Burden of Truth

by Terri Nolan

  “How did this happen?”

  Gerard looked up at the bright sky and wiped his brow. Looked over at Warren’s lifeless body and frowned. “It’s a long story, sweetheart.”

  “We’ve got plenty of time.”

  “Unfortunately for me, we don’t.” He pointed at the van. “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m just here to say goodbye to my girl. I’m going to be dead soon.” He took a shallow puff off the cigarette and snorted smoke out his nose.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Keep going, Bird, riddle it out. Ask the small questions, because I don’t have time for the big ones.”

  She wanted to know about the Blue Bandits. She wanted to know what would rock the LAPD. She wanted to know how many other men her dad murdered without flinching, and with no apparent moral dilemma. But she knew the coolers would contain those answers.

  The coolers. Now she knew why they were rigged to blow.

  The storm clouds of concealment parted and the sun shone on the answers. It was her dad, not Arthur, who was the at-large Paige Street suspect.

  And it was she who filled in the blanks for her father when they met for dinner at the Westend. On the night that O’Brien rummaged through the boxes at her house, Gerard made sure she was out long enough for a search. They were supposed to meet for dinner. Not dinner and a movie. But during the conversation, he learned about the boxes and the property and persuaded her to stay out longer so that he or his partners could arrange for O’Brien to search the house. This meant he knew about Matt’s evidence boxes beforehand. Just as Soto did.

  “You were in with Antonio Sanchez to rob the Alvarado’s on Paige Street?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to the money?”

  “It’s best you not know.”

  “Dad—”

  He waved his hand in dismissal. “Keep going.”

  “S&M said O’Brien killed Reidy. True?”

  Gerard nodded.

  “But why? He didn’t know what was in the boxes.”

  “We couldn’t take that chance.”

  “Why didn’t you just kill Matt?”

  “You loved him. He loved you. You two were good for each other. Had circumstances been different, I really would’ve liked him as a son-in-law.”

  “Did you kill Denis?”

  “Oh, boy. If you know about Denis then I have less time than I thought. I made a promise that I was going to get the bastard responsible. I screwed up. I used those pretty shells you collected in Utah. Figured it’d be divine justice. Recovered three out of four. Ron saw me reload those shells. I shouldn’t have allowed that. In my grief, I got sloppy. You should’ve seen the look on Denis’ face when he saw me staring at him through the sight. I never liked him anyway.”

  “How did you know it was Denis?”

  “Denis was an employee we recruited after you and he broke up.”

  The new contract.

  “We utilized his flight services. He was well paid, but he was overly greedy and cocky. He wanted more. We refused. He threatened.” Gerard flicked an ash and took another drag.

  “So he sent you a message by abducting me. That was why the kidnappers didn’t want anything from me. Denis used me to send an ‘up yours’ and took his revenge in the process.”

  Gerard grimaced. “Since the day I met Maggie and fell in love, I wanted to do right by her. For years we tried to have a baby. Your mom had four stillbirths before you came along. You were our miracle. The only child we’d ever have. I wanted to take care of my girls. In all the years I’ve been doing bad business, no one has ever threatened my family. It’s just not done. Until that sonofabitch Denis with the bushy eyebrows had no sense to play by the rules. Even bad guys have rules, Bird. He crossed the line and he had to pay. The fact you lived was another miracle.”

  It was too much to bear. The woman in her was overwhelmed; the reporter in her wanted more.

  “And Emmett?” she said.

  “Soto did that one. Emmett was a patsy. Rankin was blackmailing him about April. When you were first snatched, I thought

  it might have been Emmett because he threatened you. Come to find out he had nothing to do with your abduction, but we couldn’t let him go. Soto did a brilliant job in whacking Denis’ two goons and pinning the whole thing on Emmett. Very impressive work. Soto got a tremendous amount of pleasure in framing Matt’s brother. Retribution, man.”

