Legacy and Redemption (26 page)

Castillo took a deep breath and remained silent for a moment before responding. “I don’t think it’s that simple Sharon. If he keeps pressing and Santoro finds out…well you know Santoro won’t be the fall guy. He’s already told me as much. He wanted to call a press conference to make a statement about it. If he gets any sense that Keegan is still pursuing this, you can bet that Santoro will go public with it and throw me under the bus before I can retire so he covers his own ass. I was hoping that Keegan would be moving on, but it looks like he’s not about to go away without some answers. He’s really digging in his heels on this.”

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes as Sharon continued to rub his back—offering what little comfort that she could. “The thing is, I did actually think about showing him the case file. There’s really not too much in there that would lead to the truth. The problem is my Internal Affairs case is cross referenced all throughout the file. How do I tell this kid that I was running an investigation on his father for running guns to the Irish Republican Army? His hero dad was a gun runner for a terrorist group while he worked in the Joint Terrorist Task Force. What may even be the worst of all is that it was a self initiated investigation. I’m the one who figured out what his old man was up to.”

“Louie, it’s not your fault that his father was up to no good. You protected that family after Lieutenant Keegan was killed by burying the truth and living with it for all of these years so that the family could collect his line of duty benefits. They may have lost their house if it wasn’t for what you did.”

She paused. “Now you have to worry about yourself and
your
family. You need to make sure that
your
pension is safe…for us…for Jess.”

“I know you’re right. I just wish there was a way to make this go away.”

Sharon’s face suddenly went aglow. “Maybe there is. Didn’t you tell me that Chris Collins is a first grader in Computer Crimes and how he helps you out with cases all of the time?”

“Yeah. The job promoted him to first grade last year. He doesn’t even have his twenty years in yet, and he’s a
first grader
. I’m telling you, he’s as good as it gets with computers. I’ve never gone to him with a computer problem that he couldn’t help me out with.”

“Good. You need to give him a call.”

“Merry Christmas!”

Cathy Quinn answered the front door of her parent’s Long Island home wearing a red sweater, black jeans, and a pair of black wedges, cutting the difference in their height in half. From behind her back, she produced a red Santa Claus hat to match the one that she was wearing. She promptly sat it on top of Keegan’s head as she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” said Keegan as he adjusted the hat to a more comfortable fit.

Quinn adjusted his red tie adorned with snowmen of all sizes and gave him the once over. “I love the tie. It looks very Christmassy against the green shirt…even if you are wearing blue jeans.”

Keegan smiled. “Hey, you said I should wear a tie, not get dressed to the hilt. Besides this is a Calvin Klein designer shirt.”

Quinn’s eyes tapered as she cocked her head. With an overly obnoxious glare, “Well, since
I
picked it for you, I’m fully aware of the designer.” She gave him a playful smack across the shoulder. “Now come inside and say hi to my parents.”

Keegan had only briefly met her parents on a couple of other occasions, but this was the first time that he was inside their home. He set down a shopping bag filled with Christmas presents under the Christmas tree just to the right of the door. Having been informed by Cathy how much her parents adored the holiday season, Keegan was not surprised when he entered the house.

The living room of the split level home was well decorated for the holiday season. The finished wood floors had a maroon and beige area rug which perfectly accented the Maroon leather couch sectioned across two of the walls. Across the couch, lay an assortment of holiday throw pillows, some depicting Santa Claus, others snow men, and reindeer.

Opposite the couch was an oak entertainment center, trimmed with green garland hung around the perimeter. A large screen LED television served as the center piece and above it was a stereo system. The radio was tuned to station which exclusively played Christmas music at this time of the year.
The Little Drummer Boy
, one of Keegan’s favorites, was currently playing. Surrounding the television and stereo system were numerous pictures of the Quinn family. Keegan got a bit closer and examined a few of the pictures of Cathy as a child. There was one picture he was instantly drawn to of Cathy and her dad, both in uniform on the day that Keegan and Cathy had graduated from the Police Academy. Keegan focused on the Lieutenant’s bars on her dad’s collar; that was the same rank Keegan’s own father was when he was murdered in 1995. Keegan felt momentarily cheated as he never had the same opportunity to take such a picture with his father.

Hanging on the white walls, above an imitation fire place, were red stockings with the names Jack, Mary, Cathy, Ryan, and McGriff glued on in green glitter. Keegan looked forward to meeting Cathy’s younger brother Ryan who was home from college for the holiday break.

Mary Quinn was the first to greet Keegan. She was average height, slender, and had long auburn hair. She wore a red dress with flat black shoes. If the old adage that if you wanted to know what a woman will look like when she gets older, just look at her mother held true, Cathy was very lucky, thought Keegan. Mary Quinn leaned over and gave Keegan a gentle hug. “I’m so glad that you could make it, Tim.”

