We drove back to my father’s house in Sag Harbor.
“Sit down, Danny. I have something to tell you.”
Was this it? Was he dying? Was it cancer like my mother?
He stared at me.
“Hannah is back. She’s staying at her parents. She was trying to reach you, couldn’t, and so called me.”
Everyone thought Hannah and I would get married. Everyone thought Hannah and I were perfect together. Everyone thought Hannah and I could be in a Valentine’s Day movie. That is, everyone except Hannah. One day she came over and told me she needed to travel. She said she was afraid of being trapped in a marriage. She said she didn’t want to be a wife before she was a person. And then she was gone. A friend had told me she had moved to the south. The friend thought Hannah might be in Miami. I thought she had carried a piece of my heart with her. Maybe she could rent a room in Miami with that piece.
“Hannah wants to talk with me?”
“She does. Evidently very much.”
Suddenly I had an intense revenge thought. She’d beg me to come back. I’d be haughty, stare down at her, and say I wasn’t interested. But, of course, that daydream evaporated in a second. If Hannah wanted to see me, I’d be there in less than a second. Like it or not, she was an elevator operator pushing the buttons of my emotions.
After I had calmed down, my father said, “Go back to the subject of the Luceys for a minute, Danny. What do you think?”
“I think the obvious answer is that the Congressman-elect stabbed the woman trying to blackmail him. His wife saw him and the body, and they hatched a plan where she’d take the blame.”
“That’s one devoted wife.”
“I don’t know all the details. I’m going to speak with him tonight. First I want to talk to Al Flanagan. He’ll know what the cops are thinking.”
“Don’t tell him too much.”
“He’s always been honest with me.”
“Consider the source, but a guy with the D.A.’s office is not the guy to discuss a case with and be honest at the same time.”
“I’ll remember that.” I paused. “You have any intuitions, Dad?”
“My intuition is to follow the facts. If Ken Lucey did it, don’t join any conspiracy to hide that fact.”
“Now you sound like a guy from the D.A.’s office.”
“I’ve learned a bit across the decades. Seriously, Danny, the truth will come out. Make sure you’re there to greet the truth. Don’t make the cops show it to you. They won’t treat you well. Because of me.”
“I’ve already heard that.”
My father just nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’ve been keeping track, Dad. That’s 4,538 times you told me you’re sorry. The past is what it is. Neither one of us can change that.”
We talked some more about the family, and then Ari and I returned home.
Betsy Revere was there. She looked up.
“I’ve been to the library reading old newspaper articles about everyone. Marilyn isn’t a story. There is a lot about the Luceys.”
Betsy had a new bobbed haircut. She told me she was inspired by an actress who was still alive but long forgotten. The actress was named Louise Brooks and was famous as a symbol of flappers during the Jazz Age. I had never heard of her, but I listened as Betsy went on.
Betsy was very bright and very tough. She was also a far better researcher than Ari or I were. We tried to divide the work. Ari attempted to do research as well. Even I did. But somehow Betsy was always able to find hidden clues, and we weren’t.
“Danny, you tell me Mrs. Lucey is going to take the blame.’
“Supposedly. Why?”
“Mrs. Lucey is named Kathleen, but she goes by Katie. She’s in social columns as Katie.”
“All right.”
“It’s just this, Danny. You make her sound as though she’s some kind of saint willing to sacrifice herself for the sake of her husband’s political career and her family.”
“That’s not so strange, Betsy. My mother would have done something like that.”
“From your stories, your mother really was a saint.”
“And Katie Lucey isn’t?”
“If she was, she was a very strange kind of saint. The kind who calls people names in public, who screams at an auction when a supposed friend outbids her, who collects traffic tickets like they were prizes, who evidently hits her baby, though no one can prove it. She’s very selfish, very interested in her own welfare ahead of everyone else’s—including her family.”
“She didn’t strike me like that.”
“Really? Danny Ryle, master of understanding women.”
“I’ll admit it. I’ve had a few problems in that area.”
“It doesn’t make sense, Danny. She’s an attractive but thoughtless wife and mother who suddenly becomes the selfless wife and mother.”
“You’re sure of this? I mean, people make up stories. They interpret in ways to make themselves look good. She might be one person in public and another in private.”
“All that’s true, and I’m not sure what it all means. I’m just telling you to keep it in mind.”
“Thanks, Betsy. I can’t believe the cops ever let you go.”
“Too many rules, Danny. You wouldn’t like it either.”
“No. I suppose not.”
“And your next step?”
“I talk to Al Flanagan tonight. I’m trying to find out if there are any other possible suspects. He’s like a flashlight shining my way through the police department.”
“You know I like, Al. Just be careful. He also could be deliberately deceiving you for a lot of reasons. The cops know he’s friends with you. They might not tell him the whole truth. Or any part of it for that matter.”
“Good warning. I’m seeing Ken Lucey right after that.”
“There’s no rest for the fixer.”
“That would be a good bumper sticker for me.”
“Be careful.”
Betsy came over and kissed my cheek. I couldn’t remember her ever doing that before.
I left to meet Al Flanagan and find out who else might have killed Marilyn Park.
