Next of Kin (22 page)

Finn shook his head again. ‘It’s got nothing to do with money.’

‘No, I didn’t think so. So what is it, then?’

‘All I can tell you is that I’ve got a good reason.’

‘That’s supposed to move me somehow? Sorry, but you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.’

‘Fine. My mother was murdered last week.’

‘Jesus, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay, I never knew her. But I still need to know what happened.’

‘And?’

‘And the only way I may be able to find out what happened is if Kevin McDougal walks.’

Mitchell rubbed his forehead in confusion. ‘You’re gonna have to explain the connection to me.’

‘I can’t. All I can say is that this is a hell of a lot more important than some punk selling a little crack. I’m not excusing Kevin McDougal, he’s a slimy little shit,
but if it wasn’t him out there, it would’ve been someone else – you and I both know that.’

Mitchell scratched his head. ‘Let’s assume I believe you. Let’s assume you might actually learn something about your mother’s murder. You’re forgetting how people
on my side of the courtroom feel about this kid’s father. People are looking for him to go away, and for real time. They haven’t been able to nail his father, but now that they’ve
got his kid by the balls, they’re not gonna let go until he’s singing alto in the Vienna Boys’ Choir. Even if I wanted to do you a favor on this, I wouldn’t get sign-off
from anyone in my office. Not without something in return.’

‘Like what?’ Finn asked.

‘Like Eamonn McDougal,’ Mitchell said. He sat back in his chair. ‘Fair’s fair. You want me to cut the son loose, I gotta have the father.’

‘He’s a client. I can’t.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Mitchell said. ‘It’s okay for me to compromise my principles, but not for you? Fuck you.’

‘It’s not that,’ Finn said. ‘But anything I give you would be excluded. It would all be protected by the attorney-client privilege. Even if I was willing to do it, it
wouldn’t get you anywhere.’

Mitchell used the linen napkin to wipe his mouth. ‘Then I guess we’ve got nothing more to talk about,’ he said.

‘No?’ Finn asked.

‘Not unless you’ve got something else to offer.’

‘Nothing that you can use. There’s no other way?’

Mitchell stood up. ‘Without something to trade, there’s nothing I could do for you even if I wanted to. You figure something out, though. You find a way to give me the big fish and
I’ll be all ears, I’ll take it as high as I have to in the office.’ He took out his wallet and tossed two twenties onto the table.

‘I’ve got the bill,’ Finn said. ‘It was my dime.’

‘Nah, I don’t think so,’ Mitchell said. ‘I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, thinking that you were buying me a lunch for some illegal purpose here. You
understand me?’

Finn nodded. ‘Perfectly.’

‘Good. You let me know if we’ve got something to talk about when you’ve had a chance to think about it.’ Mitchell turned and walked out of the restaurant without looking
back.

The place was in a sagging brownstone in a run-down area north of Springfield. Everything about it was depressing. Coale sat in his car outside on the street, watching. A few
of the passers-by had slowed to admire his car, but a sharp look had been enough to warn them off.

The man stepped out of the building shortly after noon. He looked younger than Coale would have expected. Coale knew from the records that he was in his forties, but Coale was expecting a
weathered forties – someone with a pot belly and a receding hairline in a moth-bitten sweater. It would have fit the area better. Instead, the man looked young and vibrant, with thick brown
hair and a thin, athletic frame. Coale got out of his car and approached him.

‘Mr Altby?’ Coale said.

The man was headed up the street. He looked around.

‘Mr James Altby?’ Coale said again.

‘Yes,’ the man replied.

‘You’re the director of the Springfield Adoption Center?’

The man smiled uneasily, looked up at the building. ‘I am.’

Coale put his hand out. ‘I’m Joe Wilson. I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, if you can spare the time.’

Altby shook the hand. ‘I’m actually heading out to lunch,’ he said.

Coale motioned toward his car. ‘I can drive you,’ he said. ‘It will only take a few moments. It’s important.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘Shelly Tesco,’ Coale responded.

Altby nodded sympathetically. ‘I’m familiar with Ms Tesco,’ he said. ‘Is this about her adoption records?’

‘It is.’

Altby shook his head. ‘As I’ve told her, there’s really no information I can give her. I wish things were different, but the law is the law. I was under the impression that she
understood that now.’

