“I wasn’t planning on hopping on the phone.”
“You know what I mean. I’ve been back to work since the fall, but I’ve still got a lot of eyes on me. There are some people who think I lost it with Albert Stenborg, that I got spooked and that I’m still spooked.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with admitting you’re spooked. It’s human.”
“Being spooked and admitting you’re spooked are two different things.”
“You don’t seem to have a problem admitting it to me.”
“You’re not a cop. I don’t work with you. Besides, I don’t know. I remember that time you pretended to run into me at Mumbles.”
“That was the name of it. I’d forgotten.”
“What the hell was a guy like you doing in a place like that?”
“A guy like me what?”
“A guy.”
“I do recall I seemed to be in the minority.”
“The point is, it was a nice gesture.”
“That’s not how you reacted at the time. As I recall, you told me to mind my own goddamn business.”
“So original.”
I shrugged. “I’d heard you weren’t treating yourself so good. It’s not unexpected, given all you were in the middle of. I’ve had some pretty sour points in my time. Sometimes you welcome a person nosing in, and sometimes you tell them to mind their own goddamn business.”
Megan released her grip on herself and blew into her hands. Her lips were going blue. “Let me ask you something. Something that’s none of my own goddamn business.”
“Shoot.”
“You’ve killed someone,” she said. “That’s not a question. I happen to know it.”
“Okay.”
“You can tell me to shut up if you want.”
“Go ahead.”
“I hate this word, it’s gotten so self-helpy, but did you get closure on it?”
“It?”
She could read my tone of voice. “Jesus. You’ve killed more than one person? I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“That’s okay. All part of the résumé. As for your question, I can’t answer it. Or if I can, I think the answer is no. Closure isn’t a concept that makes sense to me. Not in this context. That kind of closure is too cold for my tastes. Plus, I don’t really buy it. I think it’s denial, to use another self-helpy word.”
“Then you understand what I’m talking about.” She indicated the precinct house behind us. “There’s no one in there I can talk to about any of this. Joe, I guess. But only so much. Pope is too green. I don’t want to spook him. But what you just said, that’s the problem. There’s this idea that I’m supposed to shake off what I did. But what I did was I failed to save my girlfriend and I failed to save my partner. Both of them went down on my account. That’s not something a person just shakes off. And believe me, killing Stenborg didn’t do it for me. Not by a long shot. The time to kill him was before he did his damage. I could unload pistols into that bastard all day long and it wouldn’t make any difference. That’s what I’m carrying around. It’s this feeling that I owe Helen. I owe Chris Madden, too, but if I’m brutally honest, that’s not where the trouble is. It’s Helen. I feel like I still owe her. And the thing is, I owe her what I can’t give her.”
“Thinking like that is only going to drive you nuts.”
“You rest my case.”
“You said you’re not getting much sleep. Is that it?”
“Let’s just say I find it’s a lot easier the less I close my eyes.”
I headed for the subway. The station was like a deep freeze. People stood on the platform stomping their feet and beating their arms up and down. Deep freeze or a nuthouse. The 1 train came in, rocking slightly as it hurtled forward. I caught a glimpse of a rat scurrying to get out of its path. I’d moved closer to the edge of the platform than I’d realized; I could practically smell the train. The sight of the scurrying rat brought to mind a memory I wasn’t particularly fond of.
Yeah. I knew what she meant.
29
ALAN ROSS CAME OUT from behind his desk and clamped a solid two-hander on me. “It’s good of you to come, Mr. Malone. What can Linda get you? Coffee? Sparkling water? Tea?”
The office was just shy of an airplane hangar, a festival of teak and glass and polished metal. The walls were choked with photographs of Ross in the company of celebrities. Through the large window behind his desk, sunlight danced off the stainless-steel spire of the Chrysler Building. Visible in the distance, beyond the steel and concrete, was a thin ribbon of my old friend the East River.
I let Linda off the hook. “I’m fine,” I said. The secretary flashed an unnecessarily large smile. I was made a midget by the large plushy leather chair Ross directed me into as he returned to the ergonomic throne behind the desk.
I asked, “How many people say ‘nice place’ when they come in here the first time?”
Ross laughed, giving the huge room an approving glance. “Nearly all. It’s an absurd amount of space for just one person, no question. But you have to remember, I deal with some pretty colossal egos. You’d be surprised how quickly this room fills up.”
It was a canned response, but for that, not so bad a one. Ross poured himself a glass of water from a moist pewter pitcher on his desk, then set the glass down without taking a sip. He fixed me with a direct gaze. “Marshall Fox is an innocent man.”
I thought he was going to elaborate, but he didn’t. I squirmed in the leather valley, working my way forward. “Okay. Fox is an innocent man.”
He frowned. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“I didn’t try to sound convinced. I have no idea if he’s innocent or not.”
“I’m telling you, he is. Marshall is many things, and unfortunately, not a few of them are far from attractive. But being a vainglorious egotist is not the same as being a murderer.”
“I’m sure the dictionary would back you up on that. But what does any of this have to do with me?”
Ross paused before answering. On the wall just off his right shoulder, Bette Midler eyed me mischievously as she landed a big wet kiss on Alan Ross’s cheek.
“I don’t believe the police are doing all they can to find out who murdered Zack Riddick and the Burrell woman.”
He paused for me to respond. I didn’t give him much. A slow nod. “Okay.”
He went on, “Frankly, I think they’ve got major egg on their face and they don’t dare admit it. They took a high-stakes risk when they arrested Marshall for those murders. You’ve seen the circus. Marshall’s career is tanked, regardless of the trial’s outcome. A lot of ugly testimony flashed coast to coast. The whole thing has been a complete abysmal mess. You had better believe the police are invested in making those charges stick. Can you imagine the fallout if Marshall were to walk?”
I glanced off to my left. Alan Ross and Sylvester Stallone were arm wrestling. Rocky was losing, if you can believe it. Ross followed my gaze, his expression relaxing.
“Sly. He’s a good man. Beautiful Act One. No Act Two. A real waste.”
“I thought he was good in Cop Land.”
“Too little too late.”
Ross brought his fingers together and touched them to his lips. “Mr. Malone, perhaps you’re not aware how invested I am in all this. Zack Riddick was a friend of mine. Admittedly, not super close, but even so, I liked the man. Zack had his obnoxious side, I’m not pretending he didn’t. But at heart he was a decent person. He definitely didn’t deserve to have his throat slashed.”
“Few do.”
“And Cynthia. To a degree, she was a protégée of mine. I personally chose her to work with Marshall when I brought him in from the sticks. She was as sharp as they come. Very driven. Her entire life in front of her, poor girl.” He paused for a sip of water. “I’m going to tell you something I try not to think about. I feel responsible for these people, for what happened to them. Less so the Burrell and Rossman women, although that’s only because I didn’t know them personally. But Cynthia most of all. I delivered her to Marshall like a gift.”