CHAPTER NINE
Trigger O’Dell got to me before I could see Al Flanagan. Trigger was the head of the party in Suffolk County. He also ran a very successful insurance company. A lot of people who needed county favors decided that Trigger was the best man for insurance.
He showed up at my house and as soon as I got out of my car, he poked me in the chest. Three times. Hard.
“You better control your boss.”
“That’s a little difficult, Trigger.”
“I don’t want to hear difficult. I want to hear, ‘Yes, sir, I’ve already done that.’ I’m getting calls from the police. From the County Executive. I’m supposed to get back to the Governor’s office. You straighten this out, Danny. It’s on you. I want some killer found and put in a dark hole. I want this all behind us. And I want this done yesterday.”
He poked me again. I guess it was a finger exercise for him.
There was only one right answer to give to Trigger.
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir is right. I have a simple rule, Danny. You make one mistake and you’re gone. You do it right the first time or you’re gone. There are no excuses.”
I decided it would be a good idea not to mention that he had listed more than one rule.
“You ever hear of Fish Hooks McCarthy, Danny?”
“No. I can’t say I have.”
“He worked at Tammany Hall in the 1920s, a lieutenant to Al Smith. The sainted Al Smith. Anyway, every day on the way to his Manhattan office, Fish Hooks went to St. James Church and every day he offered the same prayer. You know what his prayer was?”
I wanted to say “To have your endless stories finish.” Again, I restrained myself.
“No, sir. I don’t know.”
“He prayed, ‘O Lord, give me health and
strength. We’ll steal the rest.’ Fish Hooks knew how to lead. That’s the attitude I want to hear from our new Congressman. And from you. We have a good thing going now in the County. I don’t want this messed up. I assume I’m making myself clear.”
“You are, sir.”
“Good.”
I expected a final poke in the chest, but Trigger just walked away. I expected that Lucey would be forced to have all his staff contribute a significant amount to the County party.
Then I made my way to the corner of Route 25 and Stony Brook Road in Lake Grove to a restaurant Flanagan liked. It was called Big Barry’s. There really was a Big Barry, only he wasn’t particularly big. He was under five feet tall. He wore a large cowboy hat. The restaurant was filled with old west images. I ordered a hamburger and Al Flanagan ordered a steerburger.
Al smiled at me. It was not a nice smile.
“You sure do provide good meals for those associated with law enforcement.” He paused. “I might be able to get you a junior D.A.’s badge.”
“I’d be happy if you just paid for a meal once in a while.”
“You should live so long.”
“Then earn your food. What’s going on?”
“Some bad news, Danny. Everybody, and I mean down to the janitors, thinks Ken Lucey did it. This Park lady is blackmailing him. He gets angry. She visits. He thinks he’s above the laws of mere humans and kills her.”
I sat back.
“What would the police do if someone were to come forward and confess?”
Flanagan was one of the smartest guys in the law business I’d ever met, and I’d met a lot of smart people who put criminals away. He stared at me for a few seconds.
“Is that why we’re having dinner?”
“Of course not. Why would I kill her?”
“Some people think you did it to protect Lucey.”
“But I wasn’t even there. I was driving.”
“And so you say with no witnesses except an Israeli who kills terrorists and needs you so he can stay in this country.”
“You can’t believe that I...”
“No, I can’t. Some people would just like to see you sweat. See your old man sweat.”
“And if someone other than I confessed?”
“Personally I wouldn’t believe it. You’re talking about the wife. I suppose the cops would have to check. People make false confessions all the time, though. I think people are still confessing to killing Lincoln.”
“It was just a theoretical.”
“Sure.”
I was relieved that at least some police wouldn’t take Katie Lucey’s confession seriously. Of course it didn’t help that the reason they wouldn’t take it seriously was that they thought Ken Lucey was the killer.
“Can I ask you another theoretical?”
“Accompany it with a second drink.”
“Done.”
“You’re not so good at saying no. Go ahead. Ask your question.”
“Let’s theoretically say no one in the Lucey family or political operation is involved.”
Flanagan gave me a skeptical look.
“Sure. Okay. Go ahead.”
“But you still had to look for suspects. Who would you be looking at?”
Flanagan stopped to take a few bites from his food and some sips from his drink.
“I don’t know how someone can commit a crime. You go to jail. You’re in this small cell with a gentleman not known for being friendly. But most of all the food is terrible. That’s my theory of crime prevention. Show people what the food in prison is like. Make every kid in high school sample it. No one would ever commit a crime.”
“You do have a deep insight into the criminal mind. Or stomach.”
“I’ve been at this for awhile.”
“Come on. Some suspects.”
“You’re wasting your time. It’s Lucey.”
“Humor me. Two suspects.”
More eating. More drinking. More thinking.
Finally, Flanagan said, “I can think of two.”
“I’m listening.”
“This kid she had that she gave to Lucey. Is our newest Congressman the father?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’ve seen the blood tests?”
“No.”
“The kid doesn’t look like the father?”
“That’s a bit difficult to tell.”
