Matter of Trust (66 page)

‘This is good,' said Chris, lifting his frothy dark brew in toast toward the others'.

‘The beer or the company?' asked Mike who had arrived at Quincy's without his collar.

‘Both,' smiled Chris, but David could see the sadness there. Like Marilyn, Chris would probably never come to peace with the fact that his decisions had unwittingly ruined the lives of so many others – people like Anna Chesnokov, Jack and Vicki Delgado, and his own son, Connor.

‘I need to thank you,' said Chris, as he put down his beer. ‘For stepping up for Connor.'

‘Don't thank me yet,' David said. He had called Judge Jones once again this morning to let him know that he had spoken to Elliott Marshall regarding a plea bargain for Connor Kincaid. ‘I told Jones that Marshall was holding out for felony murder, but that we determined to
seek a negotiation for second-degree manslaughter.'

‘Do you think Jones will intervene on our behalf?'

‘That's what I'm hoping.'

‘So you're thinking . . . ?' David knew Chris was fishing for David's opinion regarding a negotiable sentence for Connor – perhaps praying his own estimations of seven years or thereabouts were high.

‘I'm aiming for five, at a minimum-security facility,' replied David, ‘which means he could be out in two for good behaviour.'

‘I'd like to think that was possible,' said Chris. ‘But Marshall is still furious about his total misread on this case. You embarrassed him, DC, and I'm afraid he will be out for blood.'

David shook his head. ‘No. Underneath it all, I think Marshall realises he allowed his blind determination to get in the way of reason. I could see it – the weight of culpability in his eyes. He knows he broke his own stringent code of legal ethics when he went after you no holds barred. And I think he also realises that if he had listened to me last Friday night, that maybe Jack Delgado might still be alive.'

‘The man has to live with his decisions,' said Mike as he took another sip of his beer.

And David nodded, his eyes downcast.

‘What happened to Jack Delgado – it wasn't your fault,' said Mike, leaning across the small bar table to place his hand on David's shoulder. ‘You and McNally, you did everything you could.'

While David knew this was probably true, he also knew that the boy's death would be forever etched in his memory.

‘Do you think McNally will take us up on our offer and meet us here for a drink?' asked Chris, perhaps sensing a change of subject was in order. ‘I really wanted to thank him in person.'

David drank some more of his beer. ‘I asked him, but he's back on the job already. He doesn't get off until ten.'

‘Then I'll go see him at the precinct next week,' said Chris. ‘He's a good man.'

‘The best,' replied David. ‘In fact . . .' He paused then, before meeting his two friend's eyes. ‘I want to ask a favour,' he said.

‘You name it,' replied Chris.

‘McNally, he's a good cop with lots of people who respect him, but . . . I
get the feeling that, after his wife died, he kind of let a lot of friendships fall by the wayside, and he might be a little . . . you know . . .'

‘Lonely?' asked Mike.

David nodded.

‘We'll keep an eye out for him if that's what you mean,' said Chris. ‘Maybe even introduce him to our weekly rendezvous at Quincy's.'

‘I'd appreciate it,' smiled David.

Then there was silence once again.

‘Have you seen her?' asked Chris at last. The light from the stained-glass windows cast a splash of muted colour across his tired, unshaven face.

‘Yes,' said David, knowing this was coming. ‘I was with her when she gave her statements to the police and the prosecutor's office and I went with her to her apartment so she could pack the rest of her things.'

‘She's leaving?'

‘Yes,' said David, knowing Chris would be after a better explanation than the one he was about to offer, but he had made Marilyn a promise that he would say it the way she wanted him to, and it was a promise he was going to keep. ‘The thing is, she's different, Chris. She's trying so hard to hold on to the things she learnt at rehab. I think she's afraid that if she doesn't make a clean break, get away from the things she's familiar with, that eventually, she might give in to what she wants, rather than what she knows is right.'

‘So she doesn't want to see us?' asked Chris, gesturing at Mike. But David knew his question was more specific than it sounded.

‘I'm sorry, Chris. She doesn't want to see you. This whole thing – with Anna Chesnokov and Jack Delgado – she needs to come to terms with her role in it. She didn't say so specifically, but I'm sure she blames herself – at least to some degree.'

