Read Don't Die Under the Apple Tree Online
Authors: Amy Patricia Meade
Don't Die Under the Apple Tree (16 page)
“Last week, Finch cornered her at the bottom of the hull during an air raid drill, put his arms around her waist, and ... and threatened to ...”
“You needn't go any farther. I get it. Did he succeed?”
“I don't know. Nelson didn't say. All she said was that she was scared at first, then nauseated, but then anger kicked in and she thought about attacking Finch with her welding torch. But then the lights came on and Finch left.”
“Do you think Nelson's the type who might attack Finch?”
Rosie knitted her eyebrows together and bit her lip.
“I'm not asking you if you want to believe Nelson could attack Finch,” Riordan clarified. “I'm asking you if you think she has the temperament to do so.”
“Yes. Yes, I do. She's tough and kind of feisty.”
“All right.” He scribbled notes into the book and took a bite of hot dog.
Rosie ate a few more fries and washed them down with a mouthful of Coca-Cola. “Jeannie Wolfe. Blonde. Thirty-five years old. Tall ... umm, five foot eight inches if she's a day. Gorgeous. And with a figure like a pinup girl.”
Riordan raised an eyebrow and whistled. “What's her number?”
She chuckled. “You can probably find it on the men's-room wall. But you shouldn't. She's pretty, smart, funny, and boy, does she have style.”
“Hmm ... sells herself short, does she?”
“That and she seems to think she has to use her looks to get ahead in the world.”
“You know, the right man might be able to put her straight. I'm willing to give it a shot,” he smiled.
“You and half the men in the five boroughs.”
“If that's the case, I can only guess she was an easy target for Finch.”
“She was. He offered her a higher-paying job in exchange for ...”
Riordan nodded. “Again, no need to say it. I've got it. What happened?”
“Finch gave her job to someone else. Someone younger.”
“This guy just keeps getting better and better. How did Miss Wolfe react?”
“Despair. Disappointment. Disenchantment. She didn't say those things, of course, nor did she say anything to Finch, but it was apparent from the way she told the story. Her affair with Finch wasn't the first time she's slept with a boss for a promotion. The difference is that the previous bosses kept their end of the bargain, whereas Finch ...” She polished off the rest of one hot dog.
He, meanwhile, started in on his second. “Do you think she could have murdered him?”
Rosie shook her head. “I really don't see her doing it, but I can't say for sure.”
“Just wondering because, out of all the women Finch has wrongedâNelson, you, Jackson, the wife, the girlfriendâWolfe has both the height and leverage needed to have delivered a death blow. That's not to say that a smaller woman couldn't have done it, but it would have required a lot more effort. Not to mention, Wolfe is the only woman in the bunch who, in Finch's mind, wouldn't have been a threat.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he had beaten his wife in the past, dumped his girlfriend, and attempted to assault both Nelson and Jackson. If he had encountered any of them beneath the pier, his guard would have been up. Wolfe's, on the other hand, a completely different story. She gave in to him without a struggle, and he betrayed her, without her raising much of a fuss.”
“That's a good point, and one that never occurred to me. Still, I can't say either way. After all, I barely know her. I know that she likes men and wants to be acknowledged by them.”
“Acknowledged or loved?”
“Both. Desperately. I suppose âhow desperately?' is the question. Desperate enough for Finch's betrayal to send her over the edge? I can't say.”
“Hmph. Makes you wonder, though. I'm sure if she sat backâ”
“And let love come to her, she'd find someone,” Rosie completed the sentence. “Well, first of all, she's over thirty. That's an old maid by today's standards. And second, it's not easy being a woman, even harder when you're an attractive one. When men approach you all the time, it's usually when they're on their very best behavior. It's only after you get to know them and love them when you finally realize that you've fallen forânot a gentleman butâa rogue.”
Riordan fell into an uncomfortable silence.
“Oh, I'm sorry, Lieutenant,” Rosie blushed. “I was only thinking aloud. I didn't mean to offend you. Not all men are like that, I'm sure.”
“No, they're not. And no offense taken.” He smiled. “Say, is the friend who ran away on your list?”
“Dewitt? No, why?”
“Well, it's apparent that he'sâhow shall we sayâsweet on Shelby Jackson. If he got wind of what Finch did to her in the hull that dayâ”
“And then witnessed her humiliation that morning,” Rosie added.
“And knew how hard the pay cut would be on Jackson and her son, he might have lashed out at Finch. Some men can be rogues, but others can be quite protective.”
Rosie's cheeks colored slightly. “Yes, I suppose they can. I never thought of Dewitt being a suspect, but what you said does make perfect sense.”
“And what about the fella you bumped into on your way out of Finch's office? What was his name? Delancy?”
“Delaney?”
“Yeah, that's the one.”
“You mean, could he have killed Finch because of ... ? I ... I guess he might have. I don't think he did, but ...”
“You don't think he's protective?”
“No. No, he is. I just never looked at him like that. But what you said is right.”
“Thanks. I thought so, too.”
“Now that you've mentioned it, that whole protective rogue thing describes the next person on my list.”
“Oh, really? Is he protective or a rogue?”
“Both. His name is Kilbride. Clinton Kilbride.”
“Italian, obviously,” Riordan joked.
“Yeah, by way of County Wicklow,” she quipped. “Hmm ... how old are you?”
“What? Why?”
