Evidence found in their vehicle and at a local motel room indicated that they were planning an armored truck robbery. The speculation was that the money taken in the robberies at the night deposit boxes was being utilized to fund their preparations for the armored truck heist. Surveillance video clips found in the motel room showed arrivals and departures of armored trucks at several local banks.
The talking heads concluded that these were very dangerous people who had already killed one robbery victim and clearly demonstrated in their final shootout with police that they would resort to any level of violence necessary to achieve their goals. As the speculation morphed into consideration that it was the foreign policy of the United States that was the genesis of this crime spree, Cindy changed the channel back to ESPN.
Justin and I ate lunch in relative quiet. It seemed that we were both lost in our individual thoughts, though I speculated that our thoughts were about similar topics. What will PJ plan to do next, and if need be, can I guide it?
Justin left after lunch and I ran a couple of errands for Juan. It was late afternoon when my cell phone buzzed. I was surprised when I looked at it and saw PJ's name. I answered and she told me that she'd been released from the hospital and that she really needed to see me. Her voice sounded steady, but weak. Nothing like I'd ever heard from her before. She told me that she was staying under an alias at the Pinnacle, thanks to Jeff Spencer, and that there was an envelope at the security podium with my name on it. Inside was her room number, and a room key, so that I could get past the security at the elevators. I told her I would be there within the hour.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Traffic was heavy, but I made decent time and was knocking on PJ's hotel room door forty-five minutes later. PJ answered the door wearing a baggy dark blue sweatshirt with a Hollywood PD logo on it, over gray athletic shorts. Her head still sported a large bandage and I could see that her hair was cut considerably shorter than her usual style. She attempted a smile as she held the door for me to enter, but she looked frail and the customary light was gone from her eyes. The circles I had noticed under her eyes the last couple of times I'd seen her were dramatically darker.
I said, "I'm so glad to see you PJ. We've all been so worried. How are you doing?"
As she walked toward the small table near the window on the far side of the room, her bare feet seeming to feel their way into each step, she said, "I'm doing better each day." Gesturing toward her head, "The worst thing is the hole they bored in my head to monitor the pressure. Everything else is pretty much just minor injuries. Some from bullets, some from flying debris, some just from my general clumsiness."
"Didn't sound clumsy to me. Sounded damn gutsy, if you ask me."
Slowly lowering herself into a chair she said, "Amazing what you can do when you know you are truly fighting for your life."
I sat down across the table, "I'm sorry about Tim. You certainly did everything humanly possible."
"That's what I want to talk to you about Jack. You're the only one I can talk to. I sure as hell can't tell the shrink the department's providing me. I can't tell anyone. Just you."
I had no idea where this was going, but I knew I needed to go there with PJ. The pain in her voice cut me to the core. I reached across the table and took her hands between mine and said, "I'm here PJ. You can talk to me, now and whenever you want to." Her hands were ice cold.
PJ looked down at the table and said, "Tim found out about our investigation into him the morning of the shooting." She looked up at me. There were tears filling her green eyes, "He died thinking that I believed he'd been responsible for the attack on Sissy." The tears overflowed and trickled down her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away.
I said, "Tell me the whole story." And then asked, "How did he find out? Did he have an explanation? What was it?"
PJ told me how Tim had found the file folder and his statements about his relationship with the FBI. Focusing on telling the story seemed to bring some life back to PJ. She took a tissue from the box on the table and wiped her eyes while she talked. I listened intently, all the while comparing what she was telling me to what Justin had said on the boat. PJ's words were bringing clarity to the picture Justin had sketched. What was emerging was ugly, a truly ugly picture.
When she completed the story, PJ looked at me with pleading eyes, "Jack, I don't know what to believe. I don't want to believe that Tim would do something to endanger Sissy, but this whole story about the FBI? How could the FBI be involved? If they were involved in the attack on Sissy they were involved in the deaths of Allison and Weston. It just doesn't make sense."
I've faced dilemmas in my life, but never anything quite like this. I wanted to take the pain from PJ by telling her that Tim's story was true. By telling her that Tim certainly never intended any harm to come to Sissy, that he could have had no way of knowing it would. I wanted to explain that it wasn't the FBI, but rather some rogue element of the CIA that was responsible. I wanted to tell her that I knew this to be true, because I'd been told so by my friend the mercenary. I slumped back in my chair contemplating opening Pandora's Box. Knowing once it was opened I would not be able to prevent the evil from escaping.
I needed time to think, so I asked, "Hey, did this room come with a mini-bar?"
PJ cocked her head as if thinking, "Yeah, I'm sure there's one here somewhere." Gesturing toward the built-ins along one wall, "Probably over there somewhere, I could use a Coke, can't have any alcohol with all of the meds I'm on."
I got up and found the mini-bar concealed behind a small wooden door in the furniture. There was no Landshark, but it seemed that the situation called for something a little stronger anyway, so I took a bottle of Johnny Walker Black and a Coke from the fridge. As I set the two drinks and two glasses on the table PJ looked up, "You're drinking scotch now?"
"What the hell, the city's buying, aren't they?"
Another smile, this one a little more genuine, "Yeah, they are."
