by Jo Leigh
Bobby was innocent. No question remained, no doubt at all. It wasn’t possible for his kid brother to commit murder, not even manslaughter. Why had it taken this to get him to see that? Kate had been right from day one. Damn it all to hell, he’d tripped up somewhere and now Bobby was facing murder charges.
“Hold it,” he said.
The cops stopped and looked him over. The blond kid, he wasn’t that much older than Bobby, stared for a minute at the LAPD logo on his chest.
“I’m Detective T.J. Russo. Hollywood homicide.”
“Looks like we solved this one, Detective,” the shorter cop said. T.J. looked at his name plate. Officer J. Freed.
“What’s the charge?”
“Murder two. Arson.
T.J. turned his attention to Bobby. “Did they read you your rights?”
T.J. didn’t think he would answer. His stare was so full of hatred, it could peel paint. As it was, it took a few years off TJ.’s life.
The silence grew and then there was a little commotion from inside. It was Kate. She wasn’t in shorts anymore. She wore a simple dress with plain pumps. The latest in jailhouse chic. Molly was beside her, and the look she shot T.J. didn’t make him feel any better. It was clear she blamed him, too.
“Bobby, remember,” Kate said, walking right to him. “You don’t say a word until you talk to the attorney. I’ve called him and he’ll meet us at the station.”
Bobby nodded, still staring hard at T.J. Kate followed his gaze. “Go get changed,” she said. “I’ll wait for you.”
“I don’t want him there,” Bobby said, practically spitting the words.
She turned back to him. “Bobby—”
“He put me here. I won’t cooperate if he’s there. I swear to God. I’ll clam up so tight you won’t know what to do. I mean it. Just keep him the hell away from me.”
She hesitated. Then she nodded. “Go on. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
The officers had watched this little slice of human drama with serene indifference. But before they reached the car, Freed turned to T.J. “Who are you?”
T.J. swallowed. He couldn’t find his voice for a second and had to cough. “I’m his brother,” he said.
“No, he’s not,” Bobby said. “He’s nothing to me. I don’t even know his name.”
The smaller cop opened the door to the black-and-white, then put his hand on Bobby’s head so he wouldn’t bang his head against the window frame. T.J. couldn’t watch.
He heard the engine start. He heard the car move into gear and take off. His guilt felt like a noose around his neck.
“Go on. Get dressed.”
It was Kate, beside him. He didn’t move. She touched his shoulder and he winced.
“It’s going to be all right. Just get yourself dressed.”
“He said he didn’t want me there.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“I don’t want to do any more damage.”
“You’re going to have to trust me. I know you don’t want to, but that’s just too darn bad.” She walked in front of him, forcing him to look at her. Her face was filled with determination, not defeat. She didn’t hate him, even though she had good reason.
“Will you trust me?” she said in a whisper only he could hear.
“Yes.”
“Good. You have three minutes. Wear a suit.”
When he didn’t move, she took his hand in hers. “I don’t want your mother getting to the station first. Understand?”
He nodded, squeezed her palm, then went inside.
The really great thing about knowing everyone at the police station was that they let her sit in with Charley McKeague and Bobby.
Charley was an old friend, an attorney who reserved his pro bono work for her kids. He was in his sixties and sharp as a tack. She enjoyed being with him. His speech was slow and very calm. He soothed the way classical music soothed, working on a part of the brain she couldn’t name. Charley was also the happiest married man she’d ever met. He’d been with his wife for over forty years and he talked about her as if they were newlyweds.
Today he’d worn a necktie that was bright, to say the least, and she knew without asking that he’d done it for Sara. One of the grandkids had probably given him the awful thing for Christmas and Sara had probably said it was only right that he should show how much he loved the thought, if not the gift itself.
He sat across from Bobby, on her right. He leaned forward a bit, giving Bobby his whole attention. Every so often, he would write on his yellow legal pad; then pause and ask another question.
Kate tried to follow the conversation, make sure every angle was covered, but thoughts of T.J. sitting in the hallway on that small bench kept crowding in. He’d been silent the whole drive over, silent when he’d met Charley. She was pretty sure she knew what he was thinking, how worried he was about Bobby, but the silence bothered her a lot. It wasn’t like him. He should be on a tear right now, demanding Bobby’s release, throwing his weight around. Not sitting there so quiet. So disheartened.
“Tell me about this necklace, Bobby,” Charley said, that liquid voice of his unsuited to the ugly room and uglier circumstances.
“My mother gave it to me. I told you that already.”
“You sure you can’t remember when?”
Bobby shook his head. “It was a long time ago. When I was a kid.”
Kate saw the slight smile whisper over Charley. “For a birthday present?”
Bobby stared at the scarred table. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Does it have any special significance? Perhaps for your confirmation?”
He looked up then, the fear so apparent in him it made Kate’s stomach tighten. “Look, she gave it to me so I wouldn’t tell, okay? That she’d been drinking. It was a bribe. I didn’t even want the friggin’ thing. Can’t we just let it go?”
Charley gave Kate a questioning look.
“Let’s skip it for now, can’t we? Move on to something else?”
Charley nodded. “When you were watching the fire, did you see anyone? Anyone at all?”
