“Believe it,” a voice said wearily. “There’s been no mistake. Except Zach’s mistake—choosing the wrong side of the law.”
Angel looked up over her sobbing sister-in-law’s head to see the grim face of Patrick O’Malley.
“And my mistake,” O’Malley continued. “In trusting you to be able to see the difference ten years had made in that man.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Your brother Tony was killed by a car explosion,” O’Malley said, settling his weight into the gunmetal vinyl chair behind the desk in the police interrogation room. “It was instantaneous.”
Angel squinted at the wide, framed mirror.
“Don’t sweat that,” O’Malley said. “There’s no one there. This is nothing formal. This is just between the two of us.”
“All right. So you can feel free to tell me everything.”
“And you will tell me everything you know,” O’Malley challenged, cracking an arthritic knuckle. “As a sign of faith in you, I’ll go first. It happened outside the Bella restaurant. He was taking Maria out for dinner—they’ve had some marriage problems but your brother has been making a real effort to pull it together. According to Maria, they were doing something special because she had just completed some purchases of interior paneling for the mall project. Another celebration of the new shopping mall goes bad.”
“Were they by themselves?”
“Yes, just the two of them. Rocco was at home watching TV—Mrs. Tobin, the housekeeper, confirmed that And Salvatore was at his drafting table, coming up with a new project”
“I only left the house at seven o’clock by cab,” Angel said, slumping into the gray folding chair on the other side of the desk. She felt weak and dizzy with shock. “Last I saw, Tony was fine.”
“And Zach was with him.”
“Zach was with him,” Angel agreed cautiously. “And then Zach was with me.”
O’Malley raised his eyebrows. “Was he really? The whole time?”
“I found him in his apartment at nine. I was supposed to be going to the airport.”
“And then?”
“And then is none of your business.”
“We’re supposed to be telling each other everything we know.”
“What you need to know is that Zach never left the apartment.”
“It probably makes no difference if Zach has an alibi—this was a professional job.”
“How do you know?”
“Tony had a brief dinner with Maria at the Bella Winnetka restaurant—they were inside for no more than an hour. His car was wired while he was inside. It was a liquid mercury ignition system—fairly ad-vanced but commonly used by the pros.”
“In the Jaguar?” Angel asked. O’Malley nodded. “But he had plenty of bodyguards. Any one of them would have seen someone tampering with the car.”
“None of them are talking.”
“Well, keep asking them.”
“All we know is that as soon as Tony turned the key on the ignition—”
“But Tony never starts the car,” Angel interrupted, thinking of how her father and brothers always asked a guard to start the car.
Her mother had, when Angel was young, explained this was because her father liked the car to be the right temperature when he got in—neither too hot nor too cold, but just right
“Tony started the car because he was thinking more about Maria than about safety,” O’Malley said. “According to Maria, he waved away the guards. She wanted to look in a shop window, and that momentary interest in sweaters is what saved her. She feels plenty guilty.”
“But how could the bomb be wired when Tony had these guards around?”
“We don’t know,” O’Malley complained. “We’d like the bodyguards to give us information about who had access to the car while Tony and Maria were eating, but none of them will talk.”
“Scared.”
“Yeah. Or guilty. At the very least they know who’s in charge now.”
“Who’s in charge?”
“It’s not Rocco and Salvatore. They’re not strong enough. Most people are looking to Zach.”
“Zach doesn’t have the slightest interest in the family business.”
“He made a deal with Tony to share the business.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Maria, Rocco and Salvatore think he did.”
“They may have thought he did.”
“But you know better?”
She thought of their lovemaking. “Yes.”
“You don’t know anything, Angel. You’re as innocent as they come. A real naif.”
“All right, so I’m naive enough to believe that Zach is innocent. Why don’t you give me an education?” she challenged. “Let’s start with how you know it was Zach who killed my brother Tony.”
“And your parents. Let’s not forget your parents in this.” He wagged a finger at her. “We have some money traced to the Martin family—the bills had been spliced with a metal strip, kind of like a bar code, before they were included in a payoff to the Martins by undercover drug agents. The strips help us trace large movements of money to and from the Martin family. Fifty thousand in cash was taken out of a safety deposit box belonging to the Martin family in the week of your parents’ deaths.”
Twenty-five on signing and twenty-five on completion, Angel thought, remembering the voice of Marcus Jones on the tape.
“Another half million was taken out of the box yesterday morning. That must have been Tony’s death certificate.”
“Who went to the bank?”
“Anna.”
“That’s not possible.”
“She was always accompanied by a woman—tall, well-dressed, wore a hat with a wide brim. She never signed for the box, kept her face turned away from the security camera and even wore dark shades. The bank clerk can’t make a positive ID, but there’s only one woman I know who takes Anna out.”
“Her mother.”
“And she did it for Zach.”
Angel shook her head. “I don’t want to believe Mrs. Martin is guilty of anything, but couldn’t she have just as well done it for Guy?”
“Angel, I’m banking on Zach because he’s the smarter of the two of them. Guy, Jr., couldn’t arrange a dinner party without some help. But do either of us really know?”
