"When she grows up. If she ever does."
He gripped the steering wheel, staring ahead in frustration. "If I only knew what I did wrong…"
"Some kids are just born angry. In Maeve's case, my guess is she's angry at her real father. But he's not around to scream at, so she takes it out on you. Nothing you do is right. You exert a little control, and you're a tyrant. You try to set limits, she smashes them." M. J. reached over and touched his knee. "You did the best you could."
"It wasn't enough."
"Adam," she said gently, "it never is."
He drove in silence, his troubled gaze focused on the road. How quickly he accepted the blame, she thought. As if Maeve had no responsibility for her own life, her own mess.
"She did clear up a few things," said M. J. "In fact, she cleared up a lot. Esterhaus was the source. He stole the Zestron and passed the drug to Nicos for a delivery. Nicos must have kept some for his own use. That's how it got into the Projects."
"A delivery? To whom?"
"Maeve didn't say. But you know who she says is behind it all?" M. J. laughed. "The city elite, unspecified. Meaning all the creeps in power. She figures they're distributing the drug in order to clean the trash off the streets."
"I hate to admit it, but she's got the city elite pegged just about right."
M. J. glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "But systematically pushing poison? To clean the riffraff from Albion? That's a big leap." She gazed out at the numbing landscape of abandoned buildings, shattered windows. "Still, I admit the same thought did cross my mind a few days back. But that's paranoia for you. Conspiracies are seductive…" She paused. "By the way. Did you know Esterhaus was arrested a year ago? Possession of marijuana plants."
"No, I was never informed."
"Somehow it stayed off his record, and he walked."
"Maybe the feds stepped in to protect their old witness. Had him released."
There was a silence. Quietly Adam said, "What if it wasn't the feds?"
"Come again?"
"What if he made, say, other arrangements to avoid the charges?"
"You mean… bribery?"
"He had access to an inexhaustible supply of narcotics. At Cygnus. That's a pretty persuasive bribe."
"So he cuts a deal. With a judge. Or…"
"The police," Adam finished for her.
They were back on the old conspiracy kick, but it was hard to let it go. Esterhaus's death had been an apparent execution. She thought of what Maeve said-that Esterhaus was being pressured to steal the Zestron and deliver it somewhere. The bombing of her house had been a professional job. She thought about all the doors that had slammed in her face when she'd tried to publicize the overdose victims. The powers that be in Albion had systematically shrugged off the deaths of those three junkies in South Lexington.
Shrugged off? Or covered up?
"Head downtown," she suddenly said.
"Why?"
"We're going to City Hall. I want to see Ed."
Adam turned onto the downtown exit. "Why?"
"Force of habit-I like to torment him. Plus, he might get us the information we need. Namely, which cop arrested Esterhaus-and then let him go. And what else the said cop has been involved in."
"Would Ed know that?"
"He has a direct pipeline into Police Internal Affairs. If there's a crooked cop involved, they might have a file on him."
"Unless they're all crooked."
"Please," she groaned. "Don't even mention the possibility."
City Hall had been turned into a media circus. Banners were everywere: Mayor Sampson Presents the Albion Bicentennial, 200 Years of Vision, Albion: looking toward the third century. In the hall was posted a map of Friday's two-mile parade route. Anyone who bothered to study that map would see that the parade didn't even go anywhere near Albion's center, but skirted around it, along the northern city limits, thereby avoiding the South Lexington district entirely.
Ed was in his office, barricaded by a fortress of papers. Campaign posters were plastered across the wall behind him. A picture of a kid serenely skipping rope caught M. J.'s eye: "Albion. Safe, and getting safer." For whom? she felt like asking.
Ed, as usual, did not look happy to see her. "I haven't got a lot of time, okay?" he grumbled as M. J. and Adam settled into chairs. "This bicentennial thing is turning into a disaster. The weatherman says rain. Three high school bands have dropped out because of sniper rumors. And now the cops say they can't guarantee crowd control."
"Yep, that's our town," said M. J. sweetly. "Safe, and getting safer."
"What you do want?" snapped Ed.
"Some service for my tax dollars, Mr. DA."
He sighed. "This isn't about the drug ODs again, is it?"
"Peripherally. By now, you've heard about my exploding house. And the dead Cygnus researcher."
"That was a paid hit, Miami mob. At least, that's what the cops tell me."
"The cops also say Esterhaus stole the drug from Cygnus and bombed my house to stop me from asking too many questions."
Ed laughed. "I can think of a lot of reasons to bomb your house."
"But that theory strikes us as too simple," said Adam. "Blame all those acts on a dead man. Esterhaus kept his nose clean for years. He had only one arrest-a year ago, for growing marijuana."
"I didn't hear about that," said Ed.
"He wasn't charged. It appears he was rather quickly released. We want to know who made the arrest."
"Why?"
"Pot growing's an open-and-shut case," said M. J. "Find the plants, you've got your conviction. Now, why go to the trouble of arresting someone, and then let him walk without charges?"
"The decision could've been made on a number of levels."
"We want to know the street level," said M. J. "The name of the cop."
"Yeah? What else do you want?"
"We want to know if Esterhaus might have offered this cop a bribe. Whether this particular cop suddenly found some new… prosperity. Check with Internal Affairs, see if there's a file."
"There may not be."
"Then just the name, Ed. Get me that."
Ed shook his head. "You're just fishing, M. J. You've got nothing."
"I've got an empty lot where my house used to be."
"And I've got a dead researcher," said Adam.
Ed leaned back. "So you're both fishing, huh?"
"You should be too," said Adam. "It's part of your job, Mr. DA."
"And he's a terrific one, too," said a voice from the doorway. They turned to see Mayor Sampson, looking dapper in a three-piece suit. He strolled into the office and, like any good politician, reached out to pump Adam's hand. "Mr. Quantrell, good to see you again. Coming to the bicentennial ball, aren't you?"
"I hadn't made plans."
"But I thought Isabel reserved two inner-circle tickets."
"She didn't mention them to me."
Sampson glanced at M. J. and she saw the look of dislike on his face, quickly smothered by a smile. "Keeping busy, Dr. Novak?" he asked.
"Too busy," grumbled Ed.
"Oh, Lord. Not those junkies again?" Sampson gave M. J. an indulgent pat on the shoulder, the sort of gesture she resented. "You are taking this case entirely too personally."
"Yeah. It got real personal when my house blew up."
"But Ed is right on top of things," said Sampson. "Aren't you?"
"Absolutely."
"Now, isn't it time we got moving?" asked Sampson.
"Huh?" Ed glanced at his watch. "Oh, yeah. Gotta go, M. J. Parade committee."
They all walked out of the office together. In the hall, Ed raised an arm, a gesture that could've meant either goodbye or good riddance, and headed off with the mayor. M. J. watched the two men disappear around the corner and then snorted in disgust. "Our tax dollars, hard at work. I'll be glad when this damn bicentennial is over."