Rejection: Publishing Murder Mystery (Lou Drake Mysteries) (33 page)

The lawyer got no further before Kellerman grabbed him and pushed him back.

Smythe read Hennings his rights while Norwich continued to argue with Kellerman. The uniforms stepped in and the tug of war made for an undignified stagger as the group made its way out through the hospital doors and down to the street.

“Don’t say a word,” Norwich yelled to his client as Hennings disappeared into the back of a waiting patrol car.

Meanwhile, the party inside rolled on. Most of the attendees were blissfully unaware their host was no longer in the building.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY-
O
NE

CHIEF SMYTHE SAT on a stool next to John Andrade’s hospital bed.

“John,” Smythe said, “you look like you drifted away there for a minute. You with me?”

Andrade looked to his lawyer, who stood by the foot of the bed. The lawyer gave a small nod, so Andrade answered Smythe’s question by blinking his eyes once.

The reconstructive surgery of Andrade’s jaw, pallet and throat kept him from breathing, speaking or eating on his own. A spaghetti-like confusion of tubes connected him to various bags and machines that supplied air, water and food. He could only communicate by blinking: once for yes, twice for no.

Smythe had already read Andrade his rights, officially placing him under arrest, as witnessed by the lawyer and Agent Thatcher, who stood by the door.

“You understand the rights I’ve just explained to you?”

One blink.

“Okay then. The prosecutor is working the case with the FBI and your attorney is fully aware of the investigation. The best we can do at this point is wait until they let you out of this bed. Until then there will be a police guard at your door at all times. You understand?”

The lawyer nodded and Andrade blinked.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, anything you need or want to know?”

Two blinks.

“Okay then. We’ll be seeing you.”

Walking side-by-side down the hospital hallway, Thatcher and Smythe wore matching somber expressions. Thatcher held up his phone.

“While we were in there I got an email confirming that all of Andrade’s assets have been frozen. We’re also actively looking for other people willing to come forward about Andrade and Hennings. So far two more people have given statements.”

“I talked to Kathy Morey this morning,” Smythe said. “She’ll be back in town tomorrow and I’m sure she’ll make a good witness.”

Thatcher barked out a laugh. “Depends how bad Andrade was about pillow talk.”

“Do you think Thibido’s statements will be admissible?”

“I’m sure his attorney will challenge it, but we’ll make it work. Who knows, maybe Andrade will confess.”

“I doubt it. He’s the kind of guy who’ll fight it to the end. It won’t matter, though. He’ll still get twenty years, if not life.”

“An ex-cop in prison?” Thatcher shook his head. “He’ll have every other prisoner trying to take him out.”

“Yeah, but he dug his own grave.”

“What about Hennings? Think the DA will be able to get a jury to convict after all these years?”

“I’ll be shocked if they don’t, and it’ll be even easier to nail him if Norwich takes the deal we offered him.”

“Are you kidding me?” Thatcher said. “We’ve got the lawyer nailed to the wall for corruption and coercion. He doesn’t have any choice but to take the deal and testify against his boss. I don’t think a man of his age would want to spend the rest of his life in prison.”

“Can you believe how many people had their hands dirty in this thing?”

Thatcher grinned. “Job security for people like us, I guess.”

“Appears so. Feel like a drink?”

“More than you know.”

“I just happen to know where there’s a party,” Smythe said.

“Oh yeah? Who’s having a party?”

“Detective Drake. Today’s his last day on the job.”

“Detective? You mean he got his shield back?”

Smythe nodded. “Best thing to come out of this whole mess if you ask me.”

* * *

The interrogation room was laid out as a banquet table for Drake’s retirement party. It was covered with potluck offerings ranging from delectable homemade food to buckets of KFC. The women from the cage were well into their second glass of champagne, and the small crowd buzzed with electric excitement. Loud voices resounded off the walls in a raucous celebration.

