The Polish Triangle: A Jody Brae Mystery (Port of Boston Crime Series Book 3) by Jonathan Cullen

Author:Jonathan Cullen [Cullen, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liquid Mind Publsihing
Published: 2022-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

When Egersheim finally got to work, Harrigan and I had been waiting for half an hour. Dressed in casual pants and a cardigan sweater, I knew the captain had an afternoon tee time, and he played golf almost every Friday. I didn’t mind that he had hobbies, something I wished I had more of, but it was a level of professional moderation I wasn’t used to. In thirty years, Captain Jackson had never missed a day of work. His only interests were trout fishing at his cottage in Maine, where he went twice a year, and a daily walk in Boston Common.

“Detectives,” Egersheim said. “The State Police arrested Leslie Lavoie yesterday near Smith College.”

“Smith College?”

“Northampton,” Harrigan said.

“Ah, out west.”

They both grinned. I didn’t mean to be sarcastic, but to me, any part of the state past Greater Boston was the frontier.

“She’s at Charles Street Jail. The female wing,” he said.

“What do we have her on?”

“Accessory.”

“Just accessory?”

“Even if the feds push for felony murder, she probably won’t do much time. You know how judges are…”

The remark was cynical but accurate. While women had made a lot of gains since I was a kid, they were still coddled in many areas of society, often to their advantage.

“If you could pull all your case notes together,” he added. “Get them over to Marcus and Shine.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. The case is going to federal court. We’re done, boys.”

He wiped his hands as if to emphasize it. I hadn’t seen him so excited since he was asked to speak at the Patrolman’s Association dinner. Kagan’s arrest was a relief for everyone, and I understood why Chief McNamara was eager to see a quick conviction. But there were too many inconsistencies, too many unanswered questions. Harrigan and I may not have been the only ones with doubts, but we were the only ones in a position to make them known.

“Sir,” I said, hesitantly. “We’ve got a possible missing person.”

He was organizing his files, face down and only half-listening.

“Um, send it down to the second floor.”

I glanced over to Harrigan for encouragement, and he nodded.

“It’s the witness,” I said. “The girl.”

Egersheim looked up—I knew I had his attention.

“What girl? There are dozens of witnesses.”

It wasn’t really true. Dozens of people were questioned, but they were mostly pedestrians who had heard the shot or seen the car speed away.

“The girl who saw the suspects. She was questioned by the feds, but they let her go.”

“Then they must have had good reason.”

“I don’t believe so, sir,” I said.

The room filled with a quiet tension. When his brow furrowed in thought, I couldn’t tell if it was out of genuine interest or an attempt to appease me. But even if he, like the administration, wanted to close the investigation, it was a coincidence that couldn’t be ignored.

“Who reported this?” he asked.

“The girl’s mother. She’s our babysitter.”

Crossing his arms, he leaned back in the chair.

“You think it might be related?”

I could have talked about my gut, my instincts, and all the other intangibles that came with almost twenty years on the force.

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