Chris nodded, but his expression spoke of all the things he wished he could, but knew he couldn't, and perhaps would never be able to, say.

‘I should get going,' he said after a long pause, looking at his watch before turning to David once again. ‘I told Rebecca I'd be home before eight.'

And Mike and David knew that no matter what else, Chris Kincaid would be heading home feeling grateful for the woman he called his wife.

‘You're sure you won't stay the weekend?' he asked David then.

‘No. I'm heading off the moment I settle Connor's plea with Marshall – which should be tomorrow or Friday at the latest. My poor mom needs a break, and I have a stack of work to get back to in Boston.'

Chris nodded before taking David's hand. ‘We'll talk tomorrow then?'

‘Sure.'

‘And, DC, I . . . I don't know what to say.'

‘That's because there's nothing to be said,' replied David as Chris drew him into an embrace.

‘I love you, bro',' he said quietly into David's ear, not realising the significance of his words.

‘Me too, my friend,' David replied. ‘Me too.'

Friday – four days after trial

‘A
ll set?' asked his mother as they placed a sleeping Lauren into her car seat. ‘Yeah, thanks, Mom.' David popped the trunk, and Sean helped him load their three pieces of luggage into it.

‘God, I'm going to miss you Patty,' said Sara, taking her mother-in-law into her arms. ‘None of this would have been possible without you offering us your home and looking after Lauren.'

‘Nonsense, this isn't my home, it's
our
home,' said Patty, gesturing at her family around her. ‘And as for that little girl,' she bent forward to look at her sleeping granddaughter now bundled in a cotton blanket in the back of the car, ‘I am going to miss her so much.'

‘You'll be up for her first birthday in August, right?' asked Sara, hugging Patty tight.

‘Wouldn't miss it,' replied Patty. She opened the passenger-side door for Sara before turning to face her son.

‘Would it be too big a request if I asked you to stay out of trouble for a while?' She smiled.

‘That depends on how you define trouble, Mom,' he replied, returning the smile.

She glanced at Lauren again, and then moved forward to take his hands. ‘You know, when you were little, I used to creep into your room in the middle of the night and just stand there and watch you sleep. There were times when I would marvel at the miracle that you were, and I used to wonder what your father and I did to deserve you.'

‘Now I look at you and wonder the same thing,' replied David.

Patty smiled, the slightest trace of tears in her eyes.

‘If you want to tell him, you can,' she said.

‘No, Mom,' replied David. ‘I thought about it, but if anyone is going to tell Chris, it should be his mother.'

Patty nodded, and David pulled her close.

‘I don't want things to change, DC,' she said quietly, ‘how you see your father, I mean. You said the other night that you were like me, but what you did, the lengths you went to to seek the truth to help Chris and his son, that was your father – his strength, his determination. He lives in you, David, and that means the world to me.'

‘I still love him, Mom,' he said, kissing her softly on the forehead. ‘Always will.'

And Patty nodded again, before stepping back so that David might say his goodbyes to his brother.

‘You're going to miss me,' said David, shaking Sean's firm hand.

‘Like a hole in the head,' replied Sean, before pulling his brother into a quick, slightly awkward embrace. ‘I said some things I regret,' he said, stepping back once again.

‘And I regret some things I said,' returned David.

Sean nodded, his eyes finally meeting his brother's. ‘I was wrong,' he said. ‘About you choosing the lawyer thing, I mean.'

‘There were moments last week when I would have disagreed with you. And I couldn't have done it without you, Sean. What you said, about Cusack's links to his father, I would never have come up with the DNA thing without you.'

‘I'm not sure it served its intended purpose.'

‘It resulted in us finding out the truth, and in the end that's what justice is all about.'

Sean nodded.

‘I want to thank you,' said David after a pause. ‘For being here for Mom. I don't think I've ever said that.'

‘It's not like I do it under sufferance,' replied his brother before using his right hand to gesture toward the car. ‘Your home is with Sara and Lauren. Me and Mom, well . . .' he opened the driver's-side door for David, ‘just make sure you visit more often. For Mom's sake, I mean.'

