Glitsky 01 - Certain Justice, A (56 page)

'Still...'

'You hush now. Send your limo over. Bye bye.'

Glitsky had stayed with Elaine, discussing how they'd do it, for most of a half hour, then had called the office and lucked out by getting Carl Griffin, who'd drag a log a mile through deep sand and never ask why. After that he'd planned to drive directly down to Farrell's, but when he had gotten into his city-issued car by habit he checked and adjusted his rearview mirror, fiddled with the seat, moved it back a notch – and stopped dead.

It was a full ten minutes before he turned the ignition key.

Farrell, wary as a terrier but not quite half as cute, greeted Glitsky in a blue-tinted suit that fit him perfectly. With his hair slicked back and ponytail tied up he almost looked like a practicing attorney except for what looked like an ink stain or something that colored his lower lip and part of his chin.

In the living room papers were lying around, old food containers, beer bottles, soda-pop cans, pizza cartons. Farrell introduced his visitor to Bart the dog and then, catching Glitsky's look, told him the cleaning lady had unexpectedly taken some time off.

Thinking, 'What? For a century?', Glitsky picked his way across the room and plunked himself down on an overturned milk crate. 'Business a little slow lately?' he asked. Bart came up and sniffed at his shoes, his cuffs, his pants. Glitsky petted him.

Farrell came back from doing something in another room and was looking at his watch. 'I got about eight forty-one.'

Glitsky checked his own. 'About.'

'I can't figure how I can avoid the call with Kevin. There's no way I can reach him to warn him off. I've got to be here for him when he calls,' Farrell said, lowering himself onto the futon. 'That was
you
last night, wasn't it?'

"That was me.'

'So how do you think we ought to handle it?'

Glitsky reached down and scratched at Bart's head again and the dog nuzzled up against his shoes.

'You really don't know where he is?'

Farrell acted offended. 'Look, Lieutenant, I'm here. I'm here for no money because I believe Kevin Shea is as innocent as you or me. If I knew where he was I'd be with
him
. That's my story and you can take it or leave it. I'm not playing any lawyer games. I'm out of the trade.'

A nod. No apology, though. 'So the only way we find out where he is, we got to take the call?'

'That's how I see it.'

'Then it's going to be a race. You got a back-up place, someplace you decided you'd meet if everything fell apart?'

'No,' Farrell said wearily. 'You know, Lieutenant, we hadn't exactly planned all this. What do you mean, a race?'

'I mean as soon as the FBI places your boy, they're going to be rolling, and you'd better plan to be doing the same thing. I've met Special Agent Simms, and she's here to put out fires, no questions asked.'

'Kevin Shea is a fire?'

'I know she's considering him armed and dangerous.'

'But he's not. He's nothing like that.'

Glitsky shrugged – people got things wrong all the time.

' So I just ask him where he is and head out there?'

'Yeah, I think so.'

Farrell shook his head, blew out a long breath. 'And then what?'

It didn't take long. They were still in San Francisco's jurisdiction, regardless of the FBI's presence. Glitsky – he omitted the fact of his administrative leave – could make a formal arrest, with the bonus of it being in the presence of Shea's attorney and another witness. The assistant district attorney, Elaine Wager, was on board and she'd agreed to help, get Kevin Shea down to a safe zone, maybe even assist Farrell in trying to get the indictment quashed.

The telephone rang. Both men looked at their watches – it was well over fifteen minutes before the call was due.

To Farrell, there were still logistics, a lot of them, to discuss. He didn't feel ready, but he grabbed it before the second ring was over. Listening, he began to frown. 'Yeah, he's here, just a minute.'Then, to Glitsky: 'Elaine Wager.'

Elaine told Glitsky she had talked to her mother, who had denied all of his allegations. All she wanted was Kevin Shea's arrest – that's all she had wanted all along. Loretta didn't really think – and Elaine had come to agree with her – that it would be a good idea to transport Shea out of the city and county. That was really a police matter, and Elaine was with the DA's office, not the PD. It was beyond the scope of her professional responsibilities. She had to be careful not to go outside the accepted procedures – look at all the problems that kind of thing had caused for O.J. Simpson's prosecutors. Did she want that kind of circus.

No, the smart thing was to play it by the book. She could still have Abe deliver Shea to her, and then they could all go downtown and book him and somehow guarantee his safety. To think anything would happen in jail was really just paranoia. People rarely got killed in jail, especially if there was the kind of notoriety that there was in this case. Whatever, Kevin Shea would be especially protected. He should not be concerned about it.

Glitsky was thinking maybe she should ask Jeffrey Dahmer about that, but held his tongue. Then he told her that her whole new idea wasn't going to fly.

'Why not?'

'Because Mr Farrell isn't delivering Kevin Shea to the San Francisco jail, not without more assurance of security than that.'

Which was where it ended, except for the final note that Elaine thought that Abe might be working too hard, seeing things that weren't really there.

He replaced the phone gently into its cradle. It was five minutes of nine. He relayed the message to Farrell, who had been hovering, getting the gist as it developed.

'So now what?'

Glitsky stared across the room. 'I don't suppose you'd be amenable to taking your client downtown?' He didn't even wait for an answer. It was going to come down to him and Loretta, as something in him had known it would have to. Farrell started to reply but Abe stopped him with a gesture to show the question hadn't been serious. But this next one was: 'How about if I can get the senator herself?'

Farrell, embittered by Elaine's turnaround, was shaking his head. 'I don't know if she—'

'She can. Reston's her man. She could get him to promise protection, and meanwhile call off the FBI, take the message to the community, get Mohandas to call off his Dead or Alive rhetoric.' He paused. 'She's the only one who can do it.'

