Ghost of a Chance

21 The Chief

The late afternoon sun lit up the Central Office of Police as Alex approached it for the second time that day. This time he wasn’t going to meet Danny, or even Callahan. Callahan disliked P.I.s but still held a fair amount of respect for Alex and his work. Detweiler, on the other hand, viewed Alex as a bungler who was making his job harder through incompetence and leaking to the press. He’d never believe that the information in the Sun had come from a different source.

The only way Tasker could have learned about the list of names Alex had given the police was from a cop. The Sun obviously had a source inside the Central Office, but Alex knew he’d never be able to sell that idea. Detweiler simply wouldn’t believe it. If it came down to a choice between Alex being a rat or one of his own, Detweiler would blame Alex every time.

Taking a deep breath, Alex savored what might be his last moments of freedom for the foreseeable future. He wouldn’t put it past Detweiler to lock him up just out of spite.

He needed a plan.

The man’s married to the Captain’s favorite niece, Alex thought. And the Captain is a political appointee. He’s concerned with his image. Two-to-One Detweiler’s cut from the same cloth.

Alex needed to appeal to the Lieutenant’s ego.

It wasn’t a great plan, but it wasn’t nothing. Alex crossed the street and entered the lobby. The crowd of reporters seemed to have lessened from the other day, but there were still a half dozen or so sitting in the waiting area.

Alex caught sight of the young reporter with the brown suit that had accosted him the other day. Not wishing a repeat performance, he hurried across to the elevators.

When he reached the fifth floor, Alex found a uniformed officer leaning against the wall just outside the door.

“You Lockerby?” he asked in a bored voice.

Alex felt a twinge of fear. He didn’t think Detweiler was dumb enough to throw him in a holding cell without hearing him out first. After all, Alex had given him good information before. That said, the Lieutenant might want to let Alex cool his heels for a few hours just out of spite.

“That’s me,” Alex said, pasting a friendly smile on his face.

“Detweiler said to bring you upstairs,” he said, nodding for Alex to get back on the elevator.

That took Alex by surprise. The Detectives for Manhattan all worked out of the fifth floor. Above them were several floors of clerks, functionaries, interview rooms, and, at the top, the higher ups. Captain Rooney had an office there, as did the Chief of Police, though the Chief spent most of his time in a satellite office in city hall.

It wasn’t likely that Detweiler wanted Alex in an interrogation room; he could grill Alex just fine in his own office. In fact, that would be better for him as his detectives would get to see him dressing down a meddlesome P.I. Going upstairs could only mean one thing — the Captain wanted in on whatever Detweiler had in mind.

Alex felt his hands shaking, but didn’t dare take a swig out of his flask. The cop escorting him would think it was a sign of weakness and tell Detweiler. Alex didn’t want to give the Lieutenant anything he might be able use against him.

The elevator dinged and Alex and the cop got off on the tenth floor. The Captain’s Office was down the hallway to the right; Alex had been there before the previous year. That time the Captain wanted to hang the murder of a customs inspector on him.

Before Alex had time to wonder what Rooney would accuse him of this time, the cop escorting Alex turned left.

“Where are we going?” Alex asked, falling into step beside him.

“Keep walking,” the cop said in a bored voice.

Alex didn’t have to wonder long. At the end of the hallway they turned again, and the cop opened an ornate door of dark wood with a brass plaque in its exact center. The name Arnold Montgomery was engraved on the plaque.

Arnold Montgomery was the Chief of Police for New York City.

Alex wondered about the plaque. Most men would have had their title engraved on it along with their names. Chief Montgomery was either so arrogant that he simply expected everyone to know that he was chief, or so humble that such accolades didn’t matter.

As he stepped inside the office Alex wondered which.

A humble man could be appealed-to, mistakes would be seen as human. An arrogant man would have to be told he was right, that he was smart, that mistakes were the fault of lesser, unimportant people.

Alex could work it either way.

Chief Montgomery’s office was surprisingly sparse. His desk was ornate, but clear of debris: only a phone and a note pad occupied it. A couch sat against the side wall with three comfortable chairs facing the desk. A sideboard filled with various awards and bric-a-brac sat against the back wall, and an enormous window behind the desk looked out toward Empire Tower.

There were five people in the room.

A slender man with black hair that was going gray at the temples and a pencil mustache sat behind the desk. He wore a dress blue police uniform with a gold shield and a white braid encircling his right arm. The buttons on his coat were polished brass and his gun belt had a leather strap that ran up and over his left shoulder. The leather gleamed with polish.

This could only be Montgomery, though Alex couldn’t tell if his immaculate appearance was due to respect for the job or if it was, itself, a demand for respect.

