Chapter 11

Jeremy Walker was as arrogant as Susan Kay said he was. At least he was arrogant until I produced photos — taken from public areas — of his wife entering and leaving her job and of his daughter walking down a street. Then his arrogance was replaced by anger.

At that point, Marcus calmly handed him the copies of his financial statements. I didn't trust myself to come within arm's reach of him. What I had done so far was within the bounds of the law. Throttling the man would land me on the felonious side pretty quickly.

"I gave a copy of those to Ms. Danvers on Friday," I said with a hint of a smile. "I guess you're going to find out what it's like to have your life turned upside down."

"Fuck you," he said. "These are bogus. You couldn't have gotten anything like this legally."

"Really?" I asked. "They are more genuine than the pictures you showed Janet Conroy last week. How I acquired them is shady but legal. Not that you could prove that I didn't locate them from your trash. It will be up to you to prove your innocence. Good luck on that. Even if you do, the stigma will always be attached to you. I'll make sure of that."

Marcus was grinning broadly.

"We play for keeps here, Mr. Walker," he said. "Your visit to the hospital cost Mr. McPherson something he held very dear. The loss of your career and possibly your marriage will suffice for your recompense."

"My marriage!" he said sharply.

Marcus held out another folder — of Agent Walker's wife entering a hotel on the arm of another man. It was pure luck that we got it. Marcus had stopped by the preschool to take a couple of more pictures and saw her leaving. He followed and took pictures.

"Who in the fuck is this?" Agent Walker screamed. His voice was loud enough that Special Agent Danvers scurried into the room.

"No problem, Ma'am," I intoned genially. "Mr. Walker has just learned the danger of introducing family into an investigation."

I lowered my voice conspiratorially.

"His wife if fucking around on him," I whispered. "The guy looks like he's old enough to be her father. She might have Daddy Issues."

Agent Walker slammed the folder on the table and started to leave.

"I'm not finished," I said. "Don't you want to see who your 14-year-old daughter is fucking? Probably takes after her mom. She likes to use the same hotel."

Agent Walker's face was crimson. I was praying that he would strike me so I could mop up the floor with his ass.

Instead, Special Agent Danvers led him out of the office.

"Guess he didn't want to know, Mark," I said. "Too bad. I guess I can just mail them to his house."

I got up to leave only to find Agent Danvers blocking the door.

"What in the hell were you hoping to prove?" she yelled.

I shrugged.

"I just wanted him to know what it's like to have the shoe on the other foot," I said. "He had no problem with interfering in my personal life in his pursuit of what he considers justice. I felt no compunction about doing the exact same thing. The rules I live by are a little different from yours. You make sure — if you send someone else after me — that they better be air tight. Because I will tear their life down until they don't even recognize it any longer. Look at Agent Walker. He got up this morning with a loving family and decent job. Here it is 2 hours later and he has neither.

"Hell, he'll probably kill his wife and maybe her boyfriend," I added. "His FBI psych profile was a little hazy about his mental stability."

Danvers' eyes were slits as she stared at me.

"Money buys a lot of things," I said. "In fact, it cost me less than I expected it would. Wanna hear what they say about you?"

Special Agent-in-Charge Whitney Danvers turned and left the conference room without another word.

I noticed Marcus was looking at me.

"I made that last part up," I said — loud enough that I was certain that whatever listening device they had in the room could hear me. "You know I hate to lie but, damn, that felt good. The look on her face was priceless."

Although my exercise in humiliating the FBI brought me a certain amount of satisfaction, it did not get Janet back. I knew going in that it wouldn't.

She did call me a few days later to tell me that she had gotten a formal apology — from Whitney Danvers herself — along with assurances that, as far as the FBI could prove, my business activities were entirely legal. Of course, Janet knew that they weren't so the fissure between didn't close.

I couldn't blame her. I mean, I did blame her for bailing on me but I really shouldn't have. My teenage pseudo-daughter had been correct: some people simply weren't cut out for the life I led.

I had very little contact with Linda Federici during the months since Rico's untimely demise. Amelia would call me every couple of days and she sometimes spent the weekends with me.

It was nice to have her around but it didn't make up for the loss of Janet and Lila in my life.

Janet and Lila had brought something different to my life — something positive. I was able to lead the life of a normal person for a portion of my day. I was able to leave the intense work world behind and live the sort of life I truly wanted.

Now I couldn't. Well, I guess I could find someone else but the difference in our lifestyles would always create problems. As I mentioned to Janet, my life doesn't lend itself to companionship. At the time it was an off-handed statement. Only now did I recognize the truth in what I'd said.

