Internal Affair (17 page)

“I had a five year plan at this point, you know? Already bought a place down in Florida for retirement. The Missus is there now, expects to get it in the divorce she’s planning on filing for. Didn’t see that one coming, fool that I am. I thought money would be enough for her. Who knew she wanted affection and attention, too. Fickle woman. Plus, she was smarter than expected, sussed things out and now threatens to talk if I don’t give her what she wants. Crazy bitch. Like the divorce alone won’t reveal more about our assets than is wise to let out. Even if I could work up the balls to get rid of her, she’s made it clear she’s already squirreled away damning evidence. Dealing with her is like being in some cheap cable movie.”

He sighed again, a weary sound now. “Christ, Jesus, you think you’ve got your life all planned out, accounted for every angle. Then it all goes to shit in the blink of an eye.”

He grabbed the Jamison and poured a very healthy amount, downed half of it, and filled it up again. There was something fatalistic in his movements that set Daire even more on edge. He didn’t dare say or do anything, however, because clearly the man was in a talkative mood. Daire sensed they were all about to learn the answers they’d so desperately sought all these years. No way he’d risk shutting Finnegan up.

“I was so careful, picking the men to join me that I knew would be easy to seduce. Money and power and the occasional bit of tail are guaranteed to turn just about any man.” His gaze sought out Daire’s. “Not your father, of course. Rory was too pure in his sense of right and wrong, too dedicated to the badge to be convinced that mere money or even power were more important.” He chuckled. “I sure as hell never tried to use pretty girls as a lure. His devotion to Sheila was admirable in a sickening kind of way.”

Daire dug his nails into his palms. He hated hearing this man deride the love Daire’s father had had for his mother. He held his tongue with effort and could tell by the harsh breathing of his brothers that they strained for control as well.

Parker sat back, as if settling in for a long story. “It must have taken you years to build up the large network of dirty cops, snitches, and mobsters.”

Finnegan took another slug of scotch and waved his glass at her. “Oh, it did. But I’m a patient man, you see. And careful, very careful. Just not careful enough.” He wandered to a sideboard in the opposite corner and propped himself against it. “Mahurin was my one great mistake. He wasn’t a very bright man and did a lousy job of hiding his doings. Rory became suspicious, and it all started to tumble down from there.

“I should have killed Mahurin, would have as I’d done a few times when men got too greedy or stupid. As you say, loose ends. But Rory’s investigation had already gone too far. Getting rid of Mahurin wouldn’t have been enough, and sooner or later, Rory would have tumbled to my involvement.”

He looked at Daire and then past him to the others. “I would have avoided it if I could. I liked Rory, hell, loved him even as a brother.”

Daire heard Ronan mutter
motherfucker
under his breath.

Finnegan grimaced. “I know you can’t believe that. It’s true nonetheless. I couldn’t let him bring me down, though. You must see that. Mahurin recruited O’Malley for the deed, the one smart idea he’d ever had. O’Malley had never been the violent type, but enough money can make most men do most anything. Rory would never have suspected the dumb snitch as a hit man.”

Finnegan drained his glass and straightened. “I should have had Mahurin kill O’Malley right away instead of paying him to disappear. The problem is that you get rid of too many loose ends with extreme prejudice, as they say, and pretty soon no one wants to work for you. I had to play that card sparingly.”

Daire couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “You still fucked it up, though, didn’t you
Uncle James
? O’Malley proved to be greedier and less pliable than you thought—smarter too—as did Mahurin. They both kept files that eventually led us to you.” He inwardly apologized to Parker about the lie regarding Mahurin’s stash. She really knew, anyway, and right now pinning Finnegan with the truth had become paramount.

“Yes,” Finnegan agreed resignedly. “They were more clever than I ever gave them credit for, although not as clever as they thought themselves. Mahurin’s ham-fisted use of Forrester as a fall guy caused me a headache, I’ll tell you. And, she wasn’t as content as some to play that role for us and see the long-range benefit of taking one for the team. That’s what we got for bringing in a woman,” he bitched into his glass.

The amount of alcohol he was consuming in such a short time didn’t bode well. But he kept talking so Daire didn’t even think of trying to stop him.

