Twilight Whispers

by Barbara Delinsky

  “Keep your eyes on the papers. You’ll see for yourself. That is, if you can read.”

  “That,” Alex declared with a look of disgust that was terribly adult, “isn’t even worth answering.” Turning, he raced back along the pier, swung himself onto the walk, and within minutes disappeared behind the door of his home.

  Cavanaugh watched until he was safely inside, then locked his elbow through Jodi’s and set off at a jaunty pace.

  “I don’t believe it!” she whispered. She was grinning and kept darting incredulous glances over her shoulder.

  Cavanaugh was grinning too. “Oh boy,” he hummed. “Oh boy … oh boy.” His pitch rose with each repeat and his pace quickened.

  “He was there. We found him.”

  “Oh boy.”

  They reached the end of the pier and turned, all but flying past the bench on which they had sat earlier, heading straight for Cavanaugh’s car. When they reached it he swept her into his arms, hugged her from side to side, then swung her in a full circle.

  “It’s what I needed, babe! Couldn’t have been better!”

  “That’s the dock I think it is?”

  “Damn right. The guy climbed off the boat and swam to the fuckin’ police dock!”

  She laughed, then sighed. “Poor Alex. He had no idea what he was pointing to.”

  “Makes sense. The kid can’t see the dock from his window, so he wasn’t familiar with it. It’s visible only from the end of the pier where he was standing, and from that angle all you can see is the slash of neon where it says Boston Police Harbor Unit. When the tides are right you can’t even see the police boats.”

  For a minute they both wondered what would have happened had Alex known where the diver had gone. Then Jodi wondered something else. “Why didn’t the diver see Alex?”

  “Preoccupied, I guess. And it was dark. Alex could easily have blended in with that post he was glued to and he’s not the type that wants to be seen.”

  “But still, you’d think the guy would have been cautious.”

  “Arrogance overrides caution sometimes.” Cavanaugh held Jodi within the circle of his arms, his hands clasped at the back of her waist. “But it wasn’t Ryan himself. We suspected that, and Alex’s description confirmed it.”

  “So who was it?”

  “Someone with the department, probably with the Harbor Patrol Unit itself. It’ll be easy enough to find out who was on duty that night.”

  “You think it was someone on duty? That would have been really stupid.”

  “Not necessarily. There have to be two guys there at any given time, a boat operator and a scuba diver. Suppose the boat operator fell asleep—it’s been known to happen at one in the morning—and the scuba diver did his thing. He’d have been gone for half an hour, maybe a little more. The boat operator would never have known he’d left.”

  “They don’t have to sign out equipment when they use it?”

  “Not when they’re on duty. And even if they had to, what’s a little slip-up on paper when murder is the name of the game?”

  “Why would a cop—a cop—do it?”

  “Promise of future advancement? Blackmail? I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.”

  Chapter 19

  Cavanaugh met William Holstrom the next day in a small coffee shop in Brookline. It was a different shop from the one they had met in several days before, which in turn had been different from the one they had met in several days before that. All were far enough from the city limits to ensure secrecy. Neither man wanted to be seen with the other. At least not yet.

  “What have you got?” Holstrom asked directly.

  Cavanaugh spoke quietly. “I have a witness who saw a diver climb from the harbor onto the boat, go inside, come out, slip back into the harbor, then swim across to the Harbor Patrol Unit.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “The witness pointed straight to the dock and he didn’t even realize what it was. I did some work this morning. On the night of the murders, there were two men on duty at the unit. One was Anthony Amsbury, the boat operator. The other was the scuba diver, Chip Ryan. Officially, John Ryan, Jr.”

  Holstrom closed his eyes for a minute. When he opened them he was ready for battle. “You’ll have to speak with Amsbury.”

  “I did. He wasn’t feeling well that night.”

  “But he was on duty.”

  “He was fine when he came on, but after he and Chip had something to eat he began to feel woozy. He slept for two or three hours, right at his desk.”

  “Drugged.”

  “Probably. We can’t prove it, though. The evidence is long gone.”

