A Certain Justice

by John T Lescroart

  Once that was done, she fully expected to get a call or two from Abe. And she simply wouldn't be available. She had pulled her curtains, turned out the front lights. If he drove by to see her she wouldn't be home. She didn't think that if he came by he would wait all night, but if he did she had a story for that too – exhaustion, earplugs, a Dalmane.

  But he had not come over, had simply phoned twice and left messages and that had been that. He was a man's man, she was thinking. He wouldn't come whining to her about his problems. She liked that about him, too.

  He'd simply wait until they were together again, she believed. He'd bring up his questions about where she'd been – not in any accusatory way – what reason to accuse her of anything? – and she would come up with something plausible that had unexpectedly prevented her getting back to him. There were any number of excuses that she knew she could make him believe. He was upset and she couldn't blame him, but she just couldn't talk to him until after…

  Drinking her morning coffee, now having decided it was safe to open the curtains, she allowed herself a moment of repose. She had decisions to make about who she was going to call back – her daughter and the mayor had both left urgent messages, but five minutes wasn't going to make any difference.

  There was, she thought, something truly thrilling about physical infatuation. She was thinking back to when he'd been her young stud at San Jose State, how – remarkably – his body hadn't changed much at all. The chest had filled, broadened somewhat, but the belly was still a flatiron.

  There would be such sweet – bittersweet – irony if they could somehow, against all these odds, stay reconnected. She smiled unconsciously. On the desk at City Hall… the man was a piston.

  But more than that, she loved how he seemed truly to envision himself as such a pragmatist, a working cop, downplaying the brain of the Talmudic scholar that she knew his father was. And really such an idealist. If he only knew the truth of some of the hard – impossible at the time – choices she had had to make…

  Maybe sometime in the future she could let him know. When it would either matter more or not at all. Later, if their infatuation developed into the real thing. She was so incredibly moved by his sweet trust of her.

  Would he ever forgive her?

  Well, after this she would make it up to him. She'd try. She owed him that much for the part of him she had carried with her, lived with over the years. And the other part now – the one that she had found again.

  'What is it, honey? You sounded so upset.'

  Elaine had been righting herself over it, and in the end blood had won out. She had to talk to her mother – she couldn't just take Glitsky's word for something so important – and get a straight denial or a confirmation. Either way, then, she would know, and would better be able to act. Her mother would never lie to her.

  Loretta answered her that she didn't know why Abe would have said such things to her. 'I just saw him last night, honey. He told me about this and I passed it along to Alan Reston. Didn't he tell you that?'

  'He said you didn't call him back.'

  'That's true, but how could I? I didn't get home until nearly one – I was out with a couple of the supervisors' aides, trying to work out the administration of this Hunter's Point thing. I've got a few other things besides Lieutenant Glitsky on my mind just now, hon. I think Abe must be feeling the pressure. I've got to talk to him. Is he there now?'

  'No, he's gone over to Farrell's. I just wanted to know what you'd do…"

  'It sounds to me you're doing just right, Elaine. I'd do the same thing. If Abe can bring you Kevin Shea and you can guarantee his safety, then of course you've got to do it. That's all I've called for time and time again – the man's arrest.'

  'That's all you want?'

  'What else could I want, child?'

  'Even if he's innocent?'

  'Of course. Especially if he's innocent, which I don't think he is, mind you. I think Abe might be losing his perspective a little bit. If you hear from him, you have him call me, hear? Get this boy back on the right track.'

  'All right, Mom… I will.'

  'And as for you, I'd be a little careful.' Loretta went on about the pitfalls of abandoning procedures, then ended: 'All right, now you take care, I've got to talk to the mayor. You need anything else, just jingle me back, okay?'

  Damn damn damn you, Abe Glitsky! You don't know what you're messing with.

