Dev's begun making plans to minimize the damage of his arrest and likely conviction by shifting the direction of it all. But first he has to meet with Diana to find out what gossip she's picked up, for him. But he's also a bit drunk because he's learned Griffin Faure is in London, that he's under constant surveillance, and that there's a connection between Tawfi and one of the murdered men. He's also forgotten to call his brother to tell him the police may have found the remains of their mother.
-------
I called Diana about dinner. "There's a Pizza Hut on Regent at Jermyn, if you're up for something that's trying to be American."
She all but laughed at me. "I'd die for a good slice, right now, but Pizza Hut?"
“I know, I know, I know, but in a pinch...”
She sighed and said, “How many have you had?” As if she could smell my breath through the phone.
“Not enough.”
“Where are you?”
“Knightsbridge.”
She hesitated before asking, “Why there?”
“Possible client. For some new pins, with chips. In fact, their I-T guy’s interested in helping make it work. That...uh, that’s why I’ve had a few. First, Ghadir, then...”
"Tell me about it over dinner. Can you make it by six?"
“See you there.”
I got there at five-fifty-five. Diana strolled up a minute later. I greeted her with, "Are you really desperate for a slice?"
"Of Tony's on Millbrae, yeah."
"There's a pub around the corner. I need a real beer and I'd love to try their fish and chips."
We headed for it, then we both had the greasiest, best-ever fish and chips. She downed hers with two Shandys -- hardly what I’d call a real drink -- while I had a couple pints of Guinness. The joint was noisy enough to have to speak in above-normal voices to be heard. No way could anyone record us there...and just to be sure, I turned off my phone.
Diana was interested in Ghadir’s comments and Mahjub’s interest. I didn’t bother mentioning Tawfi’s embassy in any way. I just got her to talking about the shower.
“It was just like one in Brooklyn,” she said, “but with gifties from Harrod's instead of Macy's. I was smart and bought a Tiffany spoon for ten times more than it was worth, just so I could have it in their very recognizable box. Big hit.”
We chit-chatted a bit more about the high-tea-freaks, then she took a good swallow of her Shandy before saying, "Marci told me about the call from New Jersey.”
Shit, I’d forgotten about that. “How’d she know?”
“When the locals called the troopers, they figured you wouldn’t show so they called the office, and Marci called me. I told Colin, and he’s meeting with them this afternoon."
"How'd he take it?"
She took another drink then sighed. "For the first time since I met him, I have no earthly idea." A smile filled her face. "And you cannot believe how happy that makes me. It's a horrible circumstance, but I...I honestly think he can handle it. All by himself."
I found myself smiling. "God, I hope so."
She leaned on the table, clasped her hands and rested her chin on them. "Now it comes down to you, Dev. Can you handle your self?"
"What do you mean?"
"You didn’t tell me about your visitor, the other night," she purred.
Shit. "Just a guy I picked up. Get my mind off the crap."
She sighed, in response. “Dev, cut it out. I know you like to sketch the men who mean something to you, and you use your fountain pen for that. There was still some ink on your fingers, when I showed up."
Shit, and I'd washed my hands. "Mommy don't miss much, does she?"
"I learned from my mother how to keep track of everything. She had to, sometimes, just to keep me alive."
“Okay, okay, but it really was a pickup. I just...I liked him. Even got his info. Stupid, ain’t it?”
She grew very still, her eyes hot on me. “Devlin...I already told you -- gossip’s hot about the Met being in an uproar -- the egg-on-face, kind. That a British cop might have been molested. Then today I hear that it happened in the middle of a bungled attempt to catch a killer who might be connected to an embassy in Knightsbridge, letting another man get butchered. All rumor, of course...but considering when you got arrested...”
Shit, she knew about that, too. I drew in a deep breath and nodded. “It’s nowhere near like you think. Trust me, on that.”
“You don’t know what I think.”
I leaned against the table, rubbing my temples, fighting a sense of horror welling up inside. I noticed a waitress passing so stopped her with, “Excuse me, do you carry Jameson’s?”
“Black Label.”
“Bring me a shot, please.”
She nodded and zipped off. I looked at Diana and could all but hear her mind screaming, Oh, my God, as bad as that.
