My Brother's Keeper (16 page)

‘I'm sorry too, Brian.'

‘I had nothing to do with it. You've got to believe me.'

‘Convince me why I have to believe you.'

‘'Cause it's the truth. I'm not a killer, Mr Klein.'

‘That's not what the police think.'

‘And what do you think?'

‘I don't know. I haven't made up my mind. Not yet. But Jimmy was my friend and so is Franny. I don't know anything more about you than what I was told.'

‘I never killed anybody in my life.'

‘Even if I accept that I still have to believe you know a lot more than you're telling. You can't throw words like “truth” around and then expect me to just believe your denials. There's obviously a lot going on here and I'll need to know the whole story. Until you're willing to give that to me you're just another liar. You're not accustomed to anybody questioning your word. That's because of who you are. But that doesn't mean they believe you. It means they're afraid of you. Maybe they don't really want to know the truth. But that doesn't change anything. You can't manufacture the truth, Brian. I've been around a long time and the one thing I've learned is the truth always comes out. It has a will of its own.'

Haggerty was leaning forward on the desk, his hands covering his face. The light caught the blond streaks in his hair.

‘Are you working for Franny?'

‘Indirectly. I was working for her brother.'

‘And now that he's dead?'

‘When I spoke to Franny she wasn't happy. She didn't want Jimmy to talk to me but she did end up asking me to help her. She wanted me to get some of her things back. As a favor. Personal items that belonged to her. Said you wouldn't return them. I guess she assumed the marriage was over.'

‘It's not, Mr Klein. I hope
you
realize that. We were angry. We might have said things we didn't mean. But it's not over. Not by a long shot.'

Haggerty was up now, leaning back in his chair.

‘How much does Franny know about your first wife? I know it's a sore spot but it keeps coming up. And now there's been another murder, so naturally the cops might decide to reopen the case.'

‘What happened with my ex-wife was a tragedy for our entire family. And Franny knows everything. The whole goddamn world knows what happened. And for your information, the coroner ruled that a murder-suicide. I was never charged with a crime.'

‘That doesn't mean a thing to me. I don't care what the cops can prove or what they can't.'

‘Are you able to put yourself in someone else's shoes? You think it's easy to air out my family's dirty laundry for everyone to see. What we did, Mr Klein, we did to ourselves. It's nobody else's business.'

Lou pulled a book down from the shelf and ran his hand over the dusty spine. The corners were frayed and the lettering was worn and he couldn't read the title. He opened it and turned a few soft mildewed pages to the table of contents. It was a book of romantic poetry. All those Irish balladeers who'd composed those meandering love songs in their twenties and then drank themselves to death by the time they were forty.

‘It seems to me the Haggertys have been pretty fortunate.'

‘You mean the ones that survive? You're joking, Mr Klein. The dead don't suffer – the living do. Surely you don't need me to tell you that. My family's fucking cursed.' Haggerty reached into a cabinet behind his desk and pulled out a bottle of Jameson and two shot glasses. He poured one for himself and offered one to Lou. The aroma reached him from across the room. He looked at the liquid that spilled onto the dark wood and the open bottle on top of it. ‘Would it surprise you to learn that William Haggerty is not my real father?'

‘Nothing surprises me anymore, Brian.'

Lou raised the glass off the desk and held it in front of him, turning the glass in his hand, the dull yellow light from the table lamp filtering through the amber liquid. Brian Haggerty quickly emptied the entire contents of the glass into his mouth, the burn visible in his face as the whiskey hit the back of his throat. He grimaced and closed his eyes and let his head roll back against the soft leather of the chair.

‘Not only wasn't he my father, he never really liked me very much. I would say he hated me. I was a burden to him. He let me hang around out of a sense of obligation to my mother. But that's it. And he took a sick pleasure in letting me know it. Liked to see me squirm. Every time he looked at me I could see what he was thinking. I'd never be him, never live up to his idea of what a son should be. If it hadn't been for my mother, William Haggerty would have tied me up in a burlap bag like the runt of the litter and tossed me into the river.'

