Next of Kin (24 page)

‘You talked with her on the phone,’ he said. It wasn’t a question.

‘You’re wrong,’ the senator said.

Long reached into the file he’d brought with him and pulled out a stack of papers. He laid them out on the table. ‘These are Elizabeth Connor’s phone records,’ he said.
He was gratified that Buchanan’s face seemed to turn a shade grayer. ‘Do you see these entries here?’ He flipped pages, identifying highlighted phone numbers. ‘These are
outgoing calls from her home phone. Do you recognize the number?’

Buchanan swallowed hard. ‘That’s my number.’

Long nodded. ‘You still sticking with your story that you never knew her?’

Buchanan looked at his lawyer. Long couldn’t read the signals exchanged, but there was clearly something there, because after a moment Carleson said, ‘My client has answered the
question, Detective. Move on.’

‘
Move on?
Fuck you, move on. This is a murdered woman we’re talking about. She called the senator repeatedly, and he expects to just sit there?’

‘Perhaps one of the senator’s staff took the call. There’s nothing to prove that the senator ever actually spoke to the woman. She may have tried to reach him, and simply been
turned down by one of his secretaries.’

Long shook his head. ‘Take another look,’ he said. ‘Two of these calls lasted more than fifteen minutes. All of them lasted over five minutes. You telling me it takes fifteen
minutes for his secretaries to hang up on someone?’

‘My client has answered your question. These records prove nothing. Move on, Detective.’

‘These records prove he’s lying,’ Long said.

Carleson’s face turned magenta. ‘Captain Townsend, I will not tolerate those kinds of accusations against my client. He is a United States senator, may I remind you!’

Townsend dismissed the lawyer with a wave.

‘How about Eamonn McDougal?’ Long demanded, remaining focused on his attack. ‘How well do you know him?’

Carleson held up his hand to stop Buchanan from answering. ‘I want to know what this has to do with the murder investigation before my client answers that question.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Long replied. He looked at Buchanan, waiting for an answer.

‘Understand, Detective,’ Carleson growled, ‘the senator doesn’t answer any questions if I don’t instruct him to. You want information? Then I’m going to have
to be satisfied that it is relevant to the investigation. I will not allow this bullying to continue.’ Long had to give the rotund little man credit, he could bark.

‘Mr McDougal was Ms O’Connor’s boss,’ Long said.

‘So?’ Carleson said. ‘That’s hardly a justification for this line of inquiry.’

Long pointed to the phone numbers listed after each of the calls to the senator’s residence. ‘You see these?’

‘Yes.’

‘This number here, which was dialed immediately after each call she made to the senator’s home, is the office number for Eamonn McDougal. Are you really suggesting this is a
coincidence?’

‘We’re not suggesting anything, Detective,’ Carleson said. ‘It’s not our responsibility to suggest anything. It’s your job to convince me that any of this is
relevant to this woman’s murder. So far, it doesn’t appear that there is anything to justify the kinds of questions you are pursuing.’

Long looked over at Townsend. ‘Is he kidding?’ he asked. ‘Nothing to justify the questions?’ He turned back to Buchanan. ‘Senator, all due respect, but we have the
phone records, we have the connection between the Connor woman and McDougal, we have records that show that each and every one of McDougal’s employees donated the maximum amounts allowed by
law to your campaign funds in each of the past four years. And we have Ms Connor’s body lying dead in a pool of blood. Are you really going to tell the press that you have no comment about
this?’

‘This is unacceptable!’ Carleson yelled, rising out of his chair. ‘Captain Townsend, our ground rules were clear, this will not go to the press!’

Long was standing now, too, and he was several inches taller than the lawyer. ‘You said he would answer questions!’ he hollered back into Carleson’s face. ‘You
didn’t live up to your side of the bargain, so your ground rules don’t mean shit to me!’

Carleson looked at Townsend. ‘Then both your careers are over!’

‘Wait, wait!’ Townsend insisted. ‘Just hold on, everyone!’

‘You think I can’t do it?’ Carleson yelled. ‘Just try me. You’ll both be out on the street on your asses so fast and so hard you’ll be shitting asphalt for a
month! You think about that, Captain Townsend, before you let this maniac run loose!’ He stood up and ushered his client out of his chair. ‘Come on, Senator,’ he said. ‘You
don’t have to subject yourself to this anymore.’

‘Yes, he does,’ Long said. ‘Whether it’s here or down at the station later, he does have to answer these questions.’

