He was standing there in the kitchen waiting for his coffee to be ready. He was a big man, six feet four, still straight and broad shouldered, though his brow was deeply furrowed now, his hair graying. He had the hugest hands Des had ever seen on any man. Had played first base in the Cleveland Indians organization for two years after high school before he met her mom and got serious. He took the state police exam back when they were looking for a few good black men. Rose steadily through the ranks to become the highest-ranking man of color in Connecticut history. He got there by being sober, honest and careful. He believed in obeying the rules. He believed that human emotions were a form of weakness that ought to be contained. That was why everyone on the job called him the Deacon. It was also why her mom had left him. “I have rediscovered laughter and joy,” she’d told Des at her wedding.
“How are you, Daddy?” she asked, kissing him on the forehead.
“Getting along. Surprised to see you here, Desiree.”
“Am I interrupting anything?”
“Not at all. I was just going to change into my work clothes and mow the lawn.” He took off his jacket and hung it on a kitchen chair. Poured each of them a cup of coffee, sat at the kitchen table and waited for her to say something.
She sat across from him and waited for him to say something. The two of them were so much alike it was scary. It certainly scared her. Because she did not want to end up like him-closed off, distant, alone.
“I like your hair this way,” he said to her finally. “Short.”
She nodded in response. She’d lopped off her dreads over a year ago but he still hadn’t gotten past his horror over them.
“How is your friend Mitch doing?” The Deacon actually liked Mitch, in spite of his pinkness. Thought he was a decent, kind-hearted man.
“Mitch is fine. Happy with his new job.”
“And how about Mr. Brandon Stokes of the US Attorney’s office?” he asked, curling his lip at her. Despite her ex’s Yale Law degree and chiseled ebony good looks, the Deacon had never been a fan. Thought that Brandon smelled like a no-good player. Which, hello, it turned out he was.
“I wouldn’t know, Daddy.” She sipped her coffee. “It seems there’s a lot I don’t know.”
“Such as…?”
“I had a murder last night.”
“I heard.”
“Unfortunately, I had a public altercation with the victim on Friday.”
“Heard that, too. Anything to it?”
“Nothing whatsoever. He was a drinker. He got out of hand. I dealt with him by the book and the witness statements will back me up. But that creep Richie Tedone just came sniffing around. Making all sorts of veiled threats about my future. It seems that I’m ‘standing on a precipice.’ Where do they even learn to talk like that?”
He lowered his eyes. “So it’s come to that, has it?”
“Richie so much as told me that my ‘predicament’ has something to do with you. Care to fill me in?”
The Deacon was not one for rash responses. He considered his answer for a long moment before he said, “Desiree, there’s no cause for you to be concerned about your future. It’s not your job they want-it’s mine.”
“Daddy, what are you talking about?”
“Superintendent Crowther intends to retire at the end of next year. The Brass City boys want one of their own in my slot so that he’ll be next in line to take over the whole operation. They’ve wanted my job for a long time. And now they’re trying to use you to get at me. That’s how they operate. I can guarantee you I’ll be getting a phone call about this from your Captain Richie Tedone very soon.”
“A phone call saying what?”
“That if I announce my retirement tomorrow they won’t proceed with an IA investigation into your behavior. They’ll even take a serious look at promoting you back to Major Crimes. Did he tell you there’s always room at the headmaster’s house for an effective team player?”
Des peered at him. “And if you don’t announce your retirement?”
“They’ll drag you through a full-frontal probe that will taint you for the remainder of your career-assuming you still have one by the time they’re done.”
“Daddy, those bastards have nothing on me, I swear.”
“I believe you, Desiree.”
“So tell them to go to hell.”
“Ordinarily, I would. Unfortunately, I’m in a somewhat vulnerable position myself right now.”
“You are? Why is that?”
He didn’t answer her. Just sat there in suffocating silence.
“Daddy, what’s going on?” she demanded.
“The vultures are circling, that’s what,” he answered at long last, staring down into his coffee mug. “Those Brass City boys swoop right in when they smell blood. Anyone who’s even the slightest threat to them ends up getting-”
“Wait, I’m still missing something here. Why do they smell blood?”
“I’m taking a brief medical leave,” he explained with a dismissive wave of his giant hand. “Incredibly minor matter. Some partial blockages in my pump that need rerouting. Just a simple plumbing job. But to them it’s a-”
“Hold on just one second.” Des’s pulse had begun to race, and her palms were suddenly all sweaty. “Are you… you’re having coronary bypass surgery?”
“At Yale-New Haven,” he acknowledged, nodding. “On Wednesday.”
“Which Wednesday?”
“This Wednesday.”
Des gaped at him in shock. “You’re having open-heart surgery this week and you don’t tell me? The Waterbury Mafia knows about it and your only daughter doesn’t? Jesus Christ, Daddy, how fucked up is that?”
“Watch your mouth, young lady.”
“Were you ever planning to tell me? Or were you just hoping I didn’t notice that you’d temporarily relocated your office to the
ICU?”
“I didn’t want you getting all hot and bothered,” he explained with maddening calm. “You’ve got your own life. I’ll be fine. Charlene’s coming in from Scranton.” His widowed older sister. “She’ll stay with me when I get home. Honestly, it’s nothing to worry about. Minor surgery, like I said.”
“Damn it, Daddy, there’s no such thing as minor open-heart surgery!”
He didn’t respond. Just sat there drinking his coffee in self-contained silence. Des wanted to shoot him.
“Does Mom know?”
“No,” he answered sharply. “And I’d rather she didn’t, understood?”
“No, but okay.”
“I won’t be on the shelf for very long. The doctor said I’m looking at four to six weeks of rehab. Should be good as new after that. But in the meantime…”
“The vultures are circling.”
“They are indeed. And, who knows, maybe they’re right. Maybe this is my time to go. I can teach a class or two at the academy. Write training manuals. I’ve got a good pension coming. The house is paid for. Part of me thinks I ought to step down and enjoy life a little. Except for one minor detail.”
“Which is…?”
“Those bastards are not going to use you to drive me out. That will never, ever happen. I’ve put in thirty-two years on this job. I’ll go when I’m good and ready-and not a minute sooner. I deserve that right. I’ve earned it.” He got up and refilled their cups, his gaze softening slightly. “I’m just sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I gave them an opening.”
“No, you didn’t. If it hadn’t been this Augie Donatelli business they’d have made up something else. Is your ex-sergeant, little Rico, mixed up in this?”
“Hard to say. His wife’s about to give birth to their first child.”
“Just what the world needs-more Tedones.”
“I do know that he’s very loyal to them.”
“They’re loyal to each other. They understand loyalty. Hell, they prey on it. That’s why they know I can’t let you go down.”
“They know squat. Listen, there’s a really easy way to make this whole thing go away. They can have my damned job, okay? I’ll quit.”
“You will not,” he growled. “You have your whole career ahead of you. Mine’s behind me.”