I said nothing until the shot appeared and I’d downed it then chased it with a gulp of Guinness. Her eyes were so sharp on me, I had to say, “I’m not turning into my father. I don’t usually do this...but it’s been a nightmare and I -- I just need something to ground me.”
Her voice was careful as she asked, “Is it working?”
I took in another deep breath and shook my head. “Nothing is. Every time I turn around, it gets worse.”
She nodded. And waited.
The pub’s noise was oppressive -- men and women scream-chatting and clinking glasses and singing songs. The one positive thing was, no one could record us in here. So I ordered another Guinness. And took a deep breath.
Then I laid it out about Reg...
...Right down to the hole it tore in my heart.
Whoever said that confession is good for the soul is a fucking liar. Because once I was done, I felt empty and alone and two milliseconds from breaking into sobs. It was like I relived the whole damned thing and now felt twice as guilty and ashamed and wondered if I actually had contributed to Martin Perriman’s death. My hands were shaking and my last Guinness hadn’t been touched, yet.
Diana let out an endless sigh before saying, “Jesus Fucking Christ, Dev. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I -- I don’t know.” I was about to lose the battle against tears --
Until she grabbed my wrist and snarled, “Don’t you dare fucking cry on me. You haven’t got that right.”
That jolted me and I held back.
She let go, sat there and said nothing more, for several minutes, then she gave a soft half-laugh and said, "At least you feel guilty about it.”
I took a swallow of Guinness. “Guilty? Shit, I hate myself, for the first time.”
She took a deep breath. “How many others were there?”
I shrugged. “Seven. Eight.” Then I cast her a sharp look. “But they deserved it.”
“Judge Devlin.”
“You gonna tell me after what Griffin Faure did to us, he didn’t? And Kenneth, planning his bullshit. And what I could tell you about the others -- ”
“Like Ryan Oriaggio?”
That made me blink. "Hell -- Hamilton filled you in, good."
"Hamilton didn’t need to," she said in her mommy voice. “You know, you’re not coming home.”
“I know, I’m on bail, right now, but -- “
“No they won’t let you. At the very least, you’re guilty of kidnapping and raping a cop, and making the Metropolitan Police look like idiots. They’ll want to save face, and there’s talk about three other men you might’ve attacked in the London area.”
“That’s bullshit; I don’t go for English guys.”
“Not a good defense, considering Constable Thornton.”
“His name’s Reg.”
That made her lean back, her mommy-eyes locked on me. “They are turning over heaven and earth to see who else they can find, on both sides of the Atlantic.”
“You can thank Griffin Faure for that. He’s in town and let me know he’s enjoying the show. Probably helping Sir Monte with possibilities.”
She nodded. “Well then, as things currently stand if you don’t wind up in prison, here or there, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Thanks for the pep-talk.”
“It’s reality, Dev. You know how to face that, don’t you?”
I sighed and nodded.
“What we need to do is change how things stand.” She finished her Shandy. "Do you still have Tavelscha’s photos?"
"At home. Right desk drawer, red thumb drive," was my reply.
“What about Faure’s?”
I looked at her for a moment then said, “Hamilton has that. In a safe deposit box. Gramma’s maiden name.”
“Any others?”
I swallowed. “Couple.”
She sighed. “And Constable Thornton?”
“His name is Reg.” She just looked at me. My hands began shaking, again. Hell -- I was quaking inside, like a 9.9. “They...they’re on my cell phone. I’d rather not turn it on, right now.”
She took in a deep breath. “Understood, but they will be seen, eventually, so you better get yourself ready. Find a psychiatrist. Someone here. Someone who can explain this -- these actions of yours. We’ll pay for it. I’ll talk to Hamilton about an attorney, here, too.”
“You hate me now, don’t you?”
Her voice became a hiss. “Begging for sympathy, Dev? After this?” She pointed to the phone. “I’m helping you because you’re my husband’s brother and I love him, and the only way I can protect him, right now, is by protecting you.”
“Protecting me? By having me tell you about Kenneth in the hotel room? Knowing the cops were probably listening in?”
“Yes! That way your side of the story’s known before opinions get set in stone, and lets the bastards know there’s more going on than they’ve been told by the American side.” She stood up to pull on her coat. “Y’know, speaking of ol’ Kenneth -- I think it’d be a good idea for you to call him, tomorrow, and, oh, make amends. No, make it Wednesday, after I've had a chance to, um, water your plants. Where do you keep your extra key, again?"
