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Chapter 4
Lindsay glanced at her husband across the table as she went through the trace evidence that Mac had analysed. He was staring at the whiteboards deep in thought. Somehow she felt that he wasn't really seeing them; his mind was somewhere else. "Danny?" He turned to look at her. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah. This is unbelievable. Not only does he spend his whole time in the office working. Even when he's home he's still working." Danny grabbed another box folder from the shelves. He frowned when he saw there was no label on it. He shook it and realizing that there was something inside, he resumed his seat to look through the file.
"What's wrong Danny?" Lