Among Thieves (25 page)

“So Malley may be tied in to all this?” the captain asked.

“It’s possible,” Sanchez said.

“When’s the lawyer coming in?”

“He was supposed to be in today, but he called and said he had an emergency. He said tomorrow, maybe.”

“Maybe?” Skykes said. “We’re the police; since when do we accept ‘maybe’ in a murder investigation?”

“Finn’s a lawyer, and unlike most, he’s not dumb. We lean on him too hard, we won’t get anything; he’ll show up and claim
privilege on everything he knows. The conversation will last all of thirty seconds. If he doesn’t want to, he won’t tell us
what he had for breakfast without a subpoena and a couple of trips to the appellate court.”

Skykes grunted. “Probably right. Anyone else we can work on?”

“Finn works with Kozlowski. He handles Finn’s investigations. It’s a good bet that if Finn knows something, Kozlowski knows
it too,” Sanchez noted.

“Tom Kozlowski? Former cop?”

“That’s him. You know him?”

Skykes shook his head. “Not personally. I know of him. He was a good cop, but a pain in the ass. You won’t get anything out
of him. He’s too smart to make a mistake, and anything he found out from Finn is covered under attorney-client privilege too.”

“Can we lean on him?” Sanchez suggested.

Skykes laughed. “Sure, but it’d be like leaning on Mount Washington. He’ll hold you up, but he won’t move. That’s not who
he is.”

“What, then?” Stone asked.

Skykes looked at Sanchez for an answer. “We put a tail on the lawyer,” she said. “See where he goes; who he talks to. He’s
gotta know something.”

“That could take weeks,” Stone lamented.

“Maybe, but unless they’re willing to talk to us voluntarily, it’s the best we’ve got,” Sanchez said.

Skykes nodded to them. “However you want to work it is fine with me. Just make sure we get something useful. I don’t care
that the dead guys were scumbags when they were alive; seven dead bodies is seven dead bodies. I don’t like it in my city.”

Lissa left the Green Dragon ahead of the others and headed to Southie to pick Sally up from school. Finn and Kozlowski stayed
for a little while to talk strategy; then Finn drove Kozlowski back to the office in Charlestown. The brief respite of seasonable
weather had ended, and New England was exacting its revenge as the skies turned gray and troubled and the wind spat drizzle
at Boston’s inhabitants. It was like this every year, and yet people seemed to forget. A few mild days in April tempted Bostonians
into believing winter had been banished, but it always regrouped for a final assault. It was usually May before the weather
was consistently pleasant.

Finn, a meteorological optimist, had put the top down on his battered MG, and when he and Kozlowski emerged from the bar,
he struggled to pull the canvas covering back out. By the time it was back up, the interior was soaked.

Kozlowski stood outside the car, looking angrily from Finn to the passenger seat.

“Wipe it down,” Finn said. “There’s a towel in the back.”

Kozlowski reached into the back and grabbed the towel. “Wiping it down doesn’t do a goddamn thing,” he said. “The seat’s cracked.
The water soaks into the cushion so it’s like sitting on a wet sponge. Why do you think the car smells like mildew all the
time?”

“I thought that was you.”

“Asshole.”

“You wanna call a cab? I can meet you back at the office,” Finn asked.

“No, I don’t want to call a goddamned cab. I want to work with someone who drives a real goddamned car. Not some piece of
crap clowns should be jumping out of.”

“So sit on the towel then. That’ll keep you dry.”

“I would, but then my head scrapes against the roof of the car.”

Finn looked again at Kozlowski. His expression had turned from anger to disgust to plain unhappiness. “You have seriously
turned into a major whiner,” Finn said. “Are you going soft on me?”

Kozlowski’s look was sharp. “I’m not going soft, I just don’t want to sit in pants with a wet ass for the rest of the goddamned
day.” He frowned again, then spread the towel over the seat and slid in gingerly, trying to hold some of his weight off the
seat. Finn had to stifle his laughter. They drove like that back to the office with Kozlowski leaning on the door and holding
himself up with the windshield. The rain pelted him through the window, drenching his head and shoulders.

It was after four o’clock when they arrived. Lissa and Sally were already there when Finn and Kozlowski walked through the
door.

“What happened to you?” Lissa asked Kozlowski, noting his wet head.

“Don’t ask,” Kozlowski replied. He nodded to the girl and padded down the hall toward the bathroom to dry himself off.

Finn looked at Lissa. “Did you tell her?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I told her.”

“I’m in the room,” Sally said. They looked at her. “You were talking about me, right?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you, I just…”

“She told me,” Sally said. “My dad’s not getting out today.”

“Not yet,” Finn said. “We ran into an issue that we didn’t expect.”

“Yeah, sounds like Devon pitched a fit,” Sally replied. “He’s a fuckup; I already know that.”

“I might have used different terms,” he said. “But yeah, he had a little outburst. I’ll get another bail hearing set, though.”
He glanced at Lissa, wondering how much she had told the girl. She frowned and gave a slight shake of her head that Finn took
as a signal that she hadn’t gone further. He breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing he wanted was to have to explain anything
more than the basics to Sally. He looked back at the girl. “So, I guess you’re staying with me for a couple more nights. That
okay with you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have any choice, I guess,” she said.

“That’s all you have to say?” Lissa asked.

Sally looked up at her. “What else do you want me to say?”

