Johnston - I Promise (32 page)

Delia flushed. “I don’t want to make any trouble for you.”

“Yeah. Where have I heard that before?” Rosa said.

“Do you know Franklin Harris?” Marsh said.

“What if I do?” Rosa retorted.

“How do you know him?” Delia asked.

“I bought a used car from him.”

“Stolen
car,” Marsh muttered.

Delia shot him a silencing look. “Did you tell Harris about the DA’s . . . problem?” Delia asked.

Rosa shrugged. “Hey, a girl’s gotta live. He was gonna take the car away ’cause I couldn’t keep up the payments. So I told the man about the man—if you know what I mean.”

Delia’s gaze locked on Marsh. They had found the secret they were searching for, and enough of a connection from one party to another to piece together what had probably happened. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Sam Dietrich’s secret had probably been passed from one party to another as necessary to pay off debts and then used to finagle light plea bargains. The problem was proving it.

“Would you be willing to tell someone else—the police—what you just told us?” Delia said.

“Hey, judge! I ain’t gonna say nothin’ to nobody ‘bout nothin’. Ain’t gonna put myself in jail for you or nobody. Understand?”

Delia understood perfectly. With Perez dead and Harris gone and Rosa unwilling to testify, they had nothing they could use against Dietrich. Even if they could get the other three to talk, it would only be hearsay evidence. Perez was the only one who had seen Sam committing an illegal act. And Perez wasn’t available to testify. Delia began to wonder whether his death had been an accident, after all.

“Thank you, Rosa,” Delia said.

“For what?” the woman asked. “I ain’t gonna testify. I told you that, and I meant it.”

“I know,” Delia said. “I just meant thank you for your time.”

Rosa reached into her bra and patted the twenty Marsh had given her. “Shit, the man paid for it.” She gave Marsh a sloe-eyed look. “You got a little time left on the meter, mister. What’ll it be? You want me to suck—”

Delia hooked an arm through Marsh’s and dragged him away. She looked up and saw him struggling not to laugh.

“Don’t you dare!” she hissed as she hurried with him to the closest subway entrance.

A guffaw burst free. “If you could have seen the look on your face when she offered—”

“This isn’t funny! It’s a disaster! Don’t you see? We know for sure Sam was making deals, but we have absolutely no way to prove it. It would be his word against mine. And the accusations I would have to make are so awful I wouldn’t dare do it without some proof.”

“I could put a private investigator on him, someone to follow him around and get pictures.”

“That might take weeks or months. I haven’t got that much time. The attorney general’s starting his investigation now. I need proof now!”

They had reached the entrance to the subway tunnel when Marsh grabbed her arm and stopped her. “I have a suggestion. I don’t know whether you’re going to like it.”

“I’m up for anything.”

“This might be dangerous.”

Delia eyed Marsh skeptically. “What did you have in mind?”

“What if you confronted Dietrich personally with what you know?”

“What good would that do? It would still be my word against his.”

“Not if you were wearing a wire.”

Delia frowned. “A wire?”

“Look, we go to the attorney general, arrange for you to wear a wire and confront Sam Dietrich. You could get everything he says on tape.”

“Who says he’ll confess?”

“You don’t think you could make the man talk?” Marsh asked.

Delia looked at him thoughtfully. “When would I do this?”

“What about now? Tonight?”

“The attorney general would need probable cause—”

“They can pick up Rosa and squeeze the truth out of her again, if necessary. There’s always a judge available to sign court orders when they’re needed in a hurry. What do you say? Are you game?”

Delia smiled grimly. “Bring on the DA. I’m ready to play.”

Marsh hated like hell being stuck in the paneled truck with the police, around the corner from Sam Dietrich’s home in Brooklyn Heights, unable to help Delia if she ran into trouble inside. The worst part was, this had all been his idea. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her.

What could happen? She would confront the man, he would either spill the beans or not, and Delia would leave. No problem. Quick and easy as throwing a two-day-old calf.

Only Marsh had a bad feeling that wouldn’t go away. He listened as Delia checked the microphone before ringing the doorbell.

“All right, guys,” she said. “Here goes.”