David shook his brother's hand once more, before climbing into the car and winding down the window so that he could wave them a final goodbye.

He took Sara's hand and squeezed it before looking back at his baby daughter and turning the key to start the engine. And then he switched on the lights, and clicked in his seat belt, and put on the turn signal before pulling away from ‘home'.

‘Home?' said Sara, mirroring his thoughts and speaking of somewhere completely different altogether.

‘Almost,' he said. ‘I just have one more stop to make.'

Sara smiled. ‘It's late.'

‘That's okay. It just means he'll be expecting me.'

 

‘They're back,' said David as McNally pushed through his front screen door.

McNally nodded. ‘Strangely enough, I'm glad,' he said, gesturing at the gypsy moths above them. ‘As much of a mess that they make, I kind of miss them when they're not around.'

David smiled. He knew McNally was talking about more than just the gypsy moths.

‘You wanna come in?'

‘No, Sara and Lauren are in the car.'

McNally looked over and waved to Sara. ‘You're a lucky man, Cavanaugh,' he said.

‘I know,' smiled David. ‘I need to get them home, McNally – which is why we're leaving tonight. But before I go, I guess I just wanted to – you know,' David wasn't sure how to say it. ‘I hope everything is okay for you back at work?'

‘Work's good. The NYPD found Alexei Chesnokov. He's in a holding cell at the 15th. A detective named Sipowicz nabbed him at an illegal
gambling house, and he's making him uncomfortable until I pick him up tomorrow.'

‘That's good news, Harry,' smiled David. ‘So, it's a wrap then.'

‘Pretty much. Cusack got himself a lawyer – a guy named Hasko that Carla Torres knows from her neighbourhood. Carla says he's good, dedicated.'

David realised McNally had helped Will Cusack find an attorney. ‘That was good of you, Harry.'

‘The kid's got his issues, but like your old priest told us way back – he's had it tough.' And then McNally hesitated before: ‘I'm not sure I did everything I could, David,' he said.

‘You did the job of twenty men – you nailed Chesnokov without backup.'

‘I had backup,' said McNally.

‘Sure – the kind that almost gets you sacked, and asks you to bend the law, and risk your future.'

‘You're not responsible for my future, David.'

‘Maybe not, but I . . .' David stopped as he heard the sound of someone else moving about inside. ‘I'm sorry,' he said, ‘you've got company.'

McNally's cheeks reddened. ‘It's Salicia Curtis. She came round tonight after my shift with a bag of groceries – offered to make me supper.'

David smiled. ‘That's good,' he said, feeling genuinely pleased for his detective friend as one last thought crossed his mind. ‘Does Curtis still have Chris's DNA on file?'

‘Sure,' said McNally, his brow creasing just a little. ‘But it won't be going into any crime databank if that's what you're asking. Kincaid was acquitted so eventually that sample will be destroyed.'

David considered the possibility – of approaching the ME and asking her to test his own DNA against that of his old friend's to prove or disprove his father's mistakes. But then he realised that either way, it would make no difference to how he felt about Chris – nor about his father.

‘Okay,' he said. ‘That's good to know,' he added before offering his hand to McNally. ‘You're a good cop, McNally.'

‘And you've got that attorney thing covered,' McNally replied with a grin. ‘Don't be a stranger,' he added, as David turned to leave.

‘I'm like those gypsy moths, remember,' said David. ‘I have a way of turning up on your doorstep whether I'm welcome or not.'

Boston, Massachusetts; the following weekend – Sunday July 4

T
he Mannix house was a four-bedroom Colonial in a leafy part of Boston's West Roxbury known as Bellevue Hill. It had all the charm of a period home – the original whitewashed wood shingles, sea blue painted shutters, gumwood floors, crown mouldings and wood beam ceilings, and all the comforts of a place packed with kids and driven by chaos. Its backyard was one of those long, wide, patchy-grassed spaces with a homemade barbeque standing dishevelled but functional under an old Norway maple in the far right-hand corner. And today, on this special fourth of July long weekend gathering, the air around it was filled with the smell of grilling sausages, onions and Marie Mannix's famous seasoned bread.