Hate Crime (42 page)

“A power drill?” Mike said incredulously.

“It wasn’t planned. I went over just to reason with him. There was a fight and . . .” She sighed. “A good agent is trained to use whatever weapons are at hand. After Charlie learned what happened to Manny, he tried to hide. But I found him. I am a detective, after all.”

“And you set up Mario.”

She didn’t deny it. “He was behind all the attempts on your lawyer buddies. The vandalism, the shooting incident. We made it look like that gay rights group was responsible. Basically, he wanted them to back off. He wanted Christensen convicted and the whole business put to rest. They were doing a lot of snooping around, too, you know. Mario was setting the stage to take them out—if they got too effective or too close to the truth.” She paused. “Mario was always a hothead—to the bitter end. I eventually realized that keeping him around was . . . an unacceptable risk. After the lawyers gave that press conference, Mario had a meltdown. He tried to get me to kill them, but I told him I couldn’t. Since I knew you all personally. So he went himself.”

“You knew he’d end up getting himself killed.”

“I had a strong suspicion, yeah. But of course, if he’d been successful, that would’ve worked for me, too. Mario’s death left me with all the money, minus the fifty grand Manny had and whatever trivial sums went to Shelly. And all the known conspirators were eliminated.” She sighed. “It seemed like the perfect crime.”

Mike removed the cuffs from his belt. “There’s no such thing.” He was relieved when she allowed him to restrain her. All the combat scenarios that had run through his mind on the drive over—none of which ended well—were not going to materialize. “Care to tell me why?”

“Aw, who the hell knows?” Her voice seemed tired, drained of its usual effervescence. “I could use the money, sure. But—you know, I worked on all of those child kidnapping cases. For years. I saw all the mistakes crooks made, mostly just because they’re so damn stupid. And I thought—I could do this. I could do this so well no one would ever catch me. And I did. Or so I thought.” A soft echo of a laugh escaped her lips. “It was a lark.”

“Not for Tony Barovick,” Mike replied. “So that’s it? You did it for the intellectual challenge? For kicks?”

She shrugged. “Would it be better if I told you the Metzger family betrayed me when I was a child? That I needed money desperately to save my ailing, sainted mother? Grow up, Morelli. A crime’s a crime. We’re all crooks, deep down. All we need is sufficient motivation.”

“Some of us don’t even need that, apparently,” Mike muttered. He stopped at the threshold of the door. “I liked you, Swift. Did you know that? I’m not talking about all the teasing pseudosexual stuff. I mean I really liked you. I admired you. I thought you were a great cop.” His head swayed from side to side. That damn Billy Joel song buzzed to the surface of his brain. “And then the stranger kicked me right between the eyes.”

He turned her around and steered her out of the office.

After Mike made his report and put Swift in custody, he found Baxter waiting for him outside the downtown Cook County jail’s rear entrance.

“Need any help?” she asked.

He shook his head slightly. “All done.”

“Sorry it had to work out this way. I know you cared about her.”

“Did I?” Mike walked slowly toward the car. “I think I just enjoyed working with someone who was so . . .” He thought for a moment. “So easy. In a good way, I mean.”

“Yeah.”

“And she liked poetry.”

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste.” Baxter smiled, but it didn’t take. “And she did all this . . . because she could?”

“Basically.”

“Strange.”

Mike nodded slowly. “Aren’t we all.”

They both slid into the car, Mike driving. Baxter waited until they were out on the highway and halfway back to the airport before she spoke.

“Mike . . . I think we should talk about it.”

His chest deflated. “About what?”

“You know perfectly well. The kiss.”

“I already apologized. I was buoyant.”

“It wasn’t the first time.”

“Well, it was the last.”

“I think we have to be realistic. These are our careers we’re talking about. We don’t want to do something stupid and screw them up. I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“It’s going to work,” Mike said flatly.

“What?”

“I said, ‘It’s going to work.’ ”

“And how can you be so certain?”

He slowed to take the exit then, when it was safe, turned to face her. “It’s going to work because I want it to work.”

