THE FOURTH WATCH (51 page)

"Listen," he said after a time, his eyes
drifting to Andreason, then away, "I'm not saying you're not a
dickhead, because I'd need more evidence, but ... umm...I heard,
you know, that you been seeing to his bills and whatnot ... and,
well ... that was a good thing so ... "

"I will extract every dime from his hide,
ten-fold," Alex said, smiling.

Walter smiled along with him. "Well, just so
you know."

They sat in silence some more. Then Walter
said, "Where's Father Jack?"

Andreason waived his hand at the door. "He's
around, visiting patients, healing the sick, calling the dead out
of the morgue no doubt."

"Okay. Well, look. Seeing as you're the dumb
fuck that got him into all this, I'm gonna need some help." Walter
bent his head at Kato when he said 'him'.

"Help?" Alex said, his eyebrows
lifting.

Walter had been standing since he arrived. Now
he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of an
uncomfortable looking chair and sat down. "Well, I've been digging
into this thing with Whorley and him and all that ... "

"I know."

"Yeah? Well, anyway, this is a fucked up thing
that's happenin' here. I'm not sure what I got, and I'm not gonna
get all into it with you, but there's a couple things. This Ellen
Whorley broad, the one married to the son there, she's a pretty
interesting girl."

"How do you mean, Walter?" Andreason hadn't
moved since Walter arrived. He, as always, just sat there,
watching, listening.

"Well, I'll tell ya, she's got kind of a sordid
past. By that what I mean is she spent her youth smoking crack and
selling her pussy, right here in good old Worcester."

Andreason's expression never changed. Be a
tough prick to play poker with, Walter thought. "I was under the
impression she was from New York," he said after a time.

"Yeah, well, not originally. After she got
busted here a bunch of times, she moved to New York and made some
porn films, for a while. But she was from here first."

"Hmm."

"And she has an interesting ... what's the word
... acquaintance."

"Really."

Walter nodded knowingly. "None other than
Deputy Chief of Police Matteo Genetassio." Walter shrugged. "I'm
not sure what it means. I went to the Whorley broad's funeral ...I
saw you there by the way, kissing all the politician's asses
...

Andreason smiled again. "Might have been the
other way around."

"Yeah, well, anyway, after everyone had left,
and it was just, you know the family hanging around, Genetassio was
there, and he kind of wandered over toward the car as the family
was getting in, you know? I figured that he was gonna tell them
again how sorry he was, or what a nice service it was, or how he
wouldn't rest until the killer was found, that kinda shit. Then
Ellen Whorley spots him just as she is about to get into the car.
She says something into the car and then kind of stomps over to him
and it looks like she goes off on him!"

"How do you mean 'goes off,' Alex asked,
frowning slightly now, interested.

"Well, I don't know, she kinda got her back to
the car, and it was like she was dressing him down, pissed off, and
he just stood there, taking it. When she was done, she went back to
the limo, and they drove off, and Genetassio looked, I don't know
... humiliated?.Humbled? Crestfallen? ... something. He stands
there with his hands in his pockets looking at the grave a while,
then goes off to his car."

Andreason thought about it a minute, then
shrugged. "Well, who knows what that's all about," he finally said.
"Interesting though."

"Ain't it? And here's some more. I was just at
the court house. I wanted to read the old police reports from when
Ellen Whorley - her real name is Helena Carlais by the way - from
when she got busted, you know? And guess who busted her the last
three times she was busted, before she went to New
York?"

"Deputy Chief Matte Genetassio."

Walter nodded smiling, "That's right,
Sherlock.”

"What else."