Nancy Callahan poured herself another glass of red wine and carried the plastic cup back to resume her conversation with the publisher, Jerry Shapiro. On the way she passed the knot of people where Drake laughed with fellow officers and his friends from the writer’s group.

“Who would have thought?” Franny said again. “Brian always seemed good-natured and happy. If I had to choose one of my writer friends to be a killer, I would have guessed it was Pooter.”

“I could still be one,” Pooter said. “You can be my first victim.”

“Does anybody know how Sandy’s doing?” Drake asked.

“Saw him last night,” Nesbit said. “He looked good. The doc said he’s responding well to the meds. Hopefully he’ll be out of the hospital and back at the coffee shop in no time.”

“Hope so,” Drake said.

Callahan and Shapiro picked that moment to re-join the group. They were both grinning widely.

Callahan caught Drake’s eye and said, “Ah Lou, I have a bit of news for you.”

Drake looked back and forth between his agent and Shapiro. The old man gave him a delighted wink.

“You didn’t,” Drake said.

“If you want,” Callahan said, “we can step out in the hall so I can—”

“No, no, these are my friends. Whatever the news is, I’ll just tell them anyway. So … what?”

“Well,” she said, “Mr. Shapiro here—”

“Jerry, please. Mr. Shapiro was my grandfather.”

“Okay, Jerry made me an on-the-spot offer for both books.”

The members of the writers group looked as if she had just announced a cure for cancer.

Robin grabbed Lou’s arm. “Oh my God!”

Drake looked at Callahan in open-mouthed astonishment. “That’s amazing. I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Did you see that?” Shapiro said. “I put up the money and he thanks her, not me.”

Drake laughed. “Mr. Shapiro, thank you. Wow, I—”

“Jerry, Jerry,” Shapiro said with mock disgust. “I don’t know why I’m paying so much money to a writer who can’t remember such a simple thing.”

“I like the sound of that,” Robin said. “How much are we talking about here?”

“Oh no,” Callahan said. “That’s more than I’m willing to say in a group like this. Lou and I can go over the details later, once Mr. … Jerry and I have a contract ready.”

Franny piped up. “What? Not even a hint?”

Callahan laughed. “Let’s just say it’s generous enough that I’m not tempted to contact any other publishers or put the books up for auction.”

That put a huge smile on Drake’s face and drew a low whistle of amazement from Pooter.

“Why mess around?” Shapiro said. “We gotta get these books out quick, while the media hysteria is still going on. I tell you, the sales are going to be enormous.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Franny said, and raised her plastic wine glass.

“Here, here,” Nesbit said, and raised his glass too. “Congratulations Lou!”

The entire group joined in the noisy toast.

“Am I missing something?” Dodd said. “I know about the book that Shakespeare guy was carrying around, but what’s the second book?”

“I put together a proposal for a true crime book,” Drake said, “about the agent killings.”

Shapiro nodded. “He did a good job, too. It’ll be a winner.”

Pooter looked impressed. “Good for you, Lou.”

“Of course,” Shapiro went on, “I never would have predicted we’d end up here the first time I met our newest big-shot author.”

He sloshed his wine glass in the direction of Drake, who laughed at the old man’s good-natured dig.

“So these two policemen come to see me,” Shapiro said, “and I ask Collins if he wants some nuts. You should have seen the look he gave me. It was like I tried to spit in his drink or something.”

Drake laughed. “It’s true,” he said. “Collins kept trying to ask questions about publishing and Jerry kept pushing the nuts at him. I thought Collins was going to burst an artery or something. And you should have heard him when we got out to the car afterwards.”

“I’m sure he was saying what a delightful fellow I was,” Shapiro said.

“Yeah. Not exactly.”

Shapiro sniggered. “Ah, it was fun.”

“You know,” Dodd said. “Drake is the only guy I know who can put together a string of screw-ups and come out with a promotion and a book deal.”

Drake laughed. “And all I had to do was break your leg.”

