Damage (12 page)

Crawford was shaking his head. “That’s not how the Curtlees see it. The lieutenant didn’t record the conversation, barely asked any specific questions. And in fact, we’ve all just heard from Lieutenant Glitsky that the Curtlee boy didn’t make any overt threat at his home, in so many words, at all.”

Glitsky, fuming, not trusting himself to speak, looked to his left, and Jenkins got his message and spoke up. “Sir,” she said, “a convicted murderer coming to a policeman’s house and commenting on his children is, de facto, an overt threat. What would you have had him do?”

“Well, that’s a good question, Ms. Jenkins, and here’s a good answer. I’d have had him step back and let more objective people handle the situation. At the very least, I’d have had him notify his superiors and apply for a warrant. I’d have had him follow the goddamn rules!”

“And how about while he’s following the goddamn rules, his family gets goddamn dead, sir?” Jenkins asked. “Then what?”

“That’s melodramatic horseshit.” Crawford showed off a lot of his teeth. “And frankly I’m just a little bit annoyed that we’re all having a discussion about this convenient threat when it’s entirely clear to me—and don’t kid yourselves, it will be clear to most of the rest of the city tomorrow—that this is just an end run around the real issue here, which is that you, Ms. Jenkins,” and here he pointed at her, “and you, Lieutenant,” another point at Glitsky, “decided unilaterally between yourselves to subvert the court’s decision to release Ro on bail after he got released on appeal.”

Jenkins raised her chin. “With all respect, that’s just purely untrue, Your Honor.”

Crawford drew himself up straight. “It is hardly that, Ms. Jenkins. What it is, in my opinion, is prosecutorial and police excess in its most blatant form. It’s a classic denial of due process and harassment, and I’m not going to stand for it. Not in my city. Do you know how much the Curtlees are threatening to sue the city for? Anybody want to take a guess?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jenkins said. “They won’t get whatever it is.”

“Would you like to bet your job on that, Ms. Jenkins? Because that’s what I have to do here. That’s the position you’ve put me in. Now I have to bet we can beat a lawsuit for a hundred million dollars! Do any of you have any idea how much money that is?”

After a moment of silence, Glitsky found his voice. “The man’s a convicted killer, Your Honor, and he threatened my family. He needs to be in jail.”

“Well, that’s sure as hell where you’ve got him now, Lieutenant. Against the express decision of the court. And given that, how long do you honestly think you’re going to be able to keep him there?” Suddenly the mayor shifted his focus and settled on Farrell. “Wes, you’ve been curiously silent throughout all this. Are you really planning to charge this thing?”

Farrell, still in his raincoat, seething for his own reasons, was sitting back with his arms and feet crossed. After a small hesitation, he said, “I read Ro’s visit to Abe’s house as a threat. I think the court will agree with us at the arraignment on Monday. Abe did what he had to do. If Ro wasn’t a Curtlee . . .”

Crawford could no longer restrain himself. “But he is a Curtlee, goddamn it! That’s kind of the point here, don’t you see?” He looked around the semicircle, face by unyielding face, then started back and stopped at his new chief of police. “At the very least, Chief, I’d expect that you’d want to remove Lieutenant Glitsky from an active investigating role in this latest murder, this Nuñez woman. Clearly he’s far from objective on anything that’s got to do with Ro Curtlee.”

Lapeer drew in a quick breath, then released it. She was thinking she might be the shortest-lived chief of police in San Francisco history, but she really had no choice about what to say. “The lieutenant is head of the homicide detail, sir. I respect his decisions to assign investigators to cases, including himself, as he sees fit.”

Now, stymied, Crawford turned back to Farrell. “And if they let Ro off on Monday, Wes, then what?”

“Then the courts will have spoken,” Farrell said.

“And what about his injuries? Ro’s?” Crawford asked.

Glitsky jumped in with the answer. “He resisted arrest,” he said. “Strenuously. He also injured two of our patrolmen. We’re charging him on that, too.”

“Wonderful,” Crawford said. “Just wonderful.”

Farrell, Glitsky, and Jenkins had all come to the meeting in their separate cars and parked in the underground lot just across from city hall. Finally the meeting and dressing-down had ended, and having jogged across the street through the rain, they got to the parking lot’s elevator, all shivering wet dogs, anxious to get to their cars and back home.

Glitsky, in the lead, went to push the elevator button.

But Farrell came up from behind, put his hand out, and blocked him. “Hold on a minute, Abe. Amanda. I’d like a word.”

“It’s a little late and a lot cold, Wes,” Jenkins said. She was wearing her trademark short skirt and she had her arms crossed into her armpits. “Can it wait?”

“You know, actually”—Farrell was atypically brusque—“I don’t think it fucking can.” He squared around on them. “I got both of you here now and I want to tell you both how much I don’t appreciate the spot you put me in back up there.”

Glitsky and Jenkins shared a glance.

“What? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Don’t give me that. We talked about this very thing just this morning. I’m sure you both remember.”

Glitsky started in. “That was before Ro came by ...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Your house. I get it. But here’s the thing I don’t get, Abe. What I don’t get is, even assuming that it was a bona fide threat to your family, which I’m not sure I completely buy . . .”

“It sure as hell was,” Jenkins said.