He heard her take a deep breath and exhale. Heard the elaborate door chimes. Heard the door open.

“Well, well,” Sam said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

From the mirrored window at the back of the van, Marsh saw Dietrich look around to see who might be watching them. He didn’t seem to notice the tail end of the paneled truck, which was parked right around the corner.

“What are you looking for?” Delia asked. “The police? Or the press?”

Marsh cringed. Lord, what did the woman think she was doing? Dietrich was sure to suspect something now.

“Either or both would be equally unwelcome,” Dietrich said.

“I feel the same way,” Delia said coolly. “What I have to say to you—what I want to ask—needs to be done in private.”

“Very well. Come in,” Dietrich said.

Marsh felt a clutch in his chest as Delia entered the elegant Tudor brick house and the door closed behind her with a solid
thunk.
There was nothing he could do now but listen.

“May I offer you a drink?” Dietrich asked.

“This isn’t a social call,” Delia said.

“I didn’t think it was,” Sam answered smoothly. “I’m having Chivas. What would you like?”

“Nothing.”

“Suit yourself. Come into my library and sit down. We can be comfortable there.”

Marsh knew from the floor plan of the DA’s home he had perused that the study was in the back of the house farthest away from help if Delia needed it in a hurry.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I had to be crazy to suggest this.”

“Shh,” one of the policeman said. “I can’t hear.”

Marsh scooted closer to him. “Is something wrong with the wire?”

“I don’t think so. They ain’t said nothin’ for a while, but I don’t want to miss nothin’.”

Marsh sat on the edge of his seat, listening, waiting, knowing both Delia’s future and his own were on the line.

“Come on, Delia,” Marsh murmured. “You can do it.”

“I presume you’re here about the newspaper articles,” Sam said.

“You presume correctly,” Delia replied.

“All I did was tell the truth.”

“As you see it.”

Sam didn’t answer. Marsh pictured him smirking, nodding.

“You know there’s nothing incompetent about my work,” Delia said.

Sam didn’t answer. In his mind’s eye, Marsh saw him give an uncaring shrug.

“I never said there was,” Sam said at last. “I only said you’re inexperienced.”

“You implied more,” Delia spat back. “You suggested I’m inept, when we both know that’s not the truth.”

“Truth has very little to do with politics, my dear,” Sam said.

Marsh heard the ice in Sam’s glass rattle in the silence that followed.

“You’re never going to be governor of New York, Sam,” Delia said.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because I know your secret.”

Marsh found the silence interminable. Why didn’t Dietrich say something?

At last Sam replied, “What secret is that?”

“The one Perez found out. That you like little boys. You’re the worst sort of person I can imagine, Sam. A grown-up who takes advantage of innocent children.”

Marsh could hear the loathing in Delia’s voice. And no wonder. She had been the victim of just such a man.

“Perez found you out, Sam, and he used that information to make a deal with you on his plea bargain,” Delia said.

“Quite true,” Sam admitted. “But Perez is no longer with us. Killed, I believe, in a hit-and-run accident.”

“My God.
You
killed him!”

Marsh heard the shocked accusation in Delia’s voice and wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. Was she crazy or what? If the man could kill once, he surely wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

“It was necessary,” Dietrich replied. “The fool had big eyes and an even bigger mouth.”

Marsh’s jaw dropped. They had the DA cold. And not just for fixing plea bargains. For murder.

“Get her out of there, now!” Marsh snapped.

The policeman grabbed Marsh’s arm to keep him from exiting the paneled truck. “Wait a minute! Listen!”

“Why did you attack me in the press?” Delia asked. “Why not keep it between us?”

“You were incorruptible, your honor,” Sam conceded. “That made you a real pain in the ass. No. You have to go, Judge Carson. I can’t have you making a mess of things.”

“But I know your secret,” Delia said. “There’ll be no getting around the truth this time, Sam. I’ll go to the press—”

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

Marsh listened to the silence. All he heard was Delia’s rapid breathing.

“Put that gun away, Sam. It won’t do any good to kill me now,” Delia said. “I’m—”

Marsh was out of the van and running toward the house when he heard the single shot.

