Along Came December

by Jay Allisan

“I find the truth to be pretty damn slick. It’s just never come out of your mouth.”

  James raises both eyebrows and begins to speak, but Paddy cuts him off. “Hey, you had your turn, and since you don’t know anything, let me connect some dots for you.”

  Paddy pushes away from the table. He laughs. “Fuck, I don’t even know where to start. This was a long time in the making, wasn’t it? All the bits and pieces. But it wasn’t until Sonny died that we got invited to the party, so that’s where we’ll pick up.

  “Sonny Carpenter fell off a roof, but first he killed somebody, the girl we found stuffed into a pipe at the lake. Got out of control, didn’t he? Snorting too much coke. He was a wild card you didn’t need, and he’d outlived his usefulness. So Sonny’s gotta go.

  “Lucky for you, you know someone who can take care of him. Let’s say that someone is Layla Hernandez. But you don’t trust Layla, so you hook her up with someone who’ll keep her in line. Someone who can slip Sonny a roofie without making him suspicious. He was a big guy, and even with the both of them Layla and Cheyanne would’ve had a hard time maneuvering him without some help. Yeah, we know it was Cheyanne snapping the photos. We got the SIM card from the cell phone she used.”

  James’s mouth tightens almost imperceptibly.

  “Here’s how I think it played out,” Paddy says. “Cheyanne tells Sonny they’re gonna take care of somebody, make it look like an accident, a suicide jump. They meet on the roof of the library and have a drink while they wait for Layla. Sonny’s is spiked. When Layla shows up, Sonny takes the header and Cheyanne snaps some photos. Not just of Sonny, but of Layla on the rooftop.”

  Paddy spreads some photos in front of James. “These photos were your insurance, making sure Layla didn’t step out of bounds. Cheyanne sent one to the media for good measure, to Layla’s own reporter. That put a scare in her. The reporter happened to know my partner too, but I’m sure that was a coincidence. Just like how Robin getting roofied that same night was a coincidence. Or the timing of all this, right before Carl’s trial. Lots of coincidences.”

  Paddy folds his arms, studying James. James gives him nothing in return.

  “Next body,” Paddy says. “The girl in the harbor, one day later. Did I tell you we got an ID on her? Name’s Luisa. Sixteen years old. And when the ME ran DNA tests on her and the girl from the pipe, guess what she found? They’re sisters. Luisa and Sofia. We tracked them back to Guatemala. Anything you wanna tell me about that?”

  No response.

  Paddy shrugs. “It’s your ass. We know you smuggled them into the country and we know what they were carrying. We got a witness.”

  James’s eyes spark with realization and Paddy grins.

  “Yeah, we got Robin. ‘Course, you made sure to keep him in the dark, but he identified the sisters and he knew about the drugs. He had to swallow them too. Had to do some other funny things once he got to Briar Rose, like walk a certain route from the Orchard to the shithole where you stashed him. That’s how he met Presley, and through Presley, Mordecai.”

  James matches Paddy’s smile. “Shirley did like them young, didn’t she?”

  My stomach roils. “What the hell—”

  “He’s just trying to get a rise out of Paddy,” Josie whispers. “We know it’s a lie.”

  “It’s slander.”

  “Unfortunately it’s nothing he hasn’t said before.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Is that what people are saying about me?”

  Josie grimaces sympathetically. “People are saying a lot of things. But don’t worry, the truth will come out.”

  In the interrogation room Paddy’s seated again, his big hands clasped loosely on the table.

  “You wanna talk about Mordecai?” he says quietly. “Then let’s talk about how you set her up. She was your end game. Your fall guy. Layla takes care of the first half of the problem, then Mordecai takes care of Layla. What were you gonna offer her? Money? A promotion? She wouldn’t have gone for that. No, you were gonna give her vengeance. You were gonna give her Carl Winters.”

  “An interesting concept, but perhaps beyond my means,” James retorts.

  I have to laugh. The guy’s so arrogant he can’t stand to sell himself short, even now.

  Paddy laughs too. “Come on. We both know you got connections everywhere. You’re telling me you couldn’t get to the judge, or a juror, or one of Carl’s guards? Bullshit. You had the groundwork laid way before Sonny took a nosedive. Trouble was, Mordecai fucked up your plans by assaulting Winters. That’s when things got messy.

