Next of Kin (31 page)

She gulped air, gaining control of herself again. She began to tell him what she could see.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Long sat in Townsend’s office the next morning. The captain looked at him from behind his desk. The dark circles under his eyes appeared more pronounced; the red within
the irises had overwhelmed the white. He looked down again at Matthew Pillar’s sworn statement. ‘He really signed this?’

‘Yeah, he did.’

Townsend leaned back in his chair, the springs screaming with the shift in his weight.

‘It gives Buchanan a motive, Captain,’ Long said.

‘For murder?’ Townsend frowned. ‘Feels like a stretch.’

‘We’re not talking about a misdemeanor,’ Long pointed out.

‘He’d never be convicted.’

‘Maybe not, but he’d sure as hell lose the election. It ties him to a conspiracy to violate campaign finance laws, plus it links him with one of the heads of organized crime. You
really think he survives that politically?’

Townsend rocked in his chair. ‘Maybe not. But so what if Buchanan lost the election? What does he care? He’s rich.’

‘A guy like that doesn’t like to lose. Plus I read he spent more than five million of his own money on the campaign. He’s not gonna walk away from that.’

Townsend shook his head. ‘We’re gonna need more than this to take this guy on.’

‘Why not call him in?’ Long suggested. ‘Get him down here this time, rattle his cage a little?’

‘Because the cage he lives in doesn’t rattle. Without more than we’ve got, we’ll have lawyers and politicians all over our asses.’

‘I’m telling you, this guy’s dirty,’ Long said. ‘And he probably had Elizabeth Connor killed.’

Townsend nodded. ‘You may be right. But you need more than this to prove it.’ Townsend’s secretary knocked on the glass door and poked her head in. ‘What is it?’ he
grumbled.

‘There are two men here to see Detective Long,’ she said. ‘They say it’s an emergency.’

‘Did they say what it was about?’ Long asked.

She shook her head. ‘One of them is named Finn. He said you’d want to talk to him right away.’

Townsend and Long looked at each other. ‘You think they got something?’ Townsend asked.

‘Only one way to find out.’ Long stood and walked to the door.

‘Long!’ Townsend barked at him. Long turned around. ‘Whatever it is, move slowly, you understand? Don’t give the lawyer and his Dobermann any information. If they think
we’re moving on Buchanan, you never know what they’ll do, and I don’t want them involved. This isn’t a normal guy we’re dealing with, it’s a goddamned senator,
y’know?’

‘I thought justice was blind, Captain.’

‘It is,’ Townsend replied. ‘But that doesn’t mean it’s stupid.’

‘Call the cops up in New Hampshire if you need proof!’ Finn shouted. He’d spent the better part of a half hour explaining the situation to Long, but none of
it seemed to make a dent. ‘They’re at Shelly Tesco’s house right now, trying to figure out what happened to her.’

‘Don’t worry, Mr Finn,’ Long said. ‘I’ll call the police up there when we’re done. But even if what you say is true – even if she’s disappeared,
it’s hardly proof of a crime. She hasn’t even been gone long enough for them to write up a missing person’s report.’

‘I’m telling you, Buchanan is my father. Elizabeth Connor – my mother – was blackmailing him, so he killed her.’

‘Why?’ Long asked. ‘Having a child out of wedlock is barely a scandal anymore. James Buchanan already has a shady reputation with the ladies; it’s not like people think
he’s Gandhi. What you’re talking about happened over forty years ago, before he was even married. How is that blackmail material?’

‘Because he’s a politician,’ Finn said. ‘Buchanan knew that a story like this would kill his reelection bid, so he killed my mother. Then, when he realized I was getting
close to the truth, he killed Shelly Tesco – the one woman who could prove that he abandoned me as a baby.’

‘We don’t even know for sure she’s dead. Besides, why is she the only one?’ Long asked. ‘There must be records.’

Finn shook his head. ‘They’re gone. I had her secretary search for them, but Tesco pulled them yesterday and it looks like she took them out of the office. The cops searched the
house, and the file wasn’t there. So now all the documentary evidence of the fact that he is my father is gone.’

Long said, ‘There would still be DNA testing that could be done.’

‘That’s my point!’ Finn exclaimed. ‘Get his DNA tested, and we’ll know for sure.’