I opened the can of Coke, poured part of it into a glass and pushed it across the table toward PJ. As I was pouring the scotch into my glass PJ said, "Sorry, there's no ice. We can call and have some sent."
I saluted her with the glass and said, "No problem. Good scotch doesn't need ice."
PJ took a sip of her Coke, the earlier smile had faded and pain again engulfed her countenance. I knew she was experiencing some physical pain, but this was obviously a deeper, darker pain. This was a pain that tortures the body through the mind. Tears again filled her eyes as she said, "Tim died thinking I believed he'd put Sissy's life in danger. Jack, I don't know if I can live with that."
I came around the table, kneeled next to PJ and wrapped my arms gently around her. She laid her head on my shoulder and sobbed. I didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, I just held her. Finally, I said gently, "You once told me that Tim always said that you needed to go wherever the evidence took you. That was all you were doing PJ, you were following the evidence. It's terrible that Tim died before you and he were able to fully understand what went on at the time Sissy was attacked, but that was not your fault. You did everything you could possibly do to protect Tim during the shooting. I'm sure he knew that."
PJ raised her head and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, "But, if it was the FBI that Tim gave Sissy's location to . . . it just doesn't make sense." Her words were punctuated with sobs.
I took out my handkerchief and gave it to her. My mother had required that I carry a clean handkerchief every day when I was a kid and the habit just stuck. While PJ wiped her face and regained her composure, I returned to my seat. My mind was spinning. I said, "I promise I'll help you figure out what Tim was talking about. At least to the degree we can unravel things. With Tim gone, it's going to be tough, but I promise I'll help you. I don't think you should mention this to anyone else though. The whole story about his problems in New York and his working with the FBI here would only taint his name. I'm sure there's some explanation for the w
hole thing that we're just not seeing right now. But I think you should give yourself some time to heal, both physically and emotionally before we try to dig into this again. You've been through a tremendous ordeal. Give yourself some time. You're taking some time off work, right?"
PJ wiped her eyes one final time and said, "The department has me on post-traumatic stress leave. I have to be cleared by a shrink before I can go back to work. But, to tell you the truth I don't know that I'm going to go back. This whole ordeal has really torn Angela up. She lost her father to this job and she nearly lost her mother. She's really struggling."
I looked around the room for signs of a teenager, but found none. I asked, "Where is Angela? I guess I thought she would be here with you."
PJ's face brightened for the first time since I arrived, "Oh, she'll be along in a little while. She's out with her grandparents doing a little shopping. We're all going up to Orlando for a few days tomorrow. Angela's staying with me here tonight and then tomorrow we're all going to Orlando. We've rented a condo for a week. The three of them will do some of the theme parks and I'll sit by the pool. Bill's parents have been wonderful through this whole thing."
She took a drink of her Coke and continued, "Hopefully, by the time we get back, some of the media hype will have died down and Angela and I can go back home. She needs to return to some normalcy."
I said, "I'm sure the department will give you all of the time you need to decide if you want to come back, or not."
PJ replied, "I don't know about that, but I've pretty much made my mind up. I just haven't told anyone. Please don't mention it to anyone yet."
I nodded, "Of course not. I won't say a word until you do. What would you do for a job?"
She exhaled deeply, "I don't know exactly. Probably spend a lot of time making up to Angela for all of the time this job has robbed from us. Won't be long before she's going off to college. I'm going to make the most of the time we have."
I was wondering how PJ would support herself if she didn't go back to work. She seemed to read my mind and said, "We'll be okay financially. Six months ago the civil suit against the drunk driver that killed Bill was finally settled. I put most of the money away for Angela's college, but there is enough extra for us to live, at least for awhile. At least until I figure out what to do next."
The Orlando trip would certainly buy me enough time to figure out a strategy to alleviate PJ's concerns about the leak of Sissy's location, without incurring the unspoken wrath of Justin. Suddenly, a question came to mind. I didn't want to take our conversation back to the whole mess, but I needed to know. I asked, "You said that Tim found the file that I'd given you. What happened to the file, do you know?"
PJ rubbed the back of her neck to mitigate the tension, like I'd seen her do so many times lately, "Yeah, I have it back. The investigators going through Tim's stuff found it and thought it was something he'd done as part of an application for a moonlighting job. It had the notes you made about security here at the Pinnacle along with notes about Tim's finances. They thought he was working to get an off duty job somewhere. They didn't think it should be entered into the logs because it could end up as public information someday so they just slipped it into my briefcase and told me to do whatever I thought was appropriate."
"Do you have it here? You want me to take it, so no one else finds it?"
"No, my briefcase is back at the office. The guys took it there for me. Don't worry it'll be fine. No one will mess with my stuff while I'm gone."
I thought for a minute and then said, "Okay, let's do this. You don't worry about this whole mess until after you get back from Orlando. Go away and enjoy your time with Angela. When you get back, we'll get together and figure out what we should do next. Sound good?"
"Sounds easier said than done. I just can't push Tim's last words out of my head."