“I believe I do.”
“And I believe I do. We need to be sure.”
“I’m sure Zach is innocent.”
“Sure because you had sex with him? Don’t look so shocked. I’m not stupid. Or are you sure because you can’t believe you would fall in love with a criminal? Angel, if women never fell in love with the wrong guy, the Poconos would go out of business, rice would only be used for cooking and we’d all be a helluva lot better off. Especially your brother.”
Angel shuddered, thinking of her hysterical sis-ter-in-law, who had been led away by Rocco, who had patted her hand and promised O’Malley that he’d get her a sedative.
“Where is Guy, anyway?” she asked.
“Hate to break it to you, Angel, but my best guess is that he’s dead. I’ve had my men keeping their ears open—the last person to see him was Zach. Right after they left Dr. Morgan’s house.”
“Guy had a dispute with my brothers about business. He had a reason to kill them.”
“If he killed any of your brothers, it would be like killing the goose that lays his golden eggs,” O’Malley countered. “Don’t you think it pains me to have to admit that someone in my office might be a traitor? Especially Zach. I had such high hopes for him—but maybe walking a tightrope between family and what’s right is too much for a man.”
“He’s a good man,” Angel said softly.
“A man can change,” O’Malley replied flatly. “Zach started off with good motives. You love him, don’t you?” O’Malley asked. “You love him even now.”
“I love him and I don’t believe you.”
“If you knew that he killed your parents and your brother,
would you still love him?”
“No, he wouldn’t be the same man.”
“Then it’s a matter of proving to you that he did it or didn’t do it”
Angel stared at her hands, the fingertips still tingling from the feel of Zach’s skin. She knew she still loved him. But could she love him if he were a murderer? Of course not. The possibility terrified her.
Angel looked up at the district attorney. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“He was like a son to me,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to believe the evidence myself. Prove me wrong, Angel. Please prove me wrong. I hired him. I backed him up when everyone said to me that he was a Martin kid and couldn’t possibly be any good. I’ve wanted to believe in him, even when he’s such a private man that I didn’t even know until I saw you two in the cathedral together what a damn torch he’s been carrying for you. Give me a reason to believe in him, because I’ve lost the power to believe. I need you to prove him innocent.”
“How?”
O’Malley swiped the back of his hand against his wet cheeks.
“He’s refusing to see the lawyer his father sent for him and he’s refusing to speak to me. I’d like you to get him to talk.”
She thought back to the way Zach presented his “deal” with Tony. “He won’t talk if he doesn’t want to.”
“Make him talk. Figure out a way. You want to know, once and for all, who killed your parents, don’t you? And whether the man you think you love is worthy of your love, don’t you, Angel?”
She put her head in her hands.
“I swear to you if he’s innocent, I’m giving you both your freedom.”
“I’ve heard it before from you, O’Malley, and I don’t believe it anymore.”
“No, this time believe it. Real freedom. Witness protection kind of freedom. You can start over. And if you’re wrong and he’s a guilty man, you can put it behind you. Once and for all. It can be over.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“MRS. MARTIN? It’s Angel. I’m sorry to call so early in the morning. Were you up?”
“Oh, I’ve been up all night Salvatore called me and told me about your brother. I’m very sorry, Angel. I’m sure Zach didn’t have anything to do with it. He’s a good man.”
“I know, Mrs. Martin. I agree with you. But the law doesn’t feel the same way.”
“That’s very troubling.”
Angel looked down at the pay phone’s ledge.
At the notes she had written to remind herself what to say—and what to ask.
“Mrs. Martin, the district attorney’s office is going to ask for a half-million-dollar bail. They’re really pushing for a conviction.”
“Isn’t the attorney handling that?”
“Zach refuses to talk to him. I think because it’s the family lawyer. The one your husband uses,” Angel said, choosing her next words with great care. “I think Zach might not trust him.”
There was a long silence and Angel wondered if she and O’Malley had miscalculated.
“Maybe I had better come downtown,” Mrs. Martin said, and Angel could barely conceal a smile.
She worked hard to keep her voice neutral.
“I think it would be a good idea if you did. He’s scheduled for an arraignment at nine-thirty. I’ve gotten O’Malley to agree to a meeting a half hour before.”
“I’ll be there. Oh, dear, I just thought of something. thing. I’m going to have to find someone to take Anna. I don’t like to leave her here at home.”
“If you bring Anna downtown, I could stay with her while you try to talk sense to Zach. He should cooperate with O’Malley.” Angel held her breath, waiting for Mrs. Martin’s reaction.
“I agree with you, Angel, but you do the talking to Zach. He listens to you more than he does to me. I’ll talk to O’Malley.”
“You’ll talk to O’Malley?” Angel was confused. “What good would that do?”
“You just do your half of the work—getting Zach to cooperate,” Mrs. Martin said briskly. “I’ll talk to O’Malley. I don’t let anybody stand in my way when I want something for my sons.”
