Saints Of New York (65 page)

Marie Griffin looked at Frank
Parrish for some time before she spoke. The light from the window behind her
cast a fine halo through her hair.

'So this is the end of the line
for you.'

'Seems that way,' Parrish
replied.

'It's hard to imagine that we met
less than six weeks ago.'

'I know, I know. Doesn't it seem
so much longer.'

'Wiseass. Jesus, you don't let
up, do you, Frank?'

He smiled wryly. 'It's just the
way I was made, Marie.'

'So what did they give you?'

'They gave me a Congressional
Medal of Honor, and they said I should run for Mayor.'

'Frank—'

'They didn't prosecute. That's
what they gave me. They let me off the hook for all the shit that I did.'

'But you're out of the PD.'

'I am.'

'With nothing?'

'No, Marie, not with nothing.
They gave me sixty-five percent of my pension, and there's a possibility that
when I actually reach retirement age they'll give me some more. But hell, I
ain't gonna hold 'em to it.'

'And you didn't blackmail them?'

'Blackmail them?'

'Give me everything I want or
I'll go to the newspapers about John Parrish, the OCCB, the Saints of New
York?'

Parrish leaned forward. He took
something from his jacket pocket and held it in his hand for just a moment.
Then he
reached forward and put it on her
desk.

'What's
that?'

'Take
a look.'

She
reached out and gathered it up.

'A
rosary,' she said.

'It
is.'

'It
has a picture attached to it. This is a little kid . . .' She paused and
frowned. 'This is you, right?'

'It
is.'

'And
this came from where?'

'My
father's priest. He and I had a few words before I went into McKee's house. He
told me some things about my father. Then he came to visit in the hospital and
brought that with him.'

'And
he got it from your father.'

'It
was in my father's hand when the priest gave him the last rites. It was in his
hand when he died.'

'And
this
priest...
he kept it for you?'

'No,
he kept it for himself, but then he thought I would have more use for it.'

'Does
this resolve something for you, Frank?'

'Maybe.
A little. I haven't figured it all out yet.'

'So
you're letting go of him? Of the ghost of John Parrish.'

'I'm
not thinking about him in the same way, if that's what
you
mean.
All this shit happened a long time ago. What was the truth and what wasn't,
well, it doesn't mean anything now. Stirring all of that up would simply give
people a reason not to be confident in the police department now, and that
wouldn't do anyone any good.'

'That's
a very responsible viewpoint to take.'

'It's
common sense, Marie. I don't think it's anything but common sense.'

'And
you?'

Parrish
shook his head. He looked away towards the window and sighed. 'I will just take
some time to let things sink in. Was he who I thought he was? Was he someone
different? I don't know Marie, I just don't know.'

'But
now you're a civilian.'

'Yeah,
I'm a civilian, just like you.'

'And
how is that?'

'Weil,
I got out of hospital two weeks ago, and most of the last fortnight I've spent
answering questions and writing reports about this whole case, so I really
don't have a handle on it yet. I'm drinking less because the doctor says I have
to ...
oh yeah, I also had a stomach ulcer I didn't even know about, but hell, as soon
as I'm fixed up I'll be back on a bottle and a half a day.'

'Whatever
you say, Frank.'

'So
you'll have to give me a little while, you know? You'll have to give me six months
to find my feet and get oriented.'

'And
where does the case stand now? Wasn't there some question about admissibility
of evidence?'

'They
got around that because Carole was there when the evidence was found. She had a
key that he'd given her and that gave her legal access to the property.'

'So
they've got McKee, no question.'

'So
far they've got seven of them. They have McKee on first degree for Kelly
Duncan, Rebecca Lange and Nicole Benedict. It looks like Melissa Schaeffer,
Jennifer Baumann and Karen Pulaski were killed by one or other of his buddies.
They also have the guy that shot Danny Lange. McKee just opened his mouth and
started talking, and he's a good way from done yet. This thing went back before
Melissa, that's for sure, and there were others in between during the last two
years as well. They didn't only take girls that went through Family Welfare,
they took them from wherever. From what we can work out it was a set-up that
already existed before McKee got involved, and when he showed up he just came
with another feeder line for the party.'

'And
they were making snuff movies?'

'They
were making everything you could imagine. They catered to every taste you can
think of. The sad thing is that they were a relatively small operation, all
things considered. There are bigger organizations out there doing worse things
and more frequently. I really cannot bear to think how many of our runaways are
buried in the Hollywood Hills and the desert outside Vegas. Anyway, they've got
seven of them, McKee of course, and then some other guy he hooked up with on
the internet, and then there's the people from the film company in LA. McKee is
up for three counts of first-degree murder, and then endless counts of
accomplice to
murder, kidnapping, rape,
pandering ... the whole lunchbox, you know? They've thrown the book at him. But
because he gave
up
everyone else he's gonna get consecutive life-terms instead of the death
penalty.'

'How do you feel about that?'

'I feel okay. I feel like he
should spend one hell of a long time thinking about what he did, and I'm hoping
that a three hundred and fifty-pound gang member called Bubba is gonna take a
shine to him in the joint.'

'And what about the fact that
this case only scratches the surface?'

Again Parrish was silent for a
time, his expression reflective, I think that's something that we all come to
terms with very early on. If you spend your time and attention worrying about
all the ones that you didn't get, then you go crazy. You deal with what you've
got in front of you, you deal with it the best you can, and you hope that
somewhere else there are people who are working as hard as you to make things
right. Maybe that's the one thing I've managed to be philosophical about all
these years.'

'And McKee's ex-wife?'

'She's good, you know? She can't
tell me sorry enough. She came to see me in the hospital, and I've seen her a
couple of times since I was released. She's a good woman. She's happy to have
the asshole out of her life, and now she knows her kids are safe.'

'He really filmed his own
daughter?'

'Yes, he really filmed his own
daughter.'

'And how are Robert and Caitlin?'

'Robert thinks I'm a hero,
Caitlin thinks I'm going to drink myself into an early grave.'

'And what do you think?'

Parrish shrugged his shoulders
and smiled. 'I'm forty-four years old. I've been a cop for eighteen years. I
don't know anything else.'

'Maybe you could go into the
private sector? Investigator's work, maybe?'

'I don't think so, no. I'm the
sort of person who needs a system and a structure around me otherwise it all
falls apart.'

'Well, for someone who says they
need a system and a structure around them, Frank, you spent an awful lot of
time defying it, don't you think?'

'You're
not IAD. I don't have to answer that.'

'So
- I
hope I'll hear from you. I hope you
will let me know what you're doing and how it's going.'

'You'll
forget, Marie. A fortnight from now it won't matter where I am and what I'm
doing.'

'Oh,
I don't think so, Frank Parrish. I think you've earned yourself a name.'

'Well,
you know what they say. One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age
without a name.'

'It's
been good knowing you. Good talking with you.'

'And
I was never really in therapy was I, Doc? Not for real.'

'No,
Frank, you were never in therapy.'

'Thanks
for your time.'

'You're
welcome.'