Exceptional Merit (7 page)

Marsh pushed his chair back from his desk.  Castillo had his full attention.

“And where, exactly, does Keegan come in to play?”

Castillo handed Marsh the second photo for inspection.

Castillo could hardly contain his excitement as he explained, “here is Keegan accepting an envelope from O'Brien.  It's got to be some sort of a payoff for information Keegan has been supplying the I.R.A. with.”

“Whoa! Hold it right there, Louie,” Marsh interrupted.   “All you have is the passing of an envelope in a bar.  For all you know O'Brien may have handed him directions to his house for a Sunday dinner.  This guy doesn’t even have a criminal record.”

Castillo pleaded his case.  “Boss, just hear me out.  It makes perfect sense.  Keegan works for the Joint Terrorist Task Force.  He has as much information at his hands as anybody over at the F.B.I.  He's associating with a likely member of the I.R.A. and I see him accepting a pay off.”

“First of all, Louie, you have absolutely no proof that O'Brien is associated with the I.R.A.  Maybe he came to America to get away from the violence that killed his father and imprisoned his brother.  Have you even considered that?  You also don't know for sure what was in that envelope.  Even if you did, it doesn't prove anything.  You have nothing concrete.  Besides, don't forget James Keegan is a national hero.  He saved countless lives by breaking that case before any bombs were detonated.  I told you once and I will tell you again.  Tread lightly on this one.  Dot your
i’s and cross your t’s.  Make sure you are one hundred percent sure of anything before you come to me.”

That was when everything came together in Castillo's mind.  He realized what it was all about; the department didn't want any more bad press.  They couldn’t face another black eye for the department.  It seemed to Castillo that every time someone in his office caught a big case they were about to break, it got squashed by the department's hierarchy and handled behind closed doors rather than in the public forum where it should be.  They were afraid of the bad press, and instead of letting anyone arrest corrupt cops, they would take care of it in their own way—either with a transfer to a non enforcement detail or place the guy on modified assignment, with no guns and no shield for an undetermined amount of time.

“You're right, Inspector.  The man is a real hero,” Castillo said sarcastically, as he both shook his head and let out a barely audible laugh.

“Louie, I'm not telling you that if the guy is dirty we're not going to go after him.  I'm simply telling you we need a whole lot more than the passing of an envelope in an Irish bar in Midtown to declare he is associated with an Irish terrorist organization.”

Castillo rendered a cynical salute to Marsh and walked out of the office.

“Yes, sir.”

This had been the case Castillo had been waiting for.  This was the case where he could be a cop again, where he would feel proud to be a detective and do a detective's job.  He would finally find redemption from the department that turned their back on him.  But then the reality set in that the job would not only disallow him to work the case, but may actually try to prevent him from doing it.

He had a gut feeling that Keegan was involved.  He knew he was.  It was the same feeling he used to experience on the streets of Brooklyn.  A feeling, that was never wrong.  When the hairs on the back of your neck tell you something is not right, you’ve got to trust them.  Castillo decided neither Marsh nor anybody else could discourage him.  If he was right, and Keegan was involved with the I.R.A., he was going to nail him.

***************************

Sunday was a family day for the Keegan’s.  They always spent it together.  The day would begin with nine o'clock mass and often follow with breakfast at the pancake house.  They would then return home, change out of their church clothes and around half past noon head over to the home of James Keegan's mother.  This tradition seemed to have begun shortly after his father had passed away a few years back.

Kate studied her husband as he drove the Ford Explorer in complete silence.  She knew something was on his mind.  She hated when her husband got like this.  He would never tell her what was bothering him and she had learned not to ask anymore.  It had to do with his job, she figured; it usually did.  Not even the children's arguing in the back seat seemed to break his concentration.

“All right, what in the world are you kids fighting about now?” demanded Kate.

She turned around to face them, seeing Kevin and Timmy elbowing each other while Kerry was huddled in the corner steering clear of the confrontation.   “Jim, tell the kids to knock it off.”

This broke her husband from his daydream. 

