Skykes nodded. “The speculation has always been that the IRA was involved in that theft,” he said. “Do we have any point of contact? Any way we can work the theory?”
“Not really. Just the lawyer.”
“The lawyer.” Skykes closed his eyes and Stone had the impression that his mind was processing information like a computer. “Finn, right?”
“That’s right, Captain,” Sanchez said.
“What do we know about him?”
“Good reputation for courtroom work. He handles mainly criminal defense cases; he’ll take on a civil matter here and there if the payout is good enough. Lives in Charlestown, where he’s got his office-grew up there too. When he was younger he got into some trouble. Managed to pull himself out, though.”
“So how is it that he came to show up at both Murphy’s place and Ballick’s shack right around the time they got dead?” Stone couldn’t tell whether the captain’s question was rhetorical; he let Sanchez deal with it.
“We don’t know. When he showed up at the auto body shop, he told Stone that he was there for a client-Devon Malley. Malley’s a thief. There’s a chance that he was involved in the Gardner job, too. He was busted Monday morning looting Gilberacci’s on Newbury. Someone called in a tip it was gonna go down. Don’t know who.”
“So Malley may be tied in to all this?” the captain asked.
“It’s possible,” Sanchez said.
“When’s the lawyer coming in?”
“He was supposed to be in today, but he called and said he had an emergency. He said tomorrow, maybe.”
“Maybe?” Skykes said. “We’re the police; since when do we accept ‘maybe’ in a murder investigation?”
“Finn’s a lawyer, and unlike most, he’s not dumb. We lean on him too hard, we won’t get anything; he’ll show up and claim privilege on everything he knows. The conversation will last all of thirty seconds. If he doesn’t want to, he won’t tell us what he had for breakfast without a subpoena and a couple of trips to the appellate court.”
Skykes grunted. “Probably right. Anyone else we can work on?”
“Finn works with Kozlowski. He handles Finn’s investigations. It’s a good bet that if Finn knows something, Kozlowski knows it too,” Sanchez noted.
“Tom Kozlowski? Former cop?”
“That’s him. You know him?”
Skykes shook his head. “Not personally. I know of him. He was a good cop, but a pain in the ass. You won’t get anything out of him. He’s too smart to make a mistake, and anything he found out from Finn is covered under attorney-client privilege too.”
“Can we lean on him?” Sanchez suggested.
Skykes laughed. “Sure, but it’d be like leaning on Mount Washington. He’ll hold you up, but he won’t move. That’s not who he is.”
“What, then?” Stone asked.
Skykes looked at Sanchez for an answer. “We put a tail on the lawyer,” she said. “See where he goes; who he talks to. He’s gotta know something.”
“That could take weeks,” Stone lamented.
“Maybe, but unless they’re willing to talk to us voluntarily, it’s the best we’ve got,” Sanchez said.
Skykes nodded to them. “However you want to work it is fine with me. Just make sure we get something useful. I don’t care that the dead guys were scumbags when they were alive; seven dead bodies is seven dead bodies. I don’t like it in my city.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lissa left the Green Dragon ahead of the others and headed to Southie to pick Sally up from school. Finn and Kozlowski stayed for a little while to talk strategy; then Finn drove Kozlowski back to the office in Charlestown. The brief respite of seasonable weather had ended, and New England was exacting its revenge as the skies turned gray and troubled and the wind spat drizzle at Boston ’s inhabitants. It was like this every year, and yet people seemed to forget. A few mild days in April tempted Bostonians into believing winter had been banished, but it always regrouped for a final assault. It was usually May before the weather was consistently pleasant.
Finn, a meteorological optimist, had put the top down on his battered MG, and when he and Kozlowski emerged from the bar, he struggled to pull the canvas covering back out. By the time it was back up, the interior was soaked.
Kozlowski stood outside the car, looking angrily from Finn to the passenger seat.
“Wipe it down,” Finn said. “There’s a towel in the back.”
Kozlowski reached into the back and grabbed the towel. “Wiping it down doesn’t do a goddamn thing,” he said. “The seat’s cracked. The water soaks into the cushion so it’s like sitting on a wet sponge. Why do you think the car smells like mildew all the time?”
“I thought that was you.”
“Asshole.”
“You wanna call a cab? I can meet you back at the office,” Finn asked.
“No, I don’t want to call a goddamned cab. I want to work with someone who drives a real goddamned car. Not some piece of crap clowns should be jumping out of.”
“So sit on the towel then. That’ll keep you dry.”
“I would, but then my head scrapes against the roof of the car.”
Finn looked again at Kozlowski. His expression had turned from anger to disgust to plain unhappiness. “You have seriously turned into a major whiner,” Finn said. “Are you going soft on me?”
Kozlowski’s look was sharp. “I’m not going soft, I just don’t want to sit in pants with a wet ass for the rest of the goddamned day.” He frowned again, then spread the towel over the seat and slid in gingerly, trying to hold some of his weight off the seat. Finn had to stifle his laughter. They drove like that back to the office with Kozlowski leaning on the door and holding himself up with the windshield. The rain pelted him through the window, drenching his head and shoulders.
It was after four o’clock when they arrived. Lissa and Sally were already there when Finn and Kozlowski walked through the door.
“What happened to you?” Lissa asked Kozlowski, noting his wet head.
“Don’t ask,” Kozlowski replied. He nodded to the girl and padded down the hall toward the bathroom to dry himself off.
Finn looked at Lissa. “Did you tell her?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I told her.”
“I’m in the room,” Sally said. They looked at her. “You were talking about me, right?”
Finn nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you, I just…”
“She told me,” Sally said. “My dad’s not getting out today.”
“Not yet,” Finn said. “We ran into an issue that we didn’t expect.”
“Yeah, sounds like Devon pitched a fit,” Sally replied. “He’s a fuckup; I already know that.”
“I might have used different terms,” he said. “But yeah, he had a little outburst. I’ll get another bail hearing set, though.” He glanced at Lissa, wondering how much she had told the girl. She frowned and gave a slight shake of her head that Finn took as a signal that she hadn’t gone further. He breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing he wanted was to have to explain anything more than the basics to Sally. He looked back at the girl. “So, I guess you’re staying with me for a couple more nights. That okay with you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have any choice, I guess,” she said.
“That’s all you have to say?” Lissa asked.
Sally looked up at her. “What else do you want me to say?”
“It’s okay,” Finn began, but Lissa cut him off.
“No, it’s not okay,” she said. “You wanna spend your time playing savior, that’s your call, but I’m not gonna sit here and watch the person who’s benefiting from your generosity be rude to you.” She looked at Sally. “When someone does something nice for you, you say thank you.”
Sally stood up. She was wearing her coat, and her bag dangled from her hand. Finn thought there was a good chance that she was about to walk out the door. That was the last thing he needed; he had no interest in combing the city, looking for Devon ’s kid. He felt a bolt of annoyance with Lissa. “I could go to the street,” Sally said. “I’d survive, y’know.”