Sullivan's Law (20 page)

A young patrol officer stuck his head in the door, clasping a manila envelope. “I was told to deliver this to you, sir,” he said, placing the package in the detective's hands. “Do you want me to hang around?”

“No,” Hank said, removing the contents of the envelope. “We already have enough men here at the hospital. We need you back on the street.”

As soon as the officer left, the detective released the railing on Metroix's bed, then leaned over to show him the images. “Do you recognize any of these men?”

“That guy looks a little like him,” Daniel said, struggling to focus his eyes as he placed his finger on one of the pictures.

The detective sighed. The man he'd picked wasn't Eddie Downly. “Are you certain?”

“I think so,” Daniel said, reaching out and pulling the photos closer to his face. “This one looks even more like him. He had weird eyes.”

Bingo, Hank thought. He'd fingered Eddie Downly as the clerk at the Seagull Motel. It couldn't be classified as a positive ID, but at least it was a start.

“Take it easy, my friend,” Hank told him. Considering the hardships Metroix had endured, his childlike sincerity would tug on even the hardest of hearts. “In a few days, when you're feeling better, I'll stop by a restaurant and bring you a decent meal. Way I see it, you've been on the receiving end far too long. Between me and the lady, we're going to do our best to turn things around for you.”

B
efore they sat down for dinner Friday night, John discussed his desire to go to MIT with Professor Leighton in the living room while his daughter gave Carolyn a tour of the house. Rebecca followed on her crutches.

Lucy was a skinny girl with straight blond hair that fell to her shoulders. Several inches taller than Rebecca, she had braces on her teeth and deep dimples in both cheeks.

Because Paul had converted the formal dining room into a combination library and office, he'd added another room off the kitchen, furnishing it with a table large enough to seat twelve people, along with an antique breakfront filled with china and silver. The room was illuminated by a beautiful crystal chandelier.

“Most of the antiques belonged to my mother,” Paul told them as he took his seat at the head of the table. “All the tacky modern stuff, I picked out myself. A decorator told me I had to choose between the old and the new. I told her to get lost.” He lovingly ran his hands across the polished mahogany surface. “This is the same table I ate on when I was a child. Some things you want to keep forever.”

“That sounds like my mom and her cuff links,” Rebecca said, seated next to Lucy. “They belonged to my great-grandfather.”

The family's housekeeper, Isobel Montgomery, was a wiry, attractive black woman in her late fifties with closely cropped hair. She served lasagna, salad, and homemade bread sticks soaked in garlic.

“Aren't you going to eat with us?” Lucy asked anxiously.

“No, sweetheart,” Isobel said, untying her apron and placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. “I'm going out to dinner with a friend. Don't forget the chocolate cake we made this afternoon.”

“Isobel's been with us for eighteen years,” Paul explained after the woman left. “She's one of the reasons Lucy decided to live with me instead of her mother.”

“My real mom can't cook,” Lucy said, passing the salad bowl to John. “She has a housekeeper, but I don't like her. She doesn't speak English and she isn't Isobel. Besides, my mother and stepfather are never home.”

John took a few bites of his salad, then reached for the large platter of lasagna. “This is great,” he said, wolfing it down.

Rebecca was munching on a bread stick. “I wish we had someone to cook and take care of us.”

“Mom and I take care of you,” John told her, knowing she'd hurt his mother's feelings. “You talk like you're an orphan or something.”

“I do not,” Rebecca snapped. “And the stuff you make tastes like dog food.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “You're almost thirteen. Why don't you cook your own food?”

Paul stood, smiled, then rubbed his hands together. He picked up a bottle of wine that had been chilling in the ice bucket. “As long as your mother doesn't object,” he said, sensing Carolyn's offspring were about to get into an argument, “I think you guys should have a little wine. In Europe, children are allowed a glass of wine with their dinner.”

“You never let me drink wine before,” Lucy said.

“Tonight is special,” her father answered. “We're going to make a toast to our new home and our wonderful new friends. What do you say, Carolyn?”

“It's okay,” she said, admiring his ingenuity. “Half a glass, though. No refills.”

After they finished their meal, Rebecca and Lucy headed to the kitchen to prepare their dessert. Paul got up to clear the plates, but John insisted on taking care of it.

“You should keep your foot elevated,” Carolyn told her daughter.

“I've been sleeping all day, Mom,” Rebecca protested, leaning on her crutches. “My ankle doesn't hurt anymore. Even the swelling has gone down.”