“You heard your mother.  Cut it out,” Keegan commanded.

“Daddy, I didn't do anything, I'm a good girl.”  Kerry was four years old and the apple of her father's eye.  She adored her father; he was her hero.

“I know you
are angel.”

Keegan looked out the window at a funeral procession making its way down the right lane of the Long Island Expressway.  “Daddy, why do all those cars have their lights on?  It’s not night time.”

Kerry was curious.  Keegan paused for a moment before answering.  She had been too young to remember her grandfather's funeral.  He loved his daughter's innocence and hoped she wouldn't grow up too soon.  “Well, angel, all those cars are following each other.  They are driving with their lights on, so nobody gets lost.”

It wasn’t so far from the truth.  Keegan didn’t like to lie to his children if it wasn’t necessary.

Kevin, sensing an opportunity to torment his younger sister, interjected.  “No.  That's not it.  There's a dead…”

“Enough, Kevin,” barked Keegan, cutting off his son, mid-sentence.

Keegan's thoughts had momentarily been derailed, but he soon started to think again of the task he had in front of him.  It had been one thing before the kids came along but now… Keegan wondered what would happen to his family if anything ever happened to him.  The radio was tuned to Fordham University's radio station.  Every Sunday afternoon, the station aired a program of all Irish music.  The station was playing a playful Irish tune called
The Unicorn Song.
  It was a cheerful song explaining how the extinction of unicorns had come about.

“Angel, your favorite song is on.”

Kerry sat in the back seat singing the words to the chorus as best she knew.  Kate was happy to see her husband snap out of his own little world.  Kerry and her father sang along with the radio as the boys sat in the back seat mocking their sister.  The scene brought a smile to Kate's face.

When the song ended, Kate applauded.  “Very good, sweetie.  You sing that song so well.”

“Dad, can't we listen to something else?”  Timmy crossed his arms in the back seat defiantly as he spoke.  “We listen to this junk every week.”

“This is not junk, Timothy.  Just by listening to this program once a week, you can learn so much about your heritage and Ireland’s history and culture.”

Timmy refused to be deterred.  “I don't want to learn about my heritage.  I want to listen to good music.”

“This is good music, and we are going to listen to it.  When you get your own car, you can listen to whatever music you want.”  Keegan couldn't even understand the music of his children's generation, let alone enjoy it.  This must be exactly how Timmy felt about the Irish music, he reasoned.  Keegan pulled the Explorer into the driveway of his mother's New Hyde
Park home where he had grown up.  The children barely waited for the car to come to a complete stop before they jumped out.  Kerry was the first to announce their presence as she ran up to the front door.  “Grandma, we're here!”

The house was a modest, red bricked, three bedroom cape with a dark gray roof.  It was easy to spot the house as soon as you turned onto the block because of the large oak tree in the front yard.  Keegan noted that the shrubbery in front was well manicured.  As a teenager it had been his job to mow the lawn and trim the hedges.  The irony is that he still feels responsible for the upkeep, since he is the one who pays the landscaper fifteen dollars a week to maintain it, once the spring arrives.  It is the least he can do to help his mother.  Of course, the landscapers know that they are not to touch her rose garden.  That is for her hands only.

Eileen Keegan came to the front door wearing a wool sweater and slacks.  She was a slight woman with silver- blue hair and hazel eyes.  Although in her mid-sixties, there had hardly been a wrinkle on her until her husband had passed a few years ago.  After his passing, it seemed her age had caught up to her in a hurry.  The only thing that still kept her young at heart was her grandchildren.   She would look forward to Sunday every week, just to spend time with them.  Kerry grabbed her grandmother around the waist.  “Hi, grandma. I missed you.”  Kevin and Timmy gave their grandmother a kiss hello.

After the formalities, Kevin and Timmy went into the basement to play the video games which they kept at their grandmother’s house just for Sundays.  “Kerry, dear, would you like to help grandma cook dinner?”

