“Yeah. Like that,” Orion said. “But then I got off the pills and got my mind back. You know I did try and talk to Libby. I did try to apologize to her, but she wouldn’t talk to me. Maybe I should have written her a note, Mr. Simmons.”
“She probably would have torn it up,” Sean said. And if she hadn’t I would have, he added silently.
“That’s what I figured. Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” Orion asked.
“Doubtful,” Sean said, thinking back to the way Libby had reacted to the mention of his name not that long ago.
Orion hung his head. “I really did treat her horribly, Mr. Simmons.”
“Words are cheap,” Sean told him. “Especially coming from you.”
“I mean it,” Orion protested.
Sean wasn’t sure whether Orion did or didn’t, but did it really matter? Not really. The trick was not to allow himself to get sidetracked by the past and to focus on what he needed to know. And he fully intended to do that. After he said one more thing.
Sean folded the newspaper he’d been reading and laid it on the side table next to him. “You know,” he informed Orion after he’d taken a sip of his coffee, “for about a year or so I wanted to hurt you really, really badly for what you did to my daughter. And if I were younger and in better shape, I might have done that, but I’m not.” There he’d said it.
“I can understand,” Orion said.
“No,” Sean said, contradicting him. “I don’t think you can. And I don’t think you will either until you have a daughter of your own some day. But she’s doing all right now, no thanks to you.”
“Marvin’s a good guy,” Orion observed.
“Yes, he is,” Sean agreed.
Orion looked around. Then he said, “It feels funny being here after all this time.”
“I would imagine,” Sean said dryly.
“And Libby is happy?”
“Yes. I think she is.”
“That’s good.”
The conversation came to a standstill. “Like I said when you called me,” Orion offered after a moment had gone by, “anything I can do to help, I will. It’s the least I can do.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Sean said. “But you s ӀBaftll understand if I don’t ask you to sit down.”
Orion nodded. “Totally.”
“I guess,” Sean said, “even though I know what happened wasn’t all your fault, that Libby had something to do with it as well, the bottom line is that I don’t like you very much, so why don’t you tell me what you have to say and then leave.”
Orion nodded his head again. “I totally value your honesty.”
“This isn’t a sales call,” Sean told him. “You’re not selling me financial instruments. So do you have something to tell me or not?”
“I do,” Orion replied. “But the whole thing is very technical.”
“Simplify it for me.”
“Okay.” Orion rubbed his hands together. “To begin, the whole group—”
“The Corned Beef and Cabbage Club?”
“Yeah. Those guys have been running a kind of a Ponzi scheme.”
“Was Duncan involved?”
“You betcha, along with the other chowderheads. See, everyone was getting along fine and then everyone started losing money and then suddenly they weren’t getting along so fine, and Sweeney was the person that lost the money for them.
“Rumor has it that not only did all of them lose a lot of money, but that the feds were coming in and Sweeney was about to hand his friends over to them in return for minimal jail time. But that’s just a rumor and there are plenty of rumors floating around and most of them aren’t true.”
“Do you think this one is?” Sean asked Orion.
“I don’t know,” Orion told him. “I really don’t.”
“So what were these guys doing?”
“This is where it gets technical... .”
“I’m sure a bright guy like you can translate it into English,” Sean said.
“I’ll try,” Orion told him as he rocked back and forth on his heels.
“You do that,” Sean said.
Orion thought for a moment and then began. “Okay,” he said. “The bottom line is this. People were trading back and forth with one another, kiting up the prices of financial instruments, financial instruments that mostly consisted of insurance packets. Insurance policies that were taken out on people and then sold to other people.”
“They can do that?” Sean asked.
“Oh yeah. People have been doing it for years. It’s perfectly legal.”
“So I can take out a policy on Libby and sell it to someone else?” Sean asked.
“Or,” Orion replied, “even better. You can take a policy out on someone and not tell them.”
“And if they die, I’m the beneficiary?” Sean asked.
Orion nodded.
“Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me,” Sean said. “Could someone have written a policy on Sweeney?”
“They could have,” Orion told him. “But since he was murdered it wouldn’t pay off. I mean if they’d wanted to do that, they’d have to find some less obvious way to kill him. As in, he’d have to be a heroin addict and OD.”
“Someone did that?” Sean asked.
“Last year in DC.”
“Someone actually sold a life insurance policy on an addict?”
Orion shrugged. “It’s a strange, strange world out there, Mr. Simmons.”
“Is there any way to check and make sure about Sweeney?”
“I can’t,” Orion said. “Aside from it being extremely difficult, I’d have to get into the system and check and I’m not authorized to do that. Besides, these policies are written in one place, then sold to someone else, then rebundled with other policies and sold to yet another person and so on down the line. It would take weeks to untangle all the strands, months if the person who did it didn’t want to be found.”
“And you can’t do it?” Sean asked.
“Absolutely not, Mr. Simmons.”
“Is it that you don’t have the ability or the desire?” Sean asked him.
“Both, Mr. Simmons. I don’t have that kind of technical know-how and I don’t want to lose my job and land up in jail.”
“Do you know anyone who could?”