  'So I thought, Senator, that you might be able to put the best perspective on this oversight by personally delivering the permit to Mr Mohandas. I mean, the whole point of the rally is to protest the city's foot-dragging. I thought you could offset that…'

  'I think you're right, Conrad. If you want the truth, I don't think I would have approved the permit on this thing yesterday either if I were in your shoes. That's off the record now, but I believe you did the right thing. Now, though, since the rally seems to be going forward…'

  'I could send a limo. Be there in fifteen minutes with the signed permit.'

  'If you could make it a half hour I'd look a little better on television.' She laughed conspiratorially.

  'Thank you, Senator. I don't know how to thank you, but I'll remember this.'

  'Oh, nonsense, Conrad. It just gives me an excuse to say a few words in public, and you know I just live for those moments.' She laughed her deep, throaty, self-deprecating laugh.

  'Still…'

  'You hush now. Send your limo over. Bye bye.'

  68

  Glitsky had stayed with Elaine, discussing how they'd do it, for most of a half hour, then had called the office and lucked out by getting Carl Griffin, who'd drag a log a mile through deep sand and never ask why. After that he'd planned to drive directly down to Farrell's, but when he had gotten into his city-issued car by habit he checked and adjusted his rearview mirror, fiddled with the seat, moved it back a notch – and stopped dead.

  It was a full ten minutes before he turned the ignition key.

  Farrell, wary as a terrier but not quite half as cute, greeted Glitsky in a blue-tinted suit that fit him perfectly. With his hair slicked back and ponytail tied up he almost looked like a practicing attorney except for what looked like an ink stain or something that colored his lower lip and part of his chin.

  In the living room papers were lying around, old food containers, beer bottles, soda-pop cans, pizza cartons. Farrell introduced his visitor to Bart the dog and then, catching Glitsky's look, told him the cleaning lady had unexpectedly taken some time off.

  Thinking, 'What? For a century?', Glitsky picked his way across the room and plunked himself down on an overturned milk crate. 'Business a little slow lately?' he asked. Bart came up and sniffed at his shoes, his cuffs, his pants. Glitsky petted him.

  Farrell came back from doing something in another room and was looking at his watch. 'I got about eight forty-one.'

  Glitsky checked his own. 'About.'

  'I can't figure how I can avoid the call with Kevin. There's no way I can reach him to warn him off. I've got to be here for him when he calls,' Farrell said, lowering himself onto the futon. 'That was you last night, wasn't it?'

  "That was me.'

  'So how do you think we ought to handle it?'

  Glitsky reached down and scratched at Bart's head again and the dog nuzzled up against his shoes.

  'You really don't know where he is?'

  Farrell acted offended. 'Look, Lieutenant, I'm here. I'm here for no money because I believe Kevin Shea is as innocent as you or me. If I knew where he was I'd be with him. That's my story and you can take it or leave it. I'm not playing any lawyer games. I'm out of the trade.'

  A nod. No apology, though. 'So the only way we find out where he is, we got to take the call?'

  'That's how I see it.'

  'Then it's going to be a race. You got a back-up place, someplace you decided you'd meet if everything fell apart?'

  'No,' Farrell said wearily. 'You know, Lieutenant, we hadn't exactly planned all this.
What do you mean, a race?'

  'I mean as soon as the FBI places your boy, they're going to be rolling, and you'd better plan to be doing the same thing. I've met Special Agent Simms, and she's here to put out fires, no questions asked.'

  'Kevin Shea is a fire?'

  'I know she's considering him armed and dangerous.'

  'But he's not. He's nothing like that.'

  Glitsky shrugged – people got things wrong all the time.

  ' So I just ask him where he is and head out there?'

  'Yeah, I think so.'

  Farrell shook his head, blew out a long breath. 'And then what?'

  It didn't take long. They were still in San Francisco's jurisdiction, regardless of the FBI's presence. Glitsky – he omitted the fact of his administrative leave – could make a formal arrest, with the bonus of it being in the presence of Shea's attorney and another witness. The assistant district attorney, Elaine Wager, was on board and she'd agreed to help, get Kevin Shea down to a safe zone, maybe even assist Farrell in trying to get the indictment quashed.

