Fat Tuesday (8 page)

Burke left his chair, took his coffee with him to the third-story window, and stared out of it while sipping coffee from his personal mug, which was decorated with multicolored sea horses. Barbara had bought the souvenir mug on a rare vacation to Florida. He didn't remember how long ago that had been. Eons. At least it seemed that long ago. He could no longer imagine doing something as carefree as going on a trip to the beach and shopping for silly souvenirs. Any frivolity in his life had died the night he shot and killed Kev Stuart.

"Clues?"

"The crime unit is on it, but so far it looks clean. Something might turn up in autopsy. The girl's rectum and vagina were bruised and abraded. But there wasn't visible semen on her."

The lab was wasting their time and manpower. There wouldn't be any evidence. Bardo liked knives, and this sounded like his kind of hit.

His favorite pastime was rough sex, but even in the heat of his sordid passion, he would have been careful to use a condom. He was too smart to leave a DNA fingerprint behind, although they might get lucky and find a tissue or hair sample.

Burke had sent Hahn to jail last night. Had the undercover officer been wallowing in the drunk tank while his girlfriend was being raped and killed by Bardo? Had he come home and caught them together?

"Signs of struggle?"

"None," Pat replied."I can't figure how he managed to kill both of them. Did he ice Hahn, then terrorize the girl before killing her?"

"Maybe. Or ..." Burke thought about it."Or he did the girl first, then waited in the apartment until Hahn got home."

Pat frowned doubtfully."Hahn was undressed and in bed when he got hit."

"Hahn was late coming in. The killer hid until poor Ray was in bed.

He probably got into bed without turning on the light. I do it all the time when I don't want to wake up Barbara. Hahn didn't see that his girlfriend was dead. He didn't see the blood or realize that anything was wrong." Burke gripped the coffee mug tighter."That sounds like him."

"Who?"

"Bardo. Bardo would have thought it was funny that his victim locked him in instead of out."

'"Why would you think it was Bardo?"

"We arrested Hahn and Sachel. Duvall shows up here in the middle of the night. We know that Sachel is on Duvall's secret payroll. Bardo is his hired gun. Our undercover man gets hit. Figure it out. It can't be a coincidence."

'"Of course it can!" Pat exclaimed. Burke came around to face him, but Pat continued before he could say anything."You know as well as I do that Hahn was a junkie. It appears the woman was too. The hit could have been over a drug deal gone south. It could have been a love triangle. It could have been " '"That Duvall knew Ray was ours and wanted to put him out of commission, while at the same time teaching us a sound lesson."

"All right, it could," Pat conceded, coming to his feet."But I don't want you to take this personally. Like it only happened to you.

The whole division will feel shitty about it. We're a team, Burke.

We've got to work together. We can't let a few setbacks send us spinning out of control. We must continue to work methodically."

This managerial bullshit speech was uncharacteristic of Doug. He usually reserved the textbook pep talks for when he addressed the entire group. In private, he and Burke were more candid with each other.

"What else?" Burke asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there's more, isn't there? What is it you're dreading to tell me?"

Pat rubbed the back of his neck. He was a slender man, with a high, smooth forehead and a receding hairline. This morning, he seemed years older than he was."You're too smart for your own good."

"Yeah, I get that all the time," Burke said impatiently."What?"

"Sachel declined our deal."

"Give me fifteen minutes with him." "It won't do any good, Burke. He turned it down before we even laid out the terms. He left absolutely no room for negotiation."

"He's going to risk a trial?"

'"No, he's going to enter a guilty plea. To all charges."

"Son of a bitch," Burke swore."Duvall got to him."

"That would be my guess, yeah."

"Jesus, is the guy immortal?" He barked a caustic laugh."He beats us at every turn."

"Duvall doesn't play fair. We abide by the rules."

Burke gnawed the inside of his jaw, muttering, "Maybe it's time we didn't."

"Come again?"

"Nothing. Say, Doug, I gotta get out of here."

"Burke " "Catch you later."