Orion shook his head again. “You’re talking about a real geek here and I don’t know many of those.”
“So you’d need a subpoena to get to the bottom of this,” Sean said, a subpoena he was positive the DA wouldn’t issue.
“I’m guessing that you would.”
Sean didn’t reply immediately. He was distracted by the sound of the rain on the windows. The weather channel had warned that a nor’easter was on the way. It looked as if it had arrived.
“And anyway,” Orion continued, “I don’t think it’s true. It’s just too far-fetched. I can’t imagine any of those guys doing something like that. Kicking someone in the head, yes. Doing this, no.”
“You may be right,” Sean said. Sweeney’s death had seemed to him to be a crime of impulse brought on by anger and alcohol, not a carefully planned, bloodless, staged scenario. He shifted his weight around in his chair. He’d been sitting too long and would have to get up soon. “So how does Liza tie in with all of this?” Sean asked Orion.
Orion shrugged. “As far as I know, she doesn’t.”
“No word about her at all?” Sean insisted.
“No. She was a trader groupie.”
“Trader groupie?” Sean repeated.
“Yeah. Like the cop groupies. She was one of those girls who liked trader action instead of cop action—it turned her on—so she hung around with the traders. She made the rounds, although I understand she was with Duncan before she died. Maybe he got fed up and did her.”
“Maybe,” Sean said. “Did you hang around with her?”
“No, Mr. Simmons. I didn’t,” Orion said.
Sean thought he might be lying, but he wasn’t sure.
“And who was Liza with before Duncan?” Sean asked.
“I think she was with Patrick. Or maybe Connor. I don’t know. I have trouble keeping those guys straight. They all look alike to me.”
“What do you hear about Duncan?” Sean asked, changing the subject.
“In what sense?”
“In any sense.”
“Not much really. He hung with the other guys. He trades in derivatives. He likes to gamble—does a lot of options and puts—and lost lots and lots of money with Sweeney. Way more than he can afford. He’s about an inch shy of declaring bankruptcy, but then so are the other guys for that matter. Do you want . DI knme to ask around?”
Sean nodded. “That would be helpful. Anything else to tell me?”
“That’s about it.” Orion glanced at his watch. “Well, if that’s the case ...”
“Go on,” Sean said. “Get out of here before Libby and Bernie come back.”
“Thanks.” And Orion turned and went down the stairs.
Sean could hear Orion closing the bottom door behind him. He sat for
a while and watched the raindrops beating on the windowpane and tried to make sense out of what Orion had said, but it really didn’t seem to go very far in explaining what had happened. He had the distinct feeling that he was missing something, something big.
But he was confident that the answer would come to him in time. It usually did. A cigarette would help the process. He always thought better when he smoked. Sad but true. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that now. Well, he could. He could go downstairs and huddle in the doorway and light up. But he wasn’t that desperate yet. And besides, there was a chance that someone would see him and tell Bernie and Libby, or even worse, his daughters would catch him when they came back, and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to the lecture that was sure to follow.
Chapter 23
“Someone around here definitely has a cow fetish,” Bernie noted as she took in the mailbox designed to look like a cow, the mat on the porch that said, udderly glad to see you, and the wreath decorated with milkmaids and milk pails.
Libby was just telling Bernie that she thought that that was a safe thing to say when the door flew open.
“It’s the Simmons sisters. How charming,” Priscilla said, looking at them. Her tone was not hospitable. Neither was her glance.
“I know you don’t like us very much,” Bernie began. Talk about stating the obvious, she thought. “I know we’ve had issues in the past.”
Priscilla scowled. “Why? Just because you’re a snot and you think you’re better than anyone else? Just because you told Suzy that my false eyelashes reminded you of caterpillars and gave you the creeps? My good, expensive eyelashes that I got in Saks,” Priscilla added.
So much for forgetting, Libby thought. This was going to be interesting.
“I never really said that,” Bernie lied.
“You most certainly did,” Priscilla shot back.
“She really didn’t,” Libby said, feeling as if she should contribute to the conversation. Sisterly solidarity and all that stuff.
Priscilla and Bernie both ignored her. Fine, Libby thought, feeling miffed. So much for sisterly solidarity. Be that way. See if she cared.
“No, Priscilla,” Bernie told her. “What I said was that I admired you for wearing eyelashes like that and that I wished I could have, but that on me they would have looked like caterpillars crawling over my face.” Bernie held up her hand. “May God strike me dead if I’m lying.”
Libby waited for the thunderclap and the hand to descend from the heavens. Nothing happened. And it hadn’t ever since Bernie had started to say that at age twelve. As always, she was both amazed and appalled by her sister’s ability to lie.
“I don’t believe you,” Priscilla said. But Bernie thought she sounded less1em">ed sure of herself than she had before.
Bernie put her hand down. She didn’t believe in the whole “may God strike me dead” thing, but on the other hand there was no sense in pushing her luck either. “It’s true,” she told Priscilla. “I think Suzy just misheard me ... maybe on purpose.” Lie number two.
Priscilla nibbled on her lower lip while she thought. “Well,” she finally said. “It’s true that she never liked you very much.”