  “Up til that point, Layla’d been cooperating. You had something she wanted so she did what she was told. But then she doesn’t hear from you for a couple days and she gets suspicious. Impatient. She goes off the reservation and takes out your bodyguard, Czechkov. Charmed the pants off him, it looks like. She’s the one who sent his photo to Benny, not Cheyanne. She sent it to you too, as a warning. You weren’t in control anymore.”

  “Layla found out about Sofia,” Paddy says. “Maybe you meant for that to happen, maybe someone let it slip. She calls her reporter and gets him on the story, and I get an anonymous tip that the body in the pipe is connected with my case. That was Layla putting pressure on you. She was tired of waiting. But by then you were rolling with your new plan, which still had Mordecai taking the fall. Carl wasn’t her only weak spot. You knew she was looking for Presley, and lucky you, you had him. You used Presley as bait to get Layla and Mordecai in a room, and everyone died in a hail of bullets, just like you were hoping.”

  “It’s my understanding young Presley suffocated,” James says. He smiles. “As… profound as your theory may be, you must admit it’s purely speculative.”

  “Don’t you wish. You think people get into bed with you without protecting themselves? You think you can keep everyone running scared forever? Cheyanne rolled on you. We pulled that SIM card I mentioned off her corpse. Plenty of evidence there, and that’s just the beginning.”

  Paddy nods at the one-way mirror. Here in the viewing room Dixon turns to Scarlett, who swallows.

  “You’ve given your statement,” Dixon says. “You don’t need to do this.”

  Scarlett squares his shoulders. “Yes I do, sir. I want to do this.”

  Dixon walks him to the door. The look on James’s face when Scarlett enters the interrogation room almost makes up for that bullshit about me and Robin.

  Paddy stands, and Scarlett takes his seat. He folds his hands in his lap and looks right at James.

  “Hello, James,” he says quietly. “I guess you know why I’m here.”

  James narrows his eyes.

  “I told them everything,” Scarlett says. “I kept records. Dates, times, what you wanted from me and what I did. Lieutenant Dixon has it all. Yeah I’m getting fired, and yeah my dad’ll kill me, but it’s worth it, because you don’t own me anymore. So fuck you.”

  If looks could kill, James would have Scarlett’s head on a spike. Scarlett flashes him a smile, then gets up and leaves the room. When he comes into the viewing area Dixon shakes his hand. Scarlett beams. He smiles at me.

  I smile back.

  Paddy’s voice draws me back to the interrogation. He’s still standing, his hands curled around the back of the chair.

  “Scarlett was a plant,” Paddy says. “You had him spying on the investigation. You tried to get him to spy on my partner, but he didn’t want to do that. Good thing you had Presley working that angle. We know all about how you fed his cocaine addiction in exchange for information on Mordecai. He gave you up too.”

  “Presley is dead,” James spits.

  “You sure?”

  James’s dusky complexion goes snow white. Paddy gives him a feral grin. “And guess who else is still alive.”

  Perfect silence for the space of a heartbeat. Then James exhales like he’s breathing fire, his hands tightening into fists.

  Paddy slowly paces the width of the room. “Presley’s like a goddamn b
uffet. Every time we go back he gives us more. He worked for you for years, and boy does he have some sensitive information on some powerful people, including you. But my favorite piece of intel comes from Mordecai. Tell me if this rings a bell: Catalina. Camila. Diaz.”

  James closes his eyes.

  “Things came together real nice once we had the name,” Paddy says. “Turns out she’d been in the country almost twenty years ago. Took her a while to get back, since she was deported for illegal entry, but she’d made good use of her time. Did a couple turns with the Colombian military. Made a name for herself in journalism, writing as Layla Hernandez. You were right about a vendetta. She had the story of a lifetime, but nobody listened. Not when it counted.

  “Catalina first came to America on a visa, or so she thought. She was engaged to an American, or so she thought. Pregnant, too. She was gonna have a new life, a family. But the asshole who knocked her up had no intention of marrying her, just getting her and the drugs she was smuggling to his pop’s new club in Briar Rose. There was no visa. Just empty promises and a shit-ton of lies.”