‘You’re missing what I’m saying,’ Long said. ‘Why would he go to all the trouble of having this woman killed and stealing the file if a simple DNA test would
provide the same proof? It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Because,’ Finn said, exasperated, ‘he thought the file was the only way that I would find out. He thought that if Tesco was dead and I never got the file, no one would ever
link him to my mother or her murder.’

‘But you didn’t get the file, and you still found out – apparently – that he is your father.’ Long sounded skeptical.

‘That’s only because someone else knew. Someone Buchanan thought would never betray him. He didn’t count on that.’

‘Who?’

Finn knew the question was coming, and still he had no idea how to handle it. ‘I can’t tell you that,’ he said simply.

‘Well, that leaves us in a bit of a bind, doesn’t it?’ Long said. ‘I’ve got nothing tying all of this together, nothing to support what you’re
saying.’

‘How can you say that?’ Finn demanded.

‘Look, Mr Finn, I’ll check with the police up in New Hampshire, but without more, I don’t know what you expect me to do. You need to bring me something I can actually use. No
offense, but given the way you’ve jerked us around in this case, you’re the last person I trust.’

‘So, that’s it?’ Finn said. ‘That’s your last word?’

‘For now, yeah.’

‘You’re making a mistake. You’ll regret it later.’ It was an appeal to guilt, and Finn knew it meant that he had already lost the argument. Cops were impervious to
guilt.

‘Maybe,’ Long said. He looked so unperturbed, it made Finn furious. ‘But right now it’s my mistake to make.’

Coale took a wide pass at the police station twice before finding a parking spot a block and a half away with a sightline to the lawyer’s car. He was good at what he did,
and sometimes it seemed as though he had the ability to become invisible, but tailing someone near the police station had him on edge. All it would take was one slip, and everything would
crumble.

His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. Without taking his eyes off the little MG, he pulled the phone out and pressed the button. He knew who it was.

‘You still got him?’ McDougal asked.

‘Yeah, I still got him,’ Coale responded. ‘He’s at the police station.’

‘Talking to Long, no doubt.’

‘That’s a reasonable assumption. He got here early.’

‘And last night?’

The tone of McDougal’s questions annoyed Coale. Everything about the man was starting to annoy him. ‘At Buchanan’s,’ he said. ‘Then home. He spent some time on the
phone with the cops in New Hampshire.’

‘So he’s got a pretty good idea about your little trip up there,’ McDougal said. There was a reproach in his voice.

‘I was careful.’

‘I wouldn’t expect anything less. Still, even if he doesn’t have the details, I’m sure he’s smart enough to put some of the pieces together. Otherwise, what would
have driven him to Long?’

‘Are you sure your name won’t come up?’ Coale asked. It was time to start turning the tables. ‘Are you positive the lawyer won’t tell Long that you gave him the
information about Buchanan?’

There was a pause on the other end of the line. ‘I’m sure,’ McDougal said. He almost sounded it. ‘He knows me well enough to understand what would happen if he mentioned
me.’

‘What would happen?’

‘I’d send you.’

‘Sometimes that’s enough,’ Coale admitted. ‘Sometimes not. This isn’t about money; this is about family.’

‘Money’s more important than family to most.’

‘Maybe,’ Coale said. ‘But Finn may not be like most.’

‘You just keep an eye on everything,’ McDougal said. ‘Things are going to start happening quickly. Everything will be just fine if you do your job.’

‘When have I not?’ Coale said. He clicked off the phone and put it back into his jacket pocket. McDougal was right about one thing, he knew: things were going to start happening very
quickly.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Move slowly
. . .

That was the advice Townsend had given Long. Good advice, no doubt, but moving slowly had never been Long’s style. As he stood at the threshold of the Buchanan mansion on Beacon Hill, he
could feel the adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream. It gave him a high like few other things in life. It had been nearly two days since the craving for a drink had quieted to a distant hum
in the back of his head. When he was doing his job – really doing his job, not just going through the motions – he didn’t need the booze. Didn’t even want it, really. All he
wanted was the thrill of the takedown. And in this case, the takedown wasn’t going to happen if he moved slowly.

The door cracked open. Catherine Buchanan glared out at him. She was wearing a light blue cashmere sweater – technically it was probably azure or sapphire, but to Long it was blue –
and her pearls were coiled tightly around her neck. Her hair was styled, her make-up looked professionally applied. For all her perfection, though, her face bore the look of a frightened deer.
‘I thought you were warned not to come back,’ she said.

