No. Reheema. Montgomery had killed her and made it look like a carjacking. Vicki gripped the bar for support.
The voice-over continued, "The dead man has been identified as David Montgomery of West Philadelphia."
What? Montgomery, dead?
"An eyewitness told police that the carjacking victim was the driver of the VW Cabrio, an unidentified woman, who was stopped at a stop sign when the man allegedly jumped from a car behind her, opened her car door, and attempted to forcibly remove her from her car, ultimately shooting her."
Reheema.
"The victim fired back, killing Montgomery with one shot. She has been taken to University of Pennsylvania Hospital, and police report that she suffered gunshot wounds to the stomach and is in critical condition."
Reheema, in critical condition.
The TV screen switched to a weather story, and Vicki watched numbly as a male announcer in a station-logo windbreaker stuck the clichéd yardstick into a snowbank. She felt stunned. Disoriented. Unhinged. The news seemed almost surreal, but the attack on Reheema was proof positive. The killer was Montgomery. Reheema had been shot and could die. Vicki should go to the hospital but she couldn't leave here, not the way she felt right now. She had something to do. She wasn't waiting another minute. Damn prudence, politics, and even Justice Holmes.
FORTY-SEVEN
Bale was talking to the office's PR lady, standing near the edge of the singing group, now led by Strauss, who was warbling "Tracks of My Tears" with the police commissioner and the mayor himself. The federal marshals formed a separate group, segueing into "Uncle John's Band," for an impromptu battle of the bands. Dan must have been somewhere in the center of the marshals group, because Vicki didn't see him. She made a beeline for Bale.
"I need to talk to you right now," Vicki whispered in his ear, curling her fingers around the sleeve of his tailored jacket.
"I didn't know you cared," Bale joked, liquor on his breath. He permitted Vicki to lead him out of the dining room and into the bar, which was still empty, and they stopped near the front door. Bale wavered slightly, clearly the result of rum and Coke. His brown eyes looked shiny, his skin greasy, and his white cutaway collar was uncharacteristically unbuttoned, with his silk tie hanging.
"Reheema Bristow was just shot by David Montgomery. She killed him."
"I don't understand." Bale blinked slowly, the effects of alcohol or bad acting.
"You're not that drunk, Chief. You know who David Montgomery is. You handed him the deal of the century. You forged Dan's and Strauss's names on the agreement to make it look kosher. And I can't believe this, even as I say it, but you sent Montgomery to kill Reheema. To finish the job he started with her mother."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Bale's gaze shifted nervously to the dining room, but he didn't seem outraged or even confused, which confirmed Vicki's worst suspicions.
"You were in Shayla Jackson's house a month ago. I have an eyewitness. It was late at night, in her living room, you and a white guy."
Bale's face fell abruptly, his forehead creased. He met Vicki's eye and his lips parted slightly; for the first time since Vicki had known him, he wasn't controlling the situation.
"Tell me what's going on, right now, Chief. The truth, or I'm taking you to the commissioner this minute."
"Hold on, it's not what you think, Vick. Come with me, I'll explain everything." Bale took her arm and, before she knew it, he was tugging her outside the restaurant and under the tiny roof over the entrance. Snow fell softly, and the back street was deserted, all the shops closed. Vicki worried for a minute that she wasn't safe, but the entire law enforcement community was on the other side of the door. Bale touched her arm gently. "Relax, Vick, it isn't what it looks like. Calm down."
"I can't calm down. Reheema was shot, Chief. Did you-"
"Okay, let me explain." Bale's expression was soft, his brown eyes urgent in the yellowish lights over the restaurant entrance. "I'm trusting you to keep this to yourself. It can all blow over, it's almost blown over already."
"What is? What are you saying?"
"Project Clean Sweep, remember? Strauss's push to get guns off the street. Started last year, before you came. Big success. I had a lotta pressure on me to get convictions. Pressure from Strauss, pressure from the media." Bale stepped closer, lowering his voice needlessly, and Vicki smelled the rum that was undoubtedly loosening his tongue. "You know the reports the gun dealers make, of the multiple purchasers. I took a little shortcut, paid some folks to say they knew the people on the reports and that they resold the guns. Reheema was on the list."
"You paid Jackson to frame Reheema?"
"Yeah," Bale admitted, his voice low.
"Chief." It was all Vicki could say.
"Oh come on, get real. You know they resold the guns. Why else they buying eight or nine semiautomatic weapons? Glock, Taurus, Ruger, Smith and Wesson? We knew they did it. We just couldn't prove it without the witness."
"Reheema didn't do it. She didn't-"
"She's the only one, and you know it. With the rest, it was going through the motions."
"The motions are due process." Vicki felt sickened and angry. "And where'd you get the money for this?"
"Don't ask too many questions, Vick. Take it from me, it's the government, there's money around."
"How many people did you do this to?"
"Let it lie, Vick, they're in prison now, and I'm about to get the big job. Play ball and it'll go away. It was a one-shot deal, I won't do it again." Bale's tone turned almost plaintive, as if the tables were turned, and Vicki were the chief and he the AUSA. "I learned my lesson, believe me, I did. This thing got way outta control."
Vicki couldn't believe her ears. "Chief, did you really send Montgomery to kill Reheema?"
"Look, I had to. I was exposed, with Bristow. She's got an attitude problem, that one, I heard from the way she mouthed off at the detention hearing. When Jackson got killed and the case against Bristow fell apart, I knew she wouldn't shut up."
"Chief, that's conspiracy to murder!"
"It wasn't all my fault. You got into it and you wouldn't let it go! This whole thing woulda gone away if you-"
"Murder doesn't go away!" Vicki interrupted, incredulous. "Montgomery murdered Reheema's mother! He tried to murder her! You can't get away with that!"
"Don't think of it that way, Vick. Just let it go. Montgomery's dead and gone, so I have no exposure. Let it go, and I'll take care of you."
"Let it go?" Vicki repeated, horrified.
Suddenly, the wooden door opened, and Angelo's bartender came out in a black knit cap and a Flyers jacket. He nodded to them both and walked up the street in the storm. Bale gestured her away from the entrance, and Vicki followed him to the next little overhang that covered the entrance of a low-rent jewelry store. The lights were off inside the store, and in the front window, a blue neon sign glowed, DIAMONDS BOUGHT AND SOLD. Velveteen display stands in the window stood empty, the diamonds gone.
Vicki tried to gather her thoughts, but they wouldn't gather, she was so appalled. "Chief, how can I just let it go? How can you?"
"Look, Montgomery was just insurance, in case another one blackmailed me. Everybody in the neighborhood knew him, he kept everyone in line. I swear, I didn't really think I'd have to use him."
"Another one?"
Bale ignored the question. "Come on, when I made the deal with Montgomery, I didn't know the case against Reheema would fall apart. I didn't know those kids would kill Jackson and Morty that night. How would I know that Browning didn't pay his bills? Like I say, it just got outta control."