I know the obvious suggestion was to reconnect with Linda Federici. That's not what I wanted. I wanted someone who didn't fit the profile of a Syndicate Wife. I wanted to be with a woman to whom my world was foreign, not to whom it was commonplace.

Also there was the small detail that outside of a few flirtatious comments, Linda had never shown the slightest interest in me. Her life had always been predicated by the lowest-common denominator. Neither her father nor Enrico Federici were big-time players. Her father always wanted everyone to think he was my father's equal, but the reality is that he existed only so long as my father allowed him.

The deal between Linda's father and Enrico sealed his fate and my father had acted swiftly and decisively and Linda's father was no more. My father had absorbed the Cardelli enterprises with little or no trouble.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Linda had the means and the ability to control her own destiny. She was able to make decisions for herself and for her daughter without the need to consult with anyone else. She was enjoying the life of freedom, from what Amelia told me.

In addition, Linda's brutal attack and her subsequent arranged marriage had left her somewhat jaded about the male of our species, I suspected. I didn't doubt that Linda might be willing to forge a purely sexual relationship with me — because I always was willing to allow her to set the boundaries and I respected them even when I didn't want to — but I was looking for more than recreational activity. I wanted to enjoy companionship and camaraderie. I wanted both halves of the equation.

It was what I enjoyed during the few weeks that Janet and I were together and I was unwilling to settle for less.

Which meant I was forced to settle for nothing.

I watched the snow falling outside the window and Det. Susan Kay spoke to me about the changes that were forthcoming in her department. She was being promoted (or demoted) to homicide. I say promoted because the prestige factor is higher. I say demoted because she would no longer be in charge of her own task force.

Susan seemed to be taking the change with a grain of salt.

"It's your fault," she joked. "The crime is so well organized now that there is nothing for us to do. We can arrest anyone we want but we can't get convictions because it's impossible to find evidence. Because our conviction rate is so low, it's impossible to get anyone to turn state's evidence against you. Not that I've really tried too hard, to be honest."

"You've been a constant thorn in my side, Detective," I said. I said it to try to cheer her up but I also meant it.

"If anything, you're being moved because you've done your job too well," I insisted. "There really is no organized crime in the city. You've done a good job of putting the small-timers out of business. Now all that's left is the few things in my family and you know the sole reason that they are still around."

Susan nodded.

"I'm trying to get out of those, too," I told her. "If you have any ideas how, I'd love to hear them."

"Wait until your father returns and make a clean break," she said with a laugh. "You'll be out of the business and I'll be back in business."

I chuckled.

"I think you would dislike it greatly if my father returned," I answered. "In fact, you might be in for more work as a homicide detective than in OC."

"Most likely," she said. "Do you realize that the murder rate is down almost 30 percent in the last year?"

"It would have been down farther if I had any sense," I replied. She knew what I was talking about. My relationship with Susan was one of mutual respect, I think. She knew what I did but she couldn't prove it. I also think she appreciated the restraint my employees had shown when handling delicate situations.

"You've said it before, Michael," Susan said. "Someone is going to sell drugs. Someone is going to run whores. Someone is going to take bets and give out loans. I took a look at statistics from other cities. Most of the men who do what you do are brutal, cruel and inhumane. You're none of the above. You literally run the Business like a business. I'm sure you're not losing money on the deal. But I'm equally as certain that you're not making as much money as you could. And when you downsize an operation it doesn't involve the coroner's office."

She shrugged.

"It's why I've left you mostly alone," Susan admitted. "It's why I've never dug too deeply into your dealings. It's why I've never taken much of a look into your father's disappearance."

She looked up at me with her last statement. My face belied no emotion.

"We have rotten cops who are doing a noble job," she continued. "You seem like a decent guy who is in a lousy business. But you always keep the decent side of you at the forefront."

"I'd legitimize everything if I could," I told her. "I think you know that. But there are some things that defy legitimization. There are some things I can neither divest myself of completely nor remake into something I don't find distasteful."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that the Task Force is out of operation," she concluded. "That means that the Feebies will be handling everything from that end."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Is Agent Walker still around?" I asked. I had paid little attention to the workings at the FBI office.

"No," Susan said with a small smile. "He's looking at several years in federal custody. He's got big problems. You kicked over an anthill over there. Whitney Danvers is making a name for herself by cleaning things up. I'm surprised she hasn't called you for more information."

Susan smiled broadly.

"You got anything for me?" she asked innocently. "I could use a boost up the promotion scale, too."

"Not a thing," I told her. "At least nothing that I'm not already using to my advantage."