"Somehow," Keough said, "I don't think that's going to be a problem."
***
"Chief LaGrange?"
"Yes, Mary."
"There's a Captain Lewis on the line, sir… retired Captain Lewis?"
"Truxton Lewis? Put him on, Mary."
"Hello, Bob?"
"Tru, what the hell are you up to?"
"Not much these days, Bob. Building some furniture in my garage."
"Can you build a home-entertainment center? My wife's been bugging me for one."
"We'll talk about it."
"What can I do for you today, Tru?"
"Got a favor to ask, Bob."
"Finally going to use me to get IAD off your back?"
"Fuck IAD, Bob. No, this favor involves someone else."
"Who?"
"Do you know a detective named Keough?"
"Do I…"
***
After LaGrange agreed to see Det. Joe Keough on Truxton Lewis's say-so, he sent for Inspector Pollard.
"I've just agreed to meet with Detective Keough."
"Uh, Lieutenant Slovecky suspended the man, sir."
"Why?"
"Uh, apparently, they had an altercation."
"Well, I doubt that's the last altercation the lieutenant will have in his career, Paul. Detective Keough will be here tomorrow morning at nine. I want you to be here."
"Uh, yes, sir, all right."
"That's all, Paul."
***
In his own office, Pollard sat down and worriedly chewed his bottom lip. There was no doubt that when Keough came in to see the chief, he was going to bring up the subject of his memo. Pollard had given the memo to Slovecky, but he still had a Xerox copy in his desk. If he gave it to the chief now and insisted that it had been lost, maybe he'd be able to escape the man's wrath. On the other hand, if he did that, Slovecky might deliver on one of his many threats.
Pollard eventually decided to get the memo to the chief without actually giving it to him personally.
***
LaGrange was hanging up his phone, shaking his head, when his secretary, Mary Francis, walked in carrying a sheet of paper.
"What is it, Mary?"
"I found this under my desk, sir."
"What is it?"
"It's a memo, dated more than several days ago. Have you seen it before?"
She handed it to LaGrange, who started to read it and stopped short when he came to the name Det. Joseph Keough.
"I'll take care of it, Mary."
"Yes, sir."
After his secretary left the office, LaGrange started at the top again and read the entire memo.
"Son of a bitch!"
He depressed the button on his intercom and said, "Mary, get Inspector Pollard in here."
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Even though he'd already heard from the Lover, Keough didn't have much reason to leave his apartment the next day. The man still had to call him back when he found an attorney. Consequently, he was in that afternoon when Truxton Lewis called.
"You've got your meeting, lad."
"That's great, Tru. When?"
"Tomorrow morning at nine."
"Can't tell you how much I appreciate this."
"Just make the most of it."
Keough's heart was racing. There was still the possibility that the Lover would change his mind about turning himself in, but he didn't think so. Tomorrow he'd make his deal, and then it would depend on the killer being a man of his word.
He had just hung up when there was a knock on the door.
"You wouldn't believe the day I had," Nancy said, walking in past him with arms full of groceries.
"What's all this?" he asked.
"You've been inside so long, I just knew your refrigerator had to be empty."
He followed her into the kitchen, where she deposited the bags on the counter. He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. What happened next could have happened for a lot of reasons. He'd been seeing Nancy in a different light lately, and he was in a good mood because his meeting was set. Whatever the reason, the next thing he knew, he was kissing her, unlike any good-night kiss they'd ever shared. Her tongue was in his mouth and it felt like wet velvet. He pulled her close to him, crushing her breasts against his chest, and she moaned deep in her throat as the kiss went on and on, until they moved away from each other, both breathless.
She leaned against the counter, bracing herself on it with her hands.
"God…" she said.
"I know…"
She looked at him, her eyes shining.
"What do we do now?"
"I think… I think I'd like to continue this, Nancy, but not until after all of this… nonsense is done."
"Well, I'd like to continue it, too, Joe. Tell me, how long do you think we have to wait?"
"Not long," he said, "not long at all… Okay, that's long enough…"
He lifted her up onto the counter and captured her surprised mouth with his. She got over her surprise, though, and helped him with her pants…
***
Later, he told her his news, after they'd made love a second time, this time in the bedroom.
"Is that good?" she asked when he was done. She was serious.
"It's wonderful news, Nancy. Once this guy gives up, I'll be able to prove there's a second killer."
"How?"
"Because he'll strike again, and when he does, the Lover will be in custody."
"What if he doesn't strike again? What if once the Lover is caught, the second man just stops? Wouldn't that be good enough?"
"No, not really."
"The killing would stop."
"But he'd get away with killing three women."
"You really believe in this stuff, don't you?"
"What stuff?"
"Justice."
"Yeah, I guess I do."
She smiled, put her hand on his belly, and said, "I guess that's one of the reasons I… like you so much."
