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“I’ll let you know afterward—if I’m right.” Monty leveled a steady gaze at Charlie. “You didn’t happen to work with Jack Winter on the witness list for that case, did you?”
“No. Nor did I know the identities of any of his informers.” Charlie bristled. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, but if it’s to put the screws into me because you think I know something, don’t bother. I don’t know anything. I was a newbie. There’s not a chance I’d be privy to such high-level restricted info.”
“But you stuck close to Jack Winter. He thought a lot of you. You were his protégé.”
“So?”
Monty leaned forward. “So you’re hiding something. My guess is it’s either something personal about Jack, or something that’s a potential political nightmare. Which is it?”
Charlie stood up. “This conversation’s over. Whatever it is you think you have on me, run with it. You’ll only come up empty.”
“If you’re so sure of that, why did you take the bait on my shock and awe? Why’d you show up?”
No reply.
“Sit down, Denton,” Monty stated flatly. He walked around to the fridge, pulled out two bottles of water, and tossed one to Charlie. Twisting open his own bottle, he took a long, deep swallow, then regarded Charlie intently.
“First, I’m not accusing you of anything except maybe a misplaced sense of loyalty, at least where it comes to the powers that be.” A shrug. “Then again, who am I to judge? I thumbed my nose at the powers that be, and they had a party the day I retired. So drink some water and relax.”
With obvious ambivalence, Charlie lowered himself back into the chair. “You’re right. I walk the straight and narrow. That doesn’t mean my loyalties are as black-and-white as you’re implying.”
“I hear you.” Another gulp of water. “Okay then, here it is. I’m not a cop anymore. I’m not part of a pissing match between the NYPD and t
he D.A.’s office. I’m also not trying to screw you out of a promotion or nail you for something you didn’t do. Like I said, my sources say you’re honest. So do my instincts. My agenda’s simple: I just want to figure out who killed Morgan’s parents. I think you want the same thing. You’re obviously wrestling with something. I think it’s about Jack Winter, not his office. Tell me what you know so I can help.”
Charlie stared at his unopened bottle for a moment. Then he twisted off the cap, sinking back into the chair as he drank. “I don’t know anything,” he declared after a few reviving gulps. “But I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Neither do I.”
Another prolonged silence. “I’ve played this back in my head a hundred times. There’s nothing there but circumstantial events and supposition.”
“Go on.”
“You’re right. It’s about Jack. He wasn’t himself those last few weeks. He was moody and short-fused. Something was obviously eating at him.”
“One of his cases?”
“Uh-uh.” Charlie shook his head. “He was a bulldozer about nailing the accused, but he wasn’t the type to transfer that sharp edge to the junior staff. Besides, this wasn’t about work. I know, because I heard him on the phone—not once, but several times. He was behind closed doors, but my cubicle was near his office. I could make out his tone, and I picked up a word here and there. The conversations weren’t pleasant. They were deep, heated—and personal. He was upset when he hung up. I could hear him pacing, flinging files around. When he came out, he looked like hell.”
“Do you know who he was arguing with?”
“His wife.”
That was one Monty hadn’t expected. “Lara? You’re sure?”
“Yes. He said her name enough times. Plus, the last argument was in person. She came to the office. She looked as upset as he sounded. Again, I didn’t hear specifics; Jack shut the door. But judging from their tones, it was serious. Lara was crying when she left. And I heard Jack tell her something about principles having to trump personal feelings, no matter how deep those feelings ran.”
“Interesting.” Monty pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Do you think they were having marital problems?”
“It’s possible. I’m just not sure. All I can say for certain is that there was definite friction between them, and that they were coming from different places about the way something should be handled. It was a major issue. Whether it was their marriage, or something else, I have no idea.”
“But whatever it was, it was something they felt passionately about. Which means that if it wasn’t personal, it was something professional with a personal impact.”
“Like?”
“Like a high-risk case that made Lara afraid for her husband.”
The bottle of water paused halfway to Charlie’s mouth. “You’re talking about the Angelo case again.”