'But why would she? Didn't she just tell... wasn't that her daughter.. .?'

'She's protecting her daughter's job, her career. This is different.'

'She won't do it, Lieutenant.'

Glitsky was grim. 'She might.' He was on his feet. 'You got a beeper?'

'No. I used to.'

Glitsky pulled at his belt. 'Here, take mine. If she'll do it, if we can deliver Shea to her, if she stands up for him in public, you won't get a better guarantee than that.'

'But even if she does, how will you ...?'

Glitsky pointed at his beeper. 'I'll call that number. If you get a chance, call me back and tell me where you are, where Shea is. If you get there before the FBI, get the hell out of wherever you are, go someplace else and wait for me to call you again. If not – if the feds are right behind you, call nine one one. Point is, get some other people there. Get some witnesses.'

'And what if Loretta Wager just won't do it?'

At the door, Glitsky turned. 'Same basic plan, counselor, except if you don't get beeped and do manage to get out in front of the feds...?'

'Yeah?'

'You didn't hear it from me, but ride like the wind.'

There was the doorbell – the limo, she supposed. She had told the mayor a half hour and apparently he was in such an all-fired hurry that he'd sent it in half that time.

She was just finishing her hair. Well, she wasn't about to do the rest of her makeup in the car. She'd tell the man he'd have to wait.

Her steps echoed on the hardwood as she walked up through the back rooms to the foyer.

'Abe!'

'I tried to call,' he said. 'Nobody answered.'

'No,' she said. 'I know. I got your message but I got in so late ...'

'Elaine said she'd talked to you.' He squinted out at the sun, into the wind. 'You mind if I come in a second?'

'Well, I'm expecting a ... sure.' She smiled brightly at him. 'It can only be a minute, though. I've got to get to the rally.'

He stopped midway through the door. 'You're going to the Mohandas rally?'

She reached out and touched his sleeve. 'Not what you think. The mayor asked me to deliver the permit for it, that's all.' She shrugged. 'Political favor. The limo ought to be here any—'

He brought the door to, closing it with the flat of his hand. She tried a smile – confused, actually concerned about him, the pressure he was under. She moved toward him—

'No,' he said.

She drew back. 'No what, Abe?'

His gaze was flat, without expression. Cop mode. She tried again, reaching out. He moved to the side and away from her. 'I was a half hour away from picking up Kevin Shea, getting this whole thing over with the only way I could,' he began, 'and you sandbagged me.' He was moving slowly away from her, keeping a steady distance, back through the cavernous living room toward the library.

'Abe,
please
, I did nothing of the kind. If anything I was trying to help you both – Elaine from making a mistake that could cost her her job, her career;
you
from being drummed out of the police department altogether.'

He nodded, something had been confirmed. But he was holding it close, giving nothing away. 'As opposed to what?' he asked.

'As opposed to this administrative leave, that's what. You're hurting yourself, Abe, with such a—'

'How do you know about the administrative leave, Loretta?'

A blip of lost control. A vein showed in her temple. 'Well, I...'

'
I
got the word around midnight last night. When did you get it?'

He had maneuvered them both back into the library, where they had come the first night. It was the closest thing in the house to his turf.

Loretta was framed by the door.

'I don't know,' she said. 'Really, I just don't know.' Her eyes looked wounded. She took a step toward him. 'Why are you being so cold, Abe? Why are you talking to me this way.
All
I did was tell Elaine to make sure she followed the rules.' She ventured a couple more steps, stopped. '
That's
who told me about you. It was Elaine.'

'About the leave?'

'Yes.'

He nodded again. 'How did she know? I never mentioned it to her.'

A narrowing of vision. 'Well, then she didn't get it from you. Maybe she talked to Alan Reston. Maybe she heard it on the news. All
I
know is that she told me.' She closed the last few feet between them. 'Abe, please. Why are you doing this?'

Now, her eyes glistening from the pain he was putting her through, she lay her palm on his arm. 'Please.'

He stepped back. Her hand fell. 'I want you to call her,' he said.

'And say what?'

'Tell her I've explained things to you. How they stand. Tell her it's the right thing.'

'But it isn't. It could ruin the case, ruin her.'

'There is no case, Loretta. Kevin Shea is innocent and you know it.'

The response had the quality of a reflex, but she took a little extra time to phrase it. 'No white men are innocent, Abe.
You
know that.'

He'd heard this a thousand times in one form or another, and it had no effect on him now. 'Some are,' he said simply. 'Kevin Shea's one of the good guys, Loretta.'

'Oh, so why don't we put up a statue to him?'

'He didn't do it and you've railroaded the whole country into thinking he did.'

She narrowed her eyes. '
So what
?'

'So what? You can undo it.'

'Get a life, Abe. Even if this boy
himself
didn't
do it – don't you see? – he represents what happened.'

She stood firm. 'What would be worse, Abe, is if
no one
got arrested or punished for what happened to Arthur Wade ... If it just went unavenged.'

Suddenly he'd had enough. He wasn't here for politics or philosophy. 'You have to call Elaine.'

Her back stiffened. 'I'm not going to do that. It could ruin her, it could end her career, everything she's worked for—'

'No,' he said, 'it could ruin
yours
.'

She let a brittle laugh escape. 'You think this is about
me
. Abe, please, come on ...' She kept following him, slowly moving in closer, one step. Another. Hesitant on the face of it, a confidence underneath. It had always worked before. 'This
is
about Elaine.
Only
Elaine, not me.'