‘I’m sure she does,’ Coale said. ‘I’d still like to talk to you. Where are you going to lunch?’

‘Down at Martingano’s, over on Main Street.’

‘I can give you a ride. Please, get in my car.’

Altby looked doubtful, but moved toward the Mercedes. ‘I’ll take the ride,’ he said, ‘but I can assure you, there’s nothing you can say that Ms Tesco hasn’t
already said before. There really is no information I can give you.’

Coale smiled at Altby. ‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘I think you’ll find that I am far more persuasive than Ms Tesco.’

‘Am I off the case?’ Long demanded.

Captain Townsend looked to the sky for help. ‘Jesus, you just don’t get it, do you? We’re talking about a goddamned senator here. Not to mention one of the richest men in the
Commonwealth. You can’t just go out there and start making accusations!’

‘I didn’t make any accusations,’ Long said. ‘And you still haven’t answered my question – am I off the case?’

‘No!’ Townsend shouted. ‘You’re not off the goddamned case! But you will keep me in the loop on whatever you’re doing. And the next time you want to go out to talk
to someone at Buchanan’s level, you’re taking me with you, you got that?’

‘I need a babysitter now?’

‘You need a witness, you jackass! Buchanan’s people were on the phone all day yesterday and this morning, raising hell with anybody in the city who would listen. You’re on a
short leash as it is; you get into a situation where it’s your word against his, guess who loses?’ Townsend rubbed his forehead. ‘I swear to God, Long. Ya know?’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Long conceded. ‘As long as it’s still my case.’

‘It’s still yours,’ Townsend said. ‘I don’t know why you want it. I know I don’t want it.’ It looked like the man was going to have a heart attack. He
took a deep breath. ‘This angle on the campaign finance got legs?’

Long shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Something messed up was going on with McDougal’s employees and the senator’s fundraising. The Connor woman made the calls to both McDougal and
Buchanan before she was murdered. You put those things together
–
’

‘And it doesn’t prove anything about her murder,’ Townsend said. ‘It could just be a coincidence. As far as we know, this could still be some crackhead and a random
break-in. It still makes the most sense.’

‘It could be,’ Long said. ‘There’s one other thing, though. There were no fingerprints at the crime scene.’

‘How does that help us on anything?’ Townsend asked.

‘You don’t understand,’ Long said. ‘There were
no
fingerprints at the scene. Not even prints from Elizabeth Connor. Not from anyone. The whole place had been wiped
clean. I mean professionally. The way people hired by Eamonn McDougal would clean a place.’

Townsend rolled his eyes at Long. ‘You’re still thinking about the man in the composite sketch, right? The ghost. You’re stuck on the idea that he was at the Connor
woman’s apartment.’

‘I saw what I saw,’ Long said. ‘You’ve got a better explanation?’

‘Yeah, you’re imagining things. That’s a better explanation than the idea that a phantom from two decades ago showed up to whack Elizabeth Connor. What’s she got to do
with anything that would get her killed?’

‘I told you; she knew things she might have been using against the wrong people.’

‘So we’re going with the campaign finance angle for now?’

Long shrugged. ‘I gotta chase it down at least. See where it goes.’

‘Yeah, you do,’ Townsend said. ‘Just chase carefully.’

Sally was in the apartment alone when Finn and Kozlowski arrived. She’d had two free periods at the end of the day, so she’d cut out of school early. Normally she
headed straight over to Finn’s office, but with the extra time, she’d gone to the apartment first to drop off some of her books and enjoy a few moments of solitude. It was one of the
few things she missed about her old life. Before, nobody cared where she was or what she was doing. If she disappeared for a day just to be by herself, no one even noticed. Now, with Finn and Lissa
and Kozlowski in her life, she rarely got a moment’s peace. They constantly wanted to know what she was doing, and where she was doing it, and with whom it was being done. It was alien to
her, and it meant that she no longer had the option of solitude when she wanted it. She wouldn’t go back to her old life given the option, but it was nice to have a moment to herself.

She was sitting in her room doing her homework when she heard the door to the apartment open. She recognized the voices. Her first inclination was to go out to say hello, but something about
their tone made her reconsider. She went to the door to eavesdrop.

