In This Rain (9 page)

Feinberg, not able to get around O’Doul, fought to tear him apart, like a terrier with a rat. He challenged every word O’Doul spoke, every pause between spoken words, every word not spoken. He fought the DA’s arguments head-on in court, objecting, rephrasing, ripping huge ragged holes from tiny openings. On the courthouse steps, he fought the mayor, asking the public to rise above the easy, age-old answer— finding a scapegoat— and to resist any attempt to manipulate this tragedy for crass political gain. No one said “Jew” and no one said “black” and certainly no one said “voter,” but New Yorkers, accustomed to translating, understood what each party was accusing the other of.

And the jury, to its credit (and led by the Korean woman who followed every argument with minute attention), refused to convict Joe Cole of corruption, having seen no evidence to sustain that charge but O’Doul’s. The charges on which they did convict, manslaughter and reckless endangerment resulting from disregard for the public welfare, was, Joe thought, a stunning example of the way things could come full circle and emerge as their own opposites. The force of his determination to rid the public of that undeniable threat to its welfare, Larry Manelli, had disrupted Joe’s compass as surely as a magnetic field. Fixed blindly on his destination, he’d passed right by the same danger Manelli had been paid not to see, and had disregarded his responsibility to correct it as thoroughly as Manelli had, and for free.

City Hall

“All right, so now what can we do to help you guys out?” The mayor addressed his DOI Commissioner and his DOI Buildings Department Inspector General.

“Well, like I said, Mayor,” Greg Lowry answered, “I want to look into Three Star’s people. If the Buildings Department is clean, then what’s left is accidents or sabotage.”

“Find accidents,” the mayor retorted.

“If we can. I don’t think sabotage is likely, but it wouldn’t be a thorough job unless we looked for it, and if it was going on it would most likely be from inside.”

“Three Star’s already contacted us,” Shapiro put in. “Offering to cooperate.”

Really? Charlie thought. Good going, Walter, that was a smooth move. He said, “You know Walter Glybenhall’s a big supporter of mine?”

“Yes,” Shapiro said.

Lowry said, “That’s why I brought it up.”

Of course they knew. Anyone who read the papers had seen Charlie Barr and Walter Glybenhall, wearing the tuxedos they both looked so good in, squiring their elegant wives to testimonial dinners and exhibit openings and benefit galas and fundraisers for Charlie’s first and second mayoral campaigns. If this thing didn’t screw either of them over too badly, there’d soon be photos at Charlie’s gubernatorial fundraisers, too.

And of course that was why Lowry had brought it up.

Charlie nodded. “I appreciate the heads-up.”

“Just professional courtesy,” said Lowry.

“Bullshit. You don’t want to get a screaming phone call from me in the middle of the night after I get one from Walter.”

“If you think this will be a problem— ” Shapiro began stiffly.

“Of course it’ll be a problem. But tiptoeing around Walter would be a much worse problem. Whoever the hell Walter is shouldn’t matter to what you guys do. Even if I wanted it to matter, I can’t afford it. Understood?”

“Yes. But Mayor?” said Shapiro. “There’s another thing to consider.”

“That would be?”

“If McFee and Farrell are clean, and their inspectors are, too, maybe we should back out. NYPD is running its own investigation— ”

“No. No, no. Greg was right, what he said before. DOI needs to be visible. Front and center. This is the first serious building site problem since Dolan Construction. I want citizens to see DOI on the case.”

“Even if we’re out of our jurisdiction?”

“Yes. Try not to step on NYPD’s toes, but yes. But fellas, do something for me. This is a damn explosive situation, and I cannot afford to get fucked over by this right now. If there is anything— if anyone at Buildings or at Three Star is dirty in any way— I want to know about it long before anyone else finds out. Can you do that?”

Shapiro paused. Formally, he said, “We’ll do our best to extend you every consideration, Mayor.”

Charlie said, “You know I’m planning a run for governor?”

Shapiro shifted in his chair. “I’d heard rumors.”

“I haven’t announced yet but it’s not much of a secret. And Edgar Westermann wants to be mayor. You saw his press conference yesterday?”

Both men nodded.

“He’ll play this up,” Charlie told them. “So will the press and everyone else who thinks there’s something in it for them. The press was already yelling ‘fewer rules and regs’ this morning like they were dirty words. We can’t, can’t, have anything like last time. The men you have on the case— they’re clean? Squeaky clean?”

