Among Thieves

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lissa left the Green Dragon ahead of the others and headed to Southie to pick Sally up from school. Finn and Kozlowski stayed for a little while to talk strategy; then Finn drove Kozlowski back to the office in Charlestown. The brief respite of seasonable weather had ended, and New England was exacting its revenge as the skies turned gray and troubled and the wind spat drizzle at Boston ’s inhabitants. It was like this every year, and yet people seemed to forget. A few mild days in April tempted Bostonians into believing winter had been banished, but it always regrouped for a final assault. It was usually May before the weather was consistently pleasant.

Finn, a meteorological optimist, had put the top down on his battered MG, and when he and Kozlowski emerged from the bar, he struggled to pull the canvas covering back out. By the time it was back up, the interior was soaked.

Kozlowski stood outside the car, looking angrily from Finn to the passenger seat.

“Wipe it down,” Finn said. “There’s a towel in the back.”

Kozlowski reached into the back and grabbed the towel. “Wiping it down doesn’t do a goddamn thing,” he said. “The seat’s cracked. The water soaks into the cushion so it’s like sitting on a wet sponge. Why do you think the car smells like mildew all the time?”

“I thought that was you.”

“Asshole.”

“You wanna call a cab? I can meet you back at the office,” Finn asked.

“No, I don’t want to call a goddamned cab. I want to work with someone who drives a real goddamned car. Not some piece of crap clowns should be jumping out of.”

“So sit on the towel then. That’ll keep you dry.”

“I would, but then my head scrapes against the roof of the car.”

Finn looked again at Kozlowski. His expression had turned from anger to disgust to plain unhappiness. “You have seriously turned into a major whiner,” Finn said. “Are you going soft on me?”

Kozlowski’s look was sharp. “I’m not going soft, I just don’t want to sit in pants with a wet ass for the rest of the goddamned day.” He frowned again, then spread the towel over the seat and slid in gingerly, trying to hold some of his weight off the seat. Finn had to stifle his laughter. They drove like that back to the office with Kozlowski leaning on the door and holding himself up with the windshield. The rain pelted him through the window, drenching his head and shoulders.

It was after four o’clock when they arrived. Lissa and Sally were already there when Finn and Kozlowski walked through the door.

“What happened to you?” Lissa asked Kozlowski, noting his wet head.

“Don’t ask,” Kozlowski replied. He nodded to the girl and padded down the hall toward the bathroom to dry himself off.

Finn looked at Lissa. “Did you tell her?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I told her.”

“I’m in the room,” Sally said. They looked at her. “You were talking about me, right?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you, I just…”

“She told me,” Sally said. “My dad’s not getting out today.”

“Not yet,” Finn said. “We ran into an issue that we didn’t expect.”

“Yeah, sounds like Devon pitched a fit,” Sally replied. “He’s a fuckup; I already know that.”

“I might have used different terms,” he said. “But yeah, he had a little outburst. I’ll get another bail hearing set, though.” He glanced at Lissa, wondering how much she had told the girl. She frowned and gave a slight shake of her head that Finn took as a signal that she hadn’t gone further. He breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing he wanted was to have to explain anything more than the basics to Sally. He looked back at the girl. “So, I guess you’re staying with me for a couple more nights. That okay with you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have any choice, I guess,” she said.

“That’s all you have to say?” Lissa asked.

Sally looked up at her. “What else do you want me to say?”

“It’s okay,” Finn began, but Lissa cut him off.

“No, it’s not okay,” she said. “You wanna spend your time playing savior, that’s your call, but I’m not gonna sit here and watch the person who’s benefiting from your generosity be rude to you.” She looked at Sally. “When someone does something nice for you, you say thank you.”

Sally stood up. She was wearing her coat, and her bag dangled from her hand. Finn thought there was a good chance that she was about to walk out the door. That was the last thing he needed; he had no interest in combing the city, looking for Devon ’s kid. He felt a bolt of annoyance with Lissa. “I could go to the street,” Sally said. “I’d survive, y’know.”

“I know,” Lissa said. “That’s why Finn’s offer is nice. He doesn’t have to give you a better option, but he’s doing it anyway. Some appreciation is in order. If not…” Lissa swept her hand toward the door as she let her ultimatum trail off.

Finn rubbed his temples. He was about to cut in when Sally turned and looked at him, biting her bottom lip. “Thank you,” she said.

Finn just stared at her. Then he looked with incredulity at Lissa. After a moment he turned back to Sally. “You’re welcome,” he said.