Keegan offered her a bottle of wine, wrapped in a silver sheath and tied with a red ribbon. “Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Quinn.”

“Mary,” she corrected. “Have a seat on the couch. Ryan and his girlfriend should be here shortly. Can I get you something to drink?” A dog started barking loudly from the basement.

McGriff,
Keegan correctly assumed
.

“No, thank you. Where’s your husband, I have a little something that I wanted to give him?”

Mary turned towards the kitchen “Jack, come say hello to Tim.”

Jack Quinn walked out from the kitchen wiping his hands on a dish towel. He was easily six foot two and weighed well over two hundred pounds. He wore a beige Irish Aran sweater and a pair of black Dockers. There was a hint of gray in his dark brown hair and mustache, but overall for his age of what was probably about fifty, Keegan decided Cathy’s father looked good. Jack Quinn extended his hand, “Good to see ya lad, glad you were able to make it.”

Keegan pressed the flesh with the man; he owned a powerful grip, decided Keegan. There was no denying Jack Quinn’s brogue. Cathy had told him that her dad was born in Ireland, but to still have such a strong brogue after all of these years was amazing to Keegan. “Have you taken a look at my Christmas village yet?”

Keegan glanced to the far corner of the dining room where about two dozen houses were laid out along with animated sledders, ice skaters, and even a miniature Santa complete with a sleigh and reindeer flying over the village. Cathy had also informed Keegan how proud her father was of his Christmas village. Each year, as was a Quinn family tradition, the kids get him another house as a Christmas present to add to the village. Keegan walked over and stared at the village, half feigning interest. The village was comprised of mostly Lemax and Department 56 houses. Among some of the houses, which were set on top of cotton like decorative snow, was a church, a hotel, a candy shop, a school, and most interesting to Keegan, a police station with a miniature police officer stationed outside. Keegan noticed a gold bar hand painted on each lapel of the miniature officer. Jack Quinn had apparently promoted the ceramic officer to the rank of Lieutenant.

“That’s remarkable, Mr. Quinn. Cathy’s told me all about your village and how you guys cut down your own tree each year.” Keegan momentarily fumbled and before Jack Quinn could respond. “I bought this for you. I hope you like it.” Keegan presented Quinn with a small wrapped present, cubed in shape, no bigger than four inches.

Quinn thanked Keegan and opened up the gift. Quinn studied it—it was an oval shaped tree ornament, light green on the back and white porcelain in the front. An Irish cottage was etched into the porcelain.

“It lights up when you plug it into a light on the tree,” explained Keegan.

Jack Quinn nodded in approval. He put an arm around Keegan and escorted him in the direction of the eight foot tall Douglas fir. “Let’s see how it looks on the tree then, shall we.”

Quinn handed the ornament to Keegan for him to situate on the tree. As a boy, Keegan had always had real trees until his father passed away. A real tree was too much work for his mother after his dad’s death. The smell of the pine brought back the memories from so long ago for Keegan as he plugged the bulb into the decoration. He carefully set it on a strong branch and stepped back. Mary and Cathy Quinn stood in the background. They all stood in silence, momentarily admiring the new addition to the tree as Nat King Cole’s version of
O Tannenbaum
was ironically playing on the radio.

Jack Quinn, clearly approving of the ornament, “c’mon lad, let’s go grab us a beer.” Quinn led the way into the spacious kitchen. He adjusted the settings on the stainless steel oven and opened the matching refrigerator. He seized two bottles of Guinness stout by the necks and set them on the beige counter top. A brief search of the junk drawer revealed a bottle opener which Quinn put to the task. He handed Keegan a bottle then tapped his own against it. “
Slainté
.”

“
Slainté
, Mr. Quinn.” Then Keegan put the bottle to his lips.

He could see the skepticism in Quinn’s eyes. “Do you even know what that means, lad?”

Keegan nodded confidently. “Of course; it’s an old Irish toast; it means to your health.” Keegan could see the approval in his eyes.

“That’s Jack to you, lad. Call me Jack. Cathy tells me you listen to Irish music. Who do you like?”

Keegan wondered if this were a test for him, and that perhaps
Jack
figured that he got lucky with knowing what Slainté meant.

“My favorite is probably Makem and Clancy, with the Wolfetones a close second.”

“Favorite song?” the test continued.

Keegan lifted his Guinness and with a short pull. That’s an easy one;
The Streets of New York
. That’s probably the favorite song of all Irish cops. The song is about the Irish people and policing in New York City.” Keegan would further explain, “My father taught me a lot about Irish history, tradition, and culture, Mr. Quinn.”