Dodd gave him the finger.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Callahan said. “How about the morning he called to make sure I was okay. I said I was fine and he gives me this cryptic line about a tip I was in danger, but since I answered the phone there was nothing to worry about.”

“Well that was true,” Drake said.

“You didn’t think I’d figure out you were talking about the agent killer? And I was lucky to be alive? I just about had a heart attack.”

“Sorry. I was trying to wrap the case up in a few hours and I needed to know you were okay.”

“Well, I wasn’t okay after that call, I’ll tell you that.”

Robin punched Drake’s shoulder. “You must have scared the bejesus out of her.”

“He did,” Callahan said. “Then he shows up with the confession manuscript, wants me to sell it. I got to read about my own murder. Can you imagine how freaky that was?”

“My God,” Shapiro said, his face serious. Then he burst out laughing and the group howled.

“Who’s making all this commotion in here?”

Every head turned to see Smythe and Thatcher entering the room. Drake breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the big grin on Smythe’s face. The Chief made his way directly to Drake.

“Sorry to crash the party, everyone,” Smythe said, “but I need to borrow the man of the hour for a moment.”

Serena looked at her watch. “We should wrap this up soon anyway. We’ve still got a station to run.”

That initiated a flurry of handshakes and good wishes for Drake as people made their way out the door. Callahan gave him a hug and said she would call him the next day. Shapiro patted Drake on the shoulder and urged him to write, write, write.

“You got it boss,” Drake said.

Robin started helping Regina, Serena and Edna clean up the mess in the interrogation room, while Drake moved off to a quiet corner with Smythe and Thatcher.

“Sorry to see you go,” Smythe said.

“Thank you sir,” Drake said. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

Smythe waved that off. “Just doing my job. I wanted you to know that Agent Thatcher and I just came from the hospital. We’ve placed Andrade under arrest. He’s going to have to answer for what he did to you, among other things.”

Drake shook his head in wonderment. “I spent a lot of years not believing a day like this would ever come.”

“You’ve been through a hell of a circus,” Smythe said, “but you deserve everything that’s happening now. Without your efforts Shakespeare would’ve been back on the street.”

“That’s true,” Thatcher said. “If he had walked, that lady agent would probably be dead.”

“Yeah, well,” Drake said.

“And to think she’s going to help with your new career,” Smythe said. “That is seriously ironic.”

With a vigorous handshake, Smythe and Drake said goodbye. Thatcher patted Drake’s arm, shook his hand, and said, “Hey, make sure you write about my good side.”

“You got it,” Drake said.

The three men exited the room and went their separate ways. Drake joined Robin at the cage.

“Gonna miss it?” Serena asked.

“No, but I’m going to miss you guys,” he said.

They all gave him broad smiles.

“We got something for you,” Serena said and pointed to a beautifully wrapped box. “Better lift it from the bottom, it weighs a lot. Open it when you get home.”

“Thank you.”

Drake put the heavy gift on the cage counter and gave each of the ladies a hug.

“I’ll visit,” he said.

“You better,” Edna said through tears. “We’re going to miss you too.”

Drake and Robin walked out the doors of the station and slowly made their way home under a clear, blue sky. The box weighed a ton and Drake had to stop more than once to rest.

“Feels like they gave me a safe,” Drake said.

He hefted the box again and they resumed walking.

“That was nice,” Robin said. “Are you happy?”

Drake smiled at her. “Walking on clouds.”

“Except for the part about carrying a safe.”

That brought a grimace. “We’re almost there.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Where are we going to live when the money comes?”

“Well,” Drake said and lifted the box to his shoulder. “I was thinking we would get one of those brownstone apartments in Greenwich and spend all our time at the coffee houses and hobnob with our new fancy friends.”

“C’mon, I’m serious.”

“We have plenty of time to figure that out. But before that we have a wedding to plan. And what I really want is to take a trip, maybe a cruise to someplace tropical, just relax. Can you handle that?”