"What are some of the others?"
"Mmm," she said, moving her hand lower…
***
Later still, Nancy put a meat loaf together that put to shame any Keough had ever had before. Cindy came home from school and started looking oddly at both her mother and Keough. She did her homework on Keough's kitchen table while her mother cooked and he sat at his desk, trying to put together his presentation for Chief LaGrange. At one point, Keough turned in his chair and could see both of them in the kitchen. Nancy had stopped what she was doing to help Cindy with one of her homework problems. The whole scene was very domestic, and it surprised him that he liked the way it felt.
After dinner, Nancy and Cindy cleaned up while Keough continued his work.
"Are you two gonna get married?"
The question startled him and he looked at Cindy, who had come up next to him quietly.
"What?" Keough said.
"Cindy!" her mother called from behind them. Her tone was shocked.
"Well, are you?"
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Nancy asked. Keough decided to let the girl's mother handle this situation.
She turned and looked at her mother.
"You're acting funny, both of you."
"Funny, how?"
"All through dinner, you were giving each other goo-goo eyes."
"We were not!"
"You were, too." She eyed both of them suspiciously and then asked, "Did you two have sex today?"
"Cindy!" Nancy said, a guilty flush coming over her face. "That'll be enough of that, young lady."
"Well, I was just wondering," Cindy said, smiling a self-satisfied smile.
"Well, you can stop wondering. I think it's time for you to go across the hall."
"That's okay," she said, "it's time for my programs, anyway."
She grabbed her books off the table and started for the door, but she stopped short and detoured over to where Keough was sitting.
"Just in case I have a vote
, Joey," she said, "I'd love for you to be my new daddy."
She kissed Keough's cheek as he stared at her in astonishment, then went out the door to the apartment across the hall.
"Joe," Nancy said, looking mortified, "I'm so sorry…"
"You know something?" he asked.
"What?"
"I just love that kid!"
***
Nancy finished cleaning up the kitchen, put the leftovers in the refrigerator, and came back into the living room.
"I'm finished, Joe. I'm going to go home and make sure Cindy gets to bed."
He got up, went to her, and put his arms around her.
"Thanks for dinner, Nancy. It was great, as always."
"Walk me to the door?"
"Sure."
As they started toward the door, they put their arms around each other's waists. It was a nice feeling, for both of them.
"You know," she said as they turned to face each other at the door, "I'd almost like to insist on coming back later, but I won't."
"Why not?"
"Because you promised me that everything would be resolved in a little while, and I want you to keep working hard toward that goal."
"I intend to."
She took hold of his shirtfront and pulled him to her so she could plant a long, delicious kiss on him.
"That's just to keep you motivated."
"Oh," he said as she released him, "I'm motivated."
"Good night."
"Good night, Nancy."
As Nancy turned to leave, they were both able to see into the other apartment, where Cindy was watching them, a big smile on her face.
***
A few hours after Nancy left, the phone rang. Keough jumped at it and answered on the first ring.
"You're anxious," the Lover said.
"Yes, I am."
"That's good. It didn't take me long to find an attorney who would take my case."
"I didn't think it would."
"That means the, uh, ball is in your court, if I may use a sports idiom. When can you make the arrangements with Mr. O'Donnell and the television-news media?"
"I don't think that will take too long, either," Keough said, and suggested a time and place for the meeting.
"Detective, you amaze me."
"Why is that?"
"Another policeman might have tapped his own phone in an attempt to find me."
"That would have been useless."
"No, it wouldn't have," the Lover said, chuckling. "You see, I have been using my own phone to call you."
"Well, I guess it really doesn't matter, does it, now that you're giving yourself up?"
"No, it doesn't matter. I just wanted to tell you that, not to try to make you feel foolish, but to illustrate to you how much faith I have in you."
"I'm touched."
"You think me mad, don't you, for the things I've done?"
"What are the chances that my answer will fuck up our bargain."
The man chuckled again.
"No chance. Our bargain is set."
"Well, then, yeah, I think you're one sick son of a bitch."
There was a long moment of silence, during which Keough became afraid that he had indeed blown the deal.
"Have you intentions of trying to capture the man who killed those little girls in Brooklyn?" the Lover asked when he spoke again.
"Oh, yes."
"Then I suggest you take a good look at him when you do catch him. That will be a sick son of a bitch."
"So what does that make you?"
The chuckle came again, and Keough hoped he wouldn't ever have to hear it again.
"Read my book when it comes out."
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Keough appeared at the office of the chief of detectives at One Police Plaza at 9:00 A.M. sharp the next morning. He already had his deal with the Lover in his pocket; now he had to make one with the C of D.
Last night, after talking with the serial killer on the phone, he'd had a quick beer to calm himself and then called Mike O'Donnell at home. He'd relayed his conversation with the Lover, his voice still shaking, while O'Donnell listened anxiously.