Shapiro looked to Lowry. Lowry kept his steady gaze on the mayor. Don, on his windowsill perch, rubbed his chin. “I took off the guy I’d had on it,” Lowry said. “Reassigned him. He’s one of my best but I want fresh eyes. I’m giving the case to Ann Montgomery.”

“What? Oh, tell me that’s not true.” This must be why the DOI men hadn’t offered their investigator’s name to the Police Commissioner when he’d given them the NYPD’s. They’d wanted Charlie to hear it first.

Shapiro said, “She’s smart. Her record is spotless. It was Greg’s idea and it’s a good one.”

“Ann Montgomery’s a showboater! This calls for a certain amount of subtlety, for God’s sake.”

“Or not,” Lowry said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You just said you want DOI front and center. If there’s anything to find, I guarantee Montgomery will find it. But if there’s not? Like Virginia McFee said, that’ll be hard to prove. You want to be in a position where no one can say DOI was soft on Buildings or on Three Star.”

“And using Montgomery puts us in that position how?”

“Because Ann Montgomery hates you. She’d do anything she could to jam you up. If she can’t find it, it’s not there to find.”

Charlie looked at Shapiro. “You buy this?”

“I do.”

The mayor threw a glance at Don. Don rocked one hand, maybe-yes-maybe-no.

“How do we know she’s not bent herself?” Charlie demanded.

“I looked at her personally,” Lowry said. “When I couldn’t pry her loose when I first came in. I just wanted to be sure.”

“And you are?”

“I am. She’s clean.”

“Charlie,” said Shapiro, “what could buy Ann Montgomery? She’s richer than God.”

Heart’s Content

“There’ve been three,” Ann said.

Three what? Bears? Kings? Wishes?

“Accidents.”

Oh. Right. Joe listened to the rush of water in the creek, but it was not loud enough to drown Ann out.

“The first was a scaffold collapse. Five bricklayers hurt, two seriously. Then a fire in a contractor’s trailer. A lot of damage, but no one was inside, and the Fire Department got there before it spread. One firefighter injured when the floor gave way. You’re about to ask if the fire was day or night, and whether there was an accelerant. It was night. And it was an electrical fire, no evidence of anything suspicious.”

The sun lay like a blanket on the egg-yolk lilies and glowed in the quartz veins of the granite boulder. Joe hadn’t planted those lilies, just found them, pulled up the grasses and milkweed to give them a chance.

“You’re also wondering about the scaffolding.” Ann’s voice continued from behind him. “Bolts sheared off in a section of the frame. Inadequate engineering, not suited to a reasonable load, says the contractor. He’s suing the scaffolding sub.” She pointed into the woods. “Can I see the stream from there?”

He looked at her, silent a moment, then said, “Stick to the path. The boulder’s covered with moss.”

The breeze played in her hair, danced the tails of her coat around as though pleased to accompany her. She strode over the leaves, between the lilies of the valley and the crocuses and, as he knew she would, left the path and leapt onto the boulder the moment she reached it. She stood, surveying the woods from her new height.

He followed, jumping onto the rock beside her. “It’s just water.”

She smiled, walked forward across the rock, and slipped.

His heart pounded. Too far away, he lunged anyway; she threw out an arm, grabbed a tree branch, and righted herself before he reached her.

“Shit,” he breathed. “Dammit, Ann!”

“I knew it was there.” Her eyes were shining. “The branch.”

“It might have broken.”

“I didn’t think it would.”

And she’d been right.

Sitting on the porch again, Ann told him what, if he’d been concerned with any of this, he’d have been wondering: What had brought the Department of Investigation into the Three Star case.

Construction accidents— or jail riots, or phony taxi medallions, or the theft of garbage trucks— never interested DOI just because they happened. Trouble and crime on a department’s turf were its own lookout, handled by the department backed by the NYPD and the full force and majesty of the law. DOI was called in— or sent in by the mayor’s office— only when the lowlifes suspected of being behind the trouble were employees of the department where the trouble was.

“The Buildings Department looked into the first accident— the scaffold collapse— but they didn’t find anything. After the second, the trailer fire, they assigned extra inspectors to the site. All routine.”

“Wait,” Joe said. “Please, allow me. The inspectors showed up on the site a couple of times a week. Maybe even every day, if this is a project the mayor cares about?”