52

If immersion in a trial was like being submerged in a tank of water, then the end of a trial was like having your sub surface, like being released from prison, like being permitted to reenter the real world after a long absence. The firm of Kincaid & McCall celebrated the successful conclusion of this trial with a company picnic at Williams Park, named for the renowned Tulsa auctioneer, Tommy Williams. Jones reserved a pavilion, and it was a beautiful, warm but not too humid, mildly cloudy, all-in-all glorious day.

Jones and Paula were tossing a Frisbee out on the grassy stretch between the basketball court and the creek, Loving was climbing on the new playground equipment, and Christina was trying to teach Ben the fine art of barbecue.

Ben stared at the pink clump of raw hamburger meat. “So . . . you have to touch that?”

“Unless you’ve mastered the power of telekinesis, yes.”

He extended one finger. “Kind of . . . slimy, isn’t it?”

Christina’s patience was wearing thin. “Come on, champ. Learn something here. You can’t go on eating Cap’n Crunch all your life. Get your hands into it. Smoosh it into patties.”

A pained expression crossed his face. “And then you put it on that hot grill?”

“That’s the traditional method, yes,” she said, drumming her fingers.

“When do you take it off?”

“When it’s done.”

“And how do you know when it’s done?”

She made a tsking sound with her teeth as he pressed the meat into patties. “Didn’t your parents ever have cookouts when you were growing up?”

“Sure.”

“Who cooked the burgers?”

“Actually, we had people . . .”

Fifteen minutes later, Christina returned from the Frisbee field and peered at the smoking grill. “Burned?”

Ben tilted his head. “Well, it was my first time. And I was kind of worried about the
E. coli
thing.”

Christina rolled her eyes. “Better stick with the cold cereal, Ben. I don’t think cooking is your line.”

“I’m not giving up that easily,” Ben said, diving into the picnic basket. “I’ll cook the hot dogs.”

Christina snatched the package away from him. “I’ll cook the hot dogs. You have a visitor.”

“I—what?” On the other side of the pavilion, he spotted Ellen Christensen. “What is she doing in Tulsa? At our picnic?”

“I invited her.”

He stared at Christina blankly. “You did what?”

“You two need to talk.”

“I do not have the slightest need or—”

“You do. Don’t leave things dangling, Ben. This may be your last chance.” She pulled him to his feet. “Just—go.” She gave him a little shove forward.

His face was a picture of unhappiness. “For the record, I’m only doing this for you.”

“That works.”

He crossed the pavilion till he reached the spot where Ellen waited. He stood at least two feet away from her. She was dressed casually, shorts and a polo shirt, but she looked strong and much healthier than she had since this entire case had begun.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said. She was obviously nervous. She fidgeted with the belt loops on her shorts. “I wanted to thank you. For what you did for Johnny. He’s home now, for a little while. Till they file the assault charges, anyway. I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels, having him back with me again.” She looked up at Ben, eyes wide. “My boys are all I’ve got now.”

Ben nodded.

“It was so wonderful, what you did for Johnny.”

Ben craned his neck uncomfortably. “Christina did the hard work.”

“But Christina didn’t have to work through . . . what you had to work through. What you did . . .” She shook her head. “Was special. And I will always treasure it.”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I didn’t even want to take the case.”

“That’s my whole point. You didn’t want to take the case, but you did. You didn’t want to work on the case, but you did. You didn’t want to help me, but you did.” She closed her eyes, and a tiny smile illuminated her face. “I think maybe you haven’t changed so much after all.”

“Believe me, I have.”

She looked at him, and when she did, it was with eyes that seemed to travel back farther than the events of the last few months. “You never like to let anything show. Withdrawn, cranky—that’s what you want the world to see. But I know better.”

Ben coughed, suddenly uncomfortable. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back.”

“To Christina?”

He stopped. “And Jones and everyone else.”

“I like Christina a lot. She’s wonderful.”

“Well . . . yes.”

“She thinks you’re afraid to make a commitment. And I very much fear . . . that may be my fault.”

“Don’t be stupid. That was years ago.”

