In the Shadows, page 5
Down came the hand. Jeff collected the paper and put it on the table. “That’s not good news.” He didn’t add anything.
Damiano felt awkward and continued to stand. “Pamela is very upset. You were right. She didn’t want me there, but I think she was glad before I left.”
“Were you able to speak to him?”
“For a minute. He looks awful, but he is alive and he survived the night. He says he’ll be back.” Damiano let that thought linger.
Jeff threw his head back and sighed wearily. Damiano took that opportunity to sit. He sighed again, shaking his head. “Donat won’t be what, satisfied, until he drops dead at work and takes his wife with him. You’ve told me he could retire and live a good life. That’s neither here nor there, I suppose. So,” Jeff said knowingly, “I’m guessing that means you’ll become interim chief – go down the same path, I mean.”
“He told me to stay out of his office, handle what there is to do from my own office.” Damiano knew her words sounded hollow.
Jeff laughed without commitment. “It’ll appear that you are the interim chief reluctantly, but chief nonetheless.”
“Jeff, stop with the barbs. You would have left us on the mountain today if one of your patients had taken ill. Stop the veiled accusations. These tired old fights destroy us and go nowhere. You’ve often said you’d be happier with me behind a desk, and not out on the street fracturing my arm and worse, risking my life. Well, now I might, or might not, end up behind a desk.”
“Alright. You are a great cop, but you are politically naïve. Your colleagues, some still lust after you, I know that from parties I’ve been forced to attend. I’m aware of the way men look at you. Yet they will not accept you as their interim chief. They already envy you your cases. Men can be really deliberate and brutal. It’ll be awful for you. As well, in all my experience, I have never heard of an interim anything being appointed to the permanent post. I don’t want you hurt and used, Toni. In the end, they will appoint some male cop from Place Versailles. You’ll be crushed.”
“That’s some reality check, but I sense you’re still on my side, Jeff?” Damiano said. “I’m glad. Maybe I’m tougher than you think.”
“I’m not finished.”
“By all means go for it.”
“To be honest, I don’t want to be the one to pick up the pieces. Been there, done that. Jesus, Toni, I don’t want to end up losing you to a coronary. You can’t sleep as it is. When will you see who really needs you? Who’s important, in for the long ride? Why the hell can’t you recognize what matters in life?”
“Are you saying there’s something wrong with me, something missing?”
“Just grow up, but I’m beginning to think you can’t.”
Damiano knew she had a mind for her job. She knew how it worked. She knew people. Most important, she had broken into a male-dominated world and had won the top cases and had been able to close them. She wasn’t a numbers counter – she was a cop! It’s the best of me. Still she was struck by Donat’s warning. See where it’s gotten me.
Luke appeared, looming by the French doors. “Dad, lay off! I could hear you from my bedroom. You’ve been on Mom’s case for as long as I can remember. It’s gotten old and I’m sick of it.”
“Don’t you speak to me like that, Luke!”
“Whatever!”
“No, not whatever. Apologize.”
“Alright, sorry. It’s just that you should have figured things out by now. Mom’s a cop – the job comes first. Did you forget she won that medal?”
Damiano hadn’t said a word. She stood off to the side, swamped by the division she had caused.
As Luke left the patio, he mumbled, “Mom, I don’t mind you being a cop.”
Jeff picked up his paper and went back to reading. I wish that your mother’s work or her absence wasn’t the main focus of our lives. He looked up as Luke left the patio and felt the sting of a familiar betrayal. Luke loved his mother unconditionally. The time he spent with Luke when Toni was absent, the love he felt for his son didn’t seem to count. Somehow, it didn’t seem fair. He was there for his son. Most times Toni wasn’t. That injustice bothered Jeff. Life wasn’t fair; but sometimes it ought to be, to keep a level playing field.
“Why don’t you start your crossword?” Damiano suggested.
“I might win there, you mean?”
“You are a master of crossword, Jeff! The mother-and-child bond is a lock, even with a mother like me.”
“There should be exceptions.”