Ann lifted her eyebrows, nodded silently.

“Why, by the way? Big contributors, Three Star?”

“Walter Glybenhall,” Ann said.

“Glybenhall?” Joe turned to look at Ann; this time it was she who stared resolutely across the garden. “He managed to muscle his way in, finally?”

Ann ran her hand through her hair. “To Charlie’s heart, long since. To the New York real estate stratosphere, absolutely not. But he still desperately wants to be a player.”

“And he thinks a development in Mott Haven will make him one?”

“Even Walter Glybenhall can’t be that delusional. He probably just thinks it will make him money. But it’s a toehold.”

“I’m surprised he can even find the place.”

“His helicopter can. He was at the groundbreaking. Big media event.”

No doubt, then, the mayor had been there, too. A big media event in Mott Haven. A developer who’d made his fortune veneering theme parks onto swampland and spreading condos like mushrooms across mountainside and beachfront, now trying to use a godforsaken corner of the Bronx as a springboard. Would wonders never cease? But Joe didn’t stop and try to sort it out. He had no intention of giving a damn.

Ann was waiting for him to speak, though, so he said the next line. “So Charlie Barr cares, and Buildings is on the case. But the third accident, the falling bricks, happened anyway. How am I doing?”

“Just this Friday, the bricks.” Ann said. “You’re doing fine.”

Of course he was. New York City real estate was like riding a bike. You couldn’t forget how it went even when you wanted to. “So now someone’s been killed”— unbidden, his mind flashed back three years, to Ellie’s surprised look as he rushed in from the garden, switched on the TV; she’d snapped at him to wipe the mud off his boots— “someone’s been killed,” he repeated, “and Charlie’s livid. He’s afraid the Buildings Department inspectors are being paid to look the other way while Three Star cuts corners. Either that, or they’re useless jerk-offs who couldn’t find their own butts with both hands and a map. Personally I’d go with that theory, but you’re not asking me.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

Ann passed that by, but he knew she’d come back to it. She said, “Hizzoner wants that to be the problem— that the inspectors and Three Star’s site personnel are all idiots— but he’s worried that Three Star are crooks and the inspectors are bent. Both the city and Three Star look bad either way, but there’s bad and there’s worse. Three Star’s offered to open their books. They claim to be clean.”

“Cutting corners doesn’t show in books.”

“They’ve already fired the site super.”

“So they can pin it on him.”

“Maybe it is him.”

Joe shrugged. “Sure. Fine.”

“Hizzoner called Mark Shapiro and Greg Lowry to an emergency meeting this morning. Charlie wants this problem solved soonest.”

“Because Charlie’s in bed with Three Star. Incidentally, besides Glybenhall, who are the other two stars?” And why, Joe, why are you asking?

“I don’t know,” Ann said. “It may be more than two. Or the name may mean nothing; Walter’s big on hyperbole. If they exist, they’re bound to be the moneymen. Walter never risks anything of his own if he can avoid it.”

And more power to him, Joe thought, if he’s found a way to avoid it.

“Anyway, the mayor’s in a hurry to make all this go away,” Ann said. “If it gets any bigger it could mess up his chances of becoming governor.”

“That bastard is running for governor?”

“You can’t really be surprised.”

“He was just reelected mayor.”

“And he can’t run again, so now’s the time to think about the future. Word is Louise is already redecorating the governor’s mansion. And guess who else is thinking about the future?” She gave him no time to guess; she must have known he wouldn’t. “Edgar Westermann. He wants to be mayor, next time around.”

“Come on. Borough President’s half a dozen steps above Westermann’s level already.”

“He’s feeling cramped in Manhattan. He wants the whole show.”

“Bet that gives Charlie a swift pain.” Joe shook his head. “Shit. Edgar Westermann running the city, Charlie Barr running the state. Makes me almost sorry I can’t vote.”

“A released felon can petition to get his vote back.”

Heat flooded Joe’s face. “After his sentence is served. I’m on parole for the next four years, by which time this election will be long over. Ann, leave me alone. Go back to your city and your department and leave me the hell alone!”

He threw back his chair and crossed the garden again, started snapping out weeds between the hollyhocks’ stalks. Hollyhocks didn’t care what grew around them and before Ann had suckered him into listening to her construction site problems he hadn’t been planning to weed here, but here he was, yanking out dandelions and clover and littering the lawn with them.