Angel caught her breath. Would paying for murder be something that Jeanne Martin would do in order to further her sons’ interests?
“I’ll drop Anna off with your sister-in-law,” Mrs. Martin said. “She sometimes watches over Anna when I need…oh, dear, Maria won’t be up to that, will she?”
“No, I don’t think she will. She’s taking some sedatives for the shock. And she’s convinced that Zach murdered Tony.”
“Oh, dear, what a tragedy! Our two families seem to be destined for trouble. I’ll take you up on that offer for baby-sitting. I’ll catch the next commuter train. I can be downtown in half an hour.”
“Meet me at the courthouse on Twenty-sixth and California. Felonies, third floor.”
Chapter Fifteen
Twenty-sixth and California was a granite fortress in the middle of the burnt-out war zone of the south side of Chicago.
At eight-thirty in the morning, armed guards unlocked the doors and a line formed to pass through the metal detectors. Guns, knives and clubs were routinely confiscated.
Lawyers flashed their bar cards and were waved on through a separate entrance.
There were three elevators—one that never worked, one that worked occasionally and one that was always full and on another floor.
O’Malley and Angel waited for Mrs. Martin and Anna behind the metal detectors. When Mrs. Martin stepped out of the cab, wearing a dark aubergine silk crepe suit and matching hat, she held her arm protectively around Anna, who carried her Barbie doll. O’Malley roused himself from a desultory conversation he was having with the chief of security.
“Mrs. Martin!” he called out. “Right this way.”
Jeanne Martin had stood at the end of the line of people waiting to get through security, but when she saw O’Malley, she tugged at Anna’s sleeve and led her daughter to the lawyer’s entrance.
“Mr. O’Malley,” she said, extending her hand. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Martin,” O’Malley said. “And good morning, Anna. That’s a very pretty doll you have. Her dress looks like it matches yours.”
“It’s the other way around,” Anna said, flashing an appreciative smile. “Mom had this dress made so that I would match Barbie. Hi, Angel. Where’s Zach?”
The three other adults exchanged uncomfortable glances.
“Why don’t we go this way and have a talk?” O’Malley suggested, leading the women to the private judge’s elevator, which was being held open by a security guard.
“What floor, sir?” the guard asked.
“Top,” O’Malley said.
The guard reached a hand inside the elevator to pop the button and nodded to each of the women as they entered the elevator.
“Better than dealing with the morning rush,” O’Malley explained as they glided upward. “How was the ride in, Mrs. Martin?”
“Just fine, thank you.”
The elevator doors opened to a lobby that was quiet and spare. O’Malley guided them past a receptionist, through a hallway of cubicles and into a large conference room with a black leather table.
METROPOLITAN CORRECTIONAL Center Inmate 143MCC was brought to Twenty-sixth and California in the van with five other men who had morning court appearances. His face was covered with sweat and stubble, his black hair fell onto his forehead and he couldn’t push it back with his hands because they were cuffed tight against his back.
Though his eyes were not bloodshot, dark shadows showed his exhaustion. He had been granted the right to change into his street clothes for his arraignment, but his tie was missing, he had to use the center’s slip-on sneakers because they had his shoes in lockup and he felt as wrinkled and worn as his jacket
His van mates shuffled into the courtroom, but he was uncuffed and led through a back staircase. He rubbed his raw, red wrists.
“In there.” Th
e blue uniformed officer pointed a thumb at the conference room and took a guard position by the door.
Zach walked into the threshold. And saw the three women he loved more than anything in the world.
His mother pacing by the window. His sister, Anna, rocking quietly in a chair at the head of the conference table.
And Angel, coming into his arms, her scent so sweet with vanilla and talc that he felt ashamed of himself, knowing—as he did—that he carried the desperate acrid smell of the jail on his skin.
“Darling,” she whispered. “How are you?”
“I’m all right, I think.”
“We’ll get you out of here,” she promised, although both of them were wise enough to know she didn’t have much control over that. “I love you.”
She loved him. She believed in him. She held nothing back from him. No deception, no turning around, no reversals, no doubts. She loved him, and he needed that love right now so much that he didn’t try to persuade her to go. He could live on her love for a long time. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, lifting her up off the floor so that he could feel her weight, slight as it was, and her substance.
If necessary, so he could remember…
“I’m all right,” he said, coughing as he realized he hadn’t actually spoken since he had been processed at the jail the previous night and his throat felt scratchy and worn. “How are you?”
“Tired. But okay.”
“Happy reunion,” O’Malley said, rising from a chair at the opposite end of the table. “We’ve got some serious business to talk about Let go of him, Angel. Siddown, Zach.”
Zach nearly charged. That was from nearly twelve hours of being caged in the jail with other inmates who regarded him as an agent of their sworn enemy, the law.
If he was reduced to this after twelve hours, he wondered at how he would feel after a week, a month, years….
He sat down at the conference table and squeezed his sister’s hand. Angel sat’ on his other side and he entwined his fingers in hers. His mother kissed his hair and sat across from him.
“We have to get you out of here,” she said.
His Betrothed Page 12