Walter rubbed his chin. "Okay. I don't know how
to connect this to Genetassio exactly, but, I went to visit this
hooker that is like a client of Kato's. Her name is Agnes and the
last time Mike represented her, she had kind of warned him that
somebody was looking for him or that he was in danger of some sort.
He blew it off, so did I, but, I don't know, the only thing new he
was doing was this Whorley thing. So after he gets popped, I go see
Agnes, and lean on her. Where exactly did she hear that somebody
was after Michael Knight, Esq. She was scared, but after a while
she gives up this street rat, a pimp, name of Othello Mehan. Cops
call him 'Tell Me' but that's another story. Anyway, I go looking
for Tell Me at all his usual haunts. Nobody's seen him; nobody
knows where he's at. Finally I go on over to his place and kind of
let myself in. I look around and all his personal stuff is there,
clothes, music, dope, like that. Looks like everything's been
picked through though, like it was searched and everything put back
not quite in place. Almost like a cop had tossed the place. And I
think he had a computer, because there was an imprint of what
looked like a tower in the rug, but it was gone. Last week they
found Tell Me in a dumpster."

"Homicide?"

"Yeah. My guy Skids ... "

"A charming fellow."

Walter ignored the remark, and went on. "He
knows some people in the Coroner's Office. They haven't made it
official yet, but one gunshot wound to the back of the head.
Probably was kneeling from the angle of entry. Nothing at the
scene. He was whacked somewhere else and dumped."

"Hmm." Alex was listening, but his mind was
going back to the phone call he'd received from Jack Healy a few
weeks after Kato was shot. Father Jack thought Mike's house had
been searched and that someone had gone through his files, and that
his laptop wasn't where it was suppose to be. The police had
searched the house under warrant a few days after the shooting.
Alex had gone to court and got an order preventing the police from
searching Knight's legal files, paper and electronic, on the
grounds that a police search of the lawyer's work product would
violate the attorney/client privilege and prejudice Knight's
criminal defendant's chance for a fair trial. But Jack thought
someone had been in there after the cops went in officially. "So,"
he said, "how can I help you, Walter?"

"I want to put a tail on the Whorley broad and
Gennatassio. A couple of days ago, before I found out all this
stuff about her, I went up to the house up there and kind of
rattled the cage. I may have ... um ... impersonated a police
officer. I may have left her with the impression that I was an
Internal Affairs Officer looking into Genetassio. I may have
suggested that we...IA... had information that led us to believe
that she had had an animated conversation with the Deputy Chief at
her sister in law's funeral and asked her what it was all about.
She gave me some bullshit then denied knowing him at all. Claimed
she only knows him because he's a cop working on the sister-in-laws
case, and of course the family wants to know what is going on with
the search for her killer. Say's that's what they were talking
about at the funeral. Anyway, my guess is that she called
Genetassio about one second after I was out the door. He'll know
that it was bullshit and have her describe the 'officer' to him.
He'll figure out it was me pretty quick ... "

"You are unique in appearance," Alex told
him.

"Yeah, well, fuck you very much. But I expected
he would have been all over me by now. Breaking my ass, making
threats about impersonating a police officer and all that, but I
ain't heard squat!"

"The silence is deafening."

"Exactly. So, anyway, Genetassio is gonna know
everyone that I could get to shadow him. And even if I went and got
somebody from out of town, I'd be taking a chance on how good he
was 'cause I wouldn't know him."

Alex smiled. "So you would like me to engage
discreet and capable investigators, unknown to local law
enforcement, to monitor the activities Deputy Chief Genetassio and
Mrs. Ellen Whorley."

" Well, umm, yeah ... that's pretty much it. I
figure a slick little shyster like yourself must have a thousand
private dicks crawling through alleys and peeking in windows, am I
right?"

"Indeed. In fact, your work in this matter
appears to be exemplary. I am considering adding you to my stable
of overpaid cretin voyeurs."

"Did you say overpaid?" Walter said and they
both laughed.

"Walter," Andreason said, frowning, "why would
this ... Mr. Mehan is it ... why would his killer dump the body in
a place where it was sure to be found so quickly. Why not take him
and hide him deep."

