In This Rain (33 page)

Lena had come into the room. She’d stood and watched with Charlie and Don, calm, efficient, waiting for instructions. A great comfort, Lena was, during a crisis. Why didn’t Charlie feel comforted now?

Don switched the set off. “Lena, get Sue Trowbridge in here.”

“And the Corporation Counsel.” Charlie had to shake himself into action and was a second late with that, but no one seemed to notice. “Otherwise hold my calls.” The phone was ringing already. “That son of a bitch. Son of a bitch! Who does he think he is? No notification? No phone call? Just slapped it on us, and I hear about it from a press conference?”

“Charlie?” Lena called. “McClean from the Corporation Counsel’s office, line three.”

“Not on the phone. Tell him to get over here, ten minutes. From a press conference? Lena! Get Shapiro and Lowry, and tell Lowry to bring Montgomery. Here, one hour. And Edgar?” Charlie turned to Don. “That pious bastard. Who was it who fucked up my chances of doing anything about Montgomery? And now he’s kissing Walter’s ass?”

“Edgar’s jumping ship,” said Don. “He came to you to make sure the case against Glybenhall got made. Now he sees it can’t be, he wants to be on the winning side. For something like this”— he pointed his cigarette at the TV— “Glybenhall will owe Edgar big.”

“It’s a fucking unholy alliance, Walter and Edgar. Jesus, it’s sick.”

“Glybenhall’s drawing a line. Them on one side, you and Corrington on the other.”

“Sick,” the mayor said again. “Walter’s friendship’s been abused? Damage to his good name! He gets off on notoriety. His suit has no basis and he at least could have goddamn notified me!”

“Maybe he was afraid you’d talk him out of it. Based on your long and close friendship.”

“Maybe he was afraid I’d kill him.” The mayor threw the window open and leaned on the sill, breathing shakily. The air held a strange sweetness, from the blooms on one of the trees. Which the hell kind of tree was it, that blossomed as freely through last year’s drought as this year’s rain? Charlie wished he knew.

Harlem: Frederick Douglass Boulevard

When Ford walked into his office he found all hell had broken loose.

“Every TV station and newspaper in New York called.” Yvonnia handed him a stack of phone messages.

Ford stopped and stared at the slips. “Why?”

“Didn’t you hear Walter Glybenhall’s press conference?”

“No. I was with a kid. Fill me in.”

Before she could, the phone rang. She answered it looking fierce, but her face relaxed. She put the caller on hold. “It’s Reverend Holdsclaw.”

“You hear Glybenhall’s press conference?” Ray demanded as soon as Ford picked up the phone.

“No, and apparently I’ve missed something big.”

“It’s the talk of the town, son. Everyone wants to know is it true you had a deal with the mayor and were you in on settin’ up Glybenhall?”

“Setting him up?”

“Seems he’s suing the city. That Montgomery woman, from DOI? He says she’s been after him for twenty years.”

“Lot of people must have had it in for him for longer than that.”

“He’s saying that’s why the evidence was bad.”

In his mind, Ford saw Ann Montgomery in the garden next door, wiping a little boy’s mud from her hands. “What’s he suing for? False arrest?”

“Oh, more than that. Where you come in is, he’s suggesting the point of the whole thing was to get rid of him so ‘another developer’ could have the Block A site.”

“He said that?”

“Of course not. He said he couldn’t say that, not having the facts and all.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“In case you’re interested, consensus around here seems to be, if you were in on it, you’re a pretty smart fella and the fact that it blew up like this just proves you made two mistakes.”

“What would those be?”

“One: getting into a conspiracy with white folks. They’ll screw you every time. And two, going up against Walter Glybenhall. Even white folks can’t win that.”

Sutton Place

“Do I have to tell any of you how bad this is?”

Charlie Barr’s red face and scalp radiated heat Ann could swear she felt.

“No, sir,” said Mark Shapiro.

“I just came out of a meeting with McClean from the Corporation Counsel’s office,” the mayor said. “They’re leaning toward settling.”

“Settling?” Greg Lowry objected. “The suit’s only a few hours old. They can’t even have studied it yet.”

“They’ve managed to pick out a few salient points,” the mayor shot back caustically. “Basically we’re accused of conspiracy to fuck Walter up. Our only possible defense, according to McClean, is that we were all too goddamn stupid to see what was going on.”