Without even thinking I said, "Office desk under the calendar corner."
"Time it for about 10 am, our time. I think Kenneth reads his e-mails by then. I’ll send you his address."
"How do you know all that?" She just smiled, tight and cold. "Diana...you sure you want to get into this?"
"No, but have you ever known me to back down from a fight?"
"I've never seen you in one."
"Well, you're about to. And something I learned a long time ago is, always play by your opponent’s rules. And always assume they know more than they're letting on. That way you're never surprised when you find out they do know it all."
“Jeez, wish I knew what made you into such a hard-ass.”
“Ask my mother, sometime,” she said, grabbing her purse. “Like I said, she had to become one to keep me alive till I was old enough to find someone I cared about more than me.”
“Colin.”
She stopped and her smile grew warm, again.
I leaned back in my seat, unable to look at her. “How’d you know he was the one?”
“Because I hurt for him,” she murmured. “Didn’t take me a minute to see he was special. That he needed someone to hold him. Just...hold him. By the time we got back to his apartment, I was ready to kill anyone who hurt him.”
“Good thing you didn’t find out about dad till -- “
“I knew. But for that, I wanted Colin to tell me. Work with me. I didn’t know what else to do or how to handle it in a way that wouldn’t make things worse, for him. Then I saw that S-O-B slap Colin and...” Her voice trailed off and she gave me a slight shrug. “You can’t change the past, Dev. All you can do is accept it and, if you’re lucky enough to get a second chance at becoming a decent human being, take it. I got lucky.”
I finally looked at her. “He thinks he’s the lucky one.”
A gentle smile crossed her lips. “I know. What about you?”
“Me?”
She nodded. "You've changed."
"Oh?"
"There used to be an edge to your voice. Something taut, like an overstretched wire. It's not there when you talk about that cop -- "
"Reg."
That softened her expression. "Reg."
I sagged, a little. "You know how you feel about the kids? And Colin? That's how I feel about him. And I don't get it."
"Don't you?"
"You're not gonna tell me this is love.”
"No. Only you can decide that.”
“But he’s straight!"
“And your voice grows gentle when you say his name. But you have a point -- I can’t see how you’ll ever make it right with him, short of a miracle.”
Then she walked away.
-------
I called Diana about dinner. "There's a Pizza Hut on Regent at Jermyn, if you're up for something that's trying to be American."
She all but laughed at me. "I'd die for a good slice, right now, but Pizza Hut?"
“I know, I know, I know, but in a pinch...”
She sighed and said, “How many have you had?” As if she could smell my breath through the phone.
“Not enough.”
“Where are you?”
“Knightsbridge.”
She hesitated before asking, “Why there?”
“Possible client. For some new pins, with chips. In fact, their I-T guy’s interested in helping make it work. That...uh, that’s why I’ve had a few. First, Ghadir, then...”
"Tell me about it over dinner. Can you make it by six?"
“See you there.”
I got there at five-fifty-five. Diana strolled up a minute later. I greeted her with, "Are you really desperate for a slice?"
"Of Tony's on Millbrae, yeah."
"There's a pub around the corner. I need a real beer and I'd love to try their fish and chips."
We headed for it, then we both had the greasiest, best-ever fish and chips. She downed hers with two Shandys -- hardly what I’d call a real drink -- while I had a couple pints of Guinness. The joint was noisy enough to have to speak in above-normal voices to be heard. No way could anyone record us there...and just to be sure, I turned off my phone.
Diana was interested in Ghadir’s comments and Mahjub’s interest. I didn’t bother mentioning Tawfi’s embassy in any way. I just got her to talking about the shower.
“It was just like one in Brooklyn,” she said, “but with gifties from Harrod's instead of Macy's. I was smart and bought a Tiffany spoon for ten times more than it was worth, just so I could have it in their very recognizable box. Big hit.”
We chit-chatted a bit more about the high-tea-freaks, then she took a good swallow of her Shandy before saying, "Marci told me about the call from New Jersey.”
Shit, I’d forgotten about that. “How’d she know?”
“When the locals called the troopers, they figured you wouldn’t show so they called the office, and Marci called me. I told Colin, and he’s meeting with them this afternoon."
