Lily thought it over, staring at him. "That's…"
"Bizarre. I agree. And of course, there're other possibilities, too."
"That it's me?" She smiled a small and frosty smile.
"Yeah." Lucas nodded. "That's one of them."
"And what do you think?"
He shook his head. "It's not you, so…"
"How do you know it's not me?" she asked.
"Same way I know it's not Fell-I've seen you operate."
"Thanks for that," Lily said.
"Yeah… which brings us to the last possibility."
"O'Dell?"
"O'Dell. He has access to everything he needs to organize the group. He knows everybody on the force, and he probably could pick out likely candidates for his hit teams. He has the computer files to pick out the assholes, and to set up Fell as an alarm…"
"There's a hole," Lily said quickly. "He's so high up he wouldn't need an alarm…"
"Internal Affairs-he might not know about Internal Affairs investigations."
She bit her lip. "Okay. Go ahead."
"Since Petty was a computer maven too, maybe computers led him to O'Dell. Whatever it was, for whatever reason Petty got hit, O'Dell was right there to manage the investigation. Kept it out of Internal Affairs…"
"Said it was too political," Lily said thoughtfully.
"Yeah. Then he pulls me into it, produces Fell, and he puts me up against Kennett. And you know what? Fell and Kennett are all I've got-all that paper you gave me, the regular investigation, the reports. It's all bullshit. It's all a stone wall. It looks impressive, but there's nothing in it."
"Why would O'Dell pick on Kennett?"
"Because Kennett's going to die," Lucas said bluntly. "Suppose he gets everything pointed at Kennett, and then Kennett… dies. Natural causes, a heart attack. If there was an agreement that Kennett was it, the investigation would die and the real organizer would be clear."
Lily, pale as notebook paper: "He couldn't have… I don't think."
"Why not?"
"I don't think… I don't think he's brave enough. Physically. He'd be thinking about prison."
"That all depends on how he's set it up. Maybe his shooters don't know him."
"Yeah, but remember-if O'Dell is it, he wouldn't have to give you Fell. If Fell's an alarm, I mean, he'd know what you were here for."
"Yeah. And he'd know that Fell would get me exactly where she has: nowhere. And at the same time, lend a touch of truth to the whole business. Fell did know all those dead guys. Besides, with Petty talking to both of you, and Fell popping out of the computer, there was no way to get her back inside…"
"Maybe," she said.
"How'd you meet Kennett?" Lucas asked abruptly.
"In the intraconference meetings."
"As O'Dell's assistant?"
"Yes."
"Did O'Dell feed you to him?" Lucas asked.
"Jesus, Lucas," she said.
"Did he? I mean, he knows both of you. Could he have figured…"
"I don't know. They don't like each other, you know." Lily stood and turned in place, like a dog trying to make a bed more comfortable. "You know, you've put this whole tissue together without a single goddamned fact…"
"I've got one interesting, surprising, generally unknown fact," he said; and it was his turn to produce a wintry smile.
"What?"
"I know that O'Dell's trying to frame Kennett. I know that for sure. The question is, is he doing it because Kennett's guilty and it's the only way to get him? Or because he's looking for a scapegoat?"
"Bullshit," she said, but he could see the shock in her eyes.
"I found Red Reed in Charleston, South Carolina," he said. "He's a friend of O'Dell's, from Columbia…"
And then he told her most of the rest of it, except for the curious thing Mrs. Logan had said, when they interviewed her in the apartment below Petty's.
CHAPTER
24
Lily listened as Lucas called Fell, watched his face, watched him smiling, turning away, setting up a date. Lucas left, hurrying, and she stood at the window with her purse, watching him. He flagged a cab, and just before he got in, looked up and saw, pointed at her purse, waved.
Then he was gone.
She walked through the apartment, touching things, with the sense of something ending, with a sense of dread.
Kennett? No. But O'Dell was unthinkable too. Could O'Dell have coldly executed his own man…
Finally, she picked up the phone and punched in the number for Kennett's boat. He picked it up and said, "Lily."
Pleased, she said, "How'd you know it was me?"
"I think it might be love," he said. "Are you feeling lonely?"
"You're reading my mind."
"The river's beautiful tonight…"
The river was quiet, smelling of mud and oil and salt. Halyard hardware tinkled against the aluminum masts. A late-night squall was rolling off the coast far to the northeast, and they could see the lightning in the sky far beyond the lights of Manhattan.
As Lily and Kennett made love, she had a moment of absolute clarity, could hear the Crash Test Dummies' song "Superman" roll mournfully out of a nearby boat, muted by the ten thousand unidentifiable cheeps and knocks of the marina.
Later, in the cockpit…
"Jesus, I'm sitting here bullshitting and you're sitting there crying," Kennett said quietly. He reached across and thumbed a tear off her cheek. "What's all this about?"
"I was just looking across the river, thinking how pretty it was, how good it feels. Then I thought about Walt, about how he'd never see it again."
"Petty?"
"Yeah. God damn it."
"The guy has a strange hold on you, m'dear," Kennett said, trying to keep his voice light: an invitation to talk.
"You know why?" she asked, taking up the invitation.
"Why?"
"Because we were so goddamn mean to him, that's why. Us girls, in school. Lucas got me thinking about it…"
"It's hard to see you as mean," Kennett said.
"I didn't think about it at the time. The thing about Walt was, he'd do anything for you. He was always so eager. And when we were in school-and even after that, on the force-we paid him back by laughing about the way he dressed, and the way he acted, and all those pens he used to carry around. We made him be a clown and he wasn't a clown; but whenever he tried to be serious, we wouldn't let him. We hurt him. That's what I was thinking about, the times I know we hurt him-girls, in high school-that hurt look on his face when he'd try to do something, try an approach and we'd laugh in his face. He never really understood… Oh, God."
Suddenly, she was sobbing and Kennett patted her on the back, helplessly. "Jesus, Lily…"
A moment later she said, her voice clearing, "You're a Catholic. Do you believe in visions? You know, like the Virgin Mary and all of that, talking to shepherds?"
"I'd want to see it myself," Kennett said wryly.
"The thing is, I keep seeing Petty…" She laughed, a short, sad laugh, and poked him. "No, no, no, I don't see him floating around my room, I see him in my mind…"
"Whew."
"But the thing is, it's so clear. Walt running down the street, and his hair plastered down and his ears sticking out… Jesus Christ. Walt was the only guy who ever loved me and didn't want anything from me. No sex, no kids, no favors, just me being there and he was happy."
Kennett found nothing to say, and they sat there, their feet up, watching the dark river. After a while, Lily began to cry again.
CHAPTER
25
Lucas called Fell from Lily's, apologizing for the late hour.
"I was going down to the tavern," she said. "Why don't you meet me…"
He flagged a cab, Lily watching from her window, smiling down at him. He waved, and she lifted her purse in her left hand, slipped her right inside the gun tote. Remember the last time?
At the tavern, Lucas pulled a twenty out of his Muskies Inc. money clip and tipped the driver two dollars for the eight-dollar ride. Fell was in the back booth, a beer on the table with a bowl of peanuts. She was reading a free newspaper.