  Paddy stands behind James, plants his hands on the table and boxes James in. His voice drops to a whisper. “Let me spell it out so there’s no confusion. Catalina was pregnant with Robin. The asshole who knocked her up was you.”

  James stares straight ahead, his eyes burning like hellfire. Paddy crowds closer.

  “Soon as Robin was born he was taken away, and Cat was put to work in the club. She didn’t see you after that. You’d gotten what you needed and you didn’t want nothing to do with her. Cat’s alone, scared, and being forced into things she wants no part of, so she does what any young girl in a strange land would do. She goes to the police.”

  I feel a touch on my hand. Josie’s covered it with hers.

  “This is it,” she whispers. “Don’t freak out.”

  The interrogation room is quiet. James’s polish is fading. He’s eerily pale. Paddy moves around the table and looks him in the eye.

  “You thought Catalina was dead. Least, that’s what you told your dad. Cops these days aren’t all on the straight and narrow, but back then your dad really was the man. Lots of payoffs, lots of blind eyes turned to the little problems like human trafficking. Hell, the victims were treated like criminals. So when Cat goes to the police for help, they don’t want to give it. They get in touch with your dad, who tells you to clean up your shit.

  “But you were never the guy who gets his hands dirty, were you? Always delegating. You call up a rookie on the force, someone with bones to make. This is how you get in solid, you say. Take care of Catalina and your future is set. ‘Course, by take care of you mean kill, but that doesn’t sit too well with cops, not even crooked ones. The rookie decides to smuggle Catalina across the border instead. Too soft, wasn’t she? Too sensitive. Not cut out for shady deals like yours.”

  James’s face contorts with ire, his nostrils flaring. “If you have a name, just say it.”

  “Sure thing,” Paddy says. “It’s Anna Shapiro.”

  49

  I HEARD him wrong. I must have. I look from Paddy to Dixon, to Josie, to Whale, to Scarlett. Nobody’s surprised. Especially not James.

  “Josie?” I whisper. “What the hell?”

  She squeezes my hand. “Just listen.”

  “She was your first, wasn’t she?” Paddy says. “The first cop in your pocket. You orchestrated her career, moving her up the food chain. All it took was some greased palms, least til she got to lieutenant. But a vice lieutenant wasn’t enough, not for what you had in mind. You needed her to run a precinct, this precinct, since Old Town’s got jurisdiction on your club. So you do something big. You create the Garrison.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathe.

  “It was all a setup to get Shapiro back in line,” Paddy says. “You’d owned her for years and she was sick of it. She wanted out. She led the undercover operation that went after your drug smuggling, but you caught wind of that and the bust went south. You were teaching her a lesson with the Garrison attacks, turning her betrayal back on her. She goes off book? Dead cops. She does what she’s told? She gets rewarded. You set her up to save the day, and with everyone calling her a hero she’s trapped, back under your thumb.”

  Paddy goes to the water cooler, fills a cup, takes a drink. He crumples the paper cup and drops it on the floor.

  “Took a long time to piece it together,” he says quietly. “You outsourced the hitmen, bringing them in from Colombia. You used Emerson Broke as your scapegoat, and you turned my partner into a sacrificial lamb. Kristoph Gauge. He bled out in my arms because of you.”

  Paddy slams his hand against the wall, the sound ringing like a gunshot. “YOU REMEMBER HIM?! HE BLED OUT IN MY ARMS BECAUSE OF YOU!”

  Paddy yanks the chair out from under James, dropping him on his ass. Paddy throws the chair aside. “You son of a bitch. Kris was good police, and you let those bastards slaughter him. And now here you are, all these years later, coming after my partner again. You made this fucking personal.”

  Dixon speaks into the microphone linked to Paddy’s earpiece. “Paddy. That’s enough.”

  Paddy curls his hands into fists but steps away from James. He circles to the far side of the table.

  “Let me tell you this,” he says lowly. “If you weren’t already nailed we’d be having a very different conversation, you and me. Lucky for you, Shapiro told us everything. She was arrested two days ago, nice and quiet. Internal Affairs had been after her for years. You wanna guess who took her down?”