A broad smile came across Jack Quinn’s face. “Speaking of tradition, I’m glad you could share in our tradition of celebrating Christmas on December 26. For years, when Cathy and Ryan were little and I had to work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, we would celebrate the day after Christmas. Since Cathy had to work yesterday, we decided to go back to revisit the old tradition.”

“I think it’s a great idea. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of it.”

Once again McGriff started to bark and the front door opened. Cathy’s brother Ryan and his girlfriend arrived. Cathy made the introductions as Mary began to set the table for dinner while Jack began taking the food out of the oven. Keegan sat on the couch next to Cathy. He downed what was left in the bottle and commented on what a nice family Cathy had.

It was shortly before eleven pm when Keegan and Cathy went downstairs to her apartment. Their red Christmas hats had been removed long ago. Cathy invited him to have a seat on the tan and brown fabric couch situated opposite the television. The apartment was small, but no smaller than most other basement apartment’s Keegan had been in. The walls were an off white and cracked in a few spots—nothing too severe, but Keegan offered to redo the sheet rock and paint it for her anyway.

“That’s right,” she nodded. “I forgot you were a carpenter before coming on the job.”

“A contractor actually,” he corrected. Keegan loosened his tie as Cathy went into the kitchen area just off to the left of the couch to retrieve a couple of bottles of beer. Keegan reached for the remote control and turned on the television. Before he could settle on a channel, Cathy snatched the remote from him and turned it off. She handed him a beer and set her own beer down on the glass table in front of the couch.

“No television. I didn’t get to spend any time with you tonight. My dad hogged you all to himself. I swear he already likes you better than he does me,” she joked as she nudged him over with her hip and snuggled into his body.

A guilty smile appeared on Keegan’s face. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I highly doubt that,
daddy’s little girl
,” he teased. “I think he was just excited to have someone our age who actually knew as much about Irish history and tradition as I do.”

“You’re right about that. Ryan and I never really got into the Irish music or bothered to learn about Ireland’s history or even
The Troubles
in Northern Ireland. Don’t get me wrong...a certain amount rubbed off on us, just not as much as you know.” She paused for a moment and then changed the subject. “Are you looking forward to coming back to the
Six-Seven
?”

Keegan thought briefly and then responded. “Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, what those guys do in the Joint Terrorist task Force is amazing, but I’m still a rookie and don’t deserve to be there with them.”

“When are they sending you and Sarge back?”

“Since the threat is now officially over and they’ve arrested everyone they could possibly get—that one guy they think is back in Afghanistan or Libya—they could send me back at anytime. Inspector Talbot says he thinks it’ll be January Second. They want me to work the New Year’s Eve detail in Times Square.”

“You know that all of us will be there too. Maybe we’ll be on the same post.”

Keegan laughed before he continued. “The rumor is that they are going to keep Sergeant Galvin, though. I mean, it’s really a no-brainer; he’s a great cop. His investigative skills seemed to really impress Inspector Talbot. Even Louie, who’s a first grade detective, said Galvin is as sharp of a cop as he’s ever seen.”

Cathy seemed tenuous before broaching the subject. “Are you satisfied how things turned out with your dad? I mean everything that that terrorist in Chicago told you…”

A sullen look came across Keegan’s face. “I feel stupid. Louie was telling me to let it go, Sarge was telling me to let it go, and here I am filing Freedom of Information Law petitions. I should have had more common sense.”

She offered a sympathetic smile. “You needed the truth. I can respect that. You’re the one who was going to have to live with it no matter how it turned out. If you never knew whether it was a truth or a lie, it would be eating away at you forever.”

He smiled. “Thank you for understanding and being so supportive.”

After a brief moment of reflection, Keegan patted her on the shoulder and set his beer down next to hers. He got up and retrieved the shopping bag. “Time for you to open your Christmas presents,” he announced.

He handed her the presents; the clothing he had bought for her first. She opened them one at a time and made a comment about how much she liked each one as she did. There were only two presents to go. He handed her a large box—large enough to fit a coat, but it was way too light. She opened the box to find a smaller sweater sized box inside, then a shirt box, then a neck tie box, and finally an even smaller box, maybe the size of a bracelet. With each box, she laughed as she went through a game of Russian nesting dolls to get to her actual present. She finally revealed a gold locket in the shape of a heart. She opened it up and saw a picture of the two of them which they had taken together at the precinct holiday party only a few weeks before. With a tear in her eye, “Thank you, Tim. I love it.” She quickly turned, giving her back to him so he could set it around her neck.