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“Honestly,” I told him, “I don’t really know. I’m just glad to be home.”
I decided I needed an answer to the question that had been bothering Mary Catherine and me for so long. I turned to my oldest son and said, “Where do you go all day?”
Brian closed the magazine and gave me a weak smile.
I said, “You can tell me, off the record if you want.” After an uncomfortable silence, I added, “I know about the bank withdrawals. I’m not trying to be nosy. I want the best for you. I’m here to help. Any way I can.” I hoped my voice wasn’t betraying the fear and desperation I was feeling. I really couldn’t imagine what Brian might say right now. And suddenly it occurred to me that it could be worse than anything I could dream of.
Brian sighed. He started slowly. “It was going to be a wedding gift.”
“Brian, we don’t need—”
He held up his hand. “No, Dad, it’s not like that.”
Now he had my full attention.
Brian said, “Remember when I said I was looking into air-conditioning repair?”
I didn’t. I probably heard him tell me and then put it down to one of those ideas kids talk about but never act on.
Brian said, “I didn’t make much of a plan at first, but then I signed up to finish my certification. I’ll be done in about three weeks. I’ve already got a job with a company that services office buildings in Manhattan.”
I had a lot of questions, but this was my son’s story to tell. I let him talk.
Brian said, “I heard people saying how trade school was better than college, so I looked at a few different trades, and air-conditioning repair seems to make the most sense. And I like it.”
If Brian expected me to give him a speech, he was wrong. All I did was turn and hug this young man who’d made me so proud.
As I sat there holding my son, I felt my eyes start to water. Then Brian started to cry. I finally felt like I had my son home again.
Chapter 101
The next day, I found myself standing in a crowd outside One Police Plaza. Harry Grissom had called me to tell me about the news conference. He said I didn’t have to be there. He also said if I did come, it would last only an hour at most. Though I didn’t see how that was likely once I heard the mayor start with “Once again our city is safe.”
I tuned him out, sorry I’d wasted my morning coming down here. Then I turned to my right and saw John Macy standing near me, sharply dressed in a dark suit with a red tie.
He faced me and said, “Detective, nice to see you. Too bad you couldn’t keep hold of your prisoner.”
“Too bad you couldn’t keep hold of confidential information,” I countered. “Your buddy Funcher dropped a hint that you have a tendency to overshare during happy hour. I asked around, and sure enough, the late Jeffrey Cedar was on the outer edge of your circle. You were the one who let slip to a copycat serial killer the detail about Ott’s signature of stabbing his victims in the eye. The detail we were withholding from the press. But you didn’t tell Cedar which eye. Ott is right-handed. And Cedar was left-handed. Which explains why Ott went for the left eye and Cedar for the right.”
As I turned away from him in disgust, I added, “How’re your balls feeling? The mayor is about to put them in a sling.” Harry Grissom had stepped up on the other side of me. Macy had a lot of questions to answer, and he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he did.
We listened as the mayor, the NYPD commissioner, and Robert Lincoln, assistant special agent in charge of the FBI in New York, all made comments about the arrest of Daniel Ott. There was no mention of him being a spy.
Harry Grissom leaned toward me and said, “Macy has been reassigned. He now reviews business licensing for anything that doesn’t relate to food or beverage.”
“Sounds like a slice of heaven.”
Harry chuckled. “I’ve still got friends who don’t put up with people screwing with the NYPD. But there is a catch.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. What sort of catch?”
Harry said, “There was no copycat killer. Receptionist Olivia Green was lying—not about Jeffrey Cedar but in her dealings with the IRS. In exchange for amnesty, she’ll say Cedar panicked after having a domestic dispute with his wife and died avoiding arrest. Daniel Ott takes the blame for all the murders. The mayor’s office prefers to calm public fears about two different killers loose in the city.”
“But none of it’s true.”
“Neither is Santa Claus, but people still believe,” Grissom said. “See you at the wedding.”
Chapter 102
