Killing Frost Read online

  She handed him the map she had printed out of the Eastside. She highlighted the areas that had been highlighted on Charles’s map. He kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘Saving the passion and the fashion for your girlfriend, I see.’

  ‘Patachou on the Park. All of those professionals. I didn’t want to embarrass her.’

  ‘You look great. Patachou and Thompkins don’t deserve you.’

  Patachou was popular, clean, modern, and somewhat cold. The front opened to a city street and the back to a garden, set in the state government area of downtown. The grand, ornate, domed Capitol was a short walk as were blocks of monumental-looking government offices stretching across the end of the canal.

  Shanahan was amused that his arrival was greeted with stares. Despite his age and attire, the idea of getting out of the back seat of a car with a driver caused a minor stir.

  Contrary to what he expected, his date was not fashionably late. She was at the table with a cup of coffee and orange juice. Thompkins was a woman devoted to primary colors. Today she wore a blue dress that could not be any bluer. With her whitish, goldish hair and intensely red lips, her very existence spoke of patriotism as theater.

  ‘Thank you for meeting me downtown. You’ve saved me a couple of hours.’

  Shanahan had looked at her politically oriented website and, while he was not fond of her views of how the world should work, he liked her. How much of what she said, she actually believed, he was unsure. To fit into the current conservative club she carefully groomed, curated her image as a tough, take-no-prisoners fiscal Grinch, don’t-tread-on-me militant and ultra traditionalist when it came to social issues. But unlike many members of her party she couldn’t bring herself to say the earth was only 5,000 years old.

  ‘You have some downtown properties?’ Shanahan asked after their order was taken.

  ‘Oh, yes, lofts in converted factories and old apartment buildings are booming. The closer to downtown the better. Record sales, record prices.’

  ‘I had no idea.’ He didn’t. Maureen’s sales and listings were pretty middle-market.

  ‘I have a nice little residence right in the heart of the city for five.’

  ‘Five what?’

  She smiled. ‘No kidding. You didn’t want to meet with me for real estate advice. Now, I’m not complaining, but why are we here?’

  ‘Real estate advice? Yes. Some. I have some questions. But I’m also curious about why you agreed to meet with me. I don’t begin to qualify for one of your mortgages. I can’t help you politically and frankly, I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Why I agreed to meet is simple. I try very hard, very hard to never say “no.” I am also on the police oversight board, as you know, and being on the right side of the disposition of the case you’re working on is important to me and to my ambition. I promised you I’d help if I could.’

  ‘How does it work, this committee?’

  ‘We read transcripts of interviews, look at personnel files, performance reviews, arrest reports, personnel evaluations, hear witnesses.’

  ‘Would you talk to the subject? In this case, Leonard Card?’

  ‘Yes. He presented himself to the commission.’

  ‘What did you think?’

  ‘It’s probably not wise of me to go much further. Suffice it to say, I wouldn’t want him to marry my sister.’

  ‘Did you meet with him privately?’

  ‘For an hour.’

  ‘Did anyone else on the committee?’

  ‘We all had that option.’

  ‘Do the files contain personal information? If someone wanted to contact him, they could, couldn’t they?’

  ‘I believe so,’ she said.

  ‘Here’s a map,’ Shanahan said as the server arrived.

  She took the map as a colorful plate of fresh fruit and yogurt was set out before her.

  ‘What am I looking at?’ She waved the paper as if it had come from the gutter.

  ‘I was hoping you could make sense of it.’ He looked down as his BLT made with mozzarella slid in front of him. Life was good, he thought.

  ‘From my perspective, it takes the lively, rejuvenated area of the city and extends its influence into nearby, currently impoverished areas. It could be someone’s idea of the direction of the city’s redevelopment.’

  ‘Is it realistic?’

  ‘It’s not done with any graphic expertise, therefore I doubt if any of it is from a professional.’

  ‘Forget the quality for the moment. Does the concept make sense?’

