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“They didn’t see eye to eye.Particularly about Denton.See, Denton stopped appealing his sentence right when the Reverend appeared on the scene.I don’t know for sure if the Reverend directly influenced the decision, but he supported it.And Father Tom didn’t.So it wasn’t exactly peace and love.I think that’s why Denton refused the Last Rites, actually.So he didn’t have to pick one priest over the other one.”
“Didn’t you think that was odd?”Kate asked.“I mean, Denton was a showman, a narcissist.He loved the attention, the drama.He was the kind of guy who’d order up lobsters for his final meal.But he doesn’t.And he doesn’t even make a grand speech.”
“That was before Cox came on the scene.You’re exactly right with what you say.The reason Denton was shipped out of Leavenworth was because he manipulated so many cons and guards that they damn near had a riot on their hands.But he changed.Became very calm.Stopped with all the BS.Not everybody believed it, of course.”
“But you did.”
Kovacs opened his mouth to respond, but then seemed to think better of it.
“Are we done here, Miss Valentine?”he said, brisk but still polite.“I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to conquer.”
Kate wondered if she’d crossed a line somewhere, or if Kovacs suddenly felt he’d said too much.She let herself be marched down the corridor towards a final, complex set of turnstiles and scanners, pondering the day’s haul.Another link between the Denton case and the recent murders.And her.If Marcus thought she was crazy before today, then he was definitely going to be struggling with the latest information.
He’d called her several times: a couple of attempts last night, four so far today.She’d speak to him when she was good and ready.
Chivalrously, Kovacs was walking her to her hired car but saying very little.He seemed to be wrestling with something.Right by the door, it came out.
He stared at the toe of one, highly polished boot for a moment or two, cleared his throat, then dove in.
“You mentioned his last words.”
“You said he didn’t say any.”
“Well, I don’t tell folks this because they’ll think I’m crazy,” he said, in a low voice, avoiding her gaze.
Tell me about it, Kate thought.
He took a deep breath.“He’d been dead for two minutes.No vital signs.No bleeps.The Doc and I go in there.We have to unhook him, sign and countersign each other’s paperwork.Doc’s forgotten Form 109E, left it in the obs room, goes back for it.Literally he’s gone three seconds.I can see him through the window, getting the slip.Denton says, ‘Golgotha.’He said it in his voice.I swear to God.He spoke.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He poured himself another thimbleful of Wild Turkey and plopped an ice cube in, checking the time on the kitchen clock.Half past eleven exactly.If he was still awake at one a.m., he could have another glass, but that would have to be his last until tomorrow evening.
Palmer wasn’t going to let himself go, like some cops did.He recalled his old colleague Dai Evans – going down to see him in the Welsh Harp, barely three months after he got the gold watch.Shaking like a whelp.At lunchtime.The bartender keeping his glass permanently full.Sip-sip.Dead by Christmas.Or sadder still, Andy Andreyeff.Lieutenant Andreyeff took early retirement because of his back.More accurately, Andy was taking so many Oxys for his back that he passed out while escorting the visiting Republican senator around the precinct.Went from that to smoking H in his car to a final, fateful, fentanyl farewell.How hard do you have to hit that stuff, to retire in July and be a goner by December?
And what was it about cops?When they went wrong, why did they have to go so spectacularly wrong?Nothing could compare to the job, maybe.The thrill of the chase.That serene, almost mystical moment when the pieces came together and you knew you’d got the guy.The closeness with your partner, a telepathy that no wife, no husband, no sibling or offspring could hope to share in.The fury, too, when the perp walked away, when the tree-hugging, thug-loving jury decided that the scumbag deserved a fifth, sixth, seventh second chance, or the smirking hotshot lawyer poked his finger in the loophole and tore your case apart.Good and bad, high and low, the job was intense.When you were in it, you were really living.But when you weren’t…
He shook his head and took his drink into the living room.He just had to adapt.That’s all.He really hadn’t been retired for very long.It wasn’t surprising that he was still having some sleepless nights six months in.Well, all right,ninemonths in.His sister was right.He had a lot to give.He needed to call that number, discuss volunteering opportunities in the community.And he had a lot of stories to tell.What happened to that idea about writing his memoirs?The time he booked Gotti for slapping his goombah.That other case – what was the name of the victim now?– how the top brass took all the glory, when the only breakthrough had been his.Heknewthe guy they had in custody didn’t do it.Cop’s instinct.People used to value that.
He focused on the TV for a moment.Nature documentary, that breathless British guy, Sir-David-something.What a fraud.He’d been trying to explain to his niece last Thanksgiving.The guy had a ton of footage where nothing happened: a raccoon on a log, a bird wading through a stream.And he makes up a story to go with it.“He’s decided to go looking for a girlfriend…” What a crock.“Along comes his enemy, Walter Wolf.” Nothing’s happening!
He grunted with annoyance, realizing that the curtains hadn’t been properly closed, and that a long, thin wedge of street-lighting was piercing the comfortable darkness of the room.He stood up, pulled the curtains apart.Glimpsed a flicker of movement by the gate outside.What was that?
He went over to the desk, where there was a second TV screen, split into six separate camera-feeds.Clicked on the front door, and the frame enlarged; he saw a large cat washing itself by the gate.It must have jumped when he went over to the window.Satisfied, he clicked through the other five screens.He had the house and garden covered, front and back.Clay Tuttle had got the system up and running.Retired like him.Offered him a sales job.How could he take it?He’d outranked Tuttle in the PD.That wouldn’t work.
He heard a thump out in the hallway, but it didn’t trouble him.That would be the kids in the adjoining house.They had no bedtime, no kind of routine; the mom just let them run wild.
If it was anything he needed to worry about, the system would detect it.Cost a bundle, even with Tuttle’s alleged discount.But you couldn’t be too careful.Especially if you were an ex-cop.Criminals had long memories.And a surprisingly rigid sense of right and wrong, when it came totheirright and wrong, thecops’right and wrong.But too bad.So, what if the odd bit of evidence had to be placed somewhere, sometimes, or just as mysteriouslymisplaced?It wasn’t as if these were choirboys.They were bangers, bangers and hoods and two-bit scumbags, and the good guys had to come out on top.Anyway, if anyone wanted to pay a midnight call on Palmer, well, Palmer would be ready to greet them with a fully loaded Ruger Redhawk.
He pulled the curtains together forcefully and returned to the sofa.Where was the remote?Dammit.It was on the table.
He got up with another grunt.When did that start?The grunting every time he stood up or sat down or bent over.He had his hand on the remote when he heard another noise.It was in the back.He had motion sensors on the back fence behind the fire pit; twin lamps would bathe the whole garden in a gigawatt of stadium-grade LED security lighting.The mom next door was always giving him grief about it – said it woke the kids up every time a possum took a piss.Her words, not his.Maybe he was old-fashioned, but he didn’t like to hear women talking like that.And never mind his lights, those brats were up half the night anyway.No Daddy.No consistent male influence.A pair of crimes waiting to happen.
But why was the garden in darkness?
He switched the kitchen light off, peered into the inky blackness as he went into the top drawer for the flashlight.Stood by the sink and shone it out slowly, left to right, then back again a few feet higher.A full perimeter sweep.
Two eyes glinted back at him like a pair of silver dollars.He jumped a little.