“Mayor, nothing was ‘going on,’ ” Lowry tried.

“Walter’s saying we used a goddamn stalker to investigate him! That the evidence was distorted or downright faked— ”

“I— ” Ann tried, but Lowry cut her off.

“You’ll get your chance, Ann. Mayor, we talked about this. We all felt it was important to do whatever we’d do if the suspect weren’t a prominent citizen.”

“Like use an investigator who’s obsessed with him? You’d do that for anybody, is that what you’re saying?”

“Ann’s one of DOI’s top people,” Lowry answered. “We didn’t know about her past with Glybenhall but frankly I don’t see— ”

“Oh, save the full-confidence bullshit for the press!” The mayor shifted his glare to Ann. “How much of what Walter’s saying about you is true? And”— to Lowry— “why the hell didn’t you know it?”

“There’s nothing for him to know. It’s not true,” Ann said.

“Your mother— ”

“My mother had an affair with Glybenhall twenty years ago. When I— when my father found out he went to confront them and skidded on an icy road.”

“Walter says you’ve always blamed him.”

“My father was driving too fast. He always drove too fast.”

“And ever since— ”

“Ever since, I went to college, and law school, and worked at Legal Aid, at the DA’s office, and now here! Do you see anything that remotely looks like me stalking him?”

“Do I see? I haven’t looked! I hope to God you have?” The mayor turned to Shapiro, who nodded.

“We’re checking now.”

Ann felt her face flame but kept quiet: of course they were, and if they were good they’d look under every rock she’d ever touched.

“Now? You never checked before?”

“A thorough background was done when she was hired, of course,” Shapiro answered stiffly. “Under the previous Commissioner. I have that report, if you want to see it.”

“And I told you, Mayor, I did a background check of my own on Ann when I came in,” Lowry said. “There was no evidence of anything out of order.”

“On me?” Ann said. “When you came in?”

“You were Joe Cole’s partner,” Lowry told her evenly. “You should have resigned, and you wouldn’t.”

“What you’re doing now better turn up what she eats for breakfast,” Charlie Barr told Shapiro. “I want to know every traffic ticket, jaywalking, every fucking dirty look she ever gave anybody. I’d say fire her but it’s too soon, it would look like we’re admitting something. Issue a full-confidence-in-my-staff statement. Like the one Sue Trowbridge is writing for me about you right now. Say she’s on desk duty pending results of an internal investigation which you’re sure will show what a saint she is. And find a way to explain how we bought that pile-of-crap evidence.”

“It wasn’t crap!” Ann exploded. “Every piece of it was good. Glybenhall got to the witnesses, that’s what happened. He bought everyone off!”

The mayor turned to her, ice in his eyes. “You,” he said, “clean out your desk. After a decent interval, you’re gone. And I hope you have five million dollars you can spare. Because if the Corp Counsel settles with Walter, the deal is, Walter gets a shitload of city money, he drops his action against me, and you’re on your own.”

“You can’t— !”

“I goddamn can! You’re lucky I’m not screaming for your hide. Don’t push me.” He looked at Shapiro and Lowry. “And you two may not have long, either. Even if she’s guilty of nothing more than unbelievable stupidity, you never should have put her on this case. You should have known.”

“What? That her mother had an affair with Glybenhall twenty years ago? How?” Lowry asked.

“Edgar Westermann knew! He sat in that chair and told me! I wish to hell he’d gone to you two instead. I wish to hell I’d fucking listened! Ah, shit,” the mayor breathed. “Shit, shit, shit.” He stood and stalked across the room. When he reached the door to his office he turned. “Dammit! You should have known.”

Heart’s Content

Joe stopped short and felt his smile fade. At first, turning into his driveway to find the glossy Boxster parked on the raggedy gravel, he thought Ann had come up in victory. It had been four days since she’d headed back to the city to start tightening the noose on Walter Glybenhall: evidence-gathering, follow-ups with witnesses, and no doubt media interviews and pats on the back. He hadn’t heard from her since, but he was a hard guy to get hold of. A couple of times he’d almost called her but he needed to pull the blackberries that wound around the hollyhocks, threatening to choke them. And near the house he had herbs to plant: rosemary, oregano, lavender, three kinds of thyme. A little useless, because he didn’t cook. But their traces in the air in the midday sun would be worth the effort. And though most herbs would probably not make it through the winter in this climate, some would. Those would flower next spring, filling this garden with butterflies and bees.