He slammed the door behind him, grabbed his jacket as he sailed past his desk, and headed for the exit, nearly colliding with Mac McCuen.

"Hey, Basile. I've been looking everywhere for you. We need to talk."

"Not now." He wasn't in the mood for McCuen. Right now he couldn't stomach McCuen's unflagging optimism and irritating, inexhaustible energy. Without even slowing down, he said, "Later, Mac."

"Hello, Burke. Come in." Nancy Stuart motioned him inside her suburban house.

After hearing about Hahn and Sachel, it was masochistic to come here today. But after driving around for hours, stewing and cursing, Burke didn't know what else to do with himself. He was supposed to be taking the week off anyway, so why not piss away the whole day?

The Stuarts' house was a brick structure with painted wood trim.

The lawn wasn't as well kept as it had been when Kev was alive. He had enjoyed yard work and boasted that his Saint Augustine was the greenest grass on the block. Burke noticed that a shutter on one of the front windows was sagging. The entry-hall rug needed shampooing, and one of the lightbulbs in the vaulted ceiling had burned out. One day soon, he needed to spend a day off helping Nancy with some maintenance and repairs.

"Come on back into the kitchen," she said over her shoulder as she led him down the central hall."I've started supper. We're eating early.

It's open house at school tonight. Would you like something to drink?"

"Coffee, if you've got it."

"Do you mind instant?"

He did, but he shook his head. The kitchen was cluttered and homey.

Hanging in a prominent spot was a calendar marking carpool days, dental appointments, and the open house at school tonight. Reminder notes and class pictures of the two boys were stuck to the refrigerator with magnets shaped like ketchup bottles and mustard jars. A cookie jar in the shape of a teddy bear smiled at him from the countertop.

Following his gaze to it, Nancy offered him some."They're store bought. I don't bake much anymore." "No thanks," he said."The coffee's fine."

She returned to her mixing bowl where she was crumbling saltine crackers into ground beef. Chopped green peppers and onion were waiting to be added along with a can of tomato sauce."Meat loaf?" he asked.

"How'd you know?"

"My mom made it often enough."

"Your mom?" She looked at him with puzzlement."You know, Burke, I think that's the first time I've ever heard you mention your family.

In all the years I've known you."

He shrugged."I worried about reprisals, you know, that sort of thing.

So I purposefully don't talk much about them. Anyway, it's not much of a family anymore. My dad worked for the railroad. When I was in third grade, he got crushed between an engine and a freight car. So my mom was a working single parent before it came into vogue. She was a telephone company employee until she died of cancer a few years ago.

"Now it's just me and my kid brother. He lives in Shreveport. Has a wife, a couple of kids." He smiled wryly."Mom must've known three dozen ways to stretch a pound of ground meat."

"I can identify."

"How are the boys?"

"Fine."

He sipped the coffee, which tasted worse than expected."Are they doing okay at school?"

"The last report cards were good."

"Besides grades."

Knowing that he was referring to their psychological well-being, she hesitated."They're okay. Considering."

"Well. That's good." He toyed with the salt and pepper shakers on the table, placing them side by side, separating them, pushing them back together."It's been warm lately."

"I'd like to think that means the end of winter. But we still might get a freeze."

"Yeah. As late as March."

Lately, this lame attempt at conversation seemed the best they could do. They avoided talking about anything substantive or important.

Which was strange since the roughest times were behind them.

He'd been the one to bring her the news of Kev's death. Doug Pat had volunteered to carry out the unpleasant task, but Burke had insisted that the responsibility fell to him. He'd been there to support Nancy when she collapsed after hearing the news, and he'd remained a fixture at her side throughout the funeral procedure.

In the ensuing weeks and months, he had helped her sort through insurance papers, file for the inadequate pension she received from the N.O.P.D, set up her own credit and bank accounts, and make other necessary budgetary adjustments.

Responding to a phone call from her, he'd come over the day she cleared out Kev's closet. She offered Burke some of his better clothes, and he'd accepted them. Then he'd dropped them into a Goodwill receptacle on his way home. He couldn't have worn them.