"How'd he take it?"
She took another drink then sighed. "For the first time since I met him, I have no earthly idea." A smile filled her face. "And you cannot believe how happy that makes me. It's a horrible circumstance, but I...I honestly think he can handle it. All by himself."
I found myself smiling. "God, I hope so."
She leaned on the table, clasped her hands and rested her chin on them. "Now it comes down to you, Dev. Can you handle your self?"
"What do you mean?"
"You didn’t tell me about your visitor, the other night," she purred.
Shit. "Just a guy I picked up. Get my mind off the crap."
She sighed, in response. “Dev, cut it out. I know you like to sketch the men who mean something to you, and you use your fountain pen for that. There was still some ink on your fingers, when I showed up."
Shit, and I'd washed my hands. "Mommy don't miss much, does she?"
"I learned from my mother how to keep track of everything. She had to, sometimes, just to keep me alive."
“Okay, okay, but it really was a pickup. I just...I liked him. Even got his info. Stupid, ain’t it?”
She grew very still, her eyes hot on me. “Devlin...I already told you -- gossip’s hot about the Met being in an uproar -- the egg-on-face, kind. That a British cop might have been molested. Then today I hear that it happened in the middle of a bungled attempt to catch a killer who might be connected to an embassy in Knightsbridge, letting another man get butchered. All rumor, of course...but considering when you got arrested...”
Shit, she knew about that, too. I drew in a deep breath and nodded. “It’s nowhere near like you think. Trust me, on that.”
“You don’t know what I think.”
I leaned against the table, rubbing my temples, fighting a sense of horror welling up inside. I noticed a waitress passing so stopped her with, “Excuse me, do you carry Jameson’s?”
“Black Label.”
“Bring me a shot, please.”
She nodded and zipped off. I looked at Diana and could all but hear her mind screaming, Oh, my God, as bad as that.
I said nothing until the shot appeared and I’d downed it then chased it with a gulp of Guinness. Her eyes were so sharp on me, I had to say, “I’m not turning into my father. I don’t usually do this...but it’s been a nightmare and I -- I just need something to ground me.”
Her voice was careful as she asked, “Is it working?”
I took in another deep breath and shook my head. “Nothing is. Every time I turn around, it gets worse.”
She nodded. And waited.
The pub’s noise was oppressive -- men and women scream-chatting and clinking glasses and singing songs. The one positive thing was, no one could record us in here. So I ordered another Guinness. And took a deep breath.
Then I laid it out about Reg...
...Right down to the hole it tore in my heart.
Whoever said that confession is good for the soul is a fucking liar. Because once I was done, I felt empty and alone and two milliseconds from breaking into sobs. It was like I relived the whole damned thing and now felt twice as guilty and ashamed and wondered if I actually had contributed to Martin Perriman’s death. My hands were shaking and my last Guinness hadn’t been touched, yet.
Diana let out an endless sigh before saying, “Jesus Fucking Christ, Dev. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I -- I don’t know.” I was about to lose the battle against tears --
Until she grabbed my wrist and snarled, “Don’t you dare fucking cry on me. You haven’t got that right.”
That jolted me and I held back.
She let go, sat there and said nothing more, for several minutes, then she gave a soft half-laugh and said, "At least you feel guilty about it.”
I took a swallow of Guinness. “Guilty? Shit, I hate myself, for the first time.”
She took a deep breath. “How many others were there?”
I shrugged. “Seven. Eight.” Then I cast her a sharp look. “But they deserved it.”
“Judge Devlin.”
“You gonna tell me after what Griffin Faure did to us, he didn’t? And Kenneth, planning his bullshit. And what I could tell you about the others -- ”
“Like Ryan Oriaggio?”
That made me blink. "Hell -- Hamilton filled you in, good."
"Hamilton didn’t need to," she said in her mommy voice. “You know, you’re not coming home.”
“I know, I’m on bail, right now, but -- “
“No they won’t let you. At the very least, you’re guilty of kidnapping and raping a cop, and making the Metropolitan Police look like idiots. They’ll want to save face, and there’s talk about three other men you might’ve attacked in the London area.”
“That’s bullshit; I don’t go for English guys.”
“Not a good defense, considering Constable Thornton.”
“His name’s Reg.”