  ‘There are two problems, at least. Even though the city is doing well, development has always dilly-dallied behind plans and certainly expectations. I would put my money behind Fountain Square and Fletcher Place if I were younger and expected to live long enough to collect.’ She dipped a strawberry into the yogurt and took a bite.

  ‘This,’ she said, handing back the map, ‘seems quite ambitious. It would demand tons of money and city population growth I certainly don’t see happening in my lifetime. Where did you get this?’

  ‘Off the body of Charles Bailey, more or less. Later, we found significant money, at least significant for Charles, deposited in bank accounts with his name on it.’

  She was quiet for a while. She took another bite, looked around, finally settling her eyes on his. ‘Mr Shanahan, I sell expensive houses. Though I’m not immune to looking into the future, that’s not my expertise. I’m not an investor or a developer. But what I’d say is that this map, if it’s meant as development, is incredibly amateur in its ambition as well. But even if it were valid in terms of city planning, we would be talking about something that pays off way down the road. I can’t imagine people getting killed over this map.’ She shrugged, then seemed to change her mind. ‘Who knows?’ She shook her head. She looked at the map again. ‘It is interesting. I just don’t see that kind of thing happening, though there is a certain logic to it. It’s forward thinking. No one that smart would render it so primitively.’

  The quality of the map seemed to put her off more than what it was a map of.

  Shanahan worried that the presentation was at fault. But he gave up. He didn’t explain that this was a computer printed map from Google, enhanced by colored markers, recreating the pattern from Shanahan’s hole-filled memory of Charles’s unsteady interpretation of what he might have merely overheard.

  But what made sense to him is that it would take too long for a project like this to pay off for most American investors, known for their impatience and their shirking of long-term planning. Who would undertake such a project? Someone young, ambitious, and at least somewhat optimistic. Holcomb popped into his head.

  ‘Anymore news on Card?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s one of the reasons I’m downtown. Meeting this afternoon. A witness has come forward. I thought you might have had something for me.’

  Shanahan had to show some good faith. Giving up Lieutenant Swann a few minutes early would harm no one.

  ‘A cop.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Lieutenant Swann saw the kid go down and after some soul-searching is willing to testify. Eyewitness. That party’s over for Card. Do me a favor.’

  ‘If I can.’

  ‘Ask Card if he knows anything about a company called Tyrus.’

  ‘You want to tell me?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s a stab in the dark. But if I were a little mouse in the room, I’d love to see Card’s face when he sees Swann. I’d be watching not just Card’s reaction but the committee members’ as well.’

  ‘Just when I think you’ve told me everything …’

  ‘You might get a resolution on Justice King’s death, but no other …’

  ‘The case slipping away?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I know. I promise, Tyrus means something. Just don’t know what.’

  Thompkins looked at him. She wanted more.

  ‘I might be in a position to have the media come to you for comment when this shakes
out,’ Shanahan said. ‘That is, if I get something out of this.’

  She smiled again. It was so practiced it seemed natural.

  NINETEEN

  Sometimes the only thing you can do is nothing. And nothing loomed big on Shanahan’s afternoon. He called Jennifer Bailey, reported what he could with the explanation that he expected Card to go down on the killing of Justice King and that if that didn’t create a big break in the other murders then he wasn’t sure what would. He sent Harold back to Bailey.

  His moment’s rest in front of the window turned into two hours. He awoke surprisingly clear-headed when Maureen whooshed past him toward the bathroom.

  ‘Get your coat,’ she said. ‘We have to go out and scrounge for dinner.’

  That meant a trip to Marsh’s, a nearby downtown supermarket.

  ‘Therapy?’ Shanahan suggested.

  ‘If you know what’s good for you …’

  ‘I do. I do.’ Five minutes in produce and she’d be a new woman, but the metamorphosis would have to wait. Shanahan found himself on the other end of a call from Mrs Thompkins.

  ‘I have a little video for you to see,’ she said, trying to explain how she could send it to his computer. Shanahan, realizing he was out of his depth after he heard the words ‘formats,’ ‘megabytes,’ and ‘compressed,’ called Maureen to the phone. Maureen was not just reluctant, she was peeved. She made angry faces while sounding civil, almost sweet. He went to the kitchen to fix her a drink.

