“Alfred got the window open. Even if he’d had the presence of mind to shut the door to the hall, the door had burned through, because there were flames in back of him. The people on the ground said he got the window open and got out on the fire escape and the fire came right after him.”
“There must have been a draft by then,” Mack said.
“Of course,” Scott said. “The people said the whole damned thing was just a sheet of flame. Alfred got on the fire escape. The bolts let go – I suppose it hadn’t been tested in fifty years, which would not surprise me – and down he went, fire escape and all. It was the fall that killed him.”
“Three stories is not a bad drop,” Mack said.
“It is if you’re the guy that’s dropping,” Scott said. “Anyway, that’s all I know. Except that for the next couple nights, Alfred will be at the Scott Funeral Home.”
“Poor Mavis,” Mack said.
“Poor Mavis, hell,” Scott said. “She’s had a hard life before this. She’ll make it through this one. What I want to know is what you’re going to do.”
“I’ve already done it,” Mack said. “The Attorney General said he appreciated my call, and that the investigation was already well under way.”
30
Detective Lieutenant Inspector John Roscommon entered the green-painted interrogation room and closed the door – deliberately behind him. Carbone and Sweeney watched the back of his blue blazer, and Dannaher stared at the floor. Roscommon shut the door so that the latch did not click. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling, under the textured Plexiglas, hissed every so often.
When the door was closed, Roscommon turned around and leaned his back against it. He rocked back upon his heels and clasped his hands at his crotch.
Sweeney got up. “You can have my chair, Loot,” he said.
Roscommon did not look at him. He looked at Dannaher, who had two days’ grizzle of beard and wore a dirty shirt and continued to gaze at the grey metal table and the floor. “Don’t want it, Mike, thanks.”
“Well, Jimma,” Roscommon said. “Good tah see ya again.”
Dannaher did not say anything.
“Your old pal, Jimma, Roscommon. Remember me?”
Dannaher continued to study the table and the floor.
“Sure you do,” Roscommon said. “You remember your old pal, John Roscommon. We known each other for years. Aren’t you gonna say hello to your old pal, John Roscommon?”
Dannaher shook his head. Roscommon rocked on his heels twice. “Jimma, Jimma,” he said, “this is no way to greet an old friend that you met long ago when he put you in jail for the first time. Wasn’t I decent to you, Jimma? Didn’t I tell you, when I collared you, your next step was going to be the place where they’re so concerned about whether you get nightmares that they keep guards around all night, make sure the bears don’t get you? Didn’t I tell you that, Jimma?
And wasn’t I right? Didn’t you get a nice room and all that protection from the bears because of me? Tell the truth now, Jimma. Isn’t that so?”
Dannaher mumbled, “I know my rights. I don’t have to say nothin’.”
“Ahh, Jimma, Jimma,” Roscommon said. “See what happens when you get out someplace where there’s nobody to protect you from the bears and you start in to drinking with Clinker Carroll again? See what happens when you’re left on your own? You’ve been down to Danny’s all day, I bet, drinking a ball and a beer with Clinker and talkin’ about the old times. You’re half in the bag, Jimma. You need somebody to take care of you, protect you from the bears.”
“Isn’t,” Dannaher said, “isn’t no crime, I can have a few drinks.”
“’Course it isn’t,” Roscommon said. “You can have a few drinks with the Clinker and you can drink some coffee with Leo. No crime in that.”
“I don’t have to say nothin’,” Dannaher said. “I want my lawyer. I wanna see Tiger Mike Fogarty.”
“Sure,” Roscommon said, “and I bet you want to see him in private, too. With nobody listening.”
Dannaher nodded.
“And you’re gonna,” Roscommon said. “You are gonna see a lot of Tiger Mike in private, for a while. Then you are probably gonna see him in public for a week or two. See him while he’s tryin’, get you off on murder one.”
Dannaher looked up, fast. “I didn’t kill nobody,” he said.
Roscommon said, “Jimma, Jimma, you know the law. Accessory before the fact? Charged as a principal? You helped Leo Proctor burn down Fein’s apartment house. Charged as a principal. Kid died as a result of that fire. You’re going, Jimma. You’re going away, and you’re going away a long time.”
“I didn’t have nothing to do with that fire,” Dannaher said. “Leo did that. I stayed completely away from Leo. I dunno what Leo did.”
“You know some of the things Leo did,” Roscommon said. “You know a lot of the things Leo did. You had some long conversations with him.”
“I did not,” Dannaher said.
“You want some Danish down at the Scandinavian, Jimma?” Roscommon said. “These guys can get it for you. They know right where it is, from tailing you and Leo so many nights and listening to what you had to say. Ask Sweeney and Carbone, they don’t know about the Danish.”
“I got a right to remain silent,” Dannaher said.
“You bet you have,” Roscommon said. “You also got a right to remain out of circulation for fifteen or sixteen years of a life sentence for murder. But that comes after Tiger Mike goes through his regular performance of trying to win a hopeless case, and that won’t be for a while yet. So right now we’ll just give you your right to remain silent, and alone, and you can go down to the holding room and call Fogarty and tell his secretary you got to see him right off, and she will tell you that she’ll have him come over here as soon as he finishes in Middlesex today, and that all will give you some time to think. About Murder One. Sweeney, cart him down. Carbone, come with me.”
31
“Aw right,” Roscommon said to Carbone in Roscommon’s office, “what the goddamned fuck happened? Didn’t I tell you to keep the cocksucker Proctor under surveillance?”
“Yessir,” Carbone said.
“And you didn’t,” Roscommon said.
“Nosir,” Carbone said.
“What is it that I am doing around here?” Roscommon said. “Am I talking to my goddamned self?”
“Lieutenant,” Carbone said, “I made a mistake.”
“Well,” Roscommon said, “that’s the first time I ever heard that excuse. Of course a kid is dead, and a lot of people lost everything they own, and the AC is all over me like a rash and a wet towel and a new suit all at once, because those folks happened to be unwhite, but even though I am not enjoying this whole matter very much, I got to admit this is the first time I ever nailed an investigator for booting one, and he came right out and said he booted it. You have my full attention, Donald.”
“I watched his goddamned house, Lieutenant,” Carbone said. “I watched his goddamned car. His van. I started watching when it was still dark this morning. The minute that son of a bitch moved, I was after him.
“The trouble is, I was out in front with the van, watching it, and he apparently went out the back and left the van there. I don’t know how the fuck he got to Bristol Road. He must’ve had a car stashed on the other side of the alley, and gone in that. By the time I figured out he must be gone, since he always comes out before nine in the morning, he was out.
“ ‘Oh, my God,’ I said to myself, ‘this is the day he’s gonna do it.’ I call Sweeney and he’s watching Fein. Fein’s just leaving his house. ‘Fuck Fein,’ I say.”
“Not supposed to use that kind of talk on the air,” Roscommon said.
“Not supposed to get in the kind of situation where you use that kind of talk on the air,” Carbone said. “I did. Told Sweeney, forget the landlord and haul ass to Bristol. I’ll meet him there. Sweeney tells me, forget meeting, he’s closer to Bristol, I should go find Dannaher. Which is what I did. Took me a while, but I did it.”