That made her lean back, her mommy-eyes locked on me. “They are turning over heaven and earth to see who else they can find, on both sides of the Atlantic.”
“You can thank Griffin Faure for that. He’s in town and let me know he’s enjoying the show. Probably helping Sir Monte with possibilities.”
She nodded. “Well then, as things currently stand if you don’t wind up in prison, here or there, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Thanks for the pep-talk.”
“It’s reality, Dev. You know how to face that, don’t you?”
I sighed and nodded.
“What we need to do is change how things stand.” She finished her Shandy. "Do you still have Tavelscha’s photos?"
"At home. Right desk drawer, red thumb drive," was my reply.
“What about Faure’s?”
I looked at her for a moment then said, “Hamilton has that. In a safe deposit box. Gramma’s maiden name.”
“Any others?”
I swallowed. “Couple.”
She sighed. “And Constable Thornton?”
“His name is Reg.” She just looked at me. My hands began shaking, again. Hell -- I was quaking inside, like a 9.9. “They...they’re on my cell phone. I’d rather not turn it on, right now.”
She took in a deep breath. “Understood, but they will be seen, eventually, so you better get yourself ready. Find a psychiatrist. Someone here. Someone who can explain this -- these actions of yours. We’ll pay for it. I’ll talk to Hamilton about an attorney, here, too.”
“You hate me now, don’t you?”
Her voice became a hiss. “Begging for sympathy, Dev? After this?” She pointed to the phone. “I’m helping you because you’re my husband’s brother and I love him, and the only way I can protect him, right now, is by protecting you.”
“Protecting me? By having me tell you about Kenneth in the hotel room? Knowing the cops were probably listening in?”
“Yes! That way your side of the story’s known before opinions get set in stone, and lets the bastards know there’s more going on than they’ve been told by the American side.” She stood up to pull on her coat. “Y’know, speaking of ol’ Kenneth -- I think it’d be a good idea for you to call him, tomorrow, and, oh, make amends. No, make it Wednesday, after I've had a chance to, um, water your plants. Where do you keep your extra key, again?"
Without even thinking I said, "Office desk under the calendar corner."
"Time it for about 10 am, our time. I think Kenneth reads his e-mails by then. I’ll send you his address."
"How do you know all that?" She just smiled, tight and cold. "Diana...you sure you want to get into this?"
"No, but have you ever known me to back down from a fight?"
"I've never seen you in one."
"Well, you're about to. And something I learned a long time ago is, always play by your opponent’s rules. And always assume they know more than they're letting on. That way you're never surprised when you find out they do know it all."
“Jeez, wish I knew what made you into such a hard-ass.”
“Ask my mother, sometime,” she said, grabbing her purse. “Like I said, she had to become one to keep me alive till I was old enough to find someone I cared about more than me.”
“Colin.”
She stopped and her smile grew warm, again.
I leaned back in my seat, unable to look at her. “How’d you know he was the one?”
“Because I hurt for him,” she murmured. “Didn’t take me a minute to see he was special. That he needed someone to hold him. Just...hold him. By the time we got back to his apartment, I was ready to kill anyone who hurt him.”
“Good thing you didn’t find out about dad till -- “
“I knew. But for that, I wanted Colin to tell me. Work with me. I didn’t know what else to do or how to handle it in a way that wouldn’t make things worse, for him. Then I saw that S-O-B slap Colin and...” Her voice trailed off and she gave me a slight shrug. “You can’t change the past, Dev. All you can do is accept it and, if you’re lucky enough to get a second chance at becoming a decent human being, take it. I got lucky.”
I finally looked at her. “He thinks he’s the lucky one.”
A gentle smile crossed her lips. “I know. What about you?”
“Me?”
She nodded. "You've changed."
"Oh?"
"There used to be an edge to your voice. Something taut, like an overstretched wire. It's not there when you talk about that cop -- "
"Reg."
That softened her expression. "Reg."
I sagged, a little. "You know how you feel about the kids? And Colin? That's how I feel about him. And I don't get it."
"Don't you?"
"You're not gonna tell me this is love.”
"No. Only you can decide that.”
“But he’s straight!"
“And your voice grows gentle when you say his name. But you have a point -- I can’t see how you’ll ever make it right with him, short of a miracle.”
Then she walked away.
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