"Then we're in," O'Donnell said when he was done. "I'll call the TV people tomorrow. All we need to do is pick a place to do this."
"I've already picked one."
"Where?"
He told him.
"That's brilliant. How about the when?"
Keough told him that, too.
"That's cruel."
"Maybe I'm in a cruel mood, but I can't change it now. The Lover will be there with his attorney."
"Did you get his real name?"
"No," Keough said, "we'll get that when he surrenders."
"Jesus, Joe, this is big."
"I know, Mike."
"I can't thank you enough."
"We'll think of a way."
"I'm not gonna be able to sleep tonight."
"I don't think I will, either."
***
As it turned out, to his surprise, he slept like a baby and woke up feeling great. He felt so good about what was going to happen that day that he decided to drive into the city.
Now he was standing in the chief of detective's office, waiting for the secretary to get the word to take him into the inner sanctum. Under his arm, he held a file that had been put together by Len Swann but highlighted and edited by Keough. He didn't know if it would be concrete enough for the chief, but that didn't really matter, considering what the rest of the day had in store.
"Detective Keough?"
The voice came from his left, and when he turned, he saw a tall, elegant-looking man in his late forties coming toward him. The elegance was ruined, however, by dark circles under the man's eyes and the haggard look on his face. He looked like a man who was not eating and not sleeping well of late.
"I'm Inspector Paul Pollard."
"Oh, Inspector Pollard. I've heard of you."
"Have you?"
"Oh yes."
In the presence of bosses-captains and inspectors, mostly-Keough had always felt, well, inferior. That is, he was acutely aware of the distance between their respective ranks. He did not, however, get this feeling in the presence of Pollard. The man looked ill and worried, and he did not project a superior attitude.
He looked like a man on the block waiting for the ax to fall.
"We can go in now."
"Thanks."
Keough followed Pollard, who opened the door to the chief's office and then stepped aside to allow Keough to precede him.
"Chief, this is Detective Keough."
The chief's manner was brusque.
"Sit down, Keough."
"Yes, sir."
LaGrange was seated behind his desk. Keough had seen photos of the man, and had seen him once or twice at parade or funeral functions. He was quite a change from Pollard. The attitudes that were lacking in Pollard came off LaGrange in waves.
"I've got a memo here that you sent me some time ago." He passed it across to Keough. "You did write this, didn't you?"
"I sent it, yes, sir," Keough said, handing it back. "Mostly it was written by a detective named Len Swann."
"Swann," LaGrange repeated, looking at Pollard. "Where do I know that name from?"
Keough answered before Pollard could.
"He was recently murdered in his own home."
"Oh, yes, yes," LaGrange said, "I remember now. What did he have to do with this?"
"He was assigned to the Lover Task Force, sir. He shared my views on the case."
"That being that there were two killers and not one?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you still feel that way?"
"Yes, sir."
"Detective, I first saw this memo yesterday. My secretary found it under her desk."
"Did she?"
"Yes. Apparently it had fallen there…"
"I don't think so."
"I beg your pardon?"
"That's not the memo
I sent."
"I'm sorry," LaGrange said, frowning, "I don't understand. You just said…"
"That's a Xerox copy."
"Well, I can see that…"
"I sent the original memo. Someone made that copy from my original. If that was under your secretary's desk, where is the original?"
LaGrange stared at Keough for some time and then slowly moved his eyes over to Inspector Pollard.
"Paul, would you do me a favor?"
"Sir?"
"Would you get the fuck out of the building?"
Keough didn't turn to look at Pollard.
"Sir?"
"Get up off your ass and get out of the building."
"Where would you like me to go… sir?"
"I don't give a fuck, Paul. Go home. Go to a bar. Go and fuck that black whore you've been carrying on with. Get out of here!"
"Black… uh, sir, I don't understand."
"Pollard, you're suspended as of now. Leave your gun and shield on my desk and get out. Go home and wait for my call. Don't call anyone. You've done enough damage to yourself as it is."
"Sir, I don't understand," Pollard said, standing up. "How did you know about…"
"I know about the people who work for me, Pollard. Let's leave it at that."
"Chief…"
"Out."
"Chief, I'd like to explain…"
"Don't make me have you removed, Inspector!"
Keough looked at Pollard now and the man seemed on the verge of fainting. Pollard saw Keough looking at him and suddenly turned and fled from the room.
"Why did you do that?"
"My correspondence goes through him," LaGrange said. "It's fairly obvious that he hid this from me. I don't know what he did with the original."
"He gave it to somebody."
"Who?"
Keough hesitated and then said, "I'd be speculating."
"Go ahead and speculate."
"There are other things I'd rather talk about right now, Chief."
Alone with the Dead Page 19