“I found out about O’Malley during Ronan’s investigation of his murder and suspected Mahurin had hid away more than the stuff he left on Forrester. Unfortunately, it occurred to me only recently.” He sneered at Daire. “You got awfully cozy with a member of the rat squad pretty fucking fast. Fucking fast,” he repeated, and his expression turned lewd. “Not that I blame you.”

Once more, Daire dug down deep for patience. He wanted to shove his father’s false friend right through the window.

Finnegan’s tongue kept wagging, the one thing that saved him from serious hurt at the moment. “I should have had your house tossed weeks ago.” He shook his head. “Too sentimental, that was my problem. Didn’t want you boys getting hurt. Felt guilty, too, about Finn. That colored my decisions.” He nodded past Daire. “Sorry, boyo. I hated to rat you out to Boss, but the man put a lot of the green in my pocket.”

“Fuck your apology,” Finn said in a flat tone, as if he’d already dismissed Finnegan’s importance.

Finnegan grimaced again and stared at the glass still in his hand. He tipped it back to get the last tiny drop of whisky into his mouth, then put in on the sideboard. “Yeah, you’re right. Too little, too late.”

He turned away from them, facing the large piece of furniture. He yanked open its top drawer, the movement so quick, Daire hardly had time to register what was happening. He reached for his gun as he dove to push Parker out of the line of fire. He fell on top of her, ignoring the cry of surprise she made. Instead, he raised his gun, sighted Finnegan just as he turned with his own weapon raised.

Daire counted four shots in the frenzy of time and movement. Finnegan’s body jerked spasmodically, then fell in a surreal slow-motion backward spin. His gun flew out of his hand, crashing against the window behind him. Red bloomed across his chest and spurted over his face in a gory mist. A loud thud accompanied the downfall of his flailing body, followed by silence. Everyone else froze, including Daire. Shock gripped him for long seconds before he kicked himself back into gear.

He lowered his gun and bolted to a sitting position. After jamming his gun back into his holster, he pulled Parker up by her shoulders and peered into her face. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. Her whole body shook with harsh pants. “Is he dead?” She kept her gaze on him.

Daire didn’t have to double check. “Yeah, he is.”

“Fucking coward.” The vehemence with which she delivered her verdict surprised him.

He chuckled, an incongruous sound as the shots still echoed in his mind if not in reality, and hugged her tight. “It doesn’t matter. So long as he didn’t hurt you. Any of you,” he added, looking around the room.

Finn had also put his gun away and stood with his back to the room. “I’m fine.” He sounded anything but. Fortunately, he had a loving man to go home to and Michael could be counted on to be there for him.

Daire glanced at Ronan and Regan, both of whom still had their weapons at the ready and were checking out the body. Ronan actually nudged it with his foot. “Fucker’s dead.”

“We all hit our mark,” Regan added.

The idea of Finnegan killing himself with the help of Daire and his family made him sick. All these years he’d fantasized about confronting his parents’ killer and meting out justice. For all intents and purposes, Finnegan had pulled the trigger, and yet, having him dead almost literally at his feet, didn’t ease the ache in his heart. Closure was an overrated concept. Perhaps in time, he’d feel differently.

For now, all he wanted was to hold Parker close, feel the warmth of her skin and the beat of her heart, and reassure himself she had emerged unscathed.

****

“What in the holy hell were you thinking, Li, confronting the police commissioner on such flimsy evidence and bringing the Callaghans and Malloy with you?”

Benson’s face flushed red enough in his tirade that Parker actually worried he might drop dead from a coronary or stroke. Normally, he scared the crap out of her as an officer. Not today. Not now that Finnegan had found rough justice at the hands of the Callaghan family.

The cop part of her wished he’d been arrested, tried, and convicted the way the law intended. The woman part of her felt relieved that the man she loved could finally find a measure of peace now that he knew the who, what, why, and how of his parents’ murders. The female part won out.

She straightened and stared Benson down. “They were the only ones I could trust not to help Finnegan put a bullet in my head and tie my body to a pylon in the harbor.”

Benson’s face got even redder, and his mouth worked like a hooked fish for a few seconds. “You didn’t even trust me with the truth?”