  The conversation not only turned out well – the two had agreed to meet for lunch at some unspecified place at some unspecified time.

  ‘You guys got downright cozy,’ Shanahan said of the flattery obviously going both directions between the two real estate agents.

  ‘She’s nice, but she’s decided my name is “Maurie.” I never liked that. Dad called me that when he wanted something. It was never good.’

  Maureen was not fond of her father, but apparently she let it slide with her new friend. Shanahan thought there was a hierarchy among realtors as there was for doctors, lawyers and any other profession. Thompkins was a legend in that profession and a growing threat, as some saw it, as a city leader. There might have been a little, rare insecurity in Maureen’s behavior, perhaps even a small lapse in sincerity.

  ‘Some people like to put an “ie” or “y” after people’s names. Johnny, Billie. They think it’s friendlier,’ Shanahan said.

  ‘It trivializes them, makes them harmless,’ Maureen said. ‘What if I called you Shanahanie?’

  ‘Makes me sound like the Irish-Hawaiian god I am.’

  What the woman had was more serious. Thompkins had a video of the committee meeting. She was able to attach it to an email she sent to Maureen’s computer. Judging by the quality of the sound, abrupt movement and poor framing, it was likely a surreptitious exercise, probably from an iPhone. There were moments when the images were blurred by fingers in front of the lens. Sometimes the movement was fast, awkward and askew, as if Thompkins had moved too quickly to catch something important. The sound was poor and at moments unintelligible. She was definitely doing this on the down low. Perhaps it wasn’t all that risky, but it would be embarrassing if caught.

  Maureen verified the secret nature of the video by repeating Thompkin’s warning that this was for ‘their eyes only.’

  After Shanahan got over the idea of the secret taping and the nearly magical ability of sending it electronically within minutes of the event, he settled in to see what he could see.

  The first transition was when Card came into the room. The screen showed five people in office attire seated at a round table. Shanahan recognized only Daniel Holcomb. Presumably Thompkins was behind the camera and was therefore out of the frame. Holcomb picked up his pen and noted something, but obviously not making eye contact with Card who seemed, in the next few moments, to glance at each of the attendees, except Holcomb.

  A voice said: ‘This is Officer Leonard Card, who has asked to be part of this hearing, especially in light of new information. As you all know we are not only behind schedule in rendering a determination and recommendation in this case, there has been increasing interest and we might say pressure to resolve this fairly but expeditiously.’

  ‘Officer Card, we are about to do that,’ Holcomb said, and still did not make eye contact with Card.

  Shanahan was impressed with Holcomb’s cool professionalism.

  One of the women at the table stood, went to the door. She went out and came back in, followed by Lieutenant Swann.

  ‘This is Lieutenant Swann from IMPD Homicide.’

  Card’s eyes closed for a full ten seconds. Holcomb tossed his pen onto the pad with what appeared to be, for a moment, restrained disgust. Unless one were specifically looking for such minor tells, it is not likely they’d be noticed. Too small and too quick. And people were still being seated. Shanahan had Maureen back up the action and asked to go through it again. Card’s eyes closed and when he opened them he looked down at the tabletop. Card was surprised and upset. Holcomb was surprised and angry. Clearly, they were expecting someone, anyone, else.

  ‘Lieutenant Swann,’ Holcomb said, ‘we were under the impression that the witness we were to hear from today was present at the scene of the incident at the time of the incident.’

  ‘That is correct,’ Swann said.

  ‘I’ve gone through the arrest report and several witness reports and I don’t recall coming across your name.’

  Swann apologized and explained how he had come to witness the incident and why he had been reluctant to report it at the time.

  ‘What changed your mind?’ came the voice of Mrs Thompkins.

  Holcomb clearly didn’t like the interruption or what could be considered a challenge to his authority.