“Sure. Firemen. Rubberneckers. There was a bunch of people all over the place.”
“Did anyone see you?”
Bobby shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“It’s important. They say there are eyewitnesses, son. Three of them.”
“They’re lying scum.” Bobby’s voice was loud and tinged with panic. Kate reached over, but he moved his hand away. “I didn’t start that fire!”
“It’s going to be our job to prove that, young man. And if we keep our cool, we can do just that.”
“Yeah, well, you just let me out of here. I’ll find that rat bastard.”
“Who?”
“Danny Arcola. He’s been trying to get me in his gang for months. Trying to make me do his dirty work. When I turned him down he said I’d be sorry. The goddammed son of a bitch.”
“Let’s watch the colorful language, shall we?” Charley said. “It won’t help you any.”
“I have been watching it.”
Charley smiled at that one. “Well, keep working on it.” Then he reached down and brought his briefcase to the table.
“Is that it?” Bobby asked.
“For now. I’m going to see about bail procedure.”
“When can I get out of here?”
Charley put his notepad in the briefcase, closed it and put it down on the ground again. He folded his hands on the table and smiled once more at his client. “I’m going to do everything I can to make bail. This is your first serious offense and that’s in your favor. But it’s murder and that means the bail is going to be high. I know your mother and father are coming down here, so we’ll put our heads together to see what we can see.”
Bobby looked at Kate. “Why is Gus coming? I thought you weren’t going to call him.”
“I didn’t, Bobby. Your mother did.”
Bobby’s curse made Charley cough.
; “You keep him away, Kate. He’ll screw things up. I know it.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Bobby nodded. He looked so young. So innocent. He shouldn’t go to prison. It would be terribly ugly for him.
Charley rose and held Kate’s chair for her as she stood. He moved his hand to her arm, giving her a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Come on, dear. Let’s go tilt at some windmills.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“I’m going to have to notify the guard.”
She nodded. “I’ll only be a second.”
Charley got his briefcase and walked to the door. Kate held out her hand to stop Bobby, but she didn’t touch him.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“It’s about T.J.”
A darkness came over his face like a shroud. “I already said—”
“He wants to help.”
“Look where his help has got me.”
“He didn’t do this to you, Bobby. It’s not his fault.”
Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “I heard you two last night. I know what you were doing.”
She felt her face fill with heat. This was no time for embarrassment. “What we did has nothing to do with you.”
“Nothing he does has anything to do with me. Just tell him to go back where he came from. Tell him to leave me alone.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Then why the hell are you asking me, if you don’t want to listen?”
“Because you need him. You don’t realize it right now, but you do.”
“I think you got me mixed up with you. I haven’t needed him for a long time. Not since he left without looking back.”
She closed her eyes briefly, wondering what she could say that would make any difference at all.
“He’s gonna leave you, too, you know. One Say, he’ll just take off. You’ll think you did something wrong. You’ll think about it for a long damn time. You’ll learn to hate him, just like I do.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think—”
“Look, I don’t got time to worry about your love life, okay? I’m in jail. They want to blame me for killing a guy.”
“Of course,” she said, then she heard the guard open the door behind her. “I’m here for you, Bobby. Not because of T.J. I’m here because I care about you.”
“Then get me out.”
The guard was next to him now, putting on handcuffs. Kate waited until he was gone before she let herself fall back in her chair.
“Kate? You all right?”
She looked up to see Charley standing by the door. “No, I’m not. I’m worried sick.”
“You let me do that for you, okay? That’s what I’m paid for.”
She smiled. It felt phony and she was certain he knew it. But it would have to do.
It was like watching a rerun of a bad TV show. Gus stood in front of him, swaying to keep from falling. The smell of liquor was so strong it nearly choked T.J.
“You sonomobich,” Gus said, his words slurred and wet. “I tol’ you to keep outa here. You did this to my boy, you sonomobich. I oughta kill you righ’ now.”
T.J. thought of telling him to go ahead, but dismissed the idea as too satisfying to Gus. “Where’s Teresa?”
“None o’ your damn bidness.”
“Gus, get out of here before they throw you in the drunk tank.”
“Let’m try.” He swung out with his right arm, trying to connect with T.J.’s jaw but missing by a mile. He lost his balance and T.J. had to steady him. He got a good whiff of that breath and nearly retched.
“Go on. Go home. You can’t do anything for Bobby in this condition.
“I don’ have to listen to you. You’re evil. Jus’ like your father. Shot him like a dog. Righ’ on the street. In the gutter. Tha’s wha’ they’ll do to you. Shoot you like a dog.”
“Shut up, old man.” T.J. looked down the hall, but the two of them were alone. Where was a cop when you needed one? Maybe he should leave. No, not until he talked to Kate and the attorney. They should be coming out soon. He didn’t want Kate to see Gus, but short of knocking the bastard’s block off, he didn’t know how to get rid of him.
The door to the interrogation room opened and Kate walked out. She saw Gus first, then she stopped to speak to the lawyer. T.J. couldn’t hear her.
He felt Gus move in on him again and just as he turned he heard Kate yell his name. That’s when he saw the gun.