“Okay, so let’s say for the sake of our discussion that the kid isn’t Lucey’s. That means the kid has a real father. And that’s one answer, Ryle. The real father is a suspect. His girlfriend has a baby, sells it, cheats him out of any money. He wants the kid. Or he wants the money. He’s furious with her. He tracks her down at the very place where the man who bought the child lives. A fight breaks out and he stabs her. He gets out of there, and then the Luceys and you enter the picture. Do you know his name?”
“No. I’m not even sure the Congressman-elect knows. Who’s the second suspect?”
“Did I hear you say the word ‘dessert’?”
“You look like you’ve had enough desserts to last you until the turn of the century.”
“I’m not entirely sure that insults about my appearance are the best way to encourage my cooperation.”
“Listen, Flanagan. I’ll signal for a waiter and you can have whatever you want. You can have two of them.”
“If there was a ‘sorry’ in there I didn’t hear it.”
“I’m so sorry that I hesitated before offering you a much-deserved dessert.”
“Better. Keep working on it. Anyway, all this waiting has made me hungry again. Forget dessert. I’ll have a helping of chili and chicken wings. And I want it in one of those gold-panning pans they have.”
I sighed and ordered the food.
“The second suspect, Flanagan, before you explode.”
“The food makes me think.”
“My guess is it makes you sleep.”
“Your second suspect. Now, think Ryle. You catch a guy dealing drugs. What do you know about him?”
“He deals other drugs. He just got caught this time.”
“The first answer is right. I’m impressed. So my other suspect is someone else that Marilyn Park has blackmailed. If she did it with Lucey, and she did it well right up to the minute she got killed, she’s probably tried this before. Maybe another baby. Maybe some other hustle. Threatens to show pictures to a wife. Something like that.”
“And this other blackmail victim kills her. In Lucey’s house.”
“I didn’t say it was perfect. It’s just possible. In fact, it’s a good idea. The first victim finds out Marilyn is at it again. So he kills her in the new victim’s house, and make that second victim a prime suspect.”
“Maybe I should eat like you do, Flanagan. That’s not a completely ridiculous idea.”
“I appreciate your overwhelming praise.”
I nodded.
There was no more fact-gathering, no more avoiding the obvious.
It was time to speak with Ken Lucey.
CHAPTER TEN
The Congressman-elect was in his campaign office despite the hour. It was a bit eerie. It was a large storefront with a back room. It had once been filled with staff and volunteers making phone calls, plotting a winning strategy, begging people to get out and vote, and dozens of other tasks.
Now Ken Lucey sat alone looking a lot more like the loser than the victor.
Somewhere in my mind, I knew that I should have been scared to be alone with him. I couldn’t be sure that he was in his right mind. Or that he wasn’t having dark thoughts. Or that he wasn’t a murderer. I tried to feel scared, tried to feel normal. But I couldn’t. The son of a killer has more than a few problems in life.
I offered a box of doughnuts and cup of coffee that I had brought for the Congressman-elect, sat down opposite his chair, and sipped from my own coffee.
“I promise to talk about Marilyn Park, Danny. In detail. But my mind is in Washington. Please ta
ke five minutes and tell me what I’ll be doing to get ready for Congress. I know about some meetings in Washington. I need to take my mind off Marilyn Park.“
I wasn’t sure how to read him. Was he so out of touch with reality that he didn’t understand he might be arrested for murder? That the scandal might end his career before it began? Or was he able to separate the world of trouble about to take over his life from his political responsibility?
I decided to go along with him. Maybe it would calm him for the very direct conversation to follow.
I took a sip of coffee. He took a sugar doughnut. He’d need the rush.
“Under normal circumstances, sir, in December you would, as you note, go down to Washington for a freshman orientation. You’ll get a chance to see members of Congress. I’d learn their names before you go. That impresses them. They’re friendly people or they wouldn’t have gotten elected. Just treat them as friends. A lot of them won’t learn your name. They’ll wait until you’re re-elected and then they will consider getting to know you. I hope you know by now, but there will be some briefings about how Congress works. There will be a lottery so you discover what office you’ve gotten. Don’t get too excited. The view will be terrible. One day maybe you’ll get a better office.”
“I want to hear this, Danny, but I won’t remember it all.”
“I’ll write it up in a memo.”
“You’re the best.”
“Sure. Anyway, you have to sit through the election of the party leaders. Make sure you vote for the people who will turn out to be winners or else you’re going to have a rocky start. Then, sir, you have to hire staff. The chief of staff is the second most important job so hire someone good.”
“Do you want that, Danny?”
“No, sir. I can best serve you in the District Office here in Suffolk. The Party will have plenty of people for you. Maybe they were staff members of Congressmen who lost the election or retired. Just interview a few and, most of all, pick someone you like and trust.”
He was paying attention. That was a good sign.
“Okay, sir, so you’ve got an office. You’ve hired people to answer the phone. You’ve hired a Chief of Staff, a Legislative Director, a press person. Make sure to hire women in some of these jobs. You’ll be glad you did. They know their way around. They’re more social than the men on the Hill. Men come to flirt with them.
A Darker Shade of Blood Page 4