“I agree.”
Damiano was rewarded with an open grin.
Chapter Nine
Officer Boucher pulled onto the driveway of his bungalow, a three-way-split, on 9th Street in Laval. He groaned when he saw the light in the kitchen. He sat in the car until the front door opened, and Manon stood waiting for him. It was almost six-thirty Sunday morning. Manon’s father was a retired cop, so there was little his wife didn’t know about the job. Manon was as tall as Daniel, five foot eight, and even with the pasta and pizza, they were fit, thanks to the running they did together, three times a week. Boucher didn’t want a sit-down, he needed a shower; he needed to think. He had to call his partner. His plan was to go back to rue Goyer and do a house-to-house. He strode quickly past Manon.
“I should never have gotten you involved, Daniel.” Manon said, following him.
“Too late. Anyway, I took this on for the boys, and not simply for some neighbor awakened at three in the morning for a drop-off. These street ‘pumps’ go to schools and nearby hangouts. Our kids find them. Not where I live, damn! Not on my turf. I freakin’ warned Jacques off when I saw him months ago. I wanted to be a Good Samaritan. It all blew up in my face.”
“What happened, Daniel?”
“Let’s get into the kitchen. I don’t want to wake the boys.”
“They could sleep through an earthquake.”
“Manon, I can’t sit and talk. I have to shower and go back out there.”
“What …”
Boucher threw his arms up in the air with his palms open. “I shot him alright! I wanted to arrest him. He didn’t raise his right arm, not fully – he was pointing or something – I thought he had a weapon, and I shot him.” Boucher’s body was so tight that Manon thought her husband would shatter into sharp pieces.
Manon’s eyes shut and she couldn’t breathe.
“Did you hear me, Manon?”
“Did he have a weapon?” she asked, her mouth twisting with tension.
At that moment, Boucher hated his wife, hated her for knowing what to ask. He swiped some bread crumbs from the table and looked at her. “I told you I have to shower.” As he got up to leave, Manon grabbed his arm.
“Can you cover yourself, Daniel?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. I’ve given my life to the force. Please let go of me, Manon!”
“Fine. Go up and shower, but I won’t let you go back out without food. You haven’t slept.”
“I never intended to … I don’t think I did … I just …”
“Go. I’ll cook breakfast. I’m on your side. I should never have involved you. I don’t even know this woman who needed help. She’s a friend of a friend.”
“None of that matters now. I shot a man and I have to find …” Boucher pulled away and ran up the five stairs, turned toward the bathroom, closed the door and stripped. The shower was scalding but Boucher stood under the spray with his head bowed. He dropped the soap and cursed, kicking the bar against the shower wall. He needed the second weapon hidden in the cabane in the backyard. Louis would help; he had to help. You stood by your partner. “No way I’m going down for this.” He dressed quickly, slipped back downstairs, crept down to the basement, and went out into the yard and headed for the cabane. Inside, he dug out the second weapon buried in an old bag of fertilizer. He removed it from a Ziploc bag, dropped the bullets and the clip onto a picnic table, and reloaded the gun, leaving his prints on each bullet and the clip. He placed a brick on top of the fertilizer bag and pushed it back against the wall. Once he was back inside the house he checked and saw that the boys were still asleep. In the kitchen, he bent his head down and scarfed the eggs and cheese and toast. He drank three burning cups of coffee. “Manon, thanks for this. I have to call Louis.”
Manon didn’t argue. She knew the whole family was in danger. Daniel might go to prison, and she knew why. Fear gnawed at her stomach.
Officer Louis Doucette caught the call on the first ring. “I heard.”
“One day you’ll need my help, Louis. Today, I need yours.” Boucher told his partner what he needed.
“Daniel, I won’t be a party to a crime. That’s where you’re headed.”
“I just need you to help find a witness. She saw the takedown. The rest I’ll do alone. No harm, no foul for you. I have a family, Louis. You’d need one to understand why I have to do this. I just want to explain my side to her.”
Louis sighed heavily. “Sure you do. What do you need me for?