Kerry bit her lower lip and her eyes lit up.  She nodded her head, indicating she would.   “Okay, then, go wash your hands,” her grandmother instructed.

Kate put on a pot of coffee.  The kitchen was much smaller than her
kitchen at home.  The yellow and white floral wallpaper was way out of date.  Kate remembered that style being popular when she was a teenager.  The dull yellow cabinets and counters hadn’t been touched in over twenty years, Kate figured.  There were two cabinets with missing handles.  She hoped her husband remembered to bring the replacements.  It seemed like every week for a month now he had been promising his mother he would replace them.  There was a small wooden table and four chairs in the corner where Kerry helped her grandmother prepare a pot roast.  Quartered red potatoes, sliced carrots and chopped onions sat in separate glass bowls.  Under her grandmother’s supervision, Kerry used the electric can opener to open a can of beef broth.

Over the course of the next hour, they caught up on the week's events.  Kerry was seated at the dining room table with the adults and the boys had gone to the backyard to play football.  Keegan glanced out the window at his boys. 
They grew so big, so quickly
.  He decided to go outside to join them in the game.  He removed his pager from his belt so it wouldn’t fall during the game and set it down on the kitchen table.  He exited the sliding glass doors into the back yard, where he had played so much football as a boy.  It was an average size backyard for the neighborhood.  The patio furniture was stacked and covered in the corner for the winter, leaving that much more room in the yard for the football game.  The end zones were marked by a small tree on one end of the yard and the edge of the patio at the other.  The same boundaries Keegan had used when he played as a child.  “It looks like you guys need an official quarterback.”

“Are you gonna play with us, Dad?”  Timmy was excited.  He loved when his dad played football with him.

“Alright, now I'm gonna really beat your butt in!” Kevin was quick to proclaim.  “You're dog meat!”

Keegan played ball with the boys for almost an hour, while Kerry continued to help her grandmother prepare dinner.  Kate walked over to the window and watched the boys play ball.  Her sons were actually quite good at football, she boasted to herself.  She gave the credit to Jim, who was always there to teach them.  She knew he was a genuinely good man.  He devoted so much time to all of his children and she loved him so much for that.  He was a wonderful husband and father.

“Alright, men, it's a tie game; next touchdown wins.  It's Timmy's ball.”

Keegan hiked the ball to himself and pitched it back to Timmy.  Timmy threw the ball as far as he could back to his father who had run out for a pass.  Keegan caught the ball with one hand and scored the game winning touchdown for his younger son.  He waited for Timmy to come to the end zone, handing the ball to him.  Timmy excitedly took the ball and spiked it in celebration.

“I won!  I won!” Timmy was announcing to anyone who would listen.  Now it was his turn to tease his big brother.  “Who's going to beat whose butt?”

“No fair, Dad.  You can't do that!  That's cheating,” Kevin protested.

The boys stayed outside playing ball on their own and Keegan went back inside.  Kate met her husband at the back door, giving him a kiss as he entered.  “You're wonderful,” she informed him.

“You're not so bad yourself.  I'm going upstairs to wash up before dinner is ready.”

He walked up the stairs.  There were thirteen.  He remembered so many times as a child counting them as he climbed.  He entered the first bedroom on the left.  He looked around the room, which jarred many memories.  After a few moments, he exited what was once his bedroom and walked into the master bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.  He picked up the telephone, and dialed a number.  After hearing the familiar tone of a pager, he entered the second number and hung up the receiver.  He opened the door and went into the bathroom to make it seem as if he were washing up before dinner.

Kate heard her husband's pager go off, as it lay on the table.  She hoped she was wrong, but it was almost always his job when that damned thing went off.  She picked the pager up and read the number.  It was just as she had feared; his office number.  They didn't bother him very often at home, but when they did bother him; it always seemed to be on a Sunday when the family was together.  Maybe he wouldn't have to go in, she hoped.  Maybe they just wanted to ask him something or tell him something.  She knew better, though.  As Keegan emerged from the top of the stairs, Kate looked at him and in a disappointed voice informed him that his job had paged him.