Carleson smiled at him. It was a cold, humorless smile. ‘Try to call him down to the station. I dare you. I would give anything to see what happens to you.’ He looked at Townsend.
‘I’ll send my secretary to show you out.’

Long and Townsend were left alone. They were both standing, hunched over the table, like sprinters trying to catch their breath. Townsend looked over at Long. ‘Well, that went well,’
he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Kozlowski almost pulled the trigger. Someone with less experience would have started shooting as soon as they saw the shadow back behind the warehouse move again. He hesitated,
though. His finger was tight to the trigger, but he allowed a moment for the shadow to take shape. When it did, he let out a loud sigh and put the gun down. ‘Jesus Christ, Sally,’ he
whispered. ‘I almost shot you.’

She was crouched down behind a stack of wooden palettes.

‘Come out of there,’ Kozlowski hissed.

‘What is it?’ Finn asked from behind him. He peered around Kozlowski and saw Sally emerge. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he demanded.

‘I came to help,’ she replied.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I heard you. This afternoon at the apartment. I heard you saying you were breaking in here tonight.’

‘How are you going to help? By almost getting yourself shot?’

She frowned. ‘I can help,’ she said stubbornly.

‘You don’t even know what this is about.’

‘I don’t need to. I know you’re in trouble.’

Finn shook his head. ‘What happened to Lissa? Why aren’t you with her?’

‘I told her I was going to do some homework in the guest room, and then I slipped out.’

Finn looked at Kozlowski. ‘Call her; she’s probably freaking out by now.’

Kozlowski already had his phone out. ‘On it.’

‘How did you get here?’

‘Duh, I took a cab.’

‘ To this neighborhood?’ Finn looked around.

She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a much safer neighborhood than any of the places I grew up.’

Finn realized it was probably true. ‘You have to go back. You can’t be here.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re a kid. You can’t be screwing up your life getting involved with something like this.’

‘Look who’s talking,’ she replied. ‘If I get caught, I’m a minor, so I’d get a slap on the wrist – maybe two months in juvie in a worst case, which gets
wiped off my record when I turn eighteen. You get arrested out here, it’s for real. Who’s taking the bigger risk?’

Kozlowski hung up the phone. ‘Okay, at least Lissa knows she’s all right.’ He looked at Sally. ‘You may want to avoid her until she cools down; she’s not exactly
happy with you right now.’

‘Sorry,’ Sally said. ‘But I’m not leaving.’

‘Yes, you are,’ Finn said.

‘How?’ Kozlowski asked. Finn looked at him. ‘It’s not like there are any cab stands around here.’

‘We’re not taking her with us,’ Finn said.

‘It’s up to you,’ Kozlowski said. ‘But I’m not coming back tomorrow night. The alarm’s disabled already, and I can’t reset it. Chances are they’ll
notice tomorrow. They may just assume the circuit was tripped, but maybe not. Anyway you look at it, we’re not coming back after tonight.’

‘You can’t seriously think it’s okay for her to be involved.’

‘No,’ Kozlowski said. ‘It’s not okay for us to be involved, either. We’re gonna be in and out in a matter of minutes. One file, that’s all we’re looking
for.’ He looked at her. ‘You can be quiet, right?’

She nodded.

‘’Cause if you make a sound, I might have to shoot you, which would be a pain in the ass for all of us, you understand?’

She nodded again.

Kozlowski looked at Finn. ‘Your call, but I say we get it over with.’

Finn felt completely outnumbered. ‘Fine,’ he said. He looked at Sally. ‘But you do exactly as you’re told. If we say run, you run like never before, and don’t look
back – got it?’

‘Got it,’ Sally replied.

‘Okay,’ Finn said reluctantly.

The three of them crept to the back door. It took Kozlowski less than a minute to pick the lock.

‘Can you teach me how to do that?’ Sally asked.

‘No, he can not,’ Finn answered.

Kozlowski looked at her and shrugged. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

‘No, you won’t,’ Finn said.

Kozlowski nodded toward the door. ‘It’s open, at least.’ He turned the knob and pushed. The door swung inward a foot or so, and then stopped abruptly. Kozlowski pushed the door
harder, but it didn’t budge. ‘It’s blocked,’ he said.

