I glanced down to see if I was wearing one of my uniform shirts, which identify me variously as Officer Truman and Chief Truman. I was not. ‘How did you…?’
‘My father called to say you’d be here. Weren’t you with him?’
‘Sorry I’m an idiot.’
Her lips unfastened into a lopsided Elvis-like smile. ‘So what did you make of all this?’
‘It was interesting.’
‘Interesting!’ Beck said, delighted again. ‘It is that!’
Caroline still had not unfolded her arms. ‘Max Beck, this is Benjamin Truman. Mr Truman is the chief in Versailles, Maine.’
Beck pumped my hand up and down. ‘We’re all so upset about what happened.’
I offered my hand to Caroline, and she gave it a dry, businesslike shake.
‘Max, I should warn you, Mr Truman came down to look into the Danziger case. You’d better hope he strikes out, otherwise you’ll lose a few clients.’
‘Oh, I’m not too concerned.’ Beck gave me a look, rolling his eyes up toward that inverted bird’s nest of hair: Typical Caroline. Having imparted that mute warning, he drifted off.
‘I don’t think he thought that was funny.’
‘That’s because it wasn’t a joke.’
Caroline gathered her papers into her briefcase. Up close, I could see there were undyed gray strands whipstitched through her dark hair. I wondered if she’d missed these while removing the other grays or if she’d decided to leave them. The latter seemed more likely. Caroline obviously paid too much attention to her appearance — she wore very light makeup, artfully applied, and her suit and shoes looked stylish and expensive — to have overlooked them.
‘Interesting is a pretty noncommittal word, Chief Truman. Is that all you have to say about this place?’
‘There was one thing. When you said… what you said to that DA, we could all hear you.’
‘So?’
‘Well if we could hear you, the judge could probably hear you too.’
‘Good. He needed to hear it. You didn’t expect that kid to say fuck you to a judge, did you?’
‘Actually it hadn’t occurred to me that anyone was going to say it.’
‘Maybe not out loud,’ she sighed.
‘And the bit about the witch hunt?’
‘Oh, that’s just Beck. He tends to be dramatic’
‘Is he right?’
‘About the witches? No, we’ve got a pretty good handle on the witch problem.’ Another Elvis smile.
‘I mean about the hysteria. Are the cops panicking, making crazy arrests?’
‘Maybe. Probably. But in G-Mac’s case, they got the right guy. We’ve got a victim who knows him personally and can make the I.D. There’s no issue. McNeese is guilty and Beck knows it.’
‘He also seems to know McNeese is going to get off.’
‘Right. Well, there is one issue: whether the victim will show up to testify.’
‘What are the odds?’
She shrugged. ‘This case is less important than the Danziger investigation. I won’t push the witness on this case; I may need him later. Besides, if McNeese gets off, we’ll get him next time. Guys like him always come back. The statistics say 5 percent of the criminals commit 95 percent of the crimes. G-Mac’s a five-percenter.’
‘Sounds like a witch to me.’
‘I think so too.’
Outside the courthouse, a four-story cube at the southern end of Mission Ave, Caroline stood on the second step so she could look her father, John Kelly, in the eye. She kissed him, then wiped his cheek with her thumb to be sure she had not left a lipstick mark. It was a motherly, muscular gesture, but John Kelly seemed to enjoy it.
‘Thanks for helping us, sweetheart.’
‘Don’t thank me, Dad, thank Andrew Lowery He’s the DA. It was his call.’
‘But you gave him a nudge, I’m sure.’
‘Actually I told Lowery to send you right back where you came from.’
‘Now, why would you do a thing like that?’
‘Because I don’t want you screwing up my case.’
‘I thought it was Maine’s case,’ I said.
‘It is, but I’m coordinating the investigation here. Frankly, I don’t understand why you can’t just monitor the case from Maine, Chief Truman. But if you feel it’s important to be part of it…’ She shrugged. ‘Well, it’s none of my business. I suppose you have your reasons. Anyway, DA Lowery says I should extend our full support, as a courtesy’
‘Imagine,’ Kelly grumbled, ‘my own daughter needing to be told-’
‘Dad, spare me. You’re supposed to be retired.’
‘I’m too young to retire.’
‘You’re sixty-seven years old.’
‘Sixty-six.’
‘It’s old enough.’
‘For what?’
‘Don’t ask.’ She scribbled something on a scrap of paper and handed it to her father.
‘Martin Gittens,’ he read. ‘Who’s this?’
‘A cop. He’s been detailed to help you out, courtesy of Mr Lowery’
‘Very courteous, our Mr Lowery. What do you know about this Gittens?’
‘He’s a detective. He’s supposed to be wired up in Mission Flats. And he’s been calling me begging for a piece of this case. Other than that, not much.’
‘Do you trust him?’
‘Dad, it’s like you always say: Trust everyone-’
‘Trust everyone but cut the cards. Good girl.’
‘Thank you,’ I interjected, ‘for helping.’
Caroline leveled an index finger at me. ‘Chief Truman, so help me, if anything happens to my father…’ She didn’t feel constrained to fill me in as to the precise consequences.
‘Um, what if anything happens to me?’
She ignored me. ‘One more thing. You two have to promise to share whatever you find with me. If you hold anything back, and I mean even the smallest detail, the arrangement is off. You’ll be on your own. That’s straight from Lowery.’
‘Of course,’ Kelly pere assured.
‘Alright then.’ She kissed her father again and wiped his cheek again with the pad of her thumb. ‘You two make some team.’
‘Like Batman and Robin,’ John Kelly suggested.
She sniffed and made that sardonic Elvis-smile. ‘Yah, right.’
13
The Grove Park housing project was a collection of six ugly, yellow-brick apartment buildings. They were arranged asymmetrically, like blocks dropped here and there by a careless giant.
We caught up to Martin Gittens on a rooftop. He was bending forward with his hands on his knees like a running back before the ball is snapped. At Gittens’s feet, an African-American man in his mid-twenties sat splay- legged, his back slumped against the concrete parapet. He had a forlorn look on his face. ‘You can stop this any time, Michael,’ Gittens was telling him. ‘Just say the word. I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do.’ The man just sat there, in a daze. Gittens hunched over him, waiting for a response, then straightened and said, ‘Your call.’
