'It's our supposition that Eldon was a hit man, working for the Nelsons. He killed anyone who threatened to expose their operation in D.C. Cops down there just executed a search warrant at the Benjamin Banneker Academy, found a basement full of stolen goods and an attic full of guns. They had expanded the scope of their operation since they moved to Washington.'
'Back up a minute,' the Hermanator pleaded. 'I'm not getting all of this.'
'Okay,' Tull said with a grin. 'It all begins with a couple who figure they can get cheap labor through the city's foster care system. The original mom-and-pop operation, if you will.'
Sal should have been reading Dickens instead of Kipling, Tess thought as she half-listened to Tull unspool the dark yarn. The Nelsons had taken in foster children as workers in their fencing operation, at first a small-time operation. The original mom-and-pop burglary ring. The children had stolen car radios and anything else that wasn't nailed down, but the real money was in weapons. Sal had even helped himself to a gun from the Nelsons' cache. So when Luther Beale had opened fire that night, Sal had shot back. Problem was, he wasn't a very good shot, and he had ended up hitting Donnie instead. Or so he thought.
The children had sworn an oath never to tell what had really happened, not to mention guns, or stolen goods. They had assumed lies would keep their little family intact, but Donnie's death had started the inexorable process by which they would be torn apart.
Two years later, Sal had tracked down Pearson and wrangled his scholarship, threatening to expose him. 'I was smarter than the others,' he had bragged to Tess. 'They were dumb motherfuckers.' Yet Eldon had done the same thing, convincing the Nelsons to hide him after he jumped bail. They had been glad to do it for a few small favors here and there. And Destiny had been smart enough to try and shake the Nelsons down for money. Or dumb enough, given the outcome.
The Nelsons had strung her along until Eldon could kill her, but they had needed Tess to find Treasure. And when Keisha Moore had started asking questions, Eldon killed her, too. In his own way, Eldon was as much an over-achiever as Sal. He just focused his energy differently.
Tyner finally arrived, Luther Beale in tow. There were some charges pending against Tess-reckless endangerment, destruction of property-although Tull was reasonably sure the criminal charges would be dropped. Eventually.
'Pearson's insurance company isn't going to let you off the hook so easily,' Tyler said gloomily. 'Insurance companies don't make exceptions, even when you're trying to save someone's life.'
'Hey, I did, didn't I?' Tess, who had been contemplating her own role in all the deaths on Butchers Hill, felt momentarily cheered. 'I wish that made up for Treasure. Or Keisha. I feel as if I led Eldon straight to them.'
'He would have found them one way or another,' Tull assured her. Another olive branch. Why not? She had been right, after all.
Beale just stood there silently, holding his Panama hat. He was wearing his brown suit, this time with a blue shirt with a white collar. Tess couldn't help wondering if he had a single shirt that matched his one suit.
'So I didn't do it?' he asked. 'I really didn't kill that boy?'
Tull shrugged, not so anxious to mend fences with Beale. 'We'll never know, will we? You fired, he fired, Donnie died. It could have been either one of you.'
'But a jury wouldn't have convicted Beale if they had known,' Tyner pointed out. 'We'll get a governor's pardon out of this, maybe even some money. I see a big lawsuit here.'
Tull rolled his eyes. 'You can't sue the state for pursuing its mandated duties, Tyner. But go for it. Maybe you'll shake a little settlement out of them.'
Two officers brought Sal out just then. He was still just a boy, Tess reminded herself. Seventeen wasn't as old as he thought it was. And he hadn't covered up his crime because he feared taking responsibility for what he had done, but because he wanted to keep his 'family' together. Perhaps, like everyone else in Baltimore at the time, he had assumed Luther Beale would never serve time for his crime. How could a little boy know the intricacies of handgun laws in the city limits?
'The skinny one,' Luther Beale said. 'You're the skinny one.'
Sal glanced up. He looked angry and guilty at the same time, and not a little frightened.
'Yeah, I remember you, too.'
'Well, I have something to say to you,' Beale announced. 'I have something I want everyone here to hear.'
Tull looked at Tess, as if to say: I told you he was a son of a bitch. Even Tess couldn't quite believe that Beale would insist on making a scene. It wasn't enough for him to be proven right. He had to proclaim it.
'The way I see it, a lot of folks failed you,' Beale said, the Hermanator scribbling down his words furiously. 'Those people you lived with, the man who put you in their home. They didn't teach you right from wrong. But they were grownups and you were a little boy. You couldn't help not knowing any better.
'I was a grownup, too. If I hadn't come out in the street with my gun that night, you wouldn't have fired your gun and Donnie Moore wouldn't have died. Not that night at least. We failed you, all the grownups in your life, we let you down. So all I can say is-' He stopped, playing with the brim of his hat, a gesture Tess remembered from their first meeting. 'All I can say is, I'm sorry.'
Epilogue
The unseasonably beautiful summer had finally yielded to something more familiar-hot, humid days, with afternoon thunderstorms that lasted just long enough to ruin picnics and barbecues, but didn't deliver enough rain for the city's now parched gardens and lawns. At Camden Yards, the ground crew was getting more exercise than the Orioles: at least they got to put out the tarp each evening and then roll it back, while the Orioles seldom circled the bases. The Orioles being in something of a slump, their bats were the only reliably cold place in all of Baltimore.
In other words, everything was back to normal. The bill had come due for June and July. Nothing to do but pay up, and move on. Already, fresher scandals were crowding out the twisted saga of what had happened on Butchers Hill so many years ago. 'Butchers Hill?' Tess had heard a man say at the lunch counter at Jimmy's just the other morning. 'Oh yeah, that place where that kid tried to kill that old man that time.'
'No,' his companion had insisted. 'The old man tried to kill the kid, for breaking his window.'
In Kitty's bookstore, Tess pushed aside a stack of the latest Louisa May Alcott discovery-'How many manuscripts did that woman have squirreled away?' she grumbled-to make room on the old soda fountain for yet another tray of hors d'oeuvres. Her mother had been cooking for days, it seemed, bringing by tray after tray of delicacies until Kitty had finally run out of room in her freezer.
'I thought Judith hated to cook,' Kitty said, trying to squeeze a plate of miniature quiches between the pasta salad and artichoke dip.
'She used to,' Tess said. 'I think she's entering some strange new phase. Wait until you see all the outfits she's bought.'
'Not all matching?'
'Shockingly, no.'
But this party had been Judith's idea, after all. She was entitled to go hog-wild if she wanted. 'To celebrate…whatever,' she had said. 'Well, not celebrate, but acknowledge. You know-'
'I know,' Tess had said, feeling charitable enough toward her mother to want to bail her out. It wasn't easy, being St. Judith. It wasn't easy being Gramma. It wasn't easy
Kitty had just tapped the keg, a sweet little microbrew from Sissons, the one that tasted like a blueberry muffin in a beer glass, when the guests began to arrive. Most of the Weinsteins were there, showing their support for Judith even if her meshugah daughter had thrown a monkey wrench into everything. The Monaghans had come, too, if only to gloat at the strange circumstances bedeviling their snobbish in-laws. A black teenage mistress! A discovered heir! Who did Samuel Weinstein think he was. Thomas Jefferson? Still, the Monaghans had to admit the Weinsteins were handling the situation with surprising grace. Even Gramma had behaved reasonably well, which is to say that she had decided not to try and block the sale of the property when she heard of Tess's