“Can Rebecca sleep over tonight?” Lucy asked, setting her father's chocolate cake down in front of him. “She wants to watch
The Mummy Returns
with me. Isobel said Rebecca could go to church with us in the morning, then to the cemetery to visit Otis. For lunch, you could take us to Dave and Buster's.”

Her father sighed. “You'll have to ask Ms. Sullivan.”

“Not tonight, Lucy,” Carolyn said. “Maybe next weekend you can spend the night at our house. Your father needs to concentrate on his book. We've imposed enough.”

The girls went into the living room. John asked his mother if he could go home. “Paul told me a way I could solve this problem I've been having trouble with. Everyone thinks Mr. Chang will use it on our final exam.”

“I'd rather you stay,” Carolyn told him. “We'll be leaving soon.” She heard the girls giggling in the other room.

“They get along well,” Paul said. “Can I get you another glass of wine, coffee? John, we have sodas.”

“No, thanks,” he said, sulking.

“Coffee,” Carolyn said, knowing she had another sleepless night ahead of her. She could let John keep watch the next day.

“If you forget what we talked about,” the professor told John, “you can stop by tomorrow morning and we'll go over it again.”

“Really?” John asked, perking up. “Are you certain? I'm sorry I caused a scene at dinner. I thought you'd never want to see me again.”

“Come with me,” Paul said, gesturing toward the living room. The girls were sitting on the floor next to the fireplace. Lucy was showing Rebecca pictures from the dance camp she'd gone to the previous summer. John took a seat on the sofa next to his mother.

The professor opened the hall closet and removed several large rolled-up sheets of paper. “I've been fascinated with roller coasters since I was a kid. One of my friends works for Arrow Dynamics. They designed ‘X' for Six Flags. I bet him fifty bucks that I could come up with something better.”

“Who won?” Carolyn asked.

“They finished building it, but I still don't know if I won the bet or not. The coaster is supposed to be up and running in three weeks, then we'll have to wait and see what the critics think.” Paul ran his fingers through his hair, his face flushed with childish excitement. “Anyone want to see?”

“I love roller coasters,” John said, rushing over and watching as he spread out the drawings on his desk. “This is the coolest thing I've ever seen. It's a four-dimension roller coaster.”

“What does that mean?” Rebecca asked.

“Unlike traditional coasters where trains only parallel the track,” Paul explained, “riders race in vehicles that can spin independently, three hundred and sixty degrees forward or backward on a separate axis.”

“Look at this, man,” John said, pointing, “it's a twenty-foot-wide wing-shaped car. You go down headfirst, face-down. This right here is called a vertical skydive. Then you've got a twisting front flip, three back flips, and four raven turns.”

Paul smiled. “I'm impressed, guy. You really know your roller coasters.”

“You bet,” the boy said, leaning over so he could see better. “This is how I first got intrigued with gravity. How old was I, Mom?”

“Second grade, I believe,” Carolyn said, glancing over at the professor. “He had the same problem you must have had, Paul. He was too small to ride on them, so I didn't want to spend the money to get into the park. We'd find a place outside the fence and sit there for hours watching.”

“What are you going to call it?”

“All the good names are taken,” Paul said. “You know, Colossus, Medusa, Talon, Twister, Vortex. Besides, I just put it together as a hobby. They're going to call it Super X. I preferred Ultimate X, but I think they're trying to compete with Bolliger and Mabillard, the guys from Switzerland. They designed the Superman coasters and are reported to be the best in the business.”

“You mean you didn't get paid for this? It must have taken you years to figure all of this out.” John looked over at Rebecca. “He used physics. See, I told you it wasn't boring.”

“The company paid me,” Paul said. “That didn't mean I got to name it, though.”

“There's this computer game,” John told him. “It's called World's Greatest Roller Coasters in 3D. There's another one called Roller Coaster Tycoon, but this one is better. You get to build the coaster, the park, even the concessions.”

“I've seen the last one you mentioned,” Paul told him. “It's interesting. They never had things like that when I was growing up.”

The girls as well as Carolyn peered over John and Paul's shoulders. “I'm never going to get on that stupid thing,” Lucy said, punching her father's arm. “Dad says I'm a chicken. He tricked me into going on Superman Ultimate Flight. I was so scared, I almost died. You guys think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. They took me to the hospital in an ambulance.”

