Jan Burke - Bloodlines

She paused, and took a drink of water.

“Now, looking back on it, I suppose they were trying to figure out how big of a hole he’d need for my car. I didn’t know that then. I just knew he was going to get my car dirty, and I was mad. So I went into the office and decided to have a look through the desk. I’m not proud of this, or much of anything from those days, but I thought there might be some money stashed away there, and so I took a look. There was this drawer with a false back to it. You know the kind I mean?”

Everyone nodded.

“I saw this pink envelope.” She smiled wistfully. “In those days, I was crazy about pink. I knew Griff was married, so I figured, ‘Well, here’s a little insurance, in case I need it one day,’ because a girl in my… in the situation I was in back then…never feels too certain of the future. Anyway, I heard the car- Gus and Griff coming back to the house-so I stuffed the envelope into my purse, and put the drawer back like it was, and got myself out of there before they could see what I was up to.” She looked to Brennan.

“Ms. Bradford kept the envelope over the years,” he said. “Although she opened it, and looked at the contents, they are intact.”He handed a large manila envelope to the D.A., who opened and tilted it. A small pink envelope slid out onto the table, making a sound that seemed to indicate there was something metal in it. It sat untouched for a moment. The D.A. looked to Frank. Ever-prepared homicide detective that he is, my husband had a pair of latex gloves with him. He handed them to the D.A., who put them on, then gently lifted the flap of the envelope. He tipped it over the desk and out spilled a silver locket. It was shaped like a shamrock. The chain was broken and had dark stains on it that might be rust. Or blood. I stared at it in shocked recognition.

“Have you and Mr. Brennan handled this without gloves?” the D.A. asked her.

“Just me,” she said. “He only looked at it.”

“It’s Maureen’s,” I said, finding my voice.

I had everyone’s attention.

“It’s Maureen O’Connor’s.” I felt a rush of emotion as I said it. All those years. All those years…

“O’Connor?” the D.A. asked.

“The reporter’s sister,” Frank said. “She was murdered in 1945. Irene, are you sure…?”

“I’ve got a photo of her wearing it. I didn’t realize it was a locket, but it looks just like this one.”

The D.A. asked for a copy of the photo. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, still trying to get the combination of rage and relief and sadness I felt under control. In spite of the company and the situation, Frank reached over and squeezed my hand.

“You okay?”

I nodded again, took a deep breath. “What’s inside?”

The D.A. gently opened it. The locket had a thin middle section, so that it held four small photos in its hinged compartments. The first ones were two handsome young men, the youngest no more than a teenager. The second, a man and a woman. I recognized the faces. “Conn O’Connor, his brother Dermot, and their parents. Her family-part of it. The ones to whom she was closest.”

The questions began again. Frank asked Betty about Gus’s associates, and in a way that seemed to spark some memories. I was glad for this interlude-it helped me to focus again.

Frank seemed to get some kind of high sign from his lieutenant. While they conferred, Brennan said, “Ms. Kelly, do you have questions?”

“Yes. How did Gus know that Jack Corrigan would be at Katy Ducane’s birthday party?”

“He said that she’d invite him because he was her uncle, and he thought that was funny, too, so I figured he was one of her mother’s lovers or something. And Gus had a couple of people watching a bar or two that he might show up in- if Corrigan did, they were supposed to call somebody else, and they would come and get us and we’d try the same thing at the bar. But Gus was pretty sure of the party, so he got an invite from someone, and Bo carried that in.”

“Did Gus know Rose Hannon, the nursemaid?” Frank asked.

“Not her,” she said. “I think he had dated that other one-the one that had the night off. I don’t like saying that, because it makes her sound bad, like she lied. But I don’t blame her for not figuring it out. Gus knew that sooner or later, the boss wanted him inside the Ducane place, so months before all this happened, Gus was trying to chat up that housekeeper. He took her out once. But she decided she didn’t like him, and he didn’t get her keys off her, like he wanted-I remember that made him mad. But he learned where the baby slept and where the nurse’s rooms were, and all of that.”

She halted for a moment, briefly losing her composure. Brennan asked her if she wanted to stop, but she shook her head, brushed away tears, and said, “I never-not in a million years-thought he was doing anything but getting set to rob the place. I swear that’s true. But I should have known, I guess. Somehow I should have known.”

Frank and the D.A. asked a few more questions, and it was agreed that Mr. Brennan would come with her to police headquarters the next day so that she could look through some mug shots to help identify other people who might have connections with Yeager.

“I hope I helped,” she said. “Did I?”

We all assured her that she did.

I wanted to talk to Frank, but that wasn’t going to work out with the lieutenant and the captain there, so we just said a quick, “See you at home,” and parted company. I could see that Hailey was anxious to talk to me, so as soon we were away from the others I said, “You’d better run if you’re going to get this in before drop-dead deadline. And before you get any big ideas, we need to make sure we don’t use Yeager’s name in a way that will get us sued. We may need to bring the company lawyers in on this one.”

“Irene-I’m really worried.”

“About the paper being sued? We’re threatened with it all the time.”

“No-”

“You’ll make deadline. I have faith.”

“No! Not the paper. I’m worried about Ethan.”

“Me, too. But now’s not-”

“Then you know?”

“Know what?”

“He was going to go over to Mitch Yeager’s house.”

“T ELL ME,” I ORDERED HER, WISHING FRANK HADN’T JUST LEFT WITH HIS bosses.

“I felt a little bad about what I had said. I saw him leave the building tonight, and I followed him out to this bar-” “Oh hell.”

“He didn’t go in. He kind of hung around outside it, then he walked down the street to this coffee place some of us hang out at sometimes-you know, people who were in J-school together. Anyway, I could see he was upset. He was calling someone on his cell phone, so I didn’t come too near him at first. I wanted to give him some privacy.”

“What happened?”

“He saw me and waved me over, said he had just been talking to his sponsor.” She blushed. “I thought he meant he had some kind of deal, you know, like an athlete with a shoe company. Then he told me it was a friend from AA. Anyway, I tried talking to him, because I could see he was still really bugged by what I had said to him. Things were going okay, he was cool-but then I don’t know, we got into it again. My fault, I guess. He was mad at me for saying we couldn’t do any good. He said, you know, ‘Then why show up for work at a newspaper, why tell anybody anything if nobody really cares…’”

“How did this lead to Mitch Yeager’s house?”

“He said that the only thing anyone needed to do was get DNA from Mitch Yeager.”

“And you told him that was a job for the police, right?”

She looked away, then said, “God, this is all my fault.”