“Good,” Lissa said. She looked at Finn. “You’ve got a dozen messages on your desk, and your voice mail is full. It’s gonna take an hour or more to deal with whatever’s there. I have some things that I gotta take care of, too. Sally can use the time to do whatever work she has.” Sally blinked at her. “You do have homework, I assume?”

“I guess.”

“Good. Then, when we’re all ready, I’ll take us to dinner.”

“You don’t need to,” Finn said. “I can feed her at my place.”

“On what? Ketchup? I’ve seen your refrigerator.”

“I’ve got more than ketchup,” Finn said.

“Yeah? What else?”

“Mustard and relish,” Sally answered before Finn could respond. He looked at her. “And something in an old Chinese takeout carton that’s growing feet. I was hungry last night,” she said. “I looked.”

“Did you check the cupboard?” he asked.

“I’ll make some reservations,” Lissa said. “An hour?”

Kozlowski was walking back into the office from the hallway. His hair was tousled but dry. “What’s in an hour?”

“Dinner,” Lissa said. “I’m buying.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Just thought everyone could use a good meal,” Lissa said.

“Ah,” Kozlowski said knowingly. “Someone looked in Finn’s refrigerator.”

“It wasn’t pretty,” Sally said.

“I think I liked you better when you were less grateful and more sullen,” Finn said to her.

“An hour,” Lissa said again. Finn looked at her and nodded. Then he went to his desk and started digging out from the messages and mail that had piled up during his daylong absence from the office.

Liam sat in a rented van parked on the square a half block down from Finn’s office. There was a newspaper in front of him, opened to the sports section. Liam didn’t follow any American sports, but he wasn’t looking at the paper. He was watching the door to the lawyer’s office. He’d been there for more than an hour, waiting. He’d passed by the place once, determining that it was empty. He’d scouted the area, getting an idea for the layout. There was a back door to the little office, but it didn’t look as if it saw much use. He assumed they would be entering from the front. The square was the best spot from which to observe. It was close enough to get a good look at the building, but far enough away that he wouldn’t draw too much attention. It was near a small row of stores; in the rain and cold, he didn’t look too far out of place. The van was a nondescript white delivery vehicle, dappled with patches of rust and textured with dents from hard use. The interior was stripped to the metal, rippled and grungy, with pockets of moisture bordering on small puddles that seemed never to dry no matter what the weather. He could have been waiting to pick up or deliver just about anything.

The woman showed up with the girl about a half hour after he’d settled in with the paper and a cup of coffee. When he saw them enter the brownstone, he double-checked the address. They looked like a mother and daughter, but that didn’t fit with his information.

The two men arrived twenty minutes later. It was clear which one was the lawyer. The younger one was thin and tall, and dressed in an expensive suit. He carried a leather case with him, and he had a serious look on his narrow face. The man with him looked nothing like a lawyer. He was solid and older, and his thin overcoat flapped around the calves of his cheap slacks. He moved deliberately, and his head swung from side to side, taking in everything around him. He reminded Liam of many survivors of the troubles on both sides. They were quiet, serious men. They were the men he worried about coming up against.

He’d done enough background to identify the adults. Finn, Kozlowski, Krantz. He knew their names and ages and roles in the tiny little firm that was representing Devon Malley. They all had solid reputations, but they were in over their heads.

The girl was a surprise. Liam didn’t like surprises. Her presence at the office might mean nothing. She might be a niece or the daughter of a friend who had errands to run. And yet he had this feeling-an intuition-that there was more to it than that. A lifetime had taught him never to ignore his intuitions. Very often they came from that deep spot in the brain that noticed something the conscious mind had missed. He’d learned that paying attention to his intuition could save his life.

He leaned back into the car seat to mull things over. Information was the most valuable commodity in any profession; more so in Liam’s than others. It was clear that he needed more of it now.

The restaurant was a huge family-style place in Charlestown. Only a glass partition separated the diners from an open kitchen with wood-burning stoves. The patrons could watch their meals being prepared, and it gave the place a sense of intimacy. It was the kind of restaurant that required connections or a three-month wait for a reservation on a weekend night. Midweek, though, it was merely bustling, and determination was all that was required to get a table on a walk-in basis.

The four of them were sitting at a table near the middle of the restaurant. It was a big, round, heavy oak slab, finished unevenly to maintain the rustic feel of the place. It could have seated eight, and with just the four of them, they had to keep their voices up to hear each other over the din.

Not that it mattered through much of the evening; the conversation was spotty. Finn, Kozlowski, and Lissa usually talked about their work when they ate; it was a time when they could fret over their most pressing cases. That night, however, their most pressing case concerned the father of the girl who was sitting directly across from Finn. He couldn’t discuss the case openly, but he couldn’t get it out of his head, either.