  “But the timing—”

  “It’s like this … Denis threatened me, so I had a tracking device put on his car. I tracked all his movements. After questioning Emmett, Denis became suspect numero uno. But he was a greasy sucker and found the tracker, thus removing him from my reach. He had his goons drop you at the same spot where O’Brien killed the lawyer.” Gerard waved a finger. “Now that was a clever diversion. But one of Soto’s men waited and the stupid bastard led Soto straight to the pump house, but Denis saw his tail before going in. Didn’t matter. Soto used the opportunity to set up Emmett. And then we waited for Denis to go home.”

  “There’s forensic and DNA evidence to put Denis in the pump house. Then the truth about Emmett will surface and it’ll be all over.”

  “You’re right. There’s a shit-load of evidence in that awful place. The lab is great, state-of-the-art, but it’s also understaffed. By the time it’s analyzed, categorized, studied, compared, and such, us three top cats will be long gone. Rankin took his own life last night. I took Soto’s. I’ve dispatched a letter of confession and named all the others involved. There were eight of us.”

  “Were Arthur and Thom involved, too?”

  “No. But they knew. They’ve been silent for the family’s sake. I wanted to come clean after Paige Street. I just didn’t have the balls and Arthur took it for me. I’m ashamed.”

  “Why, Dad? Why get involved with bad business? Tell me.”

  Gerard hung his head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; I have to die with that answer. I’ll be judged as a man should be. I’m prepared to pay in full.” He dropped his cigarette butt and lit another.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “To say goodbye to my girl.”

  Birdie told Gerard about how she had Maggie destroy the leftover shells. And the next words that came out of her mouth surprised her. “Don’t do it, Daddy.”

  Gerard’s cigarette dropped from his mouth. He looked at her with sad blue eyes.

  “Don’t you see?” she said. “That’s why Matt gave me the key with the clues. He could have sent it to Danny with instructions. But Matt gave me the power to decide all our fates. It’s my decision! The evidence is rigged to blow. No one will ever know.” She popped up off the crate. “All you have to do is deny everything. Soto and Rankin are gone. There will be no proof. Say that Soto wrote the letter and it’s a pack of lies.”

  Gerard hung his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Bird.” He looked up at her, eyes weepy. “That’s not the way I raised you. You have a solid moral spine. You may flirt with rebellion, but you always do the right thing and I know you’d be doing it for me, but that’s not right and you know it. You’ll live to regret the decision and you’ll come to hate yourself. Besides, there’s plenty of proof to be found. Even without Matt’s stockpile.”

  He picked up his cigarette from the ground and puffed. A familiar sound shattered the desert sky. Gerard searched the shiny blue sky for the approaching helicopter.

  “Well, Bird, that’ll be the cavalry. I’m sorry I didn’t have more time.” He pulled her into a last hug. She whiffed his woodsy aftershave, the one he’d been wearing her entire life. “You’re my girl forever. No matter how weak I was as a man, as a cop, I’m your father and I love you more than words can say.” He held her tight. “You girls are going to have to take care of each other from now on. I’m so sorry that you and your mother will have to live with my rot
ten legacy.”

  The large LAPD helicopter made a wide circle above them. A silver and black bird, it banked and circled again.

  Gerard leaned over Warren and mumbled a Latin prayer for the departed. He got into the car. Birdie ran to the driver’s side door and leaned in the open window.

  “Please don’t leave, Daddy,” she pleaded.

  The helicopter descended into the date palm stumps. Dry, biting dust swirled in the rotor wash.

  “You haven’t called me Daddy since you were ten.” He patted her arm. “Bird, you have to make sure the boxes get to Daniel Eubanks. Promise me. I’m going to make sure it ends for good. Make me that promise.” He gave her the blue-fire look of seriousness.

  She nodded.

  “Good girl. I’m proud of you and everything you’ve created. You’re a strong woman.”

  Three men jumped out of the police helicopter, heads bent, and ran toward them. Gerard put the car in drive, made a three point turn, and began to accelerate.