‘I was,’ he replied. ‘It didn’t take. I figure I still have a job to do, warnings or not.’

She shifted on her feet. ‘My husband isn’t home,’ she said.

‘Good,’ Long said. ‘I didn’t come here to talk to him. I came here to talk to you.’

Her lips pursed as she glared back at Long. The fear on her face morphed into confusion. The door opened slightly wider, though, which Long took as a good sign. ‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Because we need to talk,’ Long said. ‘Can I come in?’

‘My husband told me not to talk to anyone.’

‘Just for a minute? Please, it’s important.’

She hesitated, but after a moment she stepped back and opened the door.

She led him to a sunny glass sitting room off to the side of the house. It was done in yellow, with light, airy floral prints on wicker furniture and a profusion of flowers and plants lining the
windows. He could tell immediately that this was her room – her sanctuary.

‘What do we need to talk about, Detective?’ she asked as they entered the room. She didn’t sit. She walked to the window and looked out at a brick-lined patio, keeping her back
to him.

‘Elizabeth Connor.’

She turned toward him, then looked back out the window. ‘You mentioned her the other day. I thought we had that conversation already. I didn’t know her.’

‘I believe that,’ Long said. ‘But I’ve done some digging. Your husband knew her. Your husband knew her quite well.’

‘You said that the other day, too. You said she was a supporter.’

‘She was more than that,’ Long said.

Catherine Buchanan turned to face him fully now, stepped toward him. ‘Detective,’ she said, the hint of resignation in her voice, ‘are you about to tell me that my husband had
an affair with this woman?’

He searched her eyes for the pain. He couldn’t find it, though. Instead, he saw something much harder. It was as though the pain had been scabbed over. Her eyes had the look of a woman
who’d simply turned in on herself for protection. Drawing her out wouldn’t be easy.

‘Because if that is what you are going to tell me,’ she continued, ‘you can save your breath. I am quite aware of my husband’s extramarital activities. Everyone is. It is
hardly a secret.’

‘No,’ Long said slowly. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you that.’ He watched her closely as he plotted a new way to come at her. ‘I was wrong. Elizabeth Connor
wasn’t a supporter of your husband’s campaign. She just worked for Eamonn McDougal, one of Boston’s most powerful mob bosses. McDougal was really the supporter. He had his
employees donate to your husband’s campaign, and then paid them back. It’s a serious violation of the campaign finance laws.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m not a lawyer,’ she said. ‘And I certainly don’t know anything about my husband’s fundraising activities.’

‘No?’

There was silence in the room for a moment. ‘Why are you really here, Detective?’

‘I was hoping you would help me put your husband in prison,’ he said.

She laughed sadly. ‘Good lord, I think you’re actually serious.’ Long said nothing. ‘Why would I?’

Long walked over and looked out the window at the same place she had stood a moment earlier. ‘My father was a difficult man,’ he said. ‘A cop. Good man in most respects, but
hard. He grew up during a different time. And when he’d had a few too many, he’d get violent.’ He could hear Catherine Buchanan suck in a lungful of fear. ‘He only came at
me once. I don’t even know if he remembered in the morning. But my mother . . . well, let’s just say he must have remembered some of the times he hit her. It happened too often for him
not to remember.’

‘What has this got to do with –’

‘I like your necklace,’ Long said. He was still looking out the window. ‘You were wearing it the other day, but down. Not like a choker.’ He could feel her hand had gone
to her throat. ‘Do you mind taking it off?’

He turned to look at her, and her eyes were filled with the rage and fear of a trapped animal. Her hand was still pressed to her neck, holding onto the pearls.

‘I could always tell the next day. With my mother, I mean,’ Long said. ‘You know how? Because he always went for the face and the throat. Whenever my mother came to breakfast
in a turtleneck, with her make-up in perfect order, I knew he’d been drinking the night before.’

Her eyes were half-filled with tears now. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said.

‘Yes, I do. You can’t live in a house with that and not know the signs.’

‘I can’t,’ she said, turning away from him. Her voice became distant, dreamy. ‘I remember our wedding,’ she said. ‘It was called “The Wedding of the
Century” by the local papers. It may seem hard to imagine now, but back then I was quite a catch.’