“Because I'd say Kilbride's about your age, that's why.”
“Ah, âtwenty seven,'” he said aloud and etched a pair of numbers into the notebook with the soft lead of the pencil.”
Rosie couldn't help but laugh.
“What? You don't believe me? I can show you my driver's license.”
“No, I believe you.” She giggled.
“Either you're lying or you need glasses. So, back to Kilbride.”
“Oh, he's ...” She placed a level hand about seven or eight inches above her head. “Um, six foot.”
“Were you wearing those shoes when you last stood next to him?” Riordan used the pencil to point at Rosie's feet.
She looked down at her cork-heeled loafers. “Yes, why?”
“One-inch soles. Five foot eleven,” he corrected. “Weight?”
“I'm a terrible judge of that when it comes to men. He's thin, but”âshe felt the color rise to her cheeks as she recalled the way the shirtless Kilbride had leaned against the chain link fence of the yardâ“umm, not without muscles.”
Riordan noticed Rosie's sudden awkwardness and cleared his throat. “Ehem. Athletic build,” he said aloud and jotted it in his notepad. “Hmph. So what's his story?”
“F-Finch ...” She hesitated.
“This is no time for modesty, Mrs. Keefe. I'm a police officer. I've heard it all.”
“He raped Kilbride's girlfriend.”
Riordan sighed heavily. “Jeez.”
“Yeah. She, um ...” Rosie scratched her head and mustered the strength to utter the final words of the statement. “She killed herself shortly afterward because she couldn't bear to live with the memories.”
They sat in silence for several seconds as the streetlights cycled on and the sun cast its final beams over the East River.
“Listen, I know what Finch tried to do to you,” Riordan stated. “I'm sorry you have to go through this. This investigation, the suspicion, listening to these other women. And now Kilbride's fiancée? I can't imagine how those stories must make you feel.”
“Lucky. It makes me feel lucky that I got out of there when I did. Unfortunately, it also makes me less than enthusiastic about finding Finch's killer. If it weren't my head on the chopping block, I'd be happy to let whoever murdered Finch go scot-free. They provided a great service to the women of this world. I know that must sound terrible... .”
“No. It doesn't sound terrible at all. I've had those same thoughts myself on occasion,” he commiserated.
“How do you go on being a cop? How do you keep doing what you do?”
“I remember the timesâand there are quite a fewâwhen justice was served and things worked out the way they should.”
“That's what gets you through? Memories? I don't know if that would be enough for me.”
“Sometimes it isn't. That's when I try to imagine what would've happened if I didn't do what I do. The innocent people who might have gone to jail.” He slid his eyes in her direction. “The criminals who may have gone free. The victims and families who'd go unvindi-cated. The system might not always work, but the majority of times it does, and I'm glad to be part of it.”
Rosie had guessed that Riordan was a hardworking police officer, but she had no idea how committed he was to the concept of justice. As the crowds left the riverfront and darkness descended upon the city, she wondered how she could have misjudged him. “May I ask you something? Not about the caseâwell, it is, indirectlyâbut about your job.”
“Sure.”
“Well, you seem pretty dedicated to your work, so why did your captain only give you five days for this case? Why not let you solve it as you see fit?”
“That's a long, complicated story, but I'll try to summarize it in two words: Frank Costello.”
“The mob boss?”
“Yeah. I've been trying to get him since putting Lucky Luciano in jail.”
“That was you?” Rosie exclaimed. “I remember reading about it in the papers. Didn't you get an award or commendation or something like that?”
“Commendation, yeah. A little too soon, though.”
“What do you mean? You put Luciano behind bars, didn't you?”
“I did, but he's still in control of the mob. Never mind, you don't want to hear this... . I'm sorry.”
“No,” Rosie insisted. “No, I do want to hear about it. How can someone in jail still be in control of anything?”
Riordan leaned back in his seat and drew a deep breath. “The thing you need to understand about the Mafia is that bosses can pull strings from anywhere. From prison, from another country, while in hiding. They use underbosses to do their bidding for them.”
“And Costello is one of these underbosses,” she surmised.
“Yeah, although with Luciano in prison he's more like the acting boss.”
“So, what's the point of putting a boss in jail if someone else just takes over?”
“The point is that by putting the boss in jail, you typically shut down whatever operations they ran. Will the mob try to start something up elsewhere? Sure. But at least you've curtailed the spread of those operations.”
“Okay, so by putting Luciano in jail you helped limit crime and got a crime boss off the streets. I still don't understand why the captain would give you a tough time about me. You'd think you'd be the star of the force.”
“When you put someone like Luciano away, someone the public sees as a vicious killer, you are a star. Everyone congratulates you. But when you go after someone like Costelloâsomeone more subtle, more charismaticâyou have to take a more roundabout approach.”
“What does it matter? A criminal's a criminal.”
“No, that's where you're wrong. Some are more influential than others. And Costello?” He took the last sip from his bottle of Coca-Cola. “He's the prime minister of the underworld, a consummate diplomat. If a politician needs to be reached or a judge fixed, Costello has just the right contacts to organize it. The trouble is when I went after Costello and named him as the city's next public enemy, I upset a lot of his friends. Friends in some pretty high places. Kinney, my captain, got the heat for it.”
Rosie's jaw dropped. “I'd always heard of crooked politicians, but I had no idea it was that widespread or that it existed at such high levels.”
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