  “Did he have any trouble after he woke up?”

  “A headache. It passed.”

  “Did he notice anything amiss with the equipment?”

  Cavanaugh shook his head. “Not that he was looking for anything strange, but Chip must have wiped everything down. And if there were wet towels where they weren’t supposed to be, Amsbury didn’t notice. They would be long gone, too.” He let out a breath. “I hadn’t even realized Ryan had a boy on the force.”

  “I knew it, but I’m glad I didn’t say anything earlier. You found out on your own. It adds credibility to the investigation. It also explains why he didn’t have to pay someone off to commit the murders. If the girl killed herself over the abortion, you can imagine what the rest of the family felt on both counts. They’re pretty devout.” He sat back, but his fist was as tightly clenched as his jaw. “Okay. We have motive and opportunity. Let’s bring them in.”

  But Cavanaugh had something else in mind. “Let’s get Chip first. He’s young. He can’t be as sure of himself as his father is. We may have an easier time cracking him, while Ryan could brazen it out.”

  “They could both do that. They could deny everything, call it a setup.”

  “The evidence is solid. Much more so than it ever was on Jordan Whyte.”

  Holstrom shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the mention of Jordan’s name. “I don’t like making mistakes. It doesn’t look good for the department, and it doesn’t look good for me. This time around I’ve made two—arresting Whyte and trusting Ryan. I was the one who made him a deputy superintendent.”

  “The man’s been on the force for years. His record is clean. You had no way of knowing he’d go off the deep end on a personal matter.”

  “But I want it cleared up. And soon.”

  “So do I. If nothing else we owe it to the Whytes. But I’ve always believed in doing things right. If we’re going to worm our way out of embarrassment we’ll have to make sure we have Ryan cold.”

  “Is there any chance,” Holstrom asked slowly, “that Ryan’s boy was acting on his own?”

  Cavanaugh had forced himself to consider that. “No. Ryan knew about those tapes. He all but told me where to find them. And Ryan masterminding the murders explains his obsession with this case. When he first assigned it to me he handed me a huge file. I assumed he had just been a Whyte-Warren follower over the years. It seems, though, that he put that file together over the last six months. Must have started it around the time of Julie’s abortion. One of the more lowly department secretaries confessed to having spent a lot of time in both the library and the department archives at Ryan’s request. She didn’t think to question it. So Ryan put together a file that was just thorough enough to look condemning, just condemning enough to give me food for thought.”

  Holstrom pressed his lips together and shook his head. “This one really is an embarrassment.”

  “Much less so if we can guarantee convictions.”

  “Mmm. You think you can get a confession out of the boy?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never met him. I’ll try my best.”

  “All on the up and up?” Holstrom asked, arching a warning brow.

  For the first time Cavanaugh grinned. “Always.”

  * * *

  It was very, very late that night when Cavanau
gh put through a call to Jordan, who picked up the phone with a groggy, “Yuh?”

  “You were sleeping.”

  “Cavanaugh?” He hoisted himself up.

  “Sorry to wake you, but it’s important.”

  “You didn’t wake me from anything deep. There’s this problem I’ve had lately—”

  “I think I’ve solved it.”

  Jordan’s spine straightened at the very moment a sleepy Katia sat up. “You have?”

  “How early can you get up here tomorrow?”

  “There’s a six-thirty shuttle. What’s happening?”

  “Take that flight. I’ll meet you at Logan at seven-thirty. I’ll tell you then.”

  “Tell me now, Cavanaugh.”

  “Too late. Not safe. But the word’s good.”

  “As in freedom?”

  “Bingo. Tomorrow morning. Seven-thirty. Be there.”

  * * *

  Jordan was, along with Katia, who couldn’t have cared less if she lost her job for missing another day of work, she was so determined to hear Cavanaugh’s news firsthand.

  As promised, Cavanaugh met them at the airport, then took a circuitous route back into the city to allow the time he needed to explain what had happened and what was yet to be done.

  “I’m going, too,” Katia declared after Cavanaugh had set forth his plan.