  Realization hits me like a bucket of water just as Paddy says, “Detectives Josie Steinbeck and William Reynolds.”

  I gape at my former teammates. Whale nods solemnly and Josie winces. She’s still holding my hand.

  “Are you freaking out?” she whispers.

  I nod. I laugh. “Just a little.”

  “They’d been working her since she was a lieutenant,” Paddy is saying. “Takes a while to build a case against a cop, especially one who’s got you covering her tracks. They tied Shapiro to you and you to the Garrison, but it wasn’t until we found that fancy coke under Sonny’s fingernails that the big picture started falling into place. That’s what all this shit has been about. Drugs.”

  Paddy sinks into his chair. James rises slowly from the floor and dusts himself off. With a show of indignance he retrieves his chair and returns it to the table. He sits across from Paddy with a thin smile.

  Paddy doesn’t smile back. “Twenty years ago your dad starts cross-breeding coca plants to get a better product, but that shit takes time. Means you got time to prepare. You build your business, getting the drugs up to Briar Rose by trafficking girls, then putting the girls to work. You find dirty cops, or you make them, and you make sure they’re positioned where they’ll be of use to you. You need key people to look the other way once the drugs flood in.

  “Fast forward to this August. Everyone’s in place and your super plants are ready. Out of nowhere Catalina shows up, demanding her son. Either you give her Robin or she blows your drug operation wide open. She shows you documentation to prove she’s not bullshitting. Names in your supply chain, delivery plans, that kind of thing. Maybe she threatens to print them in her paper. You placate her, tell her you’ll find her son but it’ll take some time. What’s she gonna say to that? You’re her only link to her kid.”

  Paddy pauses. “Now this is the part I’m not clear on. We figure Robin was a black market baby, but instead of living the American dream with a nice suburban family he winds up in a Mexican orphanage. I’m guessing you know how that happened since you knew where to find him. Either way you got him to Briar Rose by September.

  “That could’ve been it. You could’ve traded Robin for Catalina’s blackmail and things could’ve ended right there. But you didn’t trust her, did you? She got away once and it wasn’t gonna happen again. So you drag things out. That gives Robin and Presley time to connect, and it makes Catalina all kinds of desper
ate. Late November you tell her you’re making progress on finding her son, but you need her to do something for you: kill Sonny Carpenter. No problem. What’s some strung-out stranger when her kid’s on the line? Then you tell her to kill Luisa, who’s been making noise about her missing sister. Cat does her too. She’s probably thinking about killing you by then, but then she’s never gonna get her son. So she cooperates.”

  Paddy shifts in his chair and taps his thumb on the table. “While you’re winding Cat up like a jack-in-the-box, Mordecai’s doing a fine job of that to herself. Carl’s trial is coming up, and you know from Presley she’s off her meds. You figure after a couple days in court she’ll be ripe for propositioning, but she takes matters into her own hands on day one, getting herself thrown in jail and the trial delayed in the process. That fucks your plans up some, but I bet it wasn’t long before you came up with the new one. And I’m betting this is where you got the idea.”

  He removes the last photo from the folder. It’s the newspaper photo Scarlett told me about, of me, Presley, and Robin going into the courthouse. I’m identified in the caption, they’re not. But since I have my arms around Presley and Robin it’s obvious we’re together.

  “As far as the public’s concerned, Mordecai’s a nut job,” Paddy says. “And you got proof of her with Catalina’s son. All you gotta do is say Mordecai’s harboring Robin and Cat’ll go ballistic. She’ll kill Mordecai without batting an eye. But you want Mordecai to kill Cat first, so you gotta give her something to fight for: Presley.

  “By this point the situation’s volatile. Catalina’s killed Czechkov ‘cause she’s tired of waiting, and you want to get this over with. You use Robin as leverage on Presley, and Cheyanne drugs Presley and leaves him at the Orchard to lure in Mordecai. That’s when you finally call Cat and tell her you’ve found her son. You show her that picture, tell her Mordecai’s got Robin but you’ve got Presley, and that Mordecai will trade Robin to get Presley back.”

  A couple pain pills still lie on the table in front of me. I sweep them into my mouth and swallow them dry. I didn’t trade Robin for Presley. I didn’t have to. I had the second gun.