By the time he came in each evening, sweaty and exhausted, by the time he’d showered and had something to eat, it was late to call, and he hadn’t.

So when he found Ann’s car in the driveway he thought she’d come up to share her triumph. But then he saw her face.

“I’ve been sitting out here since noon.” Ann’s voice held no emotion.

Ann, in one spot for hours. “I did that when I first found this place,” he said. “Sometimes all day.”

“You can see the shadows move.”

The mica veins sparkled in the boulder at the far end of the yard. A breeze passed over the grass like a single wave rolling to shore.

Joe sat beside her. “Tell me.”

“It fell apart.” She rubbed at something on her knee. “Walter got to everyone. All the witnesses, he bought them all off. They took back their statements, one after another. The DA dropped the charges, and Walter’s suing for millions. The city. The mayor. And me.” Her eyes were shining, but with tears. “Joe? You were right. He can’t be stopped. He can get away with anything.”

She took him through the past four days in a dull monotone. He listened, watching the sunlight slip from the grass. When she was finished he stood.

“I need to do this,” he said. “You want to help?”

“Do what?”

“Transplant the rhododendron.” He left the porch for the shed, brought a shovel to the stand of leggy shrubs. He drove the sharp edge in, rocking it forward and back, cutting a moat.

“Why can’t they stay there?” Ann had come up behind him. She still spoke in that odd, dull voice.

“Too much sun, too much wind. They need a quieter spot.”

“If it’s a bad place for them, then why did they grow there?”

“They didn’t; someone put them in. They must have figured anything this flamboyant belongs where the action is. But not these.” He lifted the shovel, chopped into a tangle of grass.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’ll find you a shirt and some jeans first. You’ll mess those clothes up.”

She looked at herself. “Screw these. These are work clothes. I’m on desk duty.”

Her words shivered with anger. He nodded. He’d been on desk duty all through his trial. When you were on desk duty no one wanted you anywhere near your desk. You were supposed to stay home and not contaminate the office with trouble germs.

“Grab hold there,” he said. “Pull it, twist it, whatever you need to do to persuade it to come loose.”

She did as he said, while he dug under the bush, cutting the smaller roots. “It doesn’t want to come out,” she said.

“It doesn’t know how happy it’s going to be.”

By the time they were through, the sun had dropped deep into the trees and the wind carried a chill as though it had traveled across a distant ice field to reach them. Joe tamped damp earth around the shocked stems, dragged the hose over and soaked the roots. He rinsed his hands and offered the running water to Ann.

“You’re a mess,” he said as she splashed water on her face, her dirty hands leaving a wash of mud across her cheeks.

“And I stink, too.”

“You can take a shower. I’ll make dinner.”

“You learned to cook?”

“Roast beef sandwiches.”

When she came out of the bathroom she wore his Yankees sweatshirt and a pair of his jeans. The pants were six inches too long, the waist bunching up in a cinched leather belt.

“I want socks,” she said. “It’s cold up here.”

He brought her a pair from his dresser drawer and watched her damp hair fall across her face as she bent to pull them on.

Seated at the table, he popped open a beer, poured half for her and half for himself.

“I’m betting this is the first time you’ve had beer in a glass since you’ve lived here,” she said.

He nodded but didn’t answer, hit by the oddness of “since you’ve lived here.” He hadn’t thought of himself as “living here.” It was just where he was.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I have a question.”

She looked up.

“Sonny O’Doul.”

Her eyes darkened. “I thought this was there’s-nothing-you-can-do-so let’s-work-in-the-garden therapy.”

“How did he know to call you?”

She shrugged. “About the chain he found? Why wouldn’t he? DOI had been all over that site for two weeks.”

“Dennis Graham was all over that site. You hadn’t been up there since Lowry transferred you guys around, had you?”

“No. But so what? Maybe he called Dennis and Dennis told him to call me. Maybe he called the office and reception told him.”

“It was after Lowry told you to drop it and turn everything over to the NYPD. Standard procedure as soon as a case is transferred, reception’s instructed where to direct people. So we don’t— so DOI doesn’t step on another agency’s jurisdiction. Did Lowry change that procedure?”