  “You are not,” Jordan stated.

  “But I’m part of this. By hurting you Ryan hurt me.”

  “You’re not going.”

  She turned her attention to Cavanaugh. “Is there any reason I can’t be there?”

  “It’ll be dangerous,” Jordan insisted.

  “Bob, is there?” When Cavanaugh simply shrugged, she pressed on. “We’ll be in Police Headquarters. What could be safer?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Cavanaugh quipped.

  Jordan was more specific. “Ryan could see that he’s cornered, pull out a gun and decide to take all of us down with him.”

  Cavanaugh chuckled. “Another ‘Miami Vice’ fan?”

  “He’s right, Jordan. What you’ve described is a scene from a TV script. Please. I want to be there. It’s possible I could even help. Seeing me will make what he’s done to you that much more real to him. I’m not that much older than his daughter was. My presence could weaken him.”

  “She has a point, Jordan.”

  “Christ, Cavanaugh, where’s your common sense? That office, under those circumstances, is no place for my wife. As a matter of fact, this whole thing is a little melodramatic. What you’re doing isn’t exactly common police practice.”

  “No, it’s not, but I’m loving it. For seventeen years I’ve gone by the book. I’ve lived and breathed standard procedure. Sure, there’s creativity involved in psyching out a case, but when you want to work your way up through the ranks you have to keep that creativity in check. Never let the guy above you know you’re more clever than he is—it’s an unwritten rule. Well, this time I’m going to let him know that he’s not more clever than the rest of us, and I’m going to enjoy doing it.” He shot a glance at Jordan, who was sitting in the passenger seat. “Remember the discussion we had once about the little unexpected twists in life that make things exciting? When I first got this case I never dreamed it would turn out the way it has. The twists have been unexpected, that’s for sure.” He refrained from saying exciting; after all, Jordan’s brother and sister-in-law were dead.

  “Let me remind you that this is my future you’re playing with.”

  “I’m not playing. I’m telling you, we’ve got the guy.”

  “So why do you need us along?” Jordan asked, but he was thinking more of Katia than himself.

  “For the sheer pleasure of it.” Cavanaugh grinned. “After all you’ve been through do you really want to miss out on the final coup?”

  No, Jordan didn’t. Nor did Katia. He understood that, which was why he finally gave in and dropped his objections about her accompanying them. Still, he was nervous, and he told her so during the minutes they were alone, when Cavanaugh stopped at a pay phone to make a call.

  “I don’t like this, sweetheart. If anything happens—”

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” she insisted, sitting forward in the backseat and reaching for his hand. Her eyes were brimming with anticipation. “Bob has it worked out. Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “I want you to stay by the door. If there’s the slightest sign of trouble, get out.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Yes, Jordan.”

  “‘Yes, Jordan.’ Why doesn’t that reassure me?”

  “Because you love me so much that you’re determined to worry.”

  “Will you be careful? Just stay in the background?”

  Taking pity on him, she simply nodded this time, doing her best to look sincere. Deep inside she knew she’d gladly strangle Ryan if he didn’t give them the satisfaction they sought, but she wasn’t about to tell Jordan that. Then Cavanaugh was back, preventing her from telling him anything.

  “All set. Ryan’s in. We’re on our way.”

  Fifteen minutes later the three walked down the hall to the squad room. They ignored the few curious glances that were thrown their way and proceeded directly to Ryan’s office. The door was ajar. Cavanaugh leaned around it and rapped. Ryan looked up.

  “Got a minute?” the detective asked. His gaze fell to the newspaper open on the chief’s desk. Ryan closed it, shoved it aside and nodded. His eyes barely widened when he saw Jordan and Katia on Cavanaugh’s tail.

  Cavanaugh waited until they were all in the office before closing the door. Then he tucked his hands in the pockets of his slacks and turned to Ryan.

  “I think we have a problem,” he began. Behind him and to his left Jordan and Katia stood studying the man who had wreaked such havoc with their lives. Jordan was feeling pure hatred, Katia pure disgust. To her, Ryan looked like an overweight and aging porcupine.