“No. She didn’t,” Bernie agreed. And that was true. “I didn’t even know that she had said that to you.” But that statement wasn’t.
Priscilla folded her arms over her chest while she considered what Bernie had said. Bernie could see that Priscilla was wavering. Bernie was trying to think of what else she could say to convince Priscilla of her truthfulness when Priscilla’s eyes narrowed. Damn, Bernie thought. It was too late. As someone who’d been involved in retail for a long time, she recognized that she’d lost the moment.
“I still don’t believe you,” Priscilla told Bernie. “You almost had me, almost being the key word, but I’m not buying what you’re putting out.”
Bernie shrugged. She could but try. “Fine,” she said. “Don’t believe me. But could you let us in anyway? My sister really has to pee... .”
Libby leaned forward and put on what she hoped was a sincere smile. “I do,” she said.
“And,” Bernie said, “no matter what you think of me, we really do need to talk.”
Priscilla tapped the crystal of her diamond-encrusted Rolex watch with a long carmine fingernail. “Why now? Are you nuts? Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes. I realize it’s late,” Bernie said.
“And I really do have to pee,” Libby said.
Priscilla raised an eyebrow. “And you came all the way to Connor’s parents’ house to use their bathroom?” she asked her. “It must be very special for you to make the trip out here.”
“Actually we were following Patrick from RJ’s,” Libby replied, having decided that in this case honesty was the best policy. “And he ended up here. And now I have to pee.”
“I know where the scumbag ended up,” Priscilla said. “I threw him out.”
“We saw,” Libby said. “And we saw Connor going after him.”
Priscilla’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a scumbag too,” she said. “They’re all alike. Guys that is.”
“Not really,” Bernie said.
Priscilla ignored the comment. “Why were you following Patrick?” she asked Libby.
Bernie could see that Priscilla’s interest was piqued. This is a good thing, she thought. Maybe they’d end up talking after all. “That’s why we have to have a chat,” Bernie told her. Watching Priscilla’s face, she could see her features softening ever so slightly. Yes, Bernie thought. She’s going to invite us in.
A moment later, Priscilla gave it up. “Okay,” she said as she fingered her earrings. “Yeah. Come in. What the hell. The bathroom is down the hall, the third door on the right,” she said to Libby.
“I appreciate this,” Bernie said to Priscilla once they were inside and Libby had disappeared down the hall.
Priscilla put her hands on her hips. “So what’s going on? How come you’re following Patrick?”
“We’ve be>panen hired to help with Duncan’s defense... .”
Priscilla’s eyes lit up. “And you think Patrick might have something to do with Sweeney’s murder?” she asked.
“Possibly,” Bernie replied in as noncommittal a voice as she could manage. She didn’t feel it necessary to mention that the same could be true of Connor or Liam.
“See,” Priscilla said, shaking her head. “I told Connor those guys were no good. I told him to stay away from them. But did he listen? No. He did not.”
Bernie shook her head sympathetically. “My mother always said you were known by the company you keep,” she added in a pious tone. It was a phrase that used to absolutely infuriate Bernie, so she was amazed to hear it coming out of her mouth now.
“That is so true,” Priscilla said. “And now look where we’re living.” She gestured at the living room. “I think I’d rather be shot.”
“It is very white,” Bernie allowed, peering inside.
“Very white?” Priscilla shrieked. “It’s all white! Everything in this house is white! I feel as if I’m in some simultaneous deprivation tank... .”
“I think you mean stimulus deprivation tank,” Bernie said.
Priscilla waved her hand in the air. “Whatever.” She leaned in toward Bernie. “And you know the worst thing about this?”
“That you’re living with your mother-in-law?”
“Even worse?” Priscilla said.
“What?” Bernie asked.
“On top of everything else, Connor’s mother is a neat freak. I mean totally. I’m afraid to walk across the floor here. I might get footprints on the white shag carpet. I mean who has white shag carpet? That’s so seventies. And this is the original one.” Priscilla pointed down. “If that doesn’t say it all I don’t know what does.”
“I can’t believe that,” Bernie said, because she couldn’t.
“It’s true,” Priscilla said. Then she nodded toward the outside with her chin. “And what about the cows? How do you like them? That’s what I think too,” Priscilla said when Bernie remained diplomatically silent.
“So how come you’re here?” Bernie asked her. “I thought you guys were buying a new house?”
Priscilla gave a bitter laugh. “That was pre Mike Sweeney. Him and Liam and Patrick and Duncan talked Connor into this stupid investment, and not only did he use his money, he used mine as well.”
“Oops,” Bernie said, thinking of what the other guys’ wives had told her.
“You can say that again,” Priscilla agreed. “One thing I can tell you. I will never, ever share a checking account with anyone, ever again.”
“I could see that,” Bernie said, remembering when Orion had taken money out of Libby’s checking account, money that they’d needed to pay their sales tax.
Thank heavens her mother had been dead when that had happened. She couldn’t imagine what Rose would have done. Well, that wasn’t true. She could imagine. Rose would have run straight to her dad and her dad would have gone out and hurt Orion really, really badly. As it was, she and Libby had kept it to themselves.
A Catered St. Patrick's Day Page 18