Finn stepped forward and threw his shoulder into the door, but there was no give whatsoever. He tried it again, with the same results. ‘Whatever’s blocking it is heavy,’ he
said. He reached his arm through the opening and tried to squeeze through. It was wide enough to get his head in, but his torso jammed. He tried sucking his ribcage in, but it was no use. After a
couple of tries, he gave up and pulled his head back out. ‘So, we try the front door now?’ he said.

Kozlowski shook his head. ‘I got a good look at the locks there. I’ll never get through them.’

‘There’s got to be a way,’ Finn said.

‘There is,’ Kozlowski said, looking at Sally.

Finn stared back at him. ‘Other than that.’

‘You got a better idea, I’m all ears.’

Sally piped up. ‘I don’t mind.’

Finn shook his head. ‘I’m not letting you do it.’

‘Why not?’ Sally asked. ‘You need to get into this place. I’m small enough to get through, I can find the front door and unlock it. Boom, we’re all set.
What’s the problem?’

‘The problem is that it’s breaking and entering.’

‘You already crossed that line,’ she pointed out.

‘Yeah, but you haven’t.’

‘I crossed that line when I was nine.’

Finn looked at Kozlowski for help, but found none forthcoming. ‘Like I said before, it’s your call,’ the ex-cop said, ‘but she’s making sense.’

‘What if she can’t find the front door?’ Finn asked. ‘What if the back section is locked?’

‘No sweat,’ Sally said. ‘Then I come back out the way I went in, and no one is the worse for it.’

‘I still don’t like it,’ Finn said.

‘Deal with it,’ Sally said. She didn’t wait for a response; she ducked past both men and slipped through the half-opened door.

‘Wait!’ Finn objected. His arm shot through the door to grab onto her, but she was already out of reach. ‘Get back here!’

‘No,’ her voice answered from the darkness. ‘Where’s the front door?’

‘In the front,’ Kozlowski replied. He looked at Finn, who shot him a death stare. ‘What? It is.’

‘Which side?’ Sally asked.

‘Front right,’ Kozlowski said. ‘Knock three times when you get there. I have to disarm the alarm on the front door. When we knock back three times, it means the front alarm is
disabled and you can unlock the door.’

‘If I’m not there in ten minutes, come back and find me; I’ll be here.’ She was gone, and Kozlowski closed the door behind her.

‘This isn’t right,’ Finn said to Kozlowski. ‘She shouldn’t be doing this.’

Kozlowski replied, ‘If you want to find out what happened to your mother, we don’t have much of a choice.’ He nodded toward the corner of the building. ‘Let’s go
out by the front door. We don’t want to keep her waiting; she reminds me of Lissa, and I don’t want her pissed at me.’

They slid along the rear of the building, walking quietly, staying in the shadows. Kozlowski reached the corner first and started around toward the front door. He came up short, though, and Finn
bumped into him from behind. Kozlowski pushed him away from the corner. ‘Shit!’ he hissed.

‘What is it?’ Finn asked.

‘McDougal.’

‘What about him?’

Kozlowski glared at Finn. It was the first time Finn had ever seen even a hint of panic in the man’s eyes.

‘What about him?’ Finn demanded again.

‘He came back,’ Kozlowski answered.

Spencer Carleson sat in his huge corner office in the top floor of the tallest building in downtown Boston. It wasn’t the tallest in the city – the Prudential
building in Back Bay held that distinction – but Carleson preferred the downtown area. It was closer to the water and it had better views. It was also closer to the courthouses. Of course,
whenever he was forced to go to court, he felt as though he’d already failed. He was a master of compromise, and an astute political operative. No one in the Commonwealth was better
connected. His job, as he saw it, was to keep his clients out of court.

That was looking like a difficult task with Buchanan.

‘You were great, Spence,’ his client was saying. ‘I really appreciate it.’ It sounded like he actually meant it.

Carleson’s secretary had met them at the door to the office when they returned from the conference room. She had a tray of warm, damp face towels in a silver tray, and she handed one to
each of them, using tongs the way they do in first class on transatlantic flights. Carleson saw Buchanan raise an eyebrow, but he didn’t care. A warm towel after a tense meeting refreshed
him. Right now he needed refreshing.

‘Seriously,’ Buchanan continued, ‘I thought that detective was going to come across the table at you. That would have been perfect. I can’t imagine I’ll be having
much of a problem with him from now on.’

Carleson was rubbing the towel over his face, savouring the last of the warmth. ‘Thank you, Senator,’ he said. ‘I appreciate your confidence, but I wouldn’t start the
celebrations just yet. All I’ve done is delay an inevitable confrontation.’