"I've thought about that," Walter told him
scooting forward on the edge of his chair. "It's a gang thing. When
they kill each other for revenge or whatever, it's a disrespect
thing. They make them their bitch by making them kneel down in
front of them, then kill them execution style, so there is no
question that it is retribution, then they toss them in the
dumpster to show the other gang that they consider them to be
garbage. Very symbolic, very nice."

"Was Mr. Mehan a gang member?

"I don't think so. I mean he's a pimp, right?
I'm sure he provided the occasional whore to all of them. And he
was a vicious prick, no question. But he was about money. If he got
popped because he's part of this thing with Kato, they're making it
look like a gang hit, so that it fits in nice with their theory of
how Kato and Carolyn Whorley got caught in a gang
crossfire.

Andreason thought about that for a while. Then
he said, "When would you like this surveillance to begin,
Walter?"

"As soon as possible. Like I said I kinda threw
a turd in the punchbowl with my visit ... so, you know," Walter
shrugged, "they might already be doin' interesting
stuff."

“ A 'turd in the punchbowl' did you say? Your
silver tongue never fails to charm me." Alex stood. "They will be
in place this afternoon. I will have someone contact you at your
office. You have phone service I'm told."

"Yep," Walter told him with mock
pride,"electric lights, indoor plumbing, the works."

"Excellent. Well I'm off then, to do your
bidding. Keep an eye on our friend," he said, shrugging into his
coat and looking at the bed.

Walter winked at him. “Count on it.”

35

ELLEN WHORLEY
tucked her feet up under her on the loveseat in the great
room and worried a blood red nail. There was a fire roaring in the
hearth and it crackled and spit as she starred into it with her
mind churning. How did things ever get to this point, she asked
herself for the hundredth time. She had changed her life! Made it
back from the dark world she had inhabited since she was young
girl. And now, here she was, trapped in the present by her past,
knowing that her future was fading fast.

She knew she should never have come back to
Worcester. There were no good memories here. Her Mother's descent
into madness and suicide. Her Father's bitterness and cruelty that
drove her to the streets when she was fifteen years old. And his
death from alcoholism when he was forty-eight. But then, when she
met Teddy, and she realized that he loved her - didn't just want to
screw her like every other man she'd ever met - and when she
thought about the kind of life he could give her, she knew she had
to take the chance. She hadn't really been worried about anyone
recognizing her. She looked quite different from the skinny druggie
that prowled the streets of Main South more than fifteen years ago.
And she traveled in much different circles now. She got a little
nervous when it became obvious that Teddy's father disliked her. He
was rich and powerful, and if he ever hired a private detective to
check her out, well ... but he didn't. She would have never guessed
that it would be a cop that would carry her past back to her on a
pitchfork.

*****

IT STARTED WHEN
she was making her last porn film. She was cleaning up. Not
all at once of course. There was a lot of dope in the sex business,
and she needed to be high when she was fucking for the camera. It
gave her the courage to do the scenes - and get through them. She
was good at it, but not sure what that told her about herself, and
she wanted to get out. Every weekend she'd get clean - and tell
herself that whatever she was working on - whether it was the movie
or just a side gig balling out of town weirdo's for extra cash, it
was going to be her last. She'd page through the Sunday paper, and
circle jobs that she felt sure she could do, but then on Monday
afternoon she'd be cranked up, and back on her knees in front of
the camera - and another week would go by.

Then one day, just after she
finished
Cleopatra
, she saw an ad for a job in advertising sales. It was a
women's magazine and they were looking for someone to come in at an
executive level to develop major new accounts. The magazine was
expanding into a new market area, which turned out to be Boston.
The successful candidate, the ad said, would have a proven track
record in publication sales and be familiar with the fashion,
jewelry and fragrance industries. The successful candidate would
train in, and work out of New York, until the new publication got
off the ground. Relocation would be required after that. Interested
parties were to send their work history and salary requirements to
a blind post office box. Candidates selected for interview would be
contacted.