‘I'd say I'm sorry but it wouldn't mean anything, would it?'

Haggerty poured himself another drink. He turned the bottle to face him on the desk so that he was able to read the label. He looked like a kid reading the back of a cereal box at the breakfast table. There was a gold ring around the neck of the bottle and a gold cap above it like a crown. Lou watched Haggerty stare at the bottle of whiskey, watched his eyes go out of focus as if he was falling asleep, seeing his own distorted reflection in the cross-cut glass before slipping into unconsciousness. He raised the drink over his head.

‘To the great William Haggerty! And his subtle tortures.' The liquid was gone with a quick flick of his wrist. He flung the shot glass across the room. It skittered on the rug and banged into the corner. ‘I wasn't fit to walk in his shadow. Just ask my mother. She'll be happy to tell you all about it.'

Lou walked over and picked up the glass and replaced it gently on the desk. He replaced his own glass as well, still untouched.

‘I'll be sure to ask her when I see her.'

‘And while you're at it, ask her about my real father. She'll have a few choice words to say about him, too.'

‘Why don't you tell me?'

Brian Haggerty was playing with the shot glass now, sliding it across the wooden desk from one hand to the other. Lou wondered when he'd learned to take his medicine like a man and if he'd learned it from his father or his mother.

‘They were never married. At least that's what she said. The way she tells it he took off soon after he found out she was pregnant. It was a sore spot with her. She didn't like to talk about it, not even to me.'

‘So you never met him?'

‘I didn't say that. He came around one time, looking for my mother. He wanted money. Money to go away and leave them alone. Money to not see his son and not make a stink about it. If he didn't get it there'd be lawyers and custody battles and he'd make himself a thorn in their side for as long as he could.'

‘So William Haggerty paid him off?'

‘Yeah.'

‘That was the last time you saw him?'

‘I saw him one other time. He'd been locked up in a prison upstate. It was actually William who told me, couldn't wait to tell me. He enjoyed it, I'm sure. He liked to remind me that if I didn't watch myself I'd end up in jail like my old man. Liked to remind me where I came from, how easily I could find myself out on the street. He was fond of the phrase “the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” Like he would know. Well, anyway, I went upstate to visit him. He wasn't expecting me. Had no idea who I was and you know what he did when I told him?' Haggerty had poured himself another drink. The bite didn't seem as sharp this time. ‘He laughed. That's it. Just laughed.'

‘How long ago was that?'

‘Ten years or so. And you know what? When I walked out of that prison, I wasn't mad at him. It was William Haggerty who I hated. I had him to thank for everything I had and I hated him for it. He'd drilled it into my head that just because he was married to my mother and I had his name didn't mean I would ever get my hands on his money. Isn't that a laugh, Mr Klein? Because I never cared one bit about his fucking money.'

Haggerty pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes from the desk drawer. He peeled it open and offered one to Lou and lit one for himself. He took long drags and seemed content to let the smoke just drift in the still air around him. Haggerty tossed Lou the lighter and Lou came around the desk and sank into one of the soft leather chairs. He lit a cigarette and let it smolder in a crystal ashtray on the coffee table.

‘You haven't touched your drink, Mr Klein.'

‘I'll pass. Thanks. How did your mother ever get hooked up with William Haggerty?'

‘How does anyone get hooked up with William Haggerty?'

‘You tell me. You talk about him like he's still alive.'

‘In a way he is.'

‘I think you're overestimating even him.'

‘Don't be so sure. Some people have a way of hanging around even after they're dead. And believe me, he finds a way to make his presence felt. Just look at the way people talk about him, like they were waiting for him to come charging through the door and kick them in the balls.'

‘Everyone leaves some kind of legacy. It's rarely all good or all bad.'

‘People were afraid of William Haggerty. That's his legacy. A legacy of fear.'

‘Were you scared of him?'

‘That's part of the problem, Mr Klein. I'll always be afraid of him.'

