39
Darby thought Kennedy was texting to tell her that he had been officially removed from the Byrne case. It wasn’t a matter of if but when. The man suspected of the kidnapping and murder of three girls had left a tidy sum of money in his will to the detective investigating him, so the police had no choice but to suspend Kennedy and open up their own investigation, to see if Kennedy had done anything unethical or, worse, illegal.
So she wasn’t surprised when, after she got Kennedy on the phone, he told her he had been suspended, with pay, until Internal Affairs completed their review. Kennedy was no longer involved in the Byrne case – or in any of the other cases that had been on his plate. He also had more news to share: her services were no longer needed.
‘Figured as much,’ Darby said, driving away from Grace Humphrey’s home.
Kennedy sighed. ‘I get that I have to be sidelined until IA clears me. What I really resent, what is pissing me off, is how the media is spinning the story, making it seem like I might’ve given the son of a bitch a free ride because he was a priest and I’m still a practising Catholic. I want to hold a press conference, tell my side – tell them the goddamn truth – but the dopes in charge here put the kibosh on that, and my lawyer said it was a stupid idea.’
‘He’s right, unfortunately. Once you open your mouth, you’ll only be adding fuel to the fire.’
‘And by not opening my mouth, I look guilty. My picture’s everywhere. People are shooting me looks that say they wouldn’t stop to piss on me if I were on fire.’
‘I’d stop,’ Darby said. ‘To piss on you.’
‘Ah, you’re sweet. How are you holding up?’
‘I’m ignoring it. You should too. Who’d they put on the Byrne case? Is it this Blake guy?’
‘Who told you?’
‘Grace Humphrey. I stopped by her place yesterday, after the funeral. She mentioned that a detective named Blake came by and questioned her.’
‘Yeah, the brass put him in charge of wrapping things up – and it’s done, Darby. The Claire Flynn case is, for all intents and purposes, closed.’
Unless something new comes along, Darby thought. ‘Blake any good?’
‘Roger Blake is the Kanye West of homicide detectives – arrogant and too fucking stupid to know he’s too fucking stupid. Which automatically makes him prime management material. But I’ll let you form your own judgements when you speak to him. He wants you to come to the station, pronto.’
‘For what?’
‘To explain why Sean Flynn insists on speaking to you and only you.’
Darby straightened in her seat.
‘What is it with you and the people who live here?’ Kennedy asked. ‘First Byrne, now Sean Flynn. What are you, the Asshole Whisperer?’
‘I’m missing something here. What’s going on with Sean Flynn?’
‘You taking a day off from the news?’
‘I was at the gym. What’s going on?’
Kennedy gave her the rundown of Sean Flynn’s arrest. Darby didn’t have a chance to ask any follow-up questions; Kennedy had to take an incoming call. Before he hung up, she told him she was on her way to the station. Kennedy was there, at his office, tying up some loose ends before he went out on paid leave.
Twenty minutes later, she was sitting in Kennedy’s office, speed-reading through the forensic report on the Molotov that had ended up killing Byrne’s bodyguard. The evidence stacked against Sean Flynn was rock solid, but she was having a hard time buying into it. Sean wouldn’t be so careless. If he went after Byrne, he would get up close and personal.
And then there was the man who had tried to kill her. He was still out in the wind.
Kennedy came in holding two paper cups of coffee. He handed her one, took the seat beside her.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Sean.’
‘Like I told you when I got here, I have no idea why he asked for me.’
‘So let’s go and find out.’
‘I thought Blake is in charge of this.’
‘He is.’
‘Then why aren’t I talking to him? Where is he?’
‘He called and told me he’s tied up in Boston. There are a lot of people who want to put Sean Flynn away – he’s consulting with them, see what other charges, if any, can be brought up against him.’
‘The forensic stuff in here is pretty solid,’ Darby said, tapping the file on her lap.
‘Feel free to share that with old man Flynn while you’re in there: impress upon him the gravity of his situation, get him to cooperate with us.’
Darby chuckled. ‘Sure. After that, I’ll pull a rabbit out of my ass.’
‘Just do it, will you? Who knows, maybe you’ll make friends along the way.’
‘Because if I don’t, Blake will, what, try to get my investigator’s licence pulled? Go to the state with some bullshit ethics violation regarding the Byrne payout?’
Kennedy gave her a sardonic smile. ‘Nothing gets past you, does it?’
‘What’s his beef?’
‘Let’s just say he’s not a fan of people who are –’
‘Whistle-blowers?’
‘I was going to say people who take a stand. People who are courageous and do the right thing. That’s a foreign concept to him. You’re dealing with a guy who not only thrives in a bureaucracy but also knows how to deal with it. Guy’s barely thirty and he already knows how to kiss ass up, down and sideways.’
‘How long has he been working homicide?’
An amused light worked its way through Kennedy’s eyes. ‘A little over a year.’
‘And they put him in charge of the Flynn case,’ Darby said flatly.
‘So what does that tell you?’
‘They’re grooming him for bigger and better things.’
‘Exactly. Brass wants a guy like that in a leadership position – he does what he’s told and looks good and does well on camera. They handed Flynn to him on a silver platter. Blake puts him away – and he will, I have no doubt in my mind that’s going to happen – it’ll be a major coup for him and the department.’
‘And if I stand in his way, he and, I’m sure, his superiors, will work tirelessly behind the scenes to do everything in their power to crucify me, to the point where I’ll never be able to so much as investigate a parking ticket.’
‘It’s like you’re psychic.’