  “Mr. Whyte,” Cavanaugh went on, “is under indictment for a murder he didn’t commit.”

  “Isn’t that for a jury to decide?” Ryan asked. His voice was high, its tone bland, disinterested.

  Cocksure son of a bitch, Jordan thought.

  Pompous porcupine, Katia thought.

  “It shouldn’t have to go to a jury,” Cavanaugh said. “The case shouldn’t even come to trial. We were wrong in arresting him when we did. The indictments were a travesty.”

  Ryan was staring at Cavanaugh. “You were instrumental in that arrest.”

  “Under pressure from you. I wanted to wait. There were too many questions.”

  “A grand jury took the matter out of our hands,” Ryan said with a shrug of dismissal. “They seemed to feel there was enough evidence to warrant an indictment.”

  “They only heard what we gave the DA. It’s a one-sided affair, a grand jury hearing. There’s no chance for rebuttal.”

  Again Ryan shrugged. “That’s the system. There’s nothing we can do now.”

  “I believe there is,” Cavanaugh stated. All along his voice had been low, and it remained so. “I believe we can make up for our shortcomings of the past.”

  “This is beginning to sound like a revival meeting. Do you have something to confess, Cavanaugh? You were in charge of the investigation. Are you saying you did a lousy job?”

  If he had expected to rile Cavanaugh he failed. At the moment nothing could have riled the detective. He had his prey right where he wanted him. “Not at all. I’ve finally got the answers.”

  For the first time Ryan’s composure wavered, but only for a moment with a frown and the flexing of his fingers. “Well? I haven’t got all day.”

  Leisurely—all the better to annoy him—Cavanaugh strolled to the far side of the office. He wanted to put distance between himself and Jordan and Katia. If Ryan panicked and tried something he would have widespread targets.

  “From the start I had questions about Jordan’s supposed motive in killing his brother,” Cavanaugh said slowly. “It
didn’t ring true, not when I got to know him.”

  Ryan didn’t blink. “You were taken in. I’d have expected you’d be more professional than that.”

  “I was professional, all right. I began to wonder about those tapes. You knew about them.”

  “Of course I knew. You found them. You told me. So I knew.”

  “You knew about them before I found them. Don’t you remember getting nervous when it took me awhile? Was that why you kept urging me to go back to L.A. and look? Look everywhere? Take the place apart?”

  Ryan stood with greater speed than Cavanaugh had ever seen in him. “If there are problems with the way you handled the case it will be taken up before a board of inquiry. The department doesn’t air its dirty laundry in public.” The look he sent Katia and Jordan clearly branded them public.

  Cavanaugh was as calm as ever. “I don’t think you’ll want a board of inquiry to hear what I have to say. And as for Mr. and Mrs. Whyte being here, I think you owe them. We all owe them.”

  “We don’t owe them a thing! We did our jobs, and if they’ve suffered they had it coming.”

  Something about what he said and the way he said it struck a dissonant chord in Jordan. “Why?” he pressed, entering the conversation. “What did we ever have coming?”

  Ryan opened his mouth, then shut it again. Katia was in the process of amending her vision of him to one of a flounder when he sat down, obviously in what he felt was a show of dignity. Katia felt it was a show of arrogance.

  “You killed your brother and sister-in-law,” he said. “You cold-bloodedly murdered them.”

  “No, Ryan. I didn’t do that. You did.”

  Ryan studied Jordan for a minute longer, then swiveled his fat head toward Cavanaugh. “I want him out of here. I don’t like him.”

  “Is that why you set me up?” Jordan shot back. “Because you don’t like me? Or was it something about my family, or about the Warrens? Would any one of us have been right for the fall?”

  Katia put a restraining hand on Jordan’s arm. “Let’s let Bob continue,” she said softly, but Ryan heard.

  “Bob?” he echoed. “So it’s Bob? You’re on a first name basis now?” He glowered at Cavanaugh. “You have a lot to answer for. If you thought you were in line for Haas’ job you’d better think again.”