Drayco doubted he’d slept more than three hours. Again. Mornings were becoming Drayco’s least favorite time of day. Sarg looked better rested, at least.
This time, the comfy chair was front and center in Benny Baskin’s office, and Sarg made a beeline for it. Naturally. That left the chair that always made Drayco’s butt go numb. Drayco pointed at Sarg’s chair. “Benny, where is that thing most of the time?”
“Out for upholstering or something. I’m not a musical-chairs coordinator.”
At Drayco’s raised eyebrow, he replied, “What?” Then he opened a chiller in the wall unit behind his desk and grabbed a bottle. “Celebratory Scotch,” he said.
“Celebratory, sir?” Sarg looked at Drayco.
“After hearing of your new evidence proving Maura was not Jerold Zamorra’s killer, I’ve arranged to get her out on bail. Should be a free woman by this afternoon if all goes well. Tomorrow at the latest.”
“We haven’t entirely proven Maura wasn’t involved, and the PD will need time to make a case against Rena.”
“Close enough.”
Drayco stared at Benny as he poured glasses of Scotch. “Who’s paying the bail?”
“Money was wired into my account for that very purpose. Any guesses on who that might be from?”
Brisbane’s little wiretaps were doing their job. Drayco rubbed his eyes and frowned.
Benny frowned back at him. “You don’t look as overjoyed about this as I’d expected. I’m going to stop giving you good news.”
“Just uneasy, I suppose.”
“Don’t tell me you think she’s not innocent, after all?”
“Innocent of Jerold’s murder.”
“Well, that other stuff is minor by comparison. As for lottery fraud, we’ll handle all that later, as I mentioned yesterday. If it ever happens since there’s no evidence.”
“That’s what worries me. Well, one of the things. This is too neat.”
Benny put his hands on his hips. “If you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, I see the two you have on seem nice and tight.”
The door opened behind them, and Nelia Tyler popped in. She spied the bottle of Scotch and glasses and poured herself some, then lifted it in Drayco’s direction. “Congratulations. Although you don’t look too happy, considering the outcome.”
Sarg piped up, “Oh, you know junior here. Likes all his dotted-I’s and crossed-T’s.”
Nelia said, “If you mean Rena, it’s just a matter of time before she turns up.”
Drayco nodded at the Scotch. “Kinda early for that, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “I’m taking mass transit.”
Benny added, “My wife is picking me up later today,” and downed his shot in one gulp. He looked from Drayco to Sarg. “Which of you two drove?”
When Sarg pointed at Drayco, Benny poured Sarg a glass of Scotch and handed it over. “So, Mister Special Agent, how long you think it’ll be before Detective Halabi and his minions track down Rena Quentin?”
“Soon, plus or minus. Wouldn’t it be a kick if her name is added to the TSA’s Do Not Fly list? I still say she’s one sick bitch.”
Benny poured himself another. “Her attorney will plead insanity. Guaranteed.”
Nelia turned to Drayco. “Have you had a chance to talk with your mother about all of this?”
“No, but if Benny works his magic, maybe later today.”
“That’s good, right?”
Drayco forced a smile. “You three are going to owe me some Scotch later.” He didn’t miss the look his other three companions exchanged between them. He was happy about all of this, right? His mother was essentially cleared and so was the young Leon Mecko, for that matter. Why did he feel like grabbing that bottle and downing it all at once?
§ § §
The shadows of the morning had long turned to twilight, but Rena was still missing, meaning the police didn’t have their suspect in custody. But even so, and despite the fact it took most of the day to accomplish, Benny managed to work his magic and secure Maura’s release.
Drayco’s mother stood stiffly as the police clerk handed over a small box of TicTacs, ten five-dollar bills, two keys and a paperback-sized beaded purse. She stuffed the items in the purse, then opened it wider and ran her finger along the interior.
Drayco said, “Detective Halabi kept the fake driver’s license.”
Benny, who was standing on the other side of Maura, chimed in, “You’re off the hook for the murder charge, thanks to Drayco.”
Maura didn’t look at her son but nodded.
After a moment of awkward silence, Benny said, “I knew all along Drayco would get to the bottom of this. He’s kept my bacon out of the frying pan more than once. Yep, you should never bet against boy-o, here.”
Drayco almost spoke up to remind Benny that when Drayco first approached him, Benny hadn’t exactly been encouraging. Even calling Drayco’s objectivity into question.
Benny sailed blithely on, “Where ya goin’ for your first post-release celebration?”
Maura looked in Drayco’s direction. “I think I’d like to go back to my apartment. But I don’t have a car.”
“I’ll drive you.” Drayco touched her arm lightly and indicated the hallway to their right. He mouthed “Call you later” to Benny and led the way outside.
They walked in silence under the faint canopy of stars beginning to shine through the gathering darkness until they reached the car. Maura stared at the man leaning against it. “Who are you?”