  Birdie ran alongside the car. “Dad, you aren’t going to leave me.” He didn’t slow or look her way, but she saw the tears streaming down his profile. She ran faster. “Don’t leave like Matt did. Stop. Please!”

  He sped off.

  “DAAADDY!”

  A man caught her arm. She spun around and saw two men lunge back in the cabin of the helicopter. The third held her in place.

  It was Ron. “Birdie—”

  “Let me go.” She hit Ron in the face with her elbow.

  Ron’s face distorted with the blow. But he didn’t attempt to stop her. Then she threw a punch into his chest. Then hit him again, and again, as if hitting would focus her rage. He absorbed the blows with grimaces and grunts, but he took them nonetheless and continued to do so until she was completely broken and had nothing else to give.

  forty-eight

  Birdie lay on her side on top of a crate. The helicopter returned to make a landing and the whirling pulled her away from unconsciousness. The rotor blades swirled the dust like a devil wind. A figure stood near the entrance to the shelter, held something to his head—a phone?—then threw it. He moved like a mirage through the dirty haze. The wavering figure drew closer. Ron. He knelt before her and brushed the hair from her face.

  “You’re one filthy girl,” he said. He helped her to sit and handed her a bottle of water.

  “Did I faint?”

  “Exhaustion. Drink.”

  Birdie held the plastic bottle to her mouth and swallowed. The water cleansed the dust from her throat. The earth rumbled. The crates shuddered. The ground bounced with the earth’s vibration.

  Earthquake, thought Birdie.

  A plume of white dust billowed from the bomb shelter.

  She shot up. “The evidence!”

  The white dust became black smoke. The ground shook violently with another eruption. She stumbled. Ron pushed her to the ground and shielded her body with his. A series of thunderous explosions filled the air. The black smoke choked the air. A crate stack toppled. Ron grabbed her shirt and pulled her up. They ran away from the smoke and were met by Thom and another man with the insignia of the Indio P.D. on his sleeve.

  “What the hell?” said Thom.

  “Evidence,” screamed Birdie. “It was rigged to explode. It’s gone.”

  _____

  The Indio P.D. conducted dead body business. The California Highway Patrol and the LAPD chased Gerard. Thom videotaped the crime scene and the remnants of the bomb shelter.

  “So this is it,” said Birdie. “How am I supposed to live with the loss?”

  “Enlightenment will come later,” said Ron. “You’re strong and stubborn and brave and one day you’ll be able to draw on that strength and see yourself through this darkness.”

  “That from an agnostic,” she said. “All this time I thought it was Arthur or Thom. I never would’ve imagined that it was Dad. Did you know?”

  “Sort of. I wasn’t completely honest … the methadone vials? They led to a drug treatment facility named Janko Medical Center. Patrick and I surveilled it when you were missing. I saw two men go in with a small package and come out empty handed. One of them was Gerard’s adjutant, and the other ended up on the security detail at your hospital room.”

  “That’s not enough proof of Dad’s guilt.”

  “Not by itself. Add inductive and deductive reasoning. Knowing how criminals behave. Twenty years of experience. I used it all to come to a conclusion.”

  “But there were inconsistencies with Arthur’s and Thom’s behavior. Thom hit me.”

  “We need to discern what is life and what is criminal. I know you’d rather believe one of them dirty before you could believe the same of your father. They’ve been trying to keep it from the family.”

  That’s why Arthur mislead her with his bad package comment?

  “They told you?”

  “Not exactly. I cornered Thom in a moment of weakness and he told me about what happened at Denis’ and what he and Arthur did to you. If you look at it rationally then you’d see they were shielding you from the truth about your father and to protect you from Soto and Rankin. After George was shot and I came up to L.A. it all came together. Your cousins were tired. They were burning both ends. Arthur doesn’t have a social life. Thom and his wife have serious marital issues. Those two were trying to keep the family in the dark. But events escalated and some terrible things happened. It promised to get worse unless it was stopped for good.”