“Yes, but . . . sometimes it’s the old wounds that hurt the most.”

Ben shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“You know, Ben—what I did. All those years ago. It was a horrible mistake.”

It was?

“You were so sweet and kind and I loved you so dearly. But when I knew the baby was coming, I just freaked. I lost faith. I thought I had to play it safe. Couldn’t take a chance on a punk college kid. But look at you now!” She smiled. “I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

“Who really knows anybody?” Ben wondered. “When all is said and done, we’re all strangers.”

“But there is one thing I do know—something I want you to know,” Ellen continued. “Letting you go was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Ever. And my biggest mistake.”

“No,” he said quietly. “You did the right thing.”

“I—but—”

“And I knew it. Even then. I just couldn’t . . .
wouldn’t
accept it.”

Ellen’s eyes widened. “In time, Larry and I made a life for ourselves. It was different with him. He didn’t miss the girl I had been before the disease set in. He fell in love with the woman I became. And David is a wonderful boy. He reminds me of you in—” Her voice choked. “Truth is I never stopped missing you, Ben. You were the one who got away.” She stood there another moment, then clasped her hands together. “Well . . . goodbye.”

“Wait.” He reached out, and a second later, he was hugging her, her cheek to his, tight in his embrace. He couldn’t know how long it lasted; it was ridiculously too long and impossibly too brief.

And then she was gone.

She was so beautiful this morning—and every morning—Ben literally couldn’t take his eyes off her. He had never felt anything like this in his entire twenty-three years of life. The warmth that gurgled up out of his chest every time he looked at her. The happiness he felt in the morning when he woke, just knowing she was somewhere near. The ache he felt whenever they were apart.

“How long have you been staring at me?” Ellen murmured, her eyes barely open.

“I don’t know. An hour or so.”

“Geez Louise. Turn on the television.”

“I’d rather watch you.”

She rolled over, tucking the sheet under her arms. “I bet my breath is atrocious.”

“Like sweet lotus flowers,” he said, leaning forward to give her a kiss. “Ambrosia. Nectar of the gods.”

“You only think that because you have a vivid imagination.”

“I only think that because I love you.”

Her eyes sparkled. “And when did you decide that?”

Ben inched forward, throwing his leg over her hips. “The first moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Oh, right.”

“True.”

“In that little coffee shop on Yonge?”

“Where you played guitar and wore that punk leather skirt. Fabulous.”

“And you thought right then and there you were going to have me?”

“I thought right then and there that you would probably never let me anywhere near you. But I had to try.”

“I’m glad you did.”

He leaned forward again, and this time the kiss lasted for a long, mutually stimulating minute. After their lips parted, Ellen suddenly coughed, a deep throaty cough that grew in size till she was racked by the strain. It was at least a minute before she was able to stop.

“Are you all right?” Ben asked, his forehead creased with concern.

“Fine, fine,” she assured him. “Just swallowed wrong or something. So what’s our plan for the day? Shopping at Eaton? Movie at the Bloor? Maybe the Harbourfront?”

“I’d rather stay in bed with you.”

“Even you might run out of steam after a while, lover boy.”

“We can just cuddle. I don’t care. Just so we’re together.”

Her forehead crinkled. “Man, you really are in love, aren’t you? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He nodded. “Marry me.”

She looked at him for a long time. “Peanut butter and jelly!”

“The traditional responses are
yes
or
no
.”

She giggled. “Peanut butter and jelly.”

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

Under the covers, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. “You and me, kid. Because we’re so much better together than apart. And now that we’ve been stuck together, we can never be entirely separated.”

By seven-thirty, the sun was setting. Everyone had eaten and returned to the playing fields. Loving and Jones had started with one-on-one basketball, but it had somehow degenerated into dodgeball. Loving was creaming Jones, which brought Paula no end of merriment.

Christina gazed across the stone picnic table at Ben. He seemed tired, but not unhappy. Most of the hostility she had seen these past few weeks was gone, and thank God for that. Perhaps it was finally time . . .

“Fun having a family, isn’t it?” Christina said, as she and Ben watched from the shade of the pavilion.