Boucher gave him the instructions. “In uniform, Louis.”
“Fuck!”
“I agree. Park on rue Goyer close to St-Martin. See you in an hour, one hour, Louis. Our excuse is that we’re trying to find a witness to corroborate the incident. What cop in my position wouldn’t do the same thing?”
“It’s not our patch, Daniel. If the Laval cops insist we leave, I’m leaving. For all you know, Crime might be back to work the site.”
“I want to question the family in one apartment. That won’t be a problem. The front door of the building is on boulevard St-Martin. Then, I say we do ten houses, they’re triplexes, but that’s it. She has to live in one of them, makes sense. If she lived in the apartment building, she’d have her own parking in the lot. There’s no night parking on Favreau, so she parked on Goyer. You can’t back away after this search. I need you with me.”
“You were at the crime scene for a few hours. No one called in, right? Maybe she won’t. Maybe she didn’t see much in the dark. She was frightened. You’re going off too soon!”
“We eyeballed! She saw!”
“The vic had a weapon?”
Boucher didn’t answer.
“Ah shit!”
“I thought he did.”
“Shit, shit, shit!”
Carmen DiMaggio had somehow managed to fall into a dead sleep. Caitlin left a note that Carmen couldn’t miss: STAY PUT – BACK IN 90 MIN. By eight-fifteen, she was inside Carmen’s basement apartment, hastily packing cosmetics, mousse, a hair dryer, clothes, shoes, underwear, and Carmen’s work tote. That would have to do. Tempted to ring the landlord’s bell, she thought better of it. She was about to scoop up the two bags when she heard men’s voices. She edged cautiously over to the front window and gently pushed the vertical blind aside a few inches. Out on the sidewalk, she spotted three police officers in what appeared to be a heated discussion. Caitlin could hear them because Carmen’s front window was slightly open. The iron bars gave her a sense of security.
“All we want to do is find a witness that might have seen something that could help me. We have a lead. I don’t see a problem.”
Carmen was right. That cop will find her. Caitlin inched the blinds back into place, but stood listening. How would she get the bags to her car?
“Let me, I mean us, canvass a few more homes and we’re out of here.”
“I gave what help I could last night. You’re off your patch again, without authorization I’d bet. I told you last night I won’t be caught up with your incident. You need to leave.”
Officer Boucher squared his shoulders, tilted his chin up, but saw his partner had taken a step back. He had what he needed. The bitch lived close by. He’d be back, on his own, if it came to that. Boucher also wanted to talk to the tenants of that apartment again. He didn’t believe them when they said they saw nothing, too pissed last night they said. He wanted to catch the couple awake and sober. “We’ll leave. I don’t want to botch my own case.”
The voices faded. Caitlin stood very still. When she realized she was standing on Carmen’s new carpet in her shoes, she hopped off. Poor Carmen. Caitlin could not leave with two bags and the tote without drawing attention. She kicked off her shoes, walked over the plush carpet and took out her cell phone, scrolling for the number she wanted, the lawyer who had helped her a few months ago.
Mazzone was already at a popular radio station prepping for his morning commentary. He had fourteen minutes, so he took the call when he saw the caller ID.
“I won’t waste your time. I have a friend in serious trouble.”
Mazzone interrupted. “Before you begin, send me a dollar by PayPal. Here’s my account number.” He waited. “Okay, your information is protected by lawyer-client privilege. You have five minutes.” He listened. He thought before he spoke. “The situation is very tricky. The name of the officer won’t be released, but the cops know who it is – the pipeline. This cop needs to find Carmen. If I pull strings and find out his name, the police will scrutinize my recent client list. That’s a back trail to you, then Carmen. My suggestion is to go to the police – have the eyewitness publicized. The more people who learn of Carmen, the better protected she is, the less chance this cop will act.”
“The police won’t be fair with Carmen. They have enough trouble as it is with fatal shootings and unmarked cruisers killing innocent civilians. Who can we trust?”
“I have one person in mind – you met her.”