  Thom approached, cell to his ear. Birdie saw the pain on his face. “At least it happened before the news helicopters arrived,” he said.

  “What happened?” said Ron.

  “Just what you’d expect,” said Thom. “Suicide by cop. When the pursuit ended he blasted his way out of the car. The CHP had no choice. Leave it to Uncle Gerard to save himself from Death Row.”

  Birdie’s lips trembled. “He ended his life on his own terms. Controlled the manner of his death. To spare us a trial. He may have been a bad package, but he was a damn good dad.”

  forty-nine

  Friday, February 17

  Absolve, Domine, animas omnium fidelium defunctorum ab omni vinculo delictorum. Et gratia tua illis succurrente mereantur evadere judicium ultionis et lucis æternæ beautitudine perfrui. Release the souls of all the faithful departed from every bond of sin, O Lord. Enable them by the help of your grace to escape the avenging judgment that they may enjoy the happiness of eternal light.

  _____

  The crowd at Gerard Keane’s funeral was small. There were no police escorts, helicopters, black-banded police shields, uniformed cops, nor adoring and thankful public, just the Keanes, Whelans, and a smattering of friends. Though the Keanes and Whelans had cause to war, there was no moral high-ground on which to plant a flag. The Irish Mob was down three men. They’d suffer and heal as a unit; still unified by shared religion, heritage, and occupation. It bound them together and gave them strength.

  Birdie and Maggie would never forget their rock. They’d go to Mass, say their prayers, and light candles in his memory. No matter what would be revealed about his illegal activities in the days to come, his memory as a father and husband would never diminish.

  fifty

  Ron prepared dinner in Birdie’s kitchen. Louise paced the floor

  in hope of a fallen scrap. Birdie sat in the library, mesmerized by the city lights, lost in a meditative nothingness.

  Frank entered the room swirling the contents of a wine glass and took residence in his favorite chair. Birdie inhaled the essence. “Black plum and licorice. Flavors usually associated with scotch.”

  “Your nose is like a bloodhound’s,” said Frank. “You must do something productive with that ability. Perhaps the perfume business? As an aside to writing true crime?”

  An appropriate analogy, thought Birdie. She’d been think
ing about tracking lately. There were too many unanswered whys and only one person to provide the answers. The one who collected the evidence. But she’d have to find him first.

  “Madi’s branching into clothing design,” said Birdie. “If she goes into fragrance, I’ll be her nose.”

  “She’d be happy to have you.” Frank took an appreciative sip of wine and set the glass on the side table. He removed his sweater and gently tossed it to the couch. “Thank you for the invitation. It’s not often I have the privilege of dining with my favorite parishioner.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t cook.”

  Frank sighed contentedly. “Isn’t it amazing how love and grace transforms us simple humans? We suffer. We grieve. Then one day we self-actualize.”

  “Wow, Frank. That’s random.”

  Frank smiled mischievously. “This scene … a man in the kitchen cooking, a dog wandering around … it’s domestic. He’d be happy for you. He wants you to love this man and make a life.”

  Birdie’s radar pinged with Frank’s use of the present tense.

  “Why is it he always wanted for me, yet couldn’t provide?” Birdie waved her hand in dismissal. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve acknowledged my feelings to Ron.”

  Frank’s eyes glowed. “This pleases me.”

  “But you know, Ron has secrets. He blew up the evidence.”

  “All men of a certain age and occupation have something to conceal. As for the other, it was redundant at the end.”

  Birdie froze with a sudden realization. How could Ron know of the evidence’s redundancy? She thought back to that day in Indio, to the mirage-like image of Ron throwing something into the shelter moments before it blew. She thought it had been a phone. She went further back and remembered a two a.m. call.

  Birdie knelt in front of Frank and looked up into his eyes “You’ve talked to him,” she said. “Ron’s talked to him, too.”

  “Bird,” said Frank sternly, “be careful.”

  She grasped his hands. “Do you know where he is?”