There was a knock at the door, three quick raps and they both turned their heads from the rising smoke. The music came through the door first, followed by the bartender's shaven head, his scalp slick with sweat. He was breathing heavily and his face was flushed. The large diamond stud in his ear sparkled like cut glass. He turned his attention to Haggerty.

‘We got trouble, boss.'

FIFTEEN

T
he place was emptying quickly, the crowd pressed against the walls on both sides and rushing toward the exits. The strobes still beat in time to the pounding music. The same dancer who had been on stage earlier was now nestled into the arms of one of the bouncers, holding a bloody towel to her mouth. Another bouncer was wrestling with someone near the main entrance. He had the curled end of one massive bicep wound around the guy's neck. He didn't seem to be having much trouble controlling him. It looked like if he squeezed any harder, the guy's head would pop off.

Haggerty grabbed the bartender by the arm and pulled him within earshot.

‘Check on Angel. Make sure she's OK.'

The dancer removed the towel from her mouth and looked down at the blood and then looked over at the man that had obviously just punched her in the face, seemingly satisfied that he was getting a good working over. She returned the towel to her mouth and nestled herself deeper into her doorman's bulging chest. He didn't seem to mind and his partner didn't seem to mind dancing with this idiot who thought he'd taken one look at Angel Divine and found the girl of his dreams.

The bartender took Angel by the hand and led her away, past Haggerty, who reached out and stroked her naked arm as she slid through the paneled door and into his office. But Haggerty's eyes remained locked on the man caught in the grip of his two goons, getting a better look at him now that he'd stopped struggling. He looked more like a boy than a man, no more than nineteen or twenty. Haggerty stared at him for a few seconds but the seconds seemed like hours and in that instant Lou got the feeling they knew each other, even hated each other. He sensed something almost tangible pass between them.

Lou had seen it before. He recognized the look. Whatever this kid had seen in Angel Divine, it set him off. But it wasn't Angel he wanted, not really. His steel-gray eyes focused on Haggerty with the intensity of an animal caught in the teeth of a steel trap. Lou glanced back at Haggerty and saw the anger in his face melt away into uncertainty and then into fear. He'd seen that look before, too.

Haggerty seemed to stare across the room as if he was caught in a daydream. His eyes seemed to have lost their glow, the emotion draining out of him. He looked at the slight figure and feminine features and the close-cropped hair and the suppressed rage of this young man as if he was looking at a ghost. At that moment Haggerty looked like the last man on earth, standing at the edge of the world and deciding whether to turn around and go home or leap to his certain death.

Lou remembered seeing the same look on the old women in Our Lady of Peace Church, sitting before the God they both loved and feared. He remembered now what his father had said about people who were confronted with circumstances beyond their control, things they didn't understand, things they had no way to measure. The word he'd used was
awe
. Their belief in a higher power seemed always being tested. Lou saw it now on Haggerty's awestruck face. His continued silence was proof enough.

Then the music stopped and the strobe lights stopped and in that sudden quiet Haggerty seemed to remember where he was.

‘Is this the kind of drama you expected, Mr Klein?'

‘Do you know him? Who is he?'

‘He's no one.' Haggerty yelled at the bouncers and pointed toward the door. ‘Get him out of here.'

‘No, wait!'

The bouncers were dragging the man toward the exit. One of them leaned on the crash bar with his hip and shouldered the door open. With a good push in the back, they sent the man tumbling into the dark alley behind the bar. The two double-steel doors slammed shut behind them.

Lou squeezed between the two bouncers who were standing there, satisfied and smiling with their tongues hanging out like two dogs waiting for a biscuit from their master. He got outside and the guy was gone.

He ran to the corner and down Oregon Avenue and into an adjacent alley, his eyes searching for movement. He looked past the row of loading docks, gray metal doors with no handles and green metal dumpsters and potholes that littered the ground, half-filled with muddy water and the stench of rotting garbage that seemed perpetually trapped between those buildings. He came back out and looked down the crowded street but it was impossible to distinguish one person from another. There was no telling which direction the guy ran or if he'd come down that alley at all. But Brian Haggerty knew who the guy was. He was sure of it.