“How was school?” he asked at one point, trying to break the awkward silence that had settled over the table.

Sally looked up, surprised. “It sucked,” she said after a moment.

“Why?” Finn asked.

“It’s school. School sucks.”

“What sucks about it?” Finn continued.

She twirled some pasta onto her fork and stuffed the mess into her mouth. “You really wanna know?” she asked as she chewed.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “What grade are you in?”

“Eighth,” she said.

“Okay, eighth grade,” Finn said. “What sucks about eighth grade? Do you have any friends?”

“Not really,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because the kids are assholes. Why would I want more assholes in my life? I got all I can handle.”

Finn winced. He’d grown up on the street, but the disparity between the girl’s age and her demeanor was still unsettling. Most people didn’t master cynicism until at least their late teens. “How about the schoolwork?” Finn asked. “Do you like that at all?”

Sally laughed. “It’s an inner-city school; there is no real schoolwork. If you’re not stabbing someone, you’re an honor student as far as the teachers are concerned.”

“Do you learn anything?”

She shrugged. “I learn what I want to learn.”

“What’s that?”

She pushed the food around on her plate. “I like reading,” she said at last. “English class is okay. The teacher is a joke, but I like the books.”

“What are you reading?”

“Right now? The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” she said grudgingly.

“Good book. You like that one?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

She looked him in the eye. “Because he’s a kid and he takes care of himself. He doesn’t need other people to survive and he doesn’t take any shit.”

The table went silent for a moment. She put her fork down on her plate, and it made a sharp, definitive noise-like an exclamation point. Finn reached out and plucked a roll from the basket on the table, tore off a piece, and dipped it in the olive oil on the table. After a moment, he said again, “Good book.”

Lissa cleared her throat. “You could make friends,” she said. “It wouldn’t be hard for someone as smart as you.”

“What the fuck is this?” Sally said loudly. A few people at other tables turned to look, then glanced away quickly. “I’m fine. I don’t need your pity, y’know. I need a place to sleep, that’s all. I’ll be gone soon enough.”

Lissa looked embarrassed. It wasn’t a look that came naturally to her. “We’re just trying to help a little, that’s all. It might be nice to get to know you a little better.”

“How about if I get to know you a little better, then?” Sally said.

“We’d be fine with that,” Lissa replied.

Sally looked at each of them in turn, a prizefighter sizing up opponents. “How old are you?” she asked Finn.

“Forty-four,” Finn replied.

“And you’re a lawyer who lives alone in a nice apartment in Charlestown?”

“Yeah.” Finn took a sip of his wine. He was more of a beer drinker, but as long as Lissa was paying, he didn’t mind having a glass of a nice cabernet. It relaxed him.

“So you’re gay.”

Finn almost spat out a ten-dollar sip of the wine. Whatever relaxation he’d achieved vanished. “What?” he choked out.

“I’ve seen your apartment,” she said. “No curtains, no pictures, no pillows on the couch. The refrigerator’s empty and there’s one toothbrush in the bathroom. There’s nothing that looks like a girl’s ever been there ever. You’re not ugly, so I assume you’re a fag.”

“I’m not gay,” Finn replied. He tried to keep the defensiveness out of his voice.

“Gay,” Sally said, nodding her head.

“I am not gay!”

“Hey,” she said, “I got no problem with it. Probably make me sleep better at night.”

“I don’t have a problem with it either,” Finn said. “I’m just not gay.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“No,” Finn admitted.

“Gay.”

Finn looked over at Lissa. She looked amused. “What’s so funny?”

“This is,” Lissa said. “In fact, it pretty much defines funny.”

Finn turned to Sally. “I was dating someone. We lived together and it didn’t work out. That was a while ago, and I just haven’t found anyone else since then, okay?”

“Who was she? Did she have a penis, or was she like, an imaginary girlfriend?”

“No,” Finn said. “She was Koz’s partner when he was on the police force.”

Sally looked over at Kozlowski, who nodded. “Huh,” she said, clearly shocked that she was wrong. “So if you’re not gay, then why don’t you have a new girlfriend?”

Lissa laughed. “She’s got you nailed, Finn. That’s a question I’ve asked over and over,” Lissa said. “I’d kinda like to hear the answer.”

She wasn’t going to hear the answer, though, because before Finn could even begin to formulate a response, Sally turned on Lissa. “You two are dating, right?” she asked, nodding at Kozlowski. He’d been silent for most of the dinner, and now he squirmed at the notion of being drawn into the conversation. Lissa took the bait, though.

“We are,” she said, nodding. Kozlowski shot her a look, but she waved him off. She clearly wasn’t about to back down.

“For how long?”