  ‘The death of the victim’s best friend, Nicky Hernandez,’ Swann said, choking on his words. ‘I should say murder of young Mr Hernandez. Too many young minority kids are written off as expendable.’

  ‘Am I hearing you say that the unfortunate death of one youth has led you to change your testimony with regard to the unfortunate accident of another?’

  ‘I have not changed my testimony. I have not testified until now.’

  ‘That’s not the fault of this committee. You have had every opportunity, not to mention duty, to step forward before now.’ Holcomb was about to ask another question when Card stood. He did so with such force his chair tipped back, hitting the floor.

  ‘You told me you got there after the gun went off!’ Card yelled out angrily.

  ‘Is that true, Lieutenant Swann?’ Holcomb said. ‘As I understand it, you were in the area doing some surveillance, just driving by …’ He stopped suddenly. ‘Marilyn, could you arrange some coffee for us. I think this may take …’ He let the sentence drift off. ‘So Lieutenant Swann, I stand corrected. You have not testified. But you have not mentioned that you witnessed the actual event until now. Late at the very least.’

  ‘Can you go back again,’ Shanahan asked, ‘to the spot where Card screams and start again. Stop when Holcomb asks for coffee.’

  They watched. Shanahan asked for a third viewing. ‘What are you seeing?’ Maureen asked.

  ‘Holcomb making a huge mistake and recovering like the master attorney he is.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Maureen said.

  ‘I read all the files the committee viewed. Swann wasn’t even mentioned, let alone the fact that Swann had been doing a stakeout in the area. Other cops may have known he stopped by, but that wasn’t in any of the interviews. This means that at some point between King’s death and now, Holcomb and Card talked privately. Holcomb, among other things, seems to be acting as Card’s secret defense attorney.’

  Shanahan could imagine some intense discussions between the two: ‘Tell me everything. Every detail, every second,’ Holcomb would say. They might have discussed Swann’s arrival, taken him for his word and determined he wouldn’t be a factor. After all, Swann said he wouldn’t be. Judging by th
e body language when Swann entered the committee room, he wasn’t expected. Card and Holcomb no doubt thought the new, late witness was some gang-banger whose testimony they could easily impeach. Depending on what Holcomb knew, Card thought there would be no witness. Hernandez was dead.

  ‘Why would Holcomb play that role?’ Maureen asked.

  ‘Answer that and we may have the keys to the kingdom.’

  They watched the rest of the video. Holcomb had gathered his calm. Card said nothing. Swann, under Holcomb’s smooth and seemingly unbiased questions, found his memories clouded and his observations muddied. In the end, Swann could not say he saw Card ‘actually aim’ the gun at King before he fired. Not one hundred percent sure.

  Card would likely walk on this one and, if he did, it would be hard to connect him to Hernandez’s death. Attempts would look like harassment.

  Shanahan called a key reporter from one of the local TV stations and told her that the police review board had reached a decision on the troubled cop, Leonard Card, reminded her what it was about and that they had file footage on the case. He provided contact information for Mrs Thompkins. He called Thompkins.

  ‘Spin it any way you want,’ he told her. ‘Holcomb would if he had the first opportunity.’

  ‘Thanks. It’s a shame how it turned out. Card’s going to get out of this,’ she said. ‘I’m going to try to chain him to his desk. But for you, I wish I could have been more helpful. It’s kind of like poker. Read ’em and weep.’

  ‘I’m not weeping, Mrs Thompkins. Neither should you. In keeping with the tone, I’d suggest you keep your powder dry.’

  ‘Look at you,’ Maureen said. ‘Giving each other tips on make-up.’

  ‘How about some pumpkin ravioli?’ Maureen asked as she parked her Toyota in the lot of Marsh’s Supermarket. A cold, fine mist came down causing halos to form around the light poles. A couple of degrees colder, it would be light snow. The cold, the real cold was coming. He buttoned the top button of his jacket and pulled down his stocking cap as far as he could and still see.

  Maureen was inside before Shanahan got to the automatic door. So little exertion, yet he was exhausted.