In the fall, he'd checked the furnace and changed the filters for her.

At Christmas, he'd set up the tree and helped her decorate it. Kev had been dead almost a year, but Burke still felt compelled to come by every couple of weeks to lend his widow whatever assistance she might need.

Trouble was, it was becoming harder to find things to talk about.

With the passage of time, their conversations had become more strained, not less so. Burke avoided talking about anything relating to the police department and the personnel Nancy knew. Since his work was the most vital component of his life, he found himself searching for something besides the weather and the boys' health to fill the increasing stretches of silence.

She always received him graciously, but she had changed, subtly but undeniably. She was more reserved now than she'd been when Kev was alive. They'd shared some rollicking laughs. She could tease and put you down as well as one of the guys. Burke supposed it was easy for a woman to joke with her husband's friend when her husband was there, laughing along with her. It wasn't so easy when he was dead.

They had spent a lot of time speculating on the outcome of Bardo's trial. Now that it was over, now that the final chapter on that dark episode in their lives had been written, what was there for them to talk about?

"Uh ..."

"Burke ... " She must have been as uncomfortably aware of the lagging conversation as he, because they began speaking at the same time. He indicated for her to go ahead."No, you," she said.

They were saved further awkwardness by the boys' arrival. Having seen Burke's car parked out front, they raced into the house, filling it with welcome racket and the unique smell of sweaty little boys. They dropped their jackets and backpacks and crowded Burke, jostling each other to get near him.

After a quick snack, he took them into the backyard. This was their routine. Following his visit with Nancy, he did something with David and Peter alone. The boys got to choose the activity. Today they decided on batting practice.

"Like this, Burke?" the younger, Peter, asked.

His stance was atrocious, but Burke replied, "Just like that.

You're getting the hang of it, slugger. Choke up on your bat just a little. Now let's see what you can do."

He pitched a ball that hit the bat, not the other way around.

Peter whooped and ran their makeshift bases. At home plate, Burke gave him a high five and a swat on the butt.

"We're going out for Little League. Maybe you could come to one of our games, Burke," David ventured hopefully.

"Just one? I planned on getting a season ticket." The hair he teasingly ruffled was the same coppery red their father's had been.

And because the smiles they beamed up at him were replicas of Kev's, a lump formed in his throat. He might have made a fool of himself if Nancy hadn't come to the back door just then and called the boys in to wash up.

"Dinner in fifteen minutes," she told them.

"See ya, Burke." "See ya, Burke," Peter said, parrotting his older brother as they traipsed toward the rear of the house.

"You're great with them," Nancy observed.

"It's easy to be great with somebody else's kids. I understand it's tougher with your own."

"Why didn't you and Barbara have children?"

"I don't know. Just never got around to it. There always seemed to be a good reason to postpone them. First, a shortage of money."

"And then?"

"A shortage of money." He meant it as a joke, but it fell flat.

"I don't know what I would have done without my sons. Kevin is still alive in them."

Solemnly, he nodded with understanding. Then, realizing that his right hand was flexing, he stilled it and said quickly, "I'd better shove off.

I wouldn't want to make the Future of Baseball late for open house."

"You're welcome to stay for supper."

It was an obligatory invitation. She always offered, and he always declined."No thanks. Barbara will be looking for me." "Tell her I said hi."

"Will do."

"Burke." She glanced down the hallway toward the bathroom, where the boys could be heard arguing. Then, abruptly bringing her focus back to him, she said, "I don't want you to come back."

He didn't think he'd heard her right."What?" Even after she repeated it, he was dumbfounded.

She drew a deep breath and pulled herself up straighter. Obviously she had given whatever she was about to say a great deal of thought. As much as she had dreaded saying it, she had made up her mind to do so now and was bracing herself for it.

"I can't be around you, can't even look at you, without thinking of Kev. Every time I see you, it's like going through the whole ordeal again. Each time you call or visit, I cry for days afterward. I get angry, feel sorry for myself. It's a setback that I barely recover from before I hear from you and have to go through it again."