  The telephone rang. Both men looked at their watches – it was well over fifteen minutes before the call was due.

  To Farrell, there were still logistics, a lot of them, to discuss. He didn't feel ready, but he grabbed it before the second ring was over. Listening, he began to frown. 'Yeah, he's here, just a minute.'Then, to Glitsky: 'Elaine Wager.'

  Elaine told Glitsky she had talked to her mother, who had denied all of his allegations. All she wanted was Kevin Shea's arrest – that's all she had wanted all along. Loretta didn't really think – and Elaine had come to agree with her – that it would be a good idea to transport Shea out of the city and county. That was really a police matter, and Elaine was with the DA's office, not the PD. It was beyond the scope of her professional responsibilities. She had to be careful not to go outside the accepted procedures – look at all the problems that kind of thing had caused for O.J. Simpson's prosecutors. Did she want that kind of circus.

  No, the smart thing was to play it by the book. She could still have Abe deliver Shea to her, and then they could all go downtown and book him and somehow guarantee his safety. To think anything would happen in jail was really just paranoia. People rarely got killed in jail, especially if there was the kind of notoriety that there was in this case. Whatever, Kevin Shea would be especially protected. He should not be concerned about it.

  Glitsky was thinking maybe she should ask Jeffrey Dahmer about that, but held his tongue. Then he told her that her whole new idea wasn't going to fly.

  'Why not?'

  'Because Mr Farrell isn't delivering Kevin Shea to the San Francisco jail, not without more assurance of security than that.'

  Which was where it ended, except for the final note that Elaine thought that Abe might be working too hard, seeing things that weren't really there.

  He replaced the phone gently into its cradle. It was five minutes of nine. He relayed the message to Farrell, who had been hovering, getting the gist as it developed.

  'So now what?'

  Glitsky stared across the room. 'I don't suppose you'd be amenable to taking your client downtown?' He didn't even wait for an answer. It was going to come down to him and Loretta, as something in him had known it would have to. Farrell started to reply but Abe stopped him with a gesture to show the question hadn't been serious. But this next one was: 'How about if I can get the senator herself?'

  Farrell, embittered by Elaine's turnaround, was shaking his head. 'I don't know if she-'

  'She can. Reston's her man. She could get him to promise protection, and meanwhile call off the FBI, take the message to the community, get Mohandas to call off his Dead or Alive rhetoric.' He paused. 'She's the only one who can do it.'

  'But why would she? Didn't she just tell… wasn't that her daughter…?'

  'She's protecting her daughter's job, her career. This is different.'

  'She won't do it, Lieutenant.'

  Glitsky was grim. 'She might.' He was on his feet. 'You got a beeper?'

  'No. I used to.'

  Glitsky pulled at his belt. 'Here, take mine. If she'll do it, if we can deliver Shea to her, if she stands up for him in public, you won't get a better guarantee than that.'

  'But even if she does, how will you…?'

  Glitsky pointed at his beeper. 'I'll call that number. If you get a chance, call me back and tell me where you are, where Shea is. If you get there before the FBI, get the hell out of wherever you are, go someplace else and wait for me to call you again. If not – if the feds are right behind you, call nine one one. Point is, get some other people there. Get some witnesses.'

  'And what if Loretta Wager just won't do it?'

  At the door, Glitsky turned. 'Same basic plan, counselor, except if you don't get beeped and do manage to get out in front of the feds…?'

  'Yeah?'

  'You didn't hear it from me, but ride like the wind.'

  69

  There was the doorbell – the limo, she supposed. She had told the mayor a half hour and apparently he was in such an all-fired hurry that he'd sent it in half that time.

  She was just finishing her hair. Well, she wasn't about to do the rest of her makeup in the car. She'd tell the man he'd have to wait.

  Her steps echoed on the hardwood as she walked up through the back rooms to the foyer.

  'Abe!'

  'I tried to call,' he said. 'Nobody answered.'