Detweiler and Rooney stood in front of the desk. It had been a while since Alex had seen the Captain, but he hadn’t changed appreciably. He reminded Alex of a puppy because the man’s hands and feet seemed disproportionally large for his body, only to be outdone by his nose. Due to his pale complexion and red hair, the nose always looked a bit red, as if Rooney were a hard drinker.

Alex didn’t know the other two people, though he recognized the man immediately. His name was Claude Banes. He was slender and big shouldered, with a handsome face, brown hair, and a cleft in his pointed chin. Alex was surprised a man that ruggedly handsome hadn’t already gone off to Hollywood, but he suspected being Mayor of the greatest city in the world had other charms.

The woman next to Mayor Banes was a study in contrast to her husband, as she could only be his wife. She stood with her shoulders slumped, looking down, like a schoolgirl anticipating a scolding. Alex knew from the list of potential ghost victims that her name was Nancy. She was pretty in a small-town girl kind of way, with delicate features, blue eyes and dark hair. She wore a dress with short sleeves and her bare arms came down in a V before her where she kneaded her hands together nervously.

“Thank you, Officer Thomas,” Chief Montgomery said, dismissing the officer. Once he left and the door was shut, Rooney looked at the Mayor.

So, Banes is running this meeting.

“I’d like to know just what you think you are doing, Mr. Lockerby,” Banes said angrily. “You can’t drag my wife’s name through the mud and expect to get away with it.” He was shouting now, and his wife cringed with every syllable. Alex couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or afraid. “I’ll have your license—”

Montgomery stood up and the Mayor seemed to recover his temper.

“The last time I heard your name, Lockerby,” Montgomery said, stepping out from behind his desk to take over this interrogation. “Captain Rooney here was telling me how it was your fault that this department staked out the customs warehouse over at the Aerodrome for no good reason. Now I hear you’re giving highly sensitive information to a tabloid reporter,” he walked around Alex as he spoke, sizing him up. “As you heard, the Mayor is quite upset, to say nothing of Mrs. Banes.”

He stopped directly in front of Alex and looked him right in the eyes. Alex noticed that his eyes were a deep brown, almost black. His face was a mask, halfway between amusement and condescension. Alex was very glad he didn’t have to play poker with the man.

“Would you care to explain yourself?” he said.

It sounded like an invitation, a chance for Alex to tell his side of the story, but Alex recognized it for the trap it was. If he admitted to anything, it would be used at the roasting everyone was here to watch.

“I’m sure you got a report from Ms. Kincaid and the FBI about my part in stopping the attack on the city last year,” he said.

Alex caught Captain Rooney’s flinch out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his gaze on Montgomery. The Chief gave no outward sign that Alex had scored a point, but Alex detected a slight shift in his posture. He leaned away slightly. That probably meant that Alex was on the right track.

“As for Mrs. Banes,” Alex said, looking at her. She had been watching him, but when he looked up, her blue eyes darted away. “I haven’t been talking to any reporters about her or this case.”

Her eyes darted up to meet his. They looked soft and grateful, then they darted away again. Montgomery opened his mouth to retort.

“And,” Alex cut him off. “There wouldn’t be anything for that hack to print if it wasn’t for my work. I made the connection between the victims. I found out who the ghost was likely to be after, and that reporter didn’t print any of that stuff until after I gave it to you.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Rooney growled.

“No,” Alex agreed. “It doesn’t, but if I wanted my name in the paper, I’d be down at the Sun right now telling them who the ghost really is and why he’s killing, instead of up here having my integrity impugned.”

Rooney looked like he might explode, but Montgomery’s expression hadn’t shifted one bit. He paused for a long moment, letting the silence in the room stretch out. Alex knew better than to speak now. He’d said his piece and baited the hook, the next person to speak would likely be the loser.

Montgomery smiled, and Alex realized that the Chief knew this game. Worse, he knew how to play.

“Lieutenant,” he said to Detweiler. “Do you have any detectives working for you who would stoop to talking to the press?”

Detweiler was grinning like a child who suddenly found himself in an unattended candy shop. Alex didn’t want to tell Chief Montgomery how to run his department, but Detweiler was giving away the game.

“Wait,” Mayor Banes said before the Lieutenant could speak. “You know who the ghost is?”

Alex nodded, looking the Mayor right in the eye.

“And I can prove that your wife is just an innocent bystander in all of this. The ghost isn’t after her at all.”

Nancy Banes gasped as if she’d suddenly been allowed to put down a heavy load and the Mayor put his arm protectively around her shoulders.

“I don’t think—” Rooney began.

“No one’s asking you to think, Patrick,” Mayor Banes said. “I for one want to hear what Mr. Lockerby has to say.”

Montgomery raised an eyebrow, then gave an almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging the point, but most definitely not the game.

“I guess you’d better tell us what you think you know, Mr. Lockerby,” he said, returning to his seat behind the desk.

Alex took out his notebook and tore out a page, dropping it onto Montgomery’s desk.

