at him, wanting to confirm what he was thinking, and said, “What do you think it was from?”

John answered abruptly. “You know damn well what it was. It was a sign, a clue. I told you he didn’t do drugs. He was trying to tell us something.”

Quickly, piecing everything together, Luke said, “OK, here’s what I’m thinking. Someone from one of the mosques or the governor’s office is worried that I’m getting close to figuring out who was responsible for the bombing. Trying to determine how I’ve gotten this far, they remembered the Thanksgiving picture in the newspaper and its mention of the homeless people from the Common, and they saw Blade’s face in the background. It was easy to identify him because of his scar. They sent someone to the park to find him. He was probably drunk when they held him down and put the needle in his left arm,
not knowing that he was left-handed. Realizing what was happening, Blade poked a hole in his pants pocket with his right hand and carved the crescent in his leg with his fingernail to leave us a clue.”

Luke added, “Unless maybe all of this is just a coincidence and, like the detective said, Blade was a really good liar.”

Ignoring Luke’s last statement, John moved his arms and mimicked shooting up with a needle. “How do you know he was left-handed?”

Luke replied, “Don’t you remember what Deb said to him at the dinner table? She said, ‘You’re left-handed like me.’”

Now understanding, John said, “Yeah, he would have shot himself in the right arm, not the left.”

Luke nodded.

John asked nervously, “What do we do now?”

“Well, the first thing we do is convince Deborah that she and the children need to go out of town for a few weeks, without telling them too many details.”

“How?”

“Every year around Christmas, Aaron would take the family skiing for a few weeks in the Berkshires. I think he owns another house in the mountains up there. We need to persuade Deborah that she should go; maybe she can take Lori with her.” He continued, “Next, we need to make sure you’re safe. Unless you’ve been followed over the past few days, no one would ever suspect that you’ve been sleeping in the office building. Thankfully, your picture wasn’t in the paper with Blade’s, and with the way you’re currently dressed, no one would ever suspect that you also had lived in the park. But from now on, you need to be extra careful.”

Concerned, John asked, “And what about you? You’re probably in more danger than anyone.”

Luke had also thought about his own safety. He wondered if the bombers would risk killing him, too. The amount of publicity associated with murdering Aaron’s brother, and a priest at that, would be enormous. But they’d already killed a presidential nominee, so obviously they weren’t concerned about publicity.

“I think that once Deb goes to the mountain house, I’ll go live on Aaron’s boat.”

“He has a boat?”

Trying to ease the tension a bit, Luke smiled halfheartedly and said, “No, he has a yacht.”

The two men continued to finalize their plans going forward, including Luke’s desire to pay for Blade’s funeral. Realizing that he needed to check his e-mail to see if Dick’s assistant had sent the name of the owner of the construction company that built the mosques, Luke told John that he would see him at dinner. As John walked toward his truck, Luke had another idea. “Hey, John, hold on a second.” He caught up to John in the driveway. “What about Star?”

John thought for a minute and replied, “Do you think she saw something?”

“I guess we’ll never know unless we find her. Do you think she would talk to you?”

“I really don’t know. Either she’ll think I had something to do with Blade’s murder, or she’ll consider me a friend. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Worried that John might be putting himself in danger if he went back to the park, Luke questioned, “Do you think it’s worth the risk?”

“I’m going to stop by the Common on my way to Aaron’s office. I’m not going to talk to anyone unless I see her. I promise to be careful.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I owe it to Blade, and I’d like to make sure that Star is safe.”

Luke made him promise to call as soon as he left the park. As the truck pulled out of the driveway, Luke hurried inside and logged on to the computer.

THE E-MAIL FROM LT
. Governor Simpson’s assistant was short and sweet, with only two words: “Vincent Russo.” Clearing the e-mail screen, Luke began typing frantically. The name search showed that there were more than two million matches. Using quotation marks to find an exact match, he added, “Corner Stone Builders.” Now there were only eleven results returned.

Clicking on the first listing displayed, he noticed that all of the articles were from newspapers. The first headline was chilling: “Local Businessman and Wife Killed in Hit and Run.” The details of the tragic accident saddened him. Vincent Russo was a well-respected member of his community who did a lot of charity work. His wife volunteered at the local hospital and neighborhood Catholic church. The last paragraph said that they were survived by three children: Vincent, Trinity, and Faith. Looking for the date, he saw that the accident had occurred years ago, in 2001.

Already knowing that Vincent didn’t bring up many results, Luke decided to look up Trinity, since it was an unusual name. The results for “Trinity Russo” displayed only one exact match. It was a local newspaper article about a beautification project in the town of Greenwich,
Connecticut. She was listed as one of a group of wealthy locals who banded together in an attempt to spruce up Greenwich Avenue by replacing the light poles and planting trees and flowers.

Next, Luke searched for “Faith Russo,” and although he found a few pages of results, none of them appeared to be related to Vincent. At this point, Luke began to question Blade’s story even more. How could a successful Italian immigrant who donated a tremendous amount of time to charity with a wife who volunteered at the local hospital and church be connected to the bombing in Boston? He was obviously a Christian and not a Muslim; his girls were named Trinity and Faith.

Luke decided that he would drive to Greenwich in the morning and ask around. While he thought about what to do next, his cell phone rang.

“Hi, Jim, how are you?”

After a few pleasantries, Hathaway got to the point. “Regarding John Daly’s foreclosed house, I have the numbers from the bank of what it would take to reclaim it.”