Aaron nodded.
"Meantime I want you to check out the Sonoron security guy, Stephen Kane. He says he used to work in the L.A. sheriff's office."
"Something wrong with him?"
Janek shrugged. "He didn't appeal to me. Maybe you can find me a reason."
He found Timmy Sheehan at O'Malley's, waiting at the bar. This time he had no difficulty recognizing him. Timmy's cheeks looked pinker than usual, and his thick gray hair, rising straight from his forehead, was badly in need of a cut. On closer inspection, the pinkness proved to be a web of tiny broken blood vessels on the surface of Timmy's face.
When they moved to a table in the rear, Janek got the impression that Timmy had been sitting in O'Malley's for some time, perhaps most of the afternoon, guzzling beers, munching on a corned beef sandwich or two, watching the day's interminable Yankees game on TV.
"So, how's the world traveler?" Timmy asked, arching his brows.
"You're looking at one tired cop," Janek said. "It wasn't the most enjoyable trip I ever took."
"Still, you made it back. Those Commies didn't eat you up?"
"They nearly did."
"Had some trouble, did you?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle. Anyway..
"Yeah, anyway-you talked with the lady?" Janek nodded. "Always wondered what she'd be like."
"She's an educated woman. Works as an economist in the Cuban Finance Ministry. Married to a guy who manages a citrus farm. Has a kid, a boy.
She's aged a little, Just like the rest of us."
"Yeah, isn't it funny how you get a fix on a person, then five, ten years later you run into them, and they're older. Always takes a minute or two to reorient yourself."
Janek knew that Timmy was stalling, that he was eager to hear what he'd found out, but was deliberately prolonging the small talk to demonstrate how little he cared. Timmy, he knew, would rather die than show interest; his position, restated ever since Mendoza's conviction, was that Mendoza was closed.
Janek decided to drop a bomb. "I saw Dakin this morning."
Timmy's eyelids didn't waver. "That must have been fun. How's the old guy doing? Still live out in that crap hole-what the hell they call it?
Cortland Park?" "Cort City Plaza," Janek said. "As if you didn't know."
Timmy beamed. "Known me too many years, partner. You see through all my tricks."
"I'm sure seeing through the one you think you're pulling on me now."
"Are you?" Timmy grinned. "And which one might that be?"
Janek shrugged. "Every traveler's got a tale."
"That so? Come to think of it, my grandmother used to say something like that." Timmy scratched his head. "She had another saying, too.
Want to hear it?"
"Why not?"
" ' let them see you cry." I never forgot that one. Kind of a good one to live by, don't you think?"
Janek put down his beer. "Can it, Timmy. You're as keen to hear what Tania said as Dakin was. Maybe more."
"I won't deny it, Frank-I'm a wee bit curious." He picked something out of his teeth. "Not that I give a rusty fuck."
"Of course not! So, now that's been established, let's get to the bottom line."
Timmy's eyes went flinty. "Yeah, let's get to it." "Tania says the letter lies. She never brokered any arrangement with Metaxas, not for that night, not ever. Site also says Clury wasn't blackmailing anybody, he was employed by Edith to get the goods on Mendoza so Edith could get herself a ball-busting divorce."
Suddenly Timmy's features started to contort, as if he were trying to keep control of his expression. "If all that's true, why didn't she speak up? Pardon me for asking, partner, but why'd she fuckin' run down to Cuba and hide out?"
"She found the body. She's the one screamed so loud the neighbor called nine-one-one."
"Oh, gracious me!" Timmy's voice went mock falsetto. "Such a ghastly sight it must have been!" "She was scared," Janek said. "She saw her employer hanging from a hook. She was sure Mendoza had done it. So she did the normal thing.
She ran."
Timmy bit into his lower lip. "And now she wants to clear the air.
What a good girl she must be, so straight and honest-the little bitch!"
"I cornered her, Timmy. That's why she talked."
"Yeah." Timmy stared at him a moment, then got up from the table and walked over to the bar. Janek watched as he ordered an Irish whiskey, threw it back, ordered another, drank that one off, too, then lumbered back to the booth. Timmy stared at him again and this time Janek saw that his eyes were red and crazy.
"How can you be so fuckin' stupid, Frank?"
"Is that what I am?"
"About this. Forget Mendoza. It's a tar baby. The more you punch it, the more stuck you're gonna get. Let the others rant if they want.
Dakin, Kit, the whole dumb crew downtown. Mendoza's in a cell where he belongs. It's over.
End of story."
"If there's been a miscarriage, it's gotta be set right. You know that."
"Jesus! Listen to yourself! You sound like a scumbag attorney! The man's a piece of shit. He killed a cop. He deserves a living death."
"What're you saying?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you're saying there was something wrong with that note," Janek said, feeling a terrible ache beginning to rise out of his stomach.
"What the fuck difference does it make?"
"Oh, Timmy! Timmy!" The ache was curling around his chest. "I defended you, remember? I broke Dakin for you. Christ!"
Timmy sneered. "Oh, yeah, I forgot!" He coughed, then smacked the table with his fist. "Do I remember? What the hell do you think?" He glared at Janek, eyelashes flickering, his eyes watery and bloodshot.
"We both know Mendoza had his wife beaten to death. We know he ordered Clury killed. How he did it, who he hired, how much he paid, the fuckin' details-who cares?"
"Christ!"
"You keep saying that! Don't '!" me, partner! You think law enforcement's a kid's game where winning's less important than playing by the rules? No cop worth his salt thinks like that."
Janek wanted to hit him then. Instead he just stared.
Timmy didn't look away. "You're telling me you faked the evidence."
Timmy laughed. "Am I? Would you believe me now whatever I said?
Think it through. If you really believe I faked that note, you also have to think I had that old bat, what's-her-name, Komfeld, knocked off, too.
Like maybe I personally raped the cunt and stole her ratty silverware.
Sound like me, Frank? Hub?"
Timmy took a draft of beer. The foam clung to his lips.
"You'd also have to believe Dakin isn't a psycho, Mendoza's pure as snow, and I'd risk everything, my pension, my whole fuckin' life, to close out a case because… why.? I couldn't handle it? You have to believe the five grand I supposedly used to pay for the money order to Metaxas's mom came out of-what did Dakin say? Dough I took off of some coke dealer he couldn't name? I can't remember all the crap he tried to sling at me." Timmy paused to wipe his mouth.
"Wanna know something, Frank? At this point I don't care. Hear what I'm sayin'? I'm sick of it! The whole fuckin' mess. You wanna try and get to the bottom of it, go ahead. Spend the next ten years on it if you want to. You won't get anywhere. Kit won't either. But be careful. Because if by some fluke you happen to stumble into the real heart of the thing, something bad might befall you' Personally speaking, I'd feel real sorrowful if such an event should come to pass,"
"The real heart of the thing "-what the hell does he mean by that?
Janek stared into Timmy's eyes. "Is that a threat, Timmy?"
Timmy's hands were trembling. "Me threaten you? You gotta be kidding."
"Then, what're you saying?"
Timmy's eyes focused down to rivet points as he met Janek's stare.
Suddenly he laughed. "Oh, hell! Do what you want. Nothing I say's going to stop you, is it, partner?"