The old drunk had a .32 in his hand and he was waving it around, trying to aim at T.J.
“I’ll shoot you myself. You rotten—”
T.J. ducked and moved as fast as he knew how around the old man. He got behind him and grabbed for the gun. Gus was quick, though, and lurched away.
“Get out of here, Kate! Get a goddamned cop!”
He couldn’t see her now. Gus had turned to face him again. He held the gun in both hands, trying to aim but shaking so hard the barrel was all over the place. T.J. went straight for his gut, moving like a tackle, with his right shoulder leading.
He hit Gus square in the solar plexus and heard the old man’s “Oof” as the air rushed out of his body. They both went down and then he heard the sound of shoes, lots of them, heading their way. He grappled again for the gun, getting an elbow in his eye for his trouble. Gus struggled more, kicking, wiggling, shoving.
T.J. got the gun in his hand and pushed, but the old man was stronger than he could have imagined. He found himself staring straight down the barrel of the .32.
T.J. rolled just as the gun went off.
Chapter 13
Memories came crashing around him like waves. He was barely aware of being yanked to his feet. That night in the liquor store. His father. Gus. The gunshots. He shook his head as if that would erase the images, but he could still see them as clearly as if it had happened an hour ago.
“Marcus, hold on,” Kate said, rushing to his side. “Let him go. It’s Detective Russo.”
Her voice. He locked onto Kate, listened to her with everything he had. Her hand went to his arm and he felt he was waking from a bad dream.
“Then he should know better than to play with guns in here.”
T.J. looked around. He saw two guys on Gus. One on each side. The gun was nowhere in sight.
“It was him,” Kate said, pointing at the old man. “He brought it in. T.J. was trying to stop him from killing someone.”
Marcus eyed T.J. the way a butcher would look at a side of beef. He shook his head, then let go of T.J.’s arm. The moment he was free, T.J. stepped away and worked on curbing his urge to pop good old Marcus in the mouth.
“Lemme go.” Gus struggled with his cops, trying to break free. Neither one budged. “Lemme at that bastard.”
“Book him.” Marcus pointed at Gus, then turned to Kate. “And get your friend out of here, okay?”
She nodded, taking T.J.’s arm in her hand. “Thanks a million. Do you need us to press charges?”
“I think we got that covered, Kate.”
She didn’t hang around to hear any more. She walked quickly, pulling T.J. behind her like an errant child. When they got to the visitors’ lobby, he stopped, forcing her to stop too.
“Hold it. I’m not finished in here.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I want to talk to that attorney of yours. Then I want to talk to Bobby.”
“Later. We can do it all later. Right now, I just want to get you away from here.”
He shook his head. “I’m glad he pulled the gun on me. Glad they locked him up. It should have happened a long time ago.”
“Don’t say that. I was scared to death.” Her glance shifted to something behind him. “Oh, no.”
He turned to follow her gaze. It was Teresa. She looked like a washerwoman, with her hair in a scarf, her skirt nearly down to her ankles and those white hospital shoes. The bags in her hand, one from Neiman Marcus, the other from Pic-N-Save, looked filled to the brim with rags. He felt like shoving his fist t
hrough a wall.
“My boy,” she said. “Is he all right?”
“He’s in trouble,” T.J. said, wishing he could walk out the door and never come back. How was he going to tell her about Gus? Maybe she would be glad to know the drunk would be out of her hair for a while, but probably not. If ever there was cause for a bender, this was it. Her youngest in jail for murder, her husband in jail on a weapons charge. Time to find the bottle in the tennis shoes, the bottle in the bathroom vanity, the bottle in the freezer, behind the vanilla ice cream.
Teresa put down her bags. He saw the creases in her palms from the cords, deep and raw looking. She rubbed her hands together and he remembered how she used to get the shakes in the morning, so badly that she couldn’t help him with his buttons. She would try and he would close his eyes, because he didn’t want to see the confusion on her face. “He’s innocent. Did you tell them, Theo? Did you tell them?”
Hearing her call him Theo was a jolt. He hadn’t been called that since he was a small boy. “It’s too late for that.”
The look on her face held a lifetime of disappointment— that he’d run off the moment he could, that he never came back to help her, that he didn’t save Bobby. That he was so much like his father.
He should never have come home. That would have made his record perfect.
Kate knew she should keep out of this, that it wasn’t her business, but she couldn’t. She cared too much about T.J., about this whole family. She turned to him, shocked at the hardness of his expression. “T.J., don’t do this. Talk to her.”
He looked at her with stranger’s eyes. She didn’t know this man. She’d met him once, long ago, when he’d come to her center looking for Bobby. But he’d disappeared, she’d thought, for good.
“Talk about what? You want me to tell her that Gus tried to kill me?”
Teresa moaned and for a moment, Kate thought she might fall down. Hurrying to her side, she took the old woman by the shoulders and led her to a chair. When she was settled, she looked up to Kate for an explanation. But Kate wasn’t going to give her one. She turned to T.J., anger chasing away her pity. “Damn it, don’t you do this. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life. She needs you. You’re her son. You have to forgive her, T.J. If not for her, then for yourself. It’ll kill you if you don’t.”