“Noooo!” he howled. “No!”

He hit the front door on the run with his shoulder, and wood splintered as it burst open. He sprinted for the back of the house in the direction of Sam’s study. He stopped cold in the doorway and stared.

Sam Dietrich sat slumped over his desk, a .38 Smith & Wesson in his hand. Blood splattered the wall behind him. Delia stood white-faced in front of him.

“Delia!”

She remained frozen, apparently unable to move. Her body wavered as though she were a building teetering in an earthquake, threatening to crumple at any second. He saw her swallow before she said, “The blood on the wall . . . it’s just like Daddy.”

She made a sound like an animal in pain. A moment later he had her in his arms, clutching her close.

“Look at me, Delia,” he insisted, shoving her chin up and forcing her to focus on his face. “There was nothing you could do.”

“I know,” she said. “Not then. And not now.”

She stared at him a moment longer, long enough for him to realize that at long last, she had let go of the past.

“I thought he shot you,” he said, holding her tight. “I thought you were dead.”

“He was going to kill me,” she said. “But I showed him the wire, and he turned the gun on himself instead.”

Police surrounded them moments later, and Delia explained again what had happened. Marsh kept one arm around her waist the whole time, unwilling to let her go. He led her into the living room, away from Dietrich’s corpse, so she could answer the barrage of questions the police threw at her. The attorney general had shown up after the police called him.

“Did you get it all on tape?” Delia asked as she stood with Marsh in the elegant front hallway of Dietrich’s home.

“We got it all, Judge Carson,” the officer in charge said. “There are camera crews outside already, if you’d like to make a statement for the ten o’clock news.”

Marsh looked at her expectantly.

“No statement,” she said.

Marsh exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed Delia sideways. So she wasn’t going to quit, after all. He could hardly blame her. Dietrich’s last words completely exonerated her. She could go back to the courtroom with a clean slate. And why wouldn’t she? She was a great judge. Incorruptible.

“Let’s go home,” she said to Marsh, grasping his hand.

He hadn’t even realized he had let her go.

“To your apartment in Park Slope?” he asked.

She smiled. “No, silly. To Texas.”

“But you just said—”

“I said I have nothing to say to the press tonight. I want time to organize my thoughts. I want to write my resignation out before I announce it to the public.”

Marsh tensed. “You’re resigning from the bench?”

“I have more important things to do with my life.”

Marsh felt his insides unclenching. “Such as?”

“Such as marry the man I love and have his baby.”

Marsh lifted her up and swung her in a circle, giving a Texas-size whoop of joy.

“Put me down,” Delia protested with a laugh.

“No way, lady. You’re not getting free of me till we see a justice of the peace.”

“There’s no one who can marry us right now,” Delia said. “It’s practically the middle of the night.”

“If we can find a judge to sign a court order, we can find a judge for this,” Marsh said.

“What about a license?”

“There must be a way around that,” Marsh said.

“But I’m—”

“Incorruptible,” Marsh said. “I know. So we’ll fly to Las Vegas—”

“Las Vegas? Marsh, I don’t think—”

“Don’t think, sweetheart. Just say yes. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Delia grinned. “All right, Marsh. Yes.”

He stood staring for a moment, unwilling to believe his dreams were all going to come true, that after all these years they were finally going to be married.

“Let’s go,” he said, gripping her hand tightly. “The world’s waiting for us, Delia. I promise you—”

“No more promises,” Delia said, looking earnestly up at him. “They aren’t necessary. I don’t think I could ever be any happier than I am right now. There’s no way to see the future. We have to take one day at a time and live it to the fullest. That’s the only promise we can keep.”

Marsh felt his throat tighten. “All right, Delia.” His grasp tightened. “One day at a time. Lived to the fullest.”

“Promise?” she said with a cheeky grin.

He grinned back. “I promise.”

Epilogue

“Don’t worry, Sylvie. Your husband can’t find you at the shelter. You’ll be safe there.” Delia twisted the phone cord around her finger as she paced the kitchen. She winced as the screen door slammed and Billie Jo appeared.

“Dinner ready yet?” Billie Jo mouthed.