“You mean Lieutenant Detective Damiano? She was arrogant as I remember.”
“She was fair.”
Chapter Ten
Caitlin waited for half an hour before she carried the suitcases out to her Volkswagen GTI on rue Goyer. She chose to cross the crime scene, lugging the bags up the embankment. Laboriously she made her way up Favreau and then halfway down Goyer. The walk wasn’t easy with three bags in tow. The police tape was still evident, but other than that, Caitlin figured whatever blood was there had been washed away. No one on the street would mistake her for Carmen. She was a shaggy blonde with highlights; Carmen was a brunette with brown eyes, definitely Italian. Catlin passed a police cruiser parked on Goyer. The officer checked her out, but nothing more. The morning was already hot; blue sky smudged by a few lazy white clouds. It would have made a great cycling day, but such thoughts were off. Caitlin dropped the bags into the trunk and then made certain she kept within the speed limit. Cars sped past her, and she noticed one finger shoved out the window at her. She honked back. Classic Montreal!
Carmen was still in bed, but had gone to the kitchen to fetch yogurt and was spooning it gingerly into her mouth. That’s where Caitlin found her when she got back. If possible, Carmen looked grimmer than she did at the door.
Carmen looked up at Caitlin. “My tongue is killing me.”
“I have your things. I told you your tongue will heal. Be patient. You have more important things to deal with.”
“I wish I could just stay here. I’m really scared.” She looked at Caitlin with tears in her eyes. “Why did this have to happen to me?”
“Look Carmen, stop with the Italian pity party. This is bad, no question, but I can help you. When I was at your place I called Dino Mazzone and explained the situation. He said that the best thing to do for your protection was to go public.”
Carmen jammed the spoon into the plastic yogurt cup and both fell to the floor. “You are so smart. Jesus! Can’t you see the whole picture? I’m not just freaked about some trial. What happens to me after the trial? Every cop will know my name and can find out where I live. Don’t you see that I will be hounded with tickets and threats and worse, forever? These guys don’t forget. Who will help me then? I’ll be out there on my own.”
“Mazzone mentioned Lieutenant Detective Damiano, too.”
“The same cop you called a bitch?”
“But remember, I reminded you that she was fair. You can trust her.”
“Sure.”
“You have to do something, Carmen.”
“I have to think – I have to go to work tomorrow. And I have a ton of estimates to get through. I’m not on vacation like you.”
Caitlin told Carmen about the heated conversation she overheard from the street in front of her place and the officer who was canvassing the neighborhood.
Carmen jumped to her feet. “I knew he’d find me – I just knew it.”
“Carm, you have to call your landlord right now, and then your mother. Buy a little time.”
“Will the media identify the cop shooter?” Carmen asked hopefully.
“They never do. The police will know who he is. We won’t. He’ll be protected.”
“That’s great! I’ll be identified, but the shooter will be protected. I wish I could talk to him and say I don’t know what I saw. I want to lie. What other option do I have? I’m caught. But I refuse to be snuffed out like garbage.”
“We won’t let that happen, but there is no simple fix out there. For now at least, the officer arguing with the shooter ordered him off the street. Call the landlord and your mother. Get going. We have to start somewhere, then figure out a plan.”
“The only plan I can think of is lying. Morality is great in theory, but when my life is at stake, morals won’t keep me alive. My whole body aches, and my ear is not fully back to normal. Do you have an Aleve or ibuprofen?”
“Just a sec.” She headed for the bathroom.
Carmen kept on talking. She just raised her voice. “If I told the truth, that the victim did not have a gun and the officer shot him down in cold blood, imagine what they’d do to me in court? How many drinks did I have that night? Is there a possibility I was driving while intoxicated? Wasn’t I dazed when I was knocked down between the cars? How could I have been certain of anything? Was I concussed? Did I actually see the victim clearly? Wasn’t it too dark for me to see if he had a weapon? Couldn’t I have missed seeing it? Is there a possibility I am mistaken?” She took the glass of water, downed the pill and carried on. “Would you believe my story?”
