"No. I've told you. We hadn't had sex for two months. Which is one reason why I thought she was having an affair. So now I know why the sex stopped, don't I? I would have gotten the chlamydia, and then would have known for sure, wouldn't I?"
"And knowing for sure about that, and knowing all about how Ro Curtlee set up his victims, and also knowing that he was out on bail… if you were going to make it look like him, you should have gotten in touch with Ro and made sure he didn't have a solid alibi. Maybe invited him to come by your house on some pretext, planted something to look like he'd been there…" Glitsky stared down at him, waiting.
Michael Durbin met his gaze. "You know, Lieutenant, I agreed to meet you voluntarily tonight, but I've got to tell you, I'm not going to listen to this. I'm trying to keep my family together and deal with the tragedy of my wife's death, and I just don't have the energy to argue with you anymore about it. If you're going to arrest me, find some evidence and take me downtown. Otherwise, get the hell out of my face so I can go back to trying to live my life and make it worth something." At dinner, all eight of the extended family about to start digging into the huge platter of spaghetti and meatballs at the big table, Michael clinked his wineglass and drew a shaky breath. "First," he said, "before we move out of here on Wednesday, all of us Durbins want to thank all of you Novios for your incredible generosity in letting us share your home these past ten days. It makes us realize that this is what family is all about. Hanging in there together when the times are hardest.
"Second," he went on, "here's to Jon for coming back to us." Michael looked at his oldest son. "I know you've still got reservations, but I'm confident they're all going to get resolved. I want to thank you for putting your trust back in me."
Michael held Jon's eye, knowing that this little speech was mostly for the benefit of Peter and the girls, to calm the waters. Jon didn't look exactly like he was sold on his father's story, but for the moment he was giving it the benefit of the doubt, and Michael felt that was good enough-in any event, it was all he was going to get. His glance went over to Peter. "And to both of you boys for burying the hatchet."
"And finally," Kathy put in, "can I just say? Here's to Janice. We will always love you and miss you."
"Hear, hear," Chuck intoned and tipped his glass.
"And now," Kathy said. "Let's start passing the food before it gets cold."
But the pasta platter hadn't even gone halfway around the table when Jon spoke up. "So, Dad, what did Glitsky want to talk to you about?"
Michael made a face. "He's frustrated that he can't seem to put Ro Curtlee at our house that morning."
"Why not?" Chuck asked.
"Well, evidently his housekeeper says he was at home and Glitsky believes her. So now he needs something he can point at and prove to shut up his critics. He's taking a lot of flak about Ro, that he blamed everything on him without any real evidence to back him up."
"And how are you going to make any difference about that?" Jon asked.
"I can't," Michael said. "He's got the same problem with me, but it seems to me like he's getting desperate. Like he's got to have a different story to tell pretty soon or he's in big trouble himself." He put his fork down. "In fact," he went on, "I was hoping to not get into this discussion, but I might as well say it. I don't think it's entirely out of the question that Glitsky might decide to arrest me."
"Daddy, no!" Allie cried. She jumped up out of her chair and came around to put her arms around her father. "How can he do that? You didn't do anything."
"That's right. I didn't do anything, so there's no way he can prove that I did, but we'll need to all stand together"-he looked from Jon to Peter-"especially you kids, if he does come after me."
"You don't really believe he'll do that, do you?" Kathy asked.
"I don't see how he can with no evidence. But he was planning on arresting Ro with just about as much. I don't know what he's going to do. I doubt even if he does. But it would be a good idea if we were a little prepared."
"The power of the police," Chuck said, "it's scary." Michael and Chuck sat at the kitchen counter with the remains of their wine while Kathy did the dishes. The kids had dispersed back into the house to start packing for the move on Wednesday and to start their homework. The talk about his possible, if improbable, arrest had seemed to grow weightier on Michael throughout dinner, and he was now on his sixth glass of wine, staring into the glass.
"I don't know what I'd do with the kids," he was saying.
"Don't be silly," Kathy replied. "You know we'd take them again."
A bitter laugh. "Just what you guys need. Five kids instead of two."
"We'd take them in a minute, Michael," Chuck said. "But it's not going to happen."
"I'm glad you're so sure."
"You said it yourself. He can't have any evidence against you since you didn't do anything. No evidence, no trial."
"Yeah, but even if I'm arrested, all that time before the trial I'm in jail."
Kathy jumped in at that. "We'd bail you out, Michael."
"Thank you, but only if you could."
"Well," Chuck said, "that's putting the cart way before the horse at this point. I don't believe Glitsky's anywhere near arresting you."
"I was with him today, Chuck. I heard him. He's closer than you think. And forget about me, what would that do to the kids? Jon already thinks it might have been me. If I lost all of them over this…" He picked up his glass and took a drink. "I don't know what I'd do. I couldn't let them see me go through it."
"Sure you could," Kathy said. "You'd fight it. We'd all fight it."
"I don't know if it would be worth it."
"Of course it would." Kathy came around the edge of the counter and picked up Michael's still half-full glass, then kissed him on the cheek, and went back around to the sink. She poured out the wine. "It's obvious that this red stuff isn't helping your state of mind at the moment. First, nobody's going to arrest you. And if they do, we're all on your side to get you back out. Okay? You hear me?"
"Okay." He let out a deep sigh. "I'm just so tired. Tired of the suspicion, tired of my son's doubts, tired of Glitsky and of living without Janice. Of living, period."
"Don't say that, Michael."
He looked up at her with an unfocused, bleary-eyed gaze. "Oh, okay, then," he said. "I won't." With a stifled cry, Glitsky jerked and sat up straight in bed, his hand over his heart. His breathing came in heavy gasps.
Beside him, Treya was immediately awake, one hand on his back, the other reaching around to rest over his heart. "Babe, what is it? Are you all right?"
He shook his head from side to side and kept taking heavy breaths.
"Abe! Answer me. Is it your heart again? Should I call nine-one-one?"
He finally got out some words. "No. No, I'm okay. I'm okay." He took another enormous breath and let it out completely. "I've just got to get up." Starting to rise.
"No, you don't. Just stay here. Lie back down."
"I can't."
"Yes, you darn well can. Calm down."
But he stayed in a seated position. Gradually he brought a hand up and covered where his wife still had her hand pressed against his heart. "Okay," he said again, as if to himself. "Okay."
Treya whispered. "So what was that if it wasn't a heart attack? A nightmare?"
"Not a nightmare," Glitsky said. "I wasn't asleep."
"So what is it?"
"Janice Durbin," he said. "Just another something I missed, but this one could be real." He turned back to her. "I've got to get up."
"Abe, it's the middle of the night. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know, but sleep's out of the question."
41
He was waiting in the spacious back parking lot to Janice Durbin's office building and saw the African American woman he'd met before get out of her own car at a few minutes before eight. Summoning all of the patience he possessed, Glitsky gave her another ten minutes to let her get settled, and then he went to the door and into the building, heading upstairs again to suite 207.