When One Man Dies (20 page)

When he was gone, Russell said, “I want to make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“This goes to trial and he has all that evidence, discrediting a cop is going to be all we have. And even though Martin has a bit of a history, even though he is a dirty cop, you’re going to go to jail. You’ve shot someone before.”

“I was cleared of that.”

“It’s part of a case history. I want to make a deal. But this may hurt. You got into Rutgers, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You might need the degree.” I listened to what he had to say.

***

Martin came back in. I didn’t like where this was going, but Russell was right. This deal might be my only way to stay out of jail.

“I want to make a deal,” Russell said.

“What do I look like, the DA? You’re going to have to wait for the arraignment and prosecutor for that.” Martin was drinking coffee now. The guy didn’t look tired at all, but he did need a shave.

“This deal is between you and my client. He told me you said you would have kept him out of jail if he had talked eight hours ago.”

“I didn’t see him eight hours ago.”

“Cut the act, Martin. You’re going to like this deal.” Martin took a sip of coffee.

“My client will agree to give up his private investigator’s license if you drop the charges,” Russell said.

“I’m not authorized to make a deal.”

“You are if you drop the charges. It doesn’t have to be official.” Martin took a sip of coffee.

“That’s the deal. You’ll never have to deal with him again.”

“Yeah? And what’s he going to do for a living?”

Russell looked at me. “He’s going back to school.”

I thought coffee was going to come out of Martin’s nose. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “I’ll call the insurance company who bonds you. Tell them to pull your bond, that way we don’t have to go through the courts. I can force them to take it away, but it takes time. I’ll have to talk to the DA as well.”

My stomach ached, not really sure this was going on. I was going to lose my livelihood.

“But you’ll let him out, drop the charges?” Russell asked. “Hold on,” Martin said, excusing himself from the room.

I thought I was going to vomit. The McDonald’s from earlier rolled around like a medicine ball.

Russell put his hand on my shoulder. “This is the only way,” he said. “You’d be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

I nodded. Applying to Rutgers was supposed to help me find direction in my life. To get away from all the blood and violence. From Bill Martin and the narc squad to Jeanne’s death to Josh and Maurice, violence permeated my life. I didn’t want to go down this way, there was too much still unresolved. But Lester Russell was right. There was nothing I could do.

At this point, I’d probably have to work my way through college at a supermarket.

Martin came back in with my things: my wallet, my keys, my cell phone, and my watch. He unlocked the handcuff and pushed my belongings toward me. I put my watch on first.

As I was picking up my wallet, he said, “Is your license in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me see it.”

Martin held his hand out. Russell nodded at me. I pulled the license, a small laminated piece of paper like a driver’s license, and handed it to Martin.

Martin took out a Swiss Army knife and opened the scissors. He smiled at me, enjoying this all too much. “Just in case you get any crazy ideas before we can get this officially revoked,” he said.

He snipped the license in half. And then in quarters. The smile never left his face.

I put my wallet away and didn’t say a word.

Martin dropped the scraps into a trash can and stood up. He held the door to the interrogation room open. “You guys are free to go.”

“Have a nice night, kid. Don’t dream too much.” As I walked past him, the smile still plastered to his face, he said, “Oh, one more thing.”

I turned, unable to ignore him. In retrospect, I should have, but there was something about his voice. Serious, compelling.

“I thought now would be the perfect time to tell you. Remember what I said the last time we talked, kid? That one day I’d blow your mind?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “When you and Jeanne were on that break. When you were hanging around that cokehead from the bar, Jeanne had no one to turn to.”

No.

“Except for the detective who once saved her life. Her boyfriend’s old partner.”

Not possible.

“Jeanne and I used to fuck every night while you were out getting high and sleeping with whores.”

My legs went numb and I had to catch myself on the wall to keep from going to my knees. Static raged in my ears, and my vision clouded.

I balanced myself and looked at Martin. His eyes glittered as he watched me.

“You liar!” I lurched toward Martin.

Martin stepped in and hit me with a right to the stomach.

Two uniformed cops burst through the door and grabbed me, pulling me off the ground.

“You son of a bitch! You were my partner!”

“Let go of him!” Lester screamed.

Martin turned and called to another uniform. The uniform nodded and took the lawyer out of the room—not forcefully—shutting the door behind him.

The other two cops pressed me against the wall. I struggled against them. Tears stung my eyes.

Martin stepped in close, right up near my ear.

“You dare bring up that I was your partner?” he said. “That boat sailed away the moment you decided to put half the department on trial. I don’t owe you anything.”

I spit words through clenched teeth. “I kept your name out of it for a reason.”

“No loyalty, asshole. You showed none to your teammates, I show nothing to you.”

I tried once again to tear myself away from the cops. Martin hit me in the gut again. I went down to a knee as the air rushed from my lungs.

“You took everything from me,” Martin said. “My job, my livelihood. And I had Jeanne. I loved her, too, you know. And she went back to you. All you had to do was go through rehab, clean your act up. I was clean! I could have given her everything! And she still went back to you.”

“She . . . didn’t . . . love you.”

“She did. She would have come back to me. If that car—” Martin crouched, like he had to regain his balance. “Goddamn it.”

“You liar! It’s not true!”