“It’s okay,” Finn began, but Lissa cut him off.

“No, it’s not okay,” she said. “You wanna spend your time playing savior, that’s your call, but I’m not gonna sit here and
watch the person who’s benefiting from your generosity be rude to you.” She looked at Sally. “When someone does something
nice for you, you say
thank you
.”

Sally stood up. She was wearing her coat, and her bag dangled from her hand. Finn thought there was a good chance that she
was about to walk out the door. That was the last thing he needed; he had no interest in combing the city, looking for Devon’s
kid. He felt a bolt of annoyance with Lissa. “I could go to the street,” Sally said. “I’d survive, y’know.”

“I know,” Lissa said. “That’s why Finn’s offer is nice. He doesn’t have to give you a better option, but he’s doing it anyway.
Some appreciation is in order. If not…” Lissa swept her hand toward the door as she let her ultimatum trail off.

Finn rubbed his temples. He was about to cut in when Sally turned and looked at him, biting her bottom lip. “Thank you,” she
said.

Finn just stared at her. Then he looked with incredulity at Lissa. After a moment he turned back to Sally. “You’re welcome,”
he said.

“Good,” Lissa said. She looked at Finn. “You’ve got a dozen messages on your desk, and your voice mail is full. It’s gonna
take an hour or more to deal with whatever’s there. I have some things that I gotta take care of, too. Sally can use the time
to do whatever work she has.” Sally blinked at her. “You do have homework, I assume?”

“I guess.”

“Good. Then, when we’re all ready, I’ll take us to dinner.”

“You don’t need to,” Finn said. “I can feed her at my place.”

“On what? Ketchup? I’ve seen your refrigerator.”

“I’ve got more than ketchup,” Finn said.

“Yeah? What else?”

“Mustard and relish,” Sally answered before Finn could respond. He looked at her. “And something in an old Chinese takeout
carton that’s growing feet. I was hungry last night,” she said. “I looked.”

“Did you check the cupboard?” he asked.

“I’ll make some reservations,” Lissa said. “An hour?”

Kozlowski was walking back into the office from the hallway. His hair was tousled but dry. “What’s in an hour?”

“Dinner,” Lissa said. “I’m buying.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Just thought everyone could use a good meal,” Lissa said.

“Ah,” Kozlowski said knowingly. “Someone looked in Finn’s refrigerator.”

“It wasn’t pretty,” Sally said.

“I think I liked you better when you were less grateful and more sullen,” Finn said to her.

“An hour,” Lissa said again. Finn looked at her and nodded. Then he went to his desk and started digging out from the messages
and mail that had piled up during his daylong absence from the office.

Liam sat in a rented van parked on the square a half block down from Finn’s office. There was a newspaper in front of him,
opened to the sports section. Liam didn’t follow any American sports, but he wasn’t looking at the paper. He was watching
the door to the lawyer’s office. He’d been there for more than an hour, waiting. He’d passed by the place once, determining
that it was empty. He’d scouted the area, getting an idea for the layout. There was a back door to the little office, but
it didn’t look as if it saw much use. He assumed they would be entering from the front. The square was the best spot from
which to observe. It was close enough to get a good look at the building, but far enough away that he wouldn’t draw too much
attention. It was near a small row of stores; in the rain and cold, he didn’t look too far out of place. The van was a nondescript
white delivery vehicle, dappled with patches of rust and textured with dents from hard use. The interior was stripped to the
metal, rippled and grungy, with pockets of moisture bordering on small puddles that seemed never to dry no matter what the
weather. He could have been waiting to pick up or deliver just about anything.

The woman showed up with the girl about a half hour after he’d settled in with the paper and a cup of coffee. When he saw
them enter the brownstone, he double-checked the address. They looked like a mother and daughter, but that didn’t fit with
his information.

The two men arrived twenty minutes later. It was clear which one was the lawyer. The younger one was thin and tall, and dressed
in an expensive suit. He carried a leather case with him, and he had a serious look on his narrow face. The man with him looked
nothing like a lawyer. He was solid and older, and his thin overcoat flapped around the calves of his cheap slacks. He moved
deliberately, and his head swung from side to side, taking in everything around him. He reminded Liam of many survivors of
the troubles on both sides. They were quiet, serious men. They were the men he worried about coming up against.

He’d done enough background to identify the adults. Finn, Kozlowski, Krantz. He knew their names and ages and roles in the
tiny little firm that was representing Devon Malley. They all had solid reputations, but they were in over their heads.

The girl was a surprise. Liam didn’t like surprises. Her presence at the office might mean nothing. She might be a niece or
the daughter of a friend who had errands to run. And yet he had this feeling—an intuition—that there was more to it than that.
A lifetime had taught him never to ignore his intuitions. Very often they came from that deep spot in the brain that noticed
something the conscious mind had missed. He’d learned that paying attention to his intuition could save his life.

He leaned back into the car seat to mull things over. Information was the most valuable commodity in any profession; more
so in Liam’s than others. It was clear that he needed more of it now.

The restaurant was a huge family-style place in Charlestown. Only a glass partition separated the diners from an open kitchen
with wood-burning stoves. The patrons could watch their meals being prepared, and it gave the place a sense of intimacy. It
was the kind of restaurant that required connections or a three-month wait for a reservation on a weekend night. Midweek,
though, it was merely bustling, and determination was all that was required to get a table on a walk-in basis.