‘What’d you expect?’ Kozlowski was asking. ‘Did you think he was gonna thank you for giving him the opportunity to dismiss a high profile case against a confirmed scumbag
who also happens to be the son of a major player?’

‘No, I didn’t think that,’ Finn responded. ‘But I thought he might consider trading a drug dealer for a murderer.’

‘Maybe he would have, if you could have given him that. But you don’t know what you can give him. For all you know, McDougal is just playing you to get his son off.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Finn said.

‘Why not? Because you trust him? Bullshit. He’s a crook and he’ll always be a crook. More than that, he’s a sociopath. He doesn’t play by your nice clean
rules.’

There was a long moment of silence, and Sally wondered what was happening. Then Finn spoke again. ‘So, what do you suggest I do?’

‘Not you;
we
. We take this into our own hands. We get McDougal’s file on your mother ourselves.’

‘How?’

Kozlowski shrugged. ‘It’s in that filing cabinet at 355 Water Street Corp., isn’t it?’

Finn frowned. ‘You want to break in and steal it? You’re crazy.’

‘No, I’m not. It’s not all that hard. We could be in and out in fifteen minutes.’

‘Breaking into a client’s office to get confidential information? Not the best move for my professional standing.’

‘You got a better idea?’

There was another long moment where nothing was said. Sally wished she could see into the living room, to get an idea of what the two men were really thinking from their expressions. Finally,
Finn spoke again. ‘When?’

‘Tonight.’

‘Lissa’s gonna have to take Sally again while we do it,’ Finn said.

‘I can arrange that.’

There was silence again, and Sally strained to pick up any sound at all. ‘How do you want to work it?’ she heard Finn say.

‘We go in after McDougal leaves this evening,’ Kozlowski said. ‘Quiet and quick. With luck, he’ll never know anyone was there. You got what you need?’

‘Yeah, I just forgot the brief I was working on. Let’s get down to the office so we can talk to Lissa before Sally gets out of school.’

Then they were gone. Sally heard the apartment door close, but she stayed where she was for a few minutes, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind. She looked around the room. Finn had
painted it a pale pink when she moved in and picked up matching bed covers at some high-priced specialty linen store. Sally hated pink, but she appreciated the fact that he’d cared enough to
make an effort. Now that she’d been there for a year, the room was filled with her personality, her things, her spirit. She stood there for a few moments, thinking about all that Finn had
done for her. Then she picked up her book bag and headed out to Finn’s office.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Coale was in New Hampshire before four in the afternoon. He had plenty of time; the Health Center was open on Mondays until six. Add in commuting time, and Shelly Tesco
wouldn’t be home for well over two hours.

He found her place without difficulty. It was a small Cape house on a quiet street just outside of town. He parked his car around a corner, where it would draw less attention, and walked
back.

The lawn was overgrown and a gutter needed fixing, but other than that it looked like a pleasant place. There was a large unruly garden in the back, with a patchwork of assorted fall vegetables
in various states of harvest or decay. Online records indicated that the house had previously belonged to a Giuseppe and Maria Tesco – Shelly’s parents.

He considered breaking a pane of glass in the back to let himself in, but thought better of it and searched briefly for a key outside. It took less than five minutes. The key was tucked into a
small metallic box attached magnetically to the back of the water meter – a common spot. Ms Tesco probably assumed that there were few risks in a town as rural and friendly as hers. It was a
dangerously flawed assumption.

He let himself into the house and began the search. Again, it took little time. The file was in the top drawer of a desk in the living room, clearly marked. Coale flipped through the papers to
make sure it was what he was looking for.

Satisfied, he walked through the house, planning out the second half of the job. Fortunately, the place was far enough away from any neighbors that they were unlikely to be disturbed. Glancing
at his watch, he saw that it was just after five o’clock. He had more than another hour to wait.

He sat down on a wooden chair and breathed deeply. He’d always been a patient man.

It was dark by six o’clock in Chelsea. Finn and Kozlowski were standing in the doorway of the warehouse across from 355 Water Street, watching. A biting wind blew up from
the harbor, carrying with it the stink of dead fish and diesel. The place was silent, and it felt like the entire waterfront was deserted. It was an eerie, deceptive feeling; the fiercest creatures
tended to move freely in the darkest places.