Darby’s head throbbed. She had no use for petty politics, or for the people who played them. She said, ‘Sean isn’t going to confess to anything. He’s too smart for that – and he’s too smart to leave evidence behind. I’m not buying him for this.’
‘Not our problem,’ Kennedy said, rising from his seat. ‘Come on, let’s get this over and done.’
‘Who’s Sean’s lawyer? I’m sure he has one.’
‘No idea.’
‘I have one condition.’
‘Of course you do.’ He sagged back into his chair.
‘I want to take a look inside Byrne’s house,’ Darby said.
‘You’ve already been inside his house, remember? Mickey called you that night instead of calling 911, and you went straight inside instead of calling 911 right away.’ Kennedy shot her a look to make sure she knew he was in a lot of shit for that.
Darby said nothing.
‘Forensics ripped the place apart,’ he said. ‘The only stuff they found is the stuff you saw – the photographs of the girls and those two audio tapes.’
‘He must have had other tapes – I’m talking about the ones of those recorded confessions.’
‘They’re not in the house.’
‘As far as you know.’
‘Like I said, forensics ripped his house apart. Those tapes aren’t there. I’m guessing he destroyed them.’
‘Or gave them to someone,’ Darby said. ‘Humphrey told me Father Cullen visited Byrne the day I saw him – and on the morning he died.’
‘That’s not a crime. And, as previously discussed, possession of those tapes is not a crime, so don’t go asking me to look at Cullen, because that’s not going to happen.’
‘The guy lawyered up.’
‘Darby, there’s nothing we can do with him, so –’
‘The day I met Cullen at the track, he told me he’d refused Byrne last rites. He told me Byrne was evil. Then he visits Byrne not once but twice and then ends up giving Byrne a Catholic service. Humphrey told me Cullen gave Byrne an apostolic pardon. It’s an “All sins forgiven, go straight to heaven” trump card. What’s that say to you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kennedy said, making zero effort to hide the weariness in his voice. Right then, Darby knew he had already mentally checked out of the investigation – maybe even the police department, his thoughts now focused on his wounded ego, how he was going to fill his days during his forced suspension. She had been there. She didn’t blame him. And he had the added burden of having suffered two heart attacks.
‘You have a copy of Byrne’s autopsy report?’ Darby asked.
Kennedy shook his head. ‘Glassman hasn’t forwarded a copy yet. I’ve got a call into him.’
‘Why? You don’t think it’s a suicide?’
‘Byrne coming up with some elaborate plan to get me to strip down for him – no, don’t say it was strictly about humiliation. There’s more to it than that. You weren’t there. You didn’t see the lust in his eyes. A paedophile doesn’t look at a woman like that.’
‘I hear you,’ Kennedy said. ‘Still, you’re assuming it was lust. For all you know that lust you were seeing had to do with the impending excitement of humiliating you.’
‘He’s done this thing to other women.’
‘You got any names?’
‘Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll find them.’
‘Darby,’ he began.
‘The whole crime scene looked staged to me. You saw the pictures on the bedroom floor – they were neat and clean. If Byrne had stored them in that floorboard underneath his bed, they would show some wear, right?’
‘Possibly.’
‘The pictures weren’t sexual, Chris. Doesn’t that bother you? Speaking of which, did you find any child-related pornography in his house?’
Kennedy didn’t answer, but she saw that her point had struck home.
‘We both know a suicide can be staged,’ Darby said. ‘Granted, it’s tough to do, but not impossible. I’ve worked cases where I’ve seen it done.’
‘I’ll pass this along to Blake.’
‘He’s not going to do anything with it.’
‘You’re right. And neither are we. We’re off this.’
‘I was attacked on my way to Danny Halloran’s place. Don’t you think that’s an odd coincidence?’
‘What’s the latest from Boston on that?’
‘No suspects.’
‘Look, I get where you’re coming from, I truly do. You’re pissed at the media for turning you into a human piñata, and you’ve got your health to think about. All I’m asking is for you to get me into the house, so I can take a closer look at the crime scene. If I find something, I’ll tell Blake. If nothing comes of it, what’s the harm?’
‘Blake isn’t going to let you go in there all by yourself.’
‘So tell him he can come.’
‘And if he disagrees?’
‘You want me to play nice, go in there and talk to Sean, I want –’
‘You don’t go in there and do your part, Blake – hell, probably everyone at Boston PD – will take turns jamming it up your ass. You really want to take that risk, have them pull your licence?’
‘I want to see the house. Today.’
‘Okay.’
‘I want to hear it from Blake.’
‘I’ll make it happen. I give you my word.’ Kennedy glanced at his watch and said, ‘We’ve got to get this done before they take Sean to the courthouse. Come on, let’s go.’
Darby got up and followed him out of the office and through the halls.
Kennedy stopped in front of the door leading to the holding pen. ‘You’ve got twenty minutes,’ he said. ‘After that we’re going to transfer him over to court. Remind him there’s no way in hell he’s going to make bail.’
Her phone rang. Mickey. She took the call, motioned for Kennedy to wait.
‘Did you hear about my old man?’ Mickey asked.
‘I did. In fact, I’m on my way to see him right now.’
‘Why?’
‘It appears he asked to speak to me.’
‘About what?’
‘I was about to ask you the same question.’
‘I have no idea. But I spoke to him about an hour ago. He wants me to hook him up with a lawyer.’
‘Did you?’
‘No,’ Mickey said. ‘That’s why I’m calling you. I have an idea for something, and I need your help.’