“You didn't almost die,” her father said. “You fainted. I promise, you don't have to ride on this one. Half the adults I know wouldn't ride on the kind of coasters we're building today.”

“Wow,” Rebecca said. “I'm not afraid. I can't wait to ride it.”

“Great,” Paul said, “because you're all invited to come as my guests to the opening. The park's closed to the public, kind of like a private party. You can go on all the other rides as well.”

Carolyn's cell phone rang. “Excuse me,” she said, stepping into the kitchen.

“Ready for another mindblower,” Brad Preston said. “I'll let Hank tell you. I've got him on a conference call. Where are you?”

“At the neighbor's house. What's going on?”

Hank spoke up, “The clerk at the Seagull may have been Eddie Downly.”

Believing she hadn't heard him correctly, Carolyn closed the door. “Repeat what you said.” Once he did, she placed her forehead against the wall.

“If Downly was the clerk at the Seagull, then he had to be working for Harrison,” Brad said. “Who else but a deputy chief would be able to spring a scumbag rapist like Downly and make it look like an accident? That means it was an inside job. Try to find this Downy guy with the parking tickets. The whole thing was a setup. We're being played for fools on every corner.”

While Brad was merely reacting, Carolyn was thinking.

“Don't go through the roof, okay?” Hank said. “Metroix was pumped full of morphine when he picked Downly out of the photo lineup. Not only that, Downly wasn't the first man he identified. How many guys do you know with tattoos on their knuckles, for Christ's sake?”

“He was your probationer, Carolyn,” Brad said. “What did the tattoos say?”

“The left hand said ‘love' and the right hand said ‘hate,'” she told them. “Fast Eddie either tried to have them removed, though, or whoever tattooed him was an amateur. I only know what they spelled because he told me. The letters are almost impossible to read.”

Carolyn's mind was still churning when she returned to the living room.

“Something wrong?” Paul asked. “I was going to have a glass of brandy. Want to join me?”

“You've been a wonderful host,” Carolyn told him. “It was very kind of you to invite us to the opening of the ride you designed. I'm sure John and Rebecca will be counting off the days. We need to get home, though. Something's come up regarding one of my cases.”

John caught the tail end of her sentence. “You're not going out tonight, are you? I thought you didn't want us to be alone.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” his mother reassured him. “I need to review some things.” She thought of Daniel. “Did you have a chance to look at the papers I gave you this morning?”

“It's good work,” the professor said, walking them to the back door. “Some of it's engineering, the rest physics. I didn't have a chance to study it in depth. You only gave me the papers this morning. I faxed them over to a colleague at Caltech. He called me before dinner and asked what kind of credentials this person has. There's a slot opening up next year in the physics department.”

“None,” Carolyn said, tossing her sweater over Rebecca's shoulders.

“A doctorate in physics might not be necessary.”

“You don't understand,” Carolyn told him. “He doesn't even have a high school diploma. All he has is a GED.”

“Impossible,” Paul said, his eyes expanding. “This is a joke, right?”

“No,” Carolyn told him, not in the best mood after what she'd heard about Eddie Downly. “I didn't give you permission to fax or share this man's work. Call whoever you sent it to and tell them to destroy it. I gave you the originals. May I have them back, please?”

“Certainly,” Paul said, leaving and returning a short time later with the stack of papers.

Carolyn saw John and Rebecca making their way across the lawn. Lucy wasn't around, so she assumed the girl had gone to her room. She quickly leaned over and kissed Paul on the cheek. “That was rude of me,” she said softly. “I apologize. The papers are evidence in a criminal investigation. I shouldn't have given them to you. I thought you'd be able to tell me if they have any value.”

“They definitely have value,” Paul Leighton answered. “And the person I faxed them to is not only a trusted friend, he's a fine physicist. I'll follow your instructions, but if you want, I can arrange a private consultation at the university.”

The night air was chilly. Carolyn wrapped her arms around her chest to stay warm, then called out to John and Rebecca. They were passing under a light on the right side of the professor's garage. She didn't want them to go inside the house without her. “Wait right where you are,” she shouted. “I'll be there in two minutes.”

“We need an engineer as well as a physicist,” Paul explained. “The problem with something like an exoskeleton is that you can't always tell if a problem has been solved until you build it and test it.”

“I'll have to get back to you next week,” Carolyn said, tucking the papers under her arm as she hurried across the lawn to her children.