“Maybe. But why make the visit a threat? If he wanted to hurt you, why didn’t he just do whatever it was he wanted to do when he was there? Treya answers the door, whammo. Nobody knows he’s there. He hits and he’s gone. But he doesn’t. Why not? Anybody got an answer to that one?” In the small space, Farrell made a half turn in agitation, then came back at them. “And if it was a threat, okay, then why didn’t you go get a warrant? Tell a judge; make it official. I’m willing to bet you could have found one down at the Hall, even here on a Saturday. Instead, you go flying off with a couple of starstruck rookies and basically just go in and kick some ass. Which is exactly what you, personally, Abe, wanted to do.”

“I did not . . .”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Abe. Don’t even try. And meanwhile, you give the fucking Curtlees everything they could ever need to make their case that you’re harassing their precious little prick of a son? Did I get any of that wrong?”

“He was . . . ,” Glitsky began again.

But again Farrell cut him off. “So
I don’t give a damn what Ro’s doing!
Why can’t you seem to get that? The mayor was absolutely right in there when he was talking about the way it’s going to get reported, and not just in the fucking
Courier
. I’m going to predict that you’re not going to get flattering coverage in the
Chron
, either.”

“Come on, Wes,” Jenkins said, “it’s not about the papers.”

“Okay, it’s not about the papers, but I’ll tell you what it is about. It’s about both of you putting me in a position where I’ve got to back up what you’ve done, when we had already discussed it and decided you weren’t going to do exactly what you did.”

“Wait a minute, Wes.” Glitsky was finally getting a little hot. “You told me if I had something, almost anything, I could arrest him and you’d support me.”

“And I just did that upstairs, in the face of the mayor, don’t forget.” Farrell raised a finger. “But here’s what I don’t understand, and it really, really,
really fucking fries my ass,
Abe, if you must know”—Farrell in a true rage now, his voice ratcheting up—“is why in God’s name you had this great reason to go and righteously arrest Ro, and you didn’t see fit maybe to run the idea by me. And you know how that strikes my cynical mind? It strikes me that you didn’t think your reason was good enough. You thought I’d say no, and you know, I might have.

“And why?

“ ’Cause it still wasn’t enough, not given all the political ramifications and all the other bullshit we’re now going to have to be dealing with for the next God knows however many months. And you knew it! You goddamn well knew it, and you just said, ‘Well, fuck Wes.’ That’s what happened, and both of you were in on it, which is why when the first I heard about it is when fucking Cliff Curtlee calls me—oh yeah, he called me before he called Leland, demanding your badge, Abe, how ’bout that?—and I’m stuck defending both of you when I think you did just about everything completely backward and wrong, I’m just a little bit beyond pissed off.”

Farrell did a full pirouette and came back at them for a last round. “Just for the record, I feel bushwhacked and betrayed by both of you, and I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen on Monday. All I know is that if the court lets Ro out, we’re in deep shit. And if it keeps him in jail, we’re also in deep shit. And either way, I’ve made an enemy out of Leland Crawford, and I’d like to thank both of you for that, too. You’ve both put in a hell of a day’s work.”

Finally out of steam, Farrell did a kind of double take, reached over and went to push the button for the elevator, then stopped himself. “That’s all right. Fuck it. I’ll walk down to my car.” And turning on his heel, he opened the door to the stairway.

Glitsky pushed open the door to his home at ten forty-five P.M. He had last called Treya from the hospital when he’d gotten the call three hours earlier from the mayor’s office that he was expected immediately or sooner at City Hall, no excuses. At that time, he thought and told Treya he’d probably be home in about an hour. But then had come Farrell’s outburst in the elevator lobby and another half hour of discussion with Amanda Jenkins after that. And now the original hour had turned to nearly three.

The house was dark.

He’d walked nearly four blocks from the nearest place he’d found to park. Now, closing the door behind him, he shrugged out of his soaking jacket and hung it on the hook on the wall. He stood still a moment, listening to the rain, then moved up to the front of his house, where the bay window through his plantation shutters overlooked the block. The streetlights reflected off the shining streets.

“What are you looking at?”

His wife’s voice startled him. He had assumed that she was sleeping, but there she sat on the living room couch.

“Just the rain,” he said. He stayed at the window. Then, the thought just occurring to him, “Where are the men who were watching you?”

“I sent them home after you told me you’d arrested Ro.”

“Their orders were to stay.”

“I told them they could go. In fact, I ordered them to go.”

Glitsky sighed.

“Did your cell phone break?” she asked.

He looked over at her. “Don’t bust my chops, woman.”

“I’m just saying ...”

“All right. Noted. But don’t. Please. I’m sorry. If I would have thought of it, I would have. But there was no opportunity.”

She patted the couch next to her. “Come sit down.”

He came over and lowered himself, as though his body ached, onto the couch.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“No. But don’t get up.” He took her hand. “You’re all right?”

“We’re all fine. It was just scary.”

“He’s in jail now.”

“I know.”

“The Curtlees want my badge. I think the mayor does, too.”

“Well, he’ll learn.”

“And then there’s your boss.”

Beside him, he felt her go a little tense. “Wes? What about him?”

“He wouldn’t have arrested Ro yet. He didn’t think it was a real threat.”

“He wasn’t here.”

“No. I know that. But he thinks I should have called him first, before I went to pick Ro up. And maybe I should have. Anyway, apparently I’ve put him in a squeeze.”