“Agent Mark Sargosian, at your service, ma’am.” He opened the front passenger door to Drayco’s car.
“Sargosian? Aren’t you Scotty’s former partner?”
Sarg and Drayco exchanged a quick look. Drayco hadn’t told her about Sarg or why Drayco had left the FBI. She, or maybe Brisbane, had definitely been keeping tabs on his career.
“Yes, ma’am, I am none other.”
“But I thought—” She bit her lip, hesitated, then slid into the car. No mention of the former partners’ estrangement, but it was clear she knew.
After Sarg closed the door and he and Drayco piled in, Drayco drove down Wilson Boulevard in the direction of his target. When they parked beside Northside Social, Maura frowned.
Drayco said, “Thought you might like some non-prison coffee. And they make a terrific chocolate hazelnut tart.”
Drayco and Maura found a table while Sarg stood in line to place the order. Maura looked out the window, and Drayco was beginning to think it was a mistake to bring her here, to try and break the ice a bit.
Without the stress of prison forcing slips of her Scottish accent, she was back to her more measured, American patterns. She said quietly, “I’ve been there many times, you know, to Casey’s grave. Always bring her some yellow calla lilies. Her favorite.”
She turned to look him squarely in the eye. “I’m not proud of everything I’ve done in my life. And I know I’m not the mother you wanted, the mother you deserve. But I won’t badmouth my family. It’s just who they are and who I am.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
She sighed. “You get addicted to the trickster life. To see what you can get away with. For some people, it’s drugs or sex or alcohol, for my family, it’s cons. I couldn’t tell anyone about them, you can see that, can’t you? They’d be tracked down.”
Then she reached across the table. “Promise you won’t do that, won’t say anything to anyone. Forget about them. Leave them be. They’re slowly dying off, anyway. And they never killed anyone. You believe that, don’t you?”
He reached up to touch the scar on her neck, but she caught his hand and gently rubbed it in hers. He said, “Dugald Iverson was self-defense. And much deserved, it appears. You didn’t have to run.”
Her eyes widened to mini full moons. “How did you—” Then she shook her head. “My brilliant son. Of course, you’d find out. I was young, scared. Didn’t know what else to do. Thought I’d escaped my past here with your father. But a former mate of Dugald’s tracked me down and confronted me. Threatened to kidnap you and Casey unless I gave him a lot of money. That’s how I knew my past would never stay that way.”
Her eyes, bright with unshed tears, pleaded with him so intensely, it shook him to the core how important this was to her—for him to believe, to know, that she wasn’t evil. She said, “I have lived my life in so much darkness. Hiding, ducking, running. But all the time, I had you as a light in the darkness, my light in the darkness. Through your music, you create peace and beauty. And through your work, you find justice for victims. My real legacy, my only good, true gift to the world is you, Scotty. I will always, always love you and be with you.”
Sarg rejoined them, expertly balancing coffees and pastries he served, with a bow. “No tips, please. Although I will accept kudos in lieu thereof.” He plopped in his seat, reached for the sugar, but just then seemed to notice Maura’s hand clasped in Drayco’s. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
She smiled at Sarg and released Drayco’s hand. “No, and thank you, Agent Sargosian. For everything.”
All of Maura’s words took on double meanings. It was as if she was cramming a lifetime of stored-up thoughts into a brief supernova of emotions, as one would who was saying goodbye.
She grabbed her spoon, reached for the salt shaker and poured some into her coffee, as Drayco and Sarg both watched in amazement. She looked amused at their expressions. “What, you’ve never tried salt in your coffee? You really should. It takes all the bitterness out.”
Sarg hid a cough behind his napkin, and Drayco picked up the salt shaker and followed her lead. “You’re right. It’s quite good.”
She tried a bit of the tart, with a pleased “Umm,” and washed it down with some coffee. “You think Rena Quentin was behind Jerold’s murder, but why frame me? Was she that jealous?”
“Rena likes being in control, manipulating actors in her dramas like a Hollywood director. You were horning in on her action. That wasn’t in the script.”
“I suppose that’s true, Scotty, but I didn’t even know her. I certainly didn’t know she was Jerold’s partner.” She fingered her coffee cup, then shook her head. “Jerold wouldn’t have turned her in, because doing so would out him, too. Seems like she would have killed me, the interloper, instead.”
Maura changed the subject to ask about Sarg’s wife and kids, and Sarg regaled her with stories from his days with Drayco at the Bureau. When they dropped her off at her apartment an hour later, she hesitated as if wanting to talk some more. But she waved them off with a smile.
When Benny arranged bail, he knew as well as Drayco that Maura was a flight risk, if her past was any guide. Even now, as Drayco and Sarg drove away, Maura stood at her front door looking after them as her smile faded. And Drayco wasn’t entirely convinced he would ever see her again.