“No, sir. I still don’t know for sure you’re not in on any of this.” Before her superior’s eyes fell out of their sockets with that pronouncement, she softened the blow. “I’m sorry, sir, but the police commissioner just confessed that he cultivated a large group of cops over an extended period of time to create a complex crime ring. He admitted that they committed murder, Rory and Sheila Callaghan only being two of their victims. They destroyed evidence, compromised investigations, and got good cops killed or nearly killed just to line their pockets. In the face of all of that, how could I take any chances?”

She kept her concentration on Benson, trying to block out the activity around her as CSI did their thing. She and Benson were standing in the kitchen, but Daire and the others were being interviewed separately by others in her department. It made her nervous, because she’d meant what she said about not being able to trust anyone. It had been excruciatingly hard to wiggle from Daire’s fierce embrace in the aftermath of Finnegan’s suicide by cop and call it in.

Once Benson and other cops had arrived, she’d insisted on playing her recording of Finnegan in front of everyone so that as many people as possible heard the confession. Only then had she handed the evidence over to Benson, as certain as she could be that it wouldn’t simply disappear. Now, all she wanted was go back to Daire’s house and lay in his arms for the rest of the weekend.

Duty called, however, and she knew she wouldn’t get her wish for hours. The paperwork alone would keep her into the dead of night.

Benson paced away from her, his hand rubbing furiously across the back of his head. He turned and pointed a finger at her. “Go home.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. The shitstorm is already starting. The media was only one step behind me in coming here. I’ve got to call my captain, who will call the deputy commissioner, and then we’ll all have a nice
chat
with our new mayor, I’m sure. You know that guy, right? The one that campaigned on a rooting out political corruption platform? That oughtta be an awesome time. My weekend is now officially fucked. This thing is going to bring an unspecified number of people down, and it’s going to take hard work and lots of time to ferret out everyone.” He shook his head. “Shit, I bet the governor will ask the state cops or even the FBI to take over.”

He walked back to her and gave her a pugnacious stare. “And I’m not one of the bad guys. So, go home, or go to Callaghan’s home, I don’t care which. He, his brothers, and Malloy all fired their weapons. They have to be put on administrative leave and their guns taken. You, on the other hand, didn’t fire. You get to keep yours, and maybe you want to keep it with you at Callaghan’s house. Just in case.”

It took a few seconds for Benson’s meaning to sink in. “You think they’re still in danger?” Her heart lurched painfully at the idea.

“I don’t know.” Benson’s voice lost its anger. “I’d like to think there is no loyalty in whatever band of miscreants the commissioner put together, but who knows. Laying low wouldn’t be the worst idea. Besides, you’re off the investigation as of now anyway.”

Parker opened up her mouth to argue that point. Benson shut her down.

“Don’t even think about fighting me on this, Li. You may have had your reasons, but you still fucked up this investigation. Involving Daire Callaghan was never within your purview. That being said, I’m not going to recommend any disciplinary action ’cause the mayor might want to pin a medal on you or something for uncovering this blight on the department.”

He jerked his thumb in the direction of the doorway. “Scram. I’ll call you when I want you to come in and give a more official report.”

The energy she’d been pulling from deep within her drained fast the longer Benson spoke. She couldn’t argue with what he said or how he felt or the fact that she was exhausted. Going home with Daire, keeping him safe even, suddenly seemed like the best idea she’d ever heard. “Yes, sir.”

She left with quiet steps, avoided the living room in which Finnegan’s body still remained. She weaved among the swarm of crime scene investigators and other cops and went straight to where Daire stood with his brothers and Regan by the stairs leading to the second floor. They all looked like she felt with the added layer of a bit of shock. Finnegan had been a fixture in their lives, and each of them had to live with killing someone no matter how justified their actions were.

Daire met her half-way as soon as he saw her coming. “Are you all right?” He clasped her by the shoulders and peered into her eyes.

She gave him a tired smile. “Let’s go home. Benson wants me and all of us, really, to lay low while they sort this all out. I’m sorry,” she added, her gaze sweeping the others, too. “This isn’t over. Not yet. Too many—”