“The ghost is a man named Duane King,” he explained as Montgomery picked up the paper. “He’s killing people who were once owners of a company called North Shore Development. Seth Kowalski and ten of his employees at the Suffolk County Assessor’s office formed the company so they could buy up land cheap, then sell it to rich people looking to build summer homes in the Hamptons.”

“Why do you think he’s the ghost?” Montgomery asked.

“Because,” Alex said. “King’s wife had tuberculosis, and treatments for that are expensive. He sold his house to get the money to pay an alchemist in Florida, but his wife died anyway. Kowalski and the people involved in North Shore undervalued his property so they could buy it at a tax sale auction cheap. They cheated King out of tens of thousands of dollars, money that would have saved his wife.”

“Mr. Kowalski did that?” a fragile voice interjected. Nancy Banes looked directly at Alex but she didn’t look away this time.

“I was his secretary for a year when I got out of school,” she said. “I was never part of any land company.”

“I know,” Alex said. He leaned over Montgomery’s desk and pointed to a number written on the paper. “This is the file number for their articles of incorporation, and Lieutenant Detweiler can check it.”

“We believe you,” Montgomery said, though Alex suspected that was only for the Mayor’s benefit. Detweiler would be double-checking everything Alex said; he might be an ass, but he wasn’t stupid.

“What makes you think the ghost is actually Duane King?” Montgomery asked again. “If Kowalski and his friends cheated him, it’s a cinch they cheated others.”

“This is about King’s wife,” Alex explained. “Think about the murders. Two stab wounds to the chest, one through each lung. The victims would drown as their lungs filled up with their own blood.”

“The same way his wife would have died from tuberculosis,” Detweiler said.

“Very good, Lieutenant,” Alex said.

Rooney cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him.

“If King thought these people were responsible for his wife’s death, why did he wait so long to take revenge?”

“That’s a very good question,” Chief Montgomery said, turning to Alex.

Alex allowed himself to smile. Montgomery blanched a little when he saw it, but to his credit, he kept his poker face in place. He knew Alex was about to win their game.

“He was in prison for twenty of those years,” Alex said. He turned to Detweiler. “Ask me why?”

The Lieutenant sighed but played along.

“Why?”

“Because he murdered the doctor who had been treating his wife,” Alex explained. “She sold him a phony cure.”

Chief Montgomery raised his eyebrows, then nodded again, conceding the game.

“Where is Mr. King now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “But I imagine the Florida prison system knows. They wouldn’t tell me, of course, but they’ll be happy to tell you.”

Montgomery looked over his shoulder at the Mayor and something unspoken passed between them.

“You’ll keep this information to yourself for the moment,” the Chief said to Alex.

“Unless you want me to leak it to the Sun,” he said. The Mayor’s face turned dark and angry, so Alex rushed on. “I’m sure they’d love to hear that Mrs. Banes is no longer a potential target.”

Montgomery laughed at that.

“I’ll see to that myself,” he said. “As for you, this information of yours had better pan out.”

“I know,” Alex said, putting up a hand to stop the Chief. “Or you’ll bury me in a hole and throw away the shovel.”

“Something like that,” his voice was as smooth and calm as it had been the whole time, but Alex detected a slight note of irritation. He’d misjudged Alex. Bringing the Mayor here had been a bit of theater. Chief Montgomery intended for the Mayor to see him lay the blame for his department’s inadequacies at Alex’s feet. By not letting them set the narrative, Alex had turned the Mayor’s presence to his own advantage.

He wasn’t sure if Chief Montgomery was impressed or angry, but either way he wouldn’t be forgetting about it. The next time Alex was in this office, he’d need a much bigger trump card if he had any hope of coming out without handcuffs.

“Well,” Montgomery said, rising. “His honor and I have things to get back to.” He handed the paper from Alex’s notebook to Detweiler. “Run this down and double the guard on the remaining five members of North Shore Development. The ghost may try again, and I want him caught this time.”

“What about the officers we’ve got guarding the others?” Captain Rooney asked.

Montgomery thought about that for a moment.

“Better keep them in place until we’re sure Mr. Lockerby’s information is good.” He turned to Alex. “I’m sure you can find your own way out.”

Alex thanked him and fled in as dignified a manner as possible. He took the stairs down two at a time, worrying the whole time that Detweiler would come chasing after him.

When he finally reached the street, he walked to the side of the building and turned down the alley between it and the next one. He sat down on the bare dirt and took a swig from his flask. He’d been prepared for Detweiler, even Rooney, but the Mayor and the Chief were in a whole other league. One word from either of them and he’d be rotting in a cell without bail.

He sat there, resisting the urge to throw up and squeezing his hands together until the tremors subsided. Finally, he got up, brushed himself off, and headed across the street to the crawler station.