I nodded, "I can understand that, but every time you start to think about that, try to make yourself remember one of the good times you guys had. I saw you guys together enough to know you worked really well as a team. Your styles complimented each other. Make yourself remember the good times. We'll see what we can do to deal with the rest later, together."
"Thanks Jack, I know I can count on you. I'll do my best to push it out of my head."
We sipped our drinks while PJ told me about Angela sleeping in the chair in her hospital room the nights her grandparents couldn't convince her to go home with them to sleep in a real bed. PJ said it was then that she started thinking she might not return to police work.
I asked if she had given any thought to what she might do for work and she said she knew a couple of retired cops who had started a firm doing preemployment background investigations for some of the large employers in the area. She was toying with the idea of doing something along those lines.
PJ seemed to be looking even tireder than she did when I arrived, so I told her I would get going so she could get some rest and enjoy her evening with Angela. She agreed and told me that Sissy was coming by later to have dinner with her and Angela. They were going to order room service because PJ couldn't chance having someone in one of the restaurants downstairs recognize her. PJ wanted to see Sissy before Sissy left for Atlanta next Monday.
With everything going on, I had completely forgotten that Sissy was leaving in a few days. I made a mental note to ask Marge if she thought we should have some sort of going away party for Sissy at Cap's.
Traffic was heavy on the drive back to Cap's, but I hardly noticed as I was distracted thinking about PJ and how to delicately blunt her inquiry into Tim's giving Sissy's location to the FBI.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
By the time I got back to Cap's Place it was already 7:00 p.m. Dana was tending bar and she told me that Marge had left for the day. I saw Moe coming out of the kitchen and met him in the center of the floor. I asked if he had eaten and he told me he was just thinking about getting something. We took an empty booth in the alcove near the pool table.
After we each ordered a cheeseburger and a drink Moe said, "Marge told me that Elena was cleaning up your diet. Doesn't look to me like she's making much headway."
I shook my head, "She thinks she's going to change me, in lots of ways, but I'm not so sure I want to change."
Moe rubbed his chin and leaned closer, "Then you better tell her that, and soon. Otherwise you're going to have one unhappy woman on your hands, and if she's unhappy, her father might be unhappy. We all know what the outcome of that could be."
"Jeez Moe, do we have to go there? I've got enough going on without worrying about Mancuso right now."
Moe held his hands up in surrender and with his baritone chuckle said, "No problem, Boss. You want to stick your head in the sand it's your business. I'd just work a bit on managing expectations with that woman if I were you."
Just then our waitress, a petite brunette who had started working yesterday and whose name I haven't learned yet, set our drinks down. Rum and Coke for Moe and Landshark for me. I took a long pull on my beer while Moe grinned at me and shook his head.
Deftly changing the subject I said, "It was really good of you to attend Tim's funeral. I agree with you, he was a good guy." I had again started to believe what I was saying was true.
Moe rattled the ice in his drink and took a sip. Then he said, "I never really knew any cops before. Not like people. I knew Mickey, but I didn't even really know him until after he retired. When he investigated my case, I only knew him as a cop. I never knew any cops, you know . . . personally. They weren't people, they were uniforms. Walking, talking uniforms. When I first met Tim and PJ I didn't like them."
I interrupted, "Really, why didn't you like them?"
"Because they were cops. Simple as that. I'm black and I grew up in Detroit. I don't like cops. Then when they started stopping in here from time to time, and Tim started talking to me about sports, I got to know them as people. They became people who earned their living as cops."
We each took a long drink whi
le I contemplated Moe's words. I nodded and said, "Well, it's good you did get to know them and it's good that you went to Tim's funeral. He was just a guy, like you and I, who got killed because he made his living as a cop. You honored him as a guy, not because he was a cop." Our burgers arrived and we fell silent while we ate.
As we finished eating, we both ordered a second drink. I asked Moe, "Do you think we should have some sort of going away party for Sissy? You know something here in the bar?"
"We're way ahead of you Jack, we're going to close at seven on Sunday and have a private party for her. We're closing so that everybody here can enjoy the party with her. Juan's making a bunch of snack foods and we're going to set up a simple buffet in the center of the floor."
"Who is invited?"
Moe replied, "Marge made Sissy create a list of people, some regulars from here, and some just friends she knows. Then Marge and I found either an email or phone number for each one of them and invited them. Well, except for the regulars, we just told them."
"Wow, you guys have put a lot of work in on this. Is there anything I can do?"
"Oh, you're doing plenty. You're paying for the food and drinks."
I said, "Sure sounds like you guys have everything under control. Just let me know if there's anything else I can do." I thought about asking if anything additional had happened in planning for the addition, but really wasn't up to learning how much more I didn't know about what was going on around here.
Moe and I finished our drinks and he told me he was heading home. I wandered upstairs thinking I would call Elena. I hadn't seen or talked to her since she left on Sunday. Then I got to thinking about Moe's comment about Elena cleaning up my diet and how I better be careful not to disappoint her. If I was completely honest, I would say that I really enjoy her company, but I'm not at all certain that I see our relationship progressing as quickly as she does. While I dismiss it every time Moe or Justin bring it up, there is the factor of her father to consider. I decided not to call, at least not tonight.
Quick Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 3) Page 23
