David Jackson - Pariah

‘But that still leaves Joe and Tony. Your partners. Or do you have a way to cross them off your list too?’

‘Sure, Joe was my partner. But Tony never was. Not really. I worked with him for a few hours, that’s it.’

‘So what are you saying? That it’s just pure coincidence that you happen to be linked to all these people? Come on, that’s kind of a stretch.’

‘No, what I’m saying is that somebody killed Joe and Tony, and then made it look like just a part of a greater plan to hurt me. That’s why the killer sent me revenge messages: to make me and everyone else think I was the focal point.’

‘Why? Why would they do that?’

‘To shift the attention away from Joe and Tony as the real victims. And it worked. Nobody is looking for links between Joe and Tony because they’re all too busy looking at me.’

Nadine stares for a while, then shakes her head. ‘I don’t know, Cal. To do all this, just as a diversionary tactic. .’

‘What, you don’t think escaping the death penalty is sufficient motive? The killer’s got the whole NYPD looking in the wrong direction, and that means they’re never going to find him. I’d say that makes his efforts pretty damn worthwhile, wouldn’t you?’

Seeing that Nadine still looks doubtful, he says, ‘Look, if this guy really wanted to hurt me, why didn’t he just kill Rachel and Amy rather than go through that whole charade of making me think they were in trouble? Why didn’t he kill Spinner after my first meeting with him, rather than wait until Spinner became a danger to him? Where’s the consistency?’

Another pause from Nadine. ‘If you’re right, and I still think it’s a huge if, then that still means somebody wanted Joe and Tony dead. Why would they do that? You knew Joe better than most. Why would someone want to kill a nice guy like that?’

Images of Joe Parlatti laughing and smiling jump to Doyle’s mind. He feels slightly guilty that the events of the past few days have not allowed him more time to think about his partner. Yes, Joe was a nice guy. One of the nicest. His wife, Maria, said the same. She said a few other things too.

‘I don’t know why,’ Doyle says, although he could venture a guess. ‘But I got some ideas as to who.’

Nadine’s eyes narrow. He can almost feel the touch of her gaze flicking over his face, searching it for clues.

‘Are you going to let me in on it?’

‘A cop.’

‘A cop. Any particular reason?’

‘Several, actually. The details don’t matter.’

‘Ooo-kay. Any particular cop?’

And this is where it gets difficult, thinks Doyle. This is where friendships are tested. This is where bonds are stressed to their breaking point. This is where hearts are broken.

‘You remember the night after Joe was killed?’ he begins. ‘When I came home, and you were there with Rachel?’

Nadine doesn’t move. Her eye-line doesn’t shift even a degree away from Doyle’s face.

‘Go on,’ she says.

‘I told you that Mo was on his way home, because that’s what he told me. And you seemed surprised at that, like you weren’t expecting him home until much later.’

This time she says nothing. Just waits.

‘So was he there when you got back? Or did he get in much later?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Was he in the apartment when Tony Alvarez was being killed?’

So there it is. He’s crossed the line, and he can see as much on Nadine’s face.

‘Cal, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?’

Doyle has no choice but to press on. ‘What about the previous night, when Joe was killed? Was Mo home then?’

‘He works hard. You know that. He’s a hard-working, hands-on cop. He’s out all kinds of strange hours, just like you are, Cal. Now before you say another word, I think you need to-’

‘What about Saturday, Nadine?’

‘Saturday? What about it?’

‘That’s the day Spinner was killed. According to Mo, he was in a meeting at police headquarters that afternoon.’

‘And?’

‘You’re right. Nothing unusual in that. No reason to doubt him. Except that he said something else too. He said that directly after leaving 1PP he met up with you to do some Christmas shopping.’

Nadine’s silence says everything.

Doyle continues: ‘All perfectly normal too, right? Nothing suspicious there. In fact, it was only today that it clicked with me. He couldn’t have gone shopping with you.’

Nadine is angry now. Angry and fearful. ‘Why, Cal?’ she snaps. ‘Why couldn’t he? Suppose I say he was shopping with me? What then?’

‘You’d be lying. Saturday evening was when Amy was in the dance competition. And you were there. I remember Rachel telling me you were going to be there. You weren’t available to go shopping because you were at the dance competition. Am I wrong about that, Nadine? Am I?’

Nadine’s eyes well up and glisten with the reflected light of the fire. Through tight, trembling lips she says, ‘Do you know what you’re accusing him of, Cal? I heard about what happened to Spinner. He was tortured. For a long time. And then his throat was cut. Do you really believe that Mo is capable of such a thing? He’s my husband, Cal. Your boss. He’s always said great things about you. You brought a lot of baggage with you to the Eighth, and he’s always defended you. Do you think he could turn on you like this? Do you think he deserves this kick in the teeth from you?’

‘I don’t want to believe it, Nadine. Really I don’t. But it all fits. The person who’s doing this is a cop, and it has to be a cop who knows a lot about me. He had to know a lot about Joe too, and the fact that Tony had interviewed Cavell. And there’s something else. .’

Nadine sniffs. ‘What?’ she asks, in a tone that suggests she doesn’t really want to hear the answer.

‘Something else that Mo said on Saturday, when he came to Spinner’s apartment. He was giving me a hard time, letting rip at me for all the mistakes I was making. One of the things he didn’t like was the fact I had an unlogged meeting with an informant.’

‘So?’

‘I hadn’t told him about that meeting. I hadn’t told anyone about it. The only way Mo could have found out about it is if he was the one who killed Spinner.’

Nadine shakes her head, gets to her feet.

‘You’re wrong. There has to be another explanation. Mo couldn’t do all this. You’re wrong.’

She moves closer to the fire. She slides a poker from its beaten-copper holder. Idly, she pokes it into the logs. They hiss at her like disturbed rattlesnakes.

Doyle stands up. ‘The guy I met with last night? Someone paid a lot of money to have him killed. Most cops I know don’t have that kind of money. Mo does, though. This house, the inheritance from his mother. He must be worth a fortune now. I hear he plans to retire next year.’ She stabs at the logs more vigorously. Doyle takes a step closer. ‘I’m sorry, Nadine, but it all fits. It’s the only possible answer.’

She whirls on him, brandishing the poker. The glowing red tip is a foot from his face.

‘Then answer me this,’ she yells at him. The tears are streaming down her face now, and he hates that he’s doing this to her. ‘Why, Cal? Why would Mo do it? Why would he want to kill Joe and Tony?’

Doyle looks at her pain. Sees beyond it to the understanding and the damage it has done.

‘I was hoping you could tell me.’

They stand there for a full minute, either side of a broken friendship, until Nadine’s arm begins to shake with the weight of the outstretched poker. Finally she lowers it and pushes it back into the fire, coaxing new life from it.

Doyle waits patiently for her response. He waits for words that will either form the last piece of the puzzle, or else will leave him wondering whether he has somehow got this terribly, horribly wrong.