Martin moved in close again. “She had a mole on the inside of her left thigh. It was small, barely noticeable, but she was self-conscious about it, wasn’t she? Didn’t want anyone to touch it. I told her it made her who she was. She was beautiful.”

“You bastard,” I tried, but didn’t say it with much force. I could see the mole in my mind’s eye.

Standing back up, Bill Martin put his hands in his pockets. “Isn’t it funny, Jackson, what can happen when one man dies?”

I struggled to look him in the eye. Every nerve in my body screamed to just ignore him. He was lying. He had to be.

“Your friend kicks the bucket and your life goes to hell. And me?” Martin chuckled. “Man, I’m really starting to feel good about myself again. Get him out of here. Give him to his lawyer.”

The cops dragged me to my feet and started to escort me out of the interrogation room.

“Wait,” Martin said. “On second thought, book him. Put him away.”

I went without putting up a fight. I couldn’t. My entire body was numb.

Chapter 34

Bill Martin didn’t think about Jeanne often anymore. But now memories of her were everywhere. He could sense her scent, that floral perfume she wore. He heard the lilt of her laugh, saw that half smile.

She said she loved him and Martin had believed her. It was a relationship that shouldn’t have worked, but when they were together, they clicked. Everything was right.

Jeanne Baker took Bill Martin’s mind off the job.

He exited the interrogation room in search of coffee. He thought about going outside for a smoke. Despite bringing up his own past demons, he felt good. It was time to celebrate.

Jackson Donne was finished.

Heading out the front door, he pulled a cigarette from the pack, smiling.

Chapter 35

I spent the night in a holding cell. I didn’t sleep. I sat on the metal cot counting the bricks in the wall.

And thinking about Jeanne.

I imagined her with me, smiling over drinks, laughing at some dumb joke, kissing me on the cheek before going to class. And then I thought of Martin. Pictured his arm around her, paying for her dinner, kissing her as deeply as I had. The two of them together poisoned all my good memories.

My stomach clenched, my hands pressed into fists. I tried to get back to counting bricks.

I lost count after ten.

***

They booked me the next morning, an old judge setting bail at fifty thousand dollars. I glanced across the courtroom to see Martin standing there, a smile plastered on his face. I was reprimanded by the judge when I slammed my fists on the table I was sitting at.

Lester Russell asked me whom to call to pay the bail and I told him. There was only one person I knew with fifty thousand dollars. Then I was transferred back to the holding cell. The bus to the local jail wouldn’t leave until late in the afternoon. I hoped my bail was paid by then.

***

The guard on duty escorted Leonard Baker to my cell four hours later. He’d aged since the last time I’d seen him, and not well. A few months after Jeanne’s funeral we’d sat in a park, him telling me he was going to keep an eye me. Keep me from doing something stupid. At the time he had darker hair and fewer wrinkles. Even after the death of his daughter, he stood up straight. Now his hair was completely gray, wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes and lips, and he hunched a bit as he stood.

“Why did you call me, Jackson?” he asked. “We haven’t spoken in years.”

I moved to the bars and said, “I missed your witty conversation.”

“Bullshit.”

The guard unlocked the gate and I stepped through. We followed him down the hall to his desk. He had me sign several sheets of paper, returned my belongings, and told me not to leave the state.

Outside, I asked, “Can you take me to my lawyer’s office?”

Leonard nodded, said, “Did you really do the things they say you did?”

“It was either that or die.”

“I remember a time a few years back where you would have just given up.”

Leonard Baker’s car was parked on a side street. I got in the old, blue Buick on the passenger side. Leonard started the car.

“So,” he said, pulling out into traffic, “why did you want me to get you out?”

“Bill Martin arrested me.”

Leonard didn’t react, didn’t say anything, didn’t take his eyes off the road. He stopped at a red light.

“Does that name mean anything to you?” I asked. “I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“He told me some things.”

“Like what?”

The light turned green and the car accelerated a little faster than I expected.

I said, “He told me that he and Jeanne had been together.”

The lunch crowd was thinning out on the streets, but there was still traffic. People going about their lives unaware that mine had been put on its side.

“Well?” I asked.

Leonard kept his eyes on the road. I punched the dashboard, pain shooting through my hand.

“Talk to me, goddamn it!”

“What would you like me to say, Jackson?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I only met him once. I didn’t even know he was your partner at the time.”

“You knew?”

“And if I did? How does that change anything?

We pulled onto Route 18 and picked up speed. Lester Russell’s office was in East Brunswick. Without traffic we’d be there in ten minutes.

“You could have told me.”

“When? When you and my daughter got back together, she asked that we didn’t tell you. And once she passed on, you were such a mess, Sarah and I were too worried about helping you get through the day.”

I stared at the taillights ahead of us. “Bill Martin is an asshole.”

“You weren’t exactly a knight in shining armor.”

Leonard hadn’t looked at me the entire trip. He took an exit off 18 and stopped at another red light.

“Jeanne and I were good together,” I said.

“Yes,” Leonard said. “When you were sober. But if I remember correctly, when you were stoned and drunk, you cheated on her.”

“I didn’t—”

“Jackson, listen. I know you loved my daughter. All women are allowed to make their own choices, aren’t they? And eventually she came back to you, when you got your life straightened out.”

“That asshole—”