“A year or so,” Lissa replied. “Maybe a little longer.”

“Why aren’t you married?”

Finn had to admire the girl; she played rough. Lissa was now squirming as much as Kozlowski was.

“It’s complicated,” she said.

“Why?” Sally asked. “You don’t love him?”

“No, I love him.”

“He doesn’t love you?”

Everyone at the table looked at Kozlowski. He looked at the cutlery. Finn had the impression he was contemplating picking up the steak knife and gouging his own eyes out.

“No, I’m sure he loves me, too,” Lissa said, answering for him. Sally kept looking at Kozlowski for a moment, though, until he gave a slight nod.

“Okay, you love him and he loves you,” Sally said. “You both seem normal, so what’s the deal?”

“We’ve talked about it,” Lissa said hesitantly.

Finn, who had been enjoying the show, was shocked by the pronouncement. “Really?” he said.

Lissa looked back and forth between Finn and Kozlowski. Kozlowski shook his head and raised his hand, signaling that she was on her own. Then Lissa settled her gaze on Finn. “This isn’t how we wanted to tell you this,” she began.

Finn felt his eyes widen. “You’re kidding, right? You two? Married?” The expression on Lissa’s face turned like the sky during a sudden, violent summer storm. “I don’t mean that the way it sounds,” Finn stammered. “I mean why not you two, right?” Lissa’s eyes darkened further. “I mean, that’s great. I really do, it’s great. What brought this on?”

“Are you pregnant?” Sally asked. She wasn’t letting up on the attack.

“No!” Lissa said. Her voice was loud and sharp, and cut through the clamor of the restaurant. She shook her head and took a deep breath and said in a more reasonable voice, “No.”

Finn looked at the two of them, not sure what to say. “Holy crap, can you imagine that? The two of you as parents?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Lissa replied.

“Why not?” Sally asked. “You’re not getting any younger.”

Kozlowski leaned in toward Sally and said quietly, “You know, Huckleberry Finn nearly got himself killed a whole bunch of times traveling down the river. The story could’ve gone another way.”

“No sweat,” Sally said. “I feel like I know you guys a lot better already. How about you guys? Can we put the twenty questions game on hold for a little while?”

Finn took another sip of his wine. Then he raised his glass. “To getting to know each other-a little more slowly,” he said. Everyone around the table raised their glasses.

It took a moment before anyone said anything else. Finally Sally spoke. “So,” she said. “What’s the deal with my father? Is he getting out anytime soon, or am I going to have to play Trivial Pursuit with you guys for the rest of my childhood?”

Finn took a deep breath. “It’s complicated.”

“Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

“No, this is genuinely complicated. I’ll get your father a new bail hearing. It may take a little time.”

“Why did he freak out today?”

“I don’t know,” Finn replied. He didn’t like lying, but he could think of no better option.

“Maybe he wanted to get away from me.”

“You’re smarter than that,” Lissa said.

“Am I? What would you do if you found out you had a kid you never wanted? Would you run?”

Lissa considered the question. “No,” she said. “I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe you’re a better person than my parents.”

Finn said nothing. There was nothing to say. He could have tried to persuade her that he knew how she felt. After all, his own parents had abandoned him. He’d had to grow up quickly and learn to fend for himself, just as she had. There was a difference, though, and he knew it. He’d never known his parents. To him, they were specters in the mist. On his good days, growing up, he’d convinced himself that there was a reason beyond selfishness for their absence. He’d invent myths-romantic tales of intrigue that had forced his parents to leave him. The story of Moses in the bulrushes, told to the children in the orphanages by stern nuns, had always appealed to him. Perhaps, like some biblical king, he’d been set adrift for a purpose, and his mother and father lived their lives watching over him until the day when they could reveal themselves to him.

They were childish dreams, but he’d clung to them. Deep down, he still did. And that was what set Sally apart. She could hold no such illusions. She knew who her parents were, and they knew her. Her abandonment was personal. He could never convince her otherwise, because he didn’t believe it.

It took a few moments for them to finish their coffee and for Lissa to pick up the tab. They left quietly; there was a melancholy feeling they all shared in their silence. Outside, the weather matched their mood. The rain had let up enough to allow them to walk without getting drenched, but a light sprinkling continued. The air was warm and humid again. Finn could feel the barometric pressure in his ears, and it made it seem as though something in the atmosphere was getting ready to explode.

As the door closed behind them, they didn’t look back. If they had, they might have noticed the man settling his check at the table near the window, two over from their table. He was of average height and build, and the only things that stuck out about him were his black hair and eyes against his fair skin. He’d arrived just after them, and sat at the table by himself, casually listening in on every word of their conversation.