"I spoke to your father-in-law a little while ago," he said, after her quiet murmuring of thanks.
"I spoke to him this morning, too," Abby told him.
She had. She hadn't wanted to but Justin insisted. She did her best to explain that Herbert Harmon would not want to hear from her, had never in his life wanted to hear from her, but Justin said very quietly that Herbert Harmon had also never lost a son before. He said that it was her responsibility to call him. She was as close to a child as he had left. So she called, reached him at his apartment in the city. She spoke to him from Justin's bedroom while he remained downstairs to give her some privacy. When she came down the steps, she was crying. Justin had never seen Abby cry before. He'd seen her angry and peaceful and bitchy and happy, but he'd never seen anyone come close to wounding her the way H. R. Harmon had in a five-minute phone call.
"He's very concerned about you," Silverbush said. "I assured him we'd do everything we could to help you get through this… situation. And I assured him, as I will now assure you, we will find the person who did this to your husband. You have my word on that."
"Did my father-in-law tell you that he already knows who's responsible for my husband's murder?" Abby asked.
This threw Silverbush. Justin tucked away in his mind the fact that this man didn't have much of a poker face. The best the DA could come up with in response to Abby's information was, "Um… no, he… um… didn't say anything like that."
"I'm surprised. He's convinced I did it."
"I'm sure you're incorrect about that, Mrs. Harmon."
"That's what he told me this morning."
Silverbush was definitely rattled, although he now did his best to hide it. A little late for the poker face, but at least he recovered for the betting round. "I assure you," he said, "the senator never mentioned anything remotely like that."
"It's funny. Everyone calls him that-the senator. But my esteemed father-in-law only ran for the Senate. He never actually won, so it's not really the proper reference. Well, maybe it's not really so funny. More pathetic."
This seemed to push the DA into a deeper state of confusion. The newly widowed Mrs. Harmon was being neither difficult nor cooperative. Those were the only two types of behavior that Silverbush knew exactly how to deal with. So, not on firm footing, he fell back on what he knew best: legal officiousness.
"There was no discussion at all about your involvement." Silverbush spoke as if he were talking about a parking ticket.
"My father-in-law blames me for almost everything bad that has ever happened to the Harmon family," Abby said. "And this morning, he made it very clear that this was no exception."
"I'm sure he was just upset."
"Have you ever met H. R. Harmon, Mr. Silverbush?"
"I have, as a matter of fact. At several charity dinners and fund-raisers."
"Then you know that he spent almost his entire life learning what to say and when or when not to say it."
"I don't really know him that well," Silverbush said.
"You will by the time this investigation is over. And if you want some advice, believe him whenever he makes a threat. Any other time, take things with a grain of salt."
Silverbush had exhausted his patience. He'd paid his respects to the powerful family as best he could; now it was time to move on. Justin was impressed by the man's ability to stick to his agenda while still maintaining a high level of obsequiousness. "We'll be investigating every possible angle," he said. "I promise you we will have a satisfactory outcome for both you and your father-in-law." Now he turned to Justin. "I assume you've prepared an initial report."
"Preliminary," Justin said, looking down at the folder clasped in his right hand. "I'm waiting for the ME's report and a summary from Southampton CSU."
"I can still start with that. Do you have anything at all to go on yet?"
"I have a few thoughts after seeing the crime scene. And I spent the entire night preparing for the investigation. The first few steps are outlined in the report. Once we're done here, I'll be going to the city to talk to people who worked with Mrs. Harmon's husband. And I'm hoping to see Evan's father while I'm there."
"That won't be necessary. Mr. Harmon will be coming here. This afternoon."
Abby spoke up now, surprised. "To East End Harbor?"
Silverbush nodded. "He wants to see his son's body. He's already on his way."
Abby said, "Jesus," and after that there was an uncomfortable silence in the room until Leona Krill spoke up for the first time.
"Larry," she said, "from what Justin has told me, that might not be a good idea." Leona looked at the woman sitting next to her, said, "I'm sorry, Abigail," then turned back to Silverbush and finished. "Apparently Evan was greatly disfigured."
"H. R. won't be seeing his son," Abby said quietly. "He won't be seeing anything that even looks human."
"I understand," the DA said. "I suggested that might be the case, but…"
He didn't finish the sentence, so Abby finished it for him. "But H. R. didn't take the suggestion."
"I'm afraid not." Silverbush inhaled deeply, said to Abby, "Are there any questions you have about what we're going to be doing?"
She shook her head.
"Anything you need, I'm available twenty-four seven." The DA then handed her his card, which she accepted with a nod. "I appreciate your coming to meet with me," Silverbush went on. "I know how difficult this must be. But I want you to know that Chief Westwood has an excellent reputation. We've never worked together, but I have the highest confidence in his abilities. I hope you'll be as cooperative with him as possible."
"I don't think I could be any more cooperative with Chief Westwood," Abby said and smiled for the first time in the meeting. Justin made a point of not smiling.
"Excellent," Silverbush finished. "I'll have someone drive you home."
"I'm not staying at home," she told him.
"Of course. Understandable. Just tell my driver where you're going and he'll be glad to take you."
"I'd rather walk, if you don't mind," she said. "It's not very far and I need the air."
"By all means," Silverbush said. Then he turned to Justin and Leona and said, "I'd like to talk to you both before we disband."
When Abby was out of the station, Larry Silverbush spoke quietly to Justin, although he never glanced in his direction while his lips were moving. "You do know how fucking important this is?"
"It's a murder," Justin said. "On a scale of one to ten, pretty high."
"I don't need any smart-ass shit. This isn't just a murder."
"Oh, that's right. It's a high-profile murder that'll get you lots of headlines."
"I know about you, Westwood."
"My excellent reputation, you mean?"
"Believe me, I fucking know all about you."
Leona reached over and put her hand on Silverbush's arm. "Larry, I don't know what you've heard, but Jay is a superb-"
He didn't let her hand rest on him for more than a moment, immediately shaking it away and cutting off her words. "I know how superb he is. I also know what an asshole he can be."
Justin shrugged, as if he'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "Nobody's perfect," he said.
"Look," Silverbush said, "I really don't want this to get nasty. But I want you to understand I know what you're capable of, good and bad. I know the way you work. I know the trouble you've been in and the trouble you've caused in the past. This is an important case. It's highly visible, the media's going to be all over it in about five minutes, and it's got political ramifications."
"For you, you mean."
"Fuck yes, for me." He turned to face Leona. "And for you. It ain't like you're mayor of New York City, Ms. Krill, but I'm sure you like what you do. Running a cute, little town like East End has its perks. You're already on thinning ice thanks to your choice of sexual partners." She started to interrupt, but he barged ahead without letting her speak. "Hey, I couldn't give a shit who or what you're banging. But some voters do, so you better make it up to 'em by making sure we find out who killed Evan Harmon. You're in charge of the police department. This drags on, nothing gets solved, you look foolish, incompetent. Out here you can get away with being a dyke, but a dyke who can't get the job done, that doesn't fly. Am I right?"