  'No,' she said. 'I know. I got your message but I got in so late…'

  'Elaine said she'd talked to you.' He squinted out at the sun, into the wind. 'You mind if I come in a second?'

  'Well, I'm expecting a… sure.' She smiled brightly at him. 'It can only be a minute, though. I've got to get to the rally.'

  He stopped midway through the door. 'You're going to the Mohandas rally?'

  She reached out and touched his sleeve. 'Not what you think. The mayor asked me to deliver the permit for it, that's all.' She shrugged. 'Political favor. The limo ought to be here any-'

  He brought the door to, closing it with the flat of his hand. She tried a smile – confused, actually concerned about him, the pressure he was under. She moved toward him-

  'No,' he said.

  She drew back. 'No what, Abe?'

  His gaze was flat, without expression. Cop mode. She tried again, reaching out. He moved to the side and away from her. 'I was a half hour away from picking up Kevin Shea, getting this whole thing over with the only way I could,' he began, 'and you sandbagged me.' He was moving slowly away from her, keeping a steady distance, back through the cavernous living room toward the library.

  'Abe, please, I did nothing of the kind. If anything I was trying to help you both – Elaine from making a mistake that could cost her her job, her career; you from being drummed out of the police department altogether.'

  He nodded, something had been confirmed. But he was holding it close, giving nothing away. 'As opposed to what?' he asked.

  'As opposed to this administrative leave, that's what. You're hurting yourself, Abe, with such a-'

  'How do you know about the administrative leave, Loretta?'

  A blip of lost control. A vein showed in her temple. 'Well, I…'

  'I got the word around midnight last night. When did you get it?'

  He had maneuvered them both back into the library, where they had come the first night. It was the closest thing in the house to his turf.

  Loretta was framed by the door.

  'I don't know,' she said. 'Really, I just don't know.' Her eyes looked wounded. She took a step toward him. 'Why are you being so cold, Abe? Why are you talking to me this way. All I did was tell Elaine to make sure she followed the rules.' She ventured a couple more steps, stopped. 'That's who told me about you. It was Elaine.'

  'About the leave?'

  'Yes.'

  He nodded again. 'How did she know? I never mentioned it to her.'

  A narrowing of vision. 'Well, then she didn't get it from
you. Maybe she talked to Alan Reston. Maybe she heard it on the news. All I know is that she told me.' She closed the last few feet between them. 'Abe, please. Why are you doing this?'

  Now, her eyes glistening from the pain he was putting her through, she lay her palm on his arm. 'Please.'

  He stepped back. Her hand fell. 'I want you to call her,' he said.

  'And say what?'

  'Tell her I've explained things to you. How they stand. Tell her it's the right thing.'

  'But it isn't. It could ruin the case, ruin her.'

  'There is no case, Loretta. Kevin Shea is innocent and you know it.'

  The response had the quality of a reflex, but she took a little extra time to phrase it. 'No white men are innocent, Abe. You know that.'

  He'd heard this a thousand times in one form or another, and it had no effect on him now. 'Some are,' he said simply. 'Kevin Shea's one of the good guys, Loretta.'

  'Oh, so why don't we put up a statue to him?'

  'He didn't do it and you've railroaded the whole country into thinking he did.'

  She narrowed her eyes. 'So what?'

  'So what? You can undo it.'

  'Get a life, Abe. Even if this boy himself didn't do it – don't you see? – he represents what happened.'

  She stood firm. 'What would be worse, Abe, is if no one got arrested or punished for what happened to Arthur Wade… If it just went unavenged.'

  Suddenly he'd had enough. He wasn't here for politics or philosophy. 'You have to call Elaine.'

  Her back stiffened. 'I'm not going to do that. It could ruin her, it could end her career, everything she's worked for-'

  'No,' he said, 'it could ruin yours.'

  She let a brittle laugh escape. 'You think this is about me. Abe, please, come on…' She kept following him, slowly moving in closer, one step. Another. Hesitant on the face of it, a confidence underneath. It had always worked before. 'This is about Elaine. Only Elaine, not me.'