There he was in the hallway, neatly dressed as ever, tie perfectly knotted. He seemed calm on the outside, but she knew him well enough to recognize the hidden tension in his posture. His hands were empty, one clasping the other at his belt buckle.
She opened the door. “Thanks for coming,” she said.
“Always.”
“C’mon in.”
He stepped inside. Rolf, standing in the kitchen doorway, bristled slightly. He hadn’t forgotten his partner’s last encounter with the Irishman. The Shepherd’s baleful stare followed Carlyle into the living room.
“Have a seat,” she said.
He hesitated. “Is this official?”
“I don’t know.”
Carlyle cocked his head. “That’s the one answer I wasn’t expecting.” He slowly sat on Erin’s couch, resting his hands on his knees. “I’m assuming you’re still angry with me.”
Erin nodded, tight-lipped. “Yeah. But this isn’t about that.”
“How may I help you, then?”
“Liam wasn’t your friend.”
Carlyle shook his head.
“We got the guy who killed him,” she said.
“Grand. My congratulations.”
Erin watched him carefully. Carlyle gave nothing away. He was watching her in return, searching her face for some clue. All interrogations were two-way, she thought for the second time that day.
“The Colombians and Lucarellis were killed by Irish,” she said flatly.
Carlyle didn’t flinch. “You’re certain of this?” he asked quietly.
“Doesn’t really matter how certain I am,” she shot back. “What matters is the Colombians are sure.”
“There were survivors?”
“Did Liam have a line on a big shipment of heroin?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“I’ve nothing to do with narcotics, Erin. You know that.”
“What do your pals say?”
“I’ve no friends in the narcotics business, either.”
“Your business associates, then.”
“Erin, don’t ask me about O’Malley business.”
“Because you won’t rat out your comrades?”
“Because I’ve no interest in being murdered.”
“These bastards don’t deserve your loyalty.”
“It’s not about deserving it,” he said. “It’s about my own integrity.”
Erin wanted to smack him. Instead, she took out her phone, turned on the screen, and shoved it across the coffee table. “Who’s in the picture?” she demanded.
Carlyle looked at it. “Corky, Liam, and myself,” he said.
“Who else?” she growled. Both of them knew perfectly well he was only identifying guys she already knew.
“I really can’t say.”
“We’ll get these guys through facial recognition,” she said.
“Then you’ve no need of my testimony.” He pushed the phone back toward her.
Erin came around the table and sat on the other end of the couch, angled toward him. “Look, Carlyle, this isn’t what I want to be doing. This thing, you and me, it’s not supposed to be about crap like this. But this case is big. We’ve got eleven bodies and counting. Eleven. And you’re sitting over there doing your cool cucumber act, like it doesn’t have anything to do with you. Thing is, Diego Rojas is sure Liam and his guys did the shooting. And I can’t walk away just because it’s O’Malley muscle in the spotlight. Do you know what sort of spot this puts me in?”
He nodded and his face and posture softened a little. “About the same spot I’m in on account of making time with a fair copper. You knew this might happen when you threw in with me.”
“You don’t even like these guys!” she burst out.
“As I recall, you had some difficulties with a couple of shamuses back in Queens, aye?”
Erin thought of Lyons and Spinelli, the two Homicide jerks who’d gotten her suspended from duty. “Yeah?” she said suspiciously.
“If the pair of them got in trouble through doing something thick and called for help, would you be sitting it out? Or would you be running to the rescue?”
“I’d back them up,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what we do.”
“Precisely.”
Erin sighed. “I just wanted… to work together on this. We work well as partners.”
“Aye, we do.”
“This photo’s evidence,” she went on, indicating her phone. “It’s already logged. I have to report what Rojas told me. That’ll make you at least a person of interest, maybe a suspect. Corky, too.”
“Erin,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“I’d nothing to do with the hit. I knew nothing about it. Neither did Corky.”
She believed him. Part of it was the trust they’d built up so slowly and carefully over the past months. Part of it was knowing Carlyle wasn’t on the muscle side of the O’Malleys. And part of it was knowing he was a pretty lousy shot and didn’t like guns. That was why he kept guys like Ian around.
Guys like Ian…
She felt suddenly cold. They were looking for four shooters. Three had blasted the front of the restaurant, the fourth had waited out back and gunned down the Italians as they’d fled. The last one had been an expert marksman, dealing out perfect head shots. Exactly the sort of shots a Marine Scout Sniper knew how to make.
“Erin?” Carlyle asked, leaning toward her. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve just taken a shot to the belly.”
“I’m fine,” she said mechanically.
“Erin,” he said again. “I didn’t do this.”
“I know.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Siobhan.”
She nodded, but she was thinking about other things. “Carlyle,” she said slowly, “is there any chance any of your people might be working… for someone else? Do you, I don’t know, rent them out or something? As a favor, ever?”
“You mean, do I think any of my folk were moonlighting for Liam? It’s possible. But if so, they’ve not told me. People in the Life are always looking for a way to get ahead, as you well know. It’s not like we sign exclusive contracts.”
That startled a smile out of her. “But these guys in the picture,” she said, tapping her phone. “They’re not yours? They don’t answer to you?”
“They don’t,” he confirmed.
“But you won’t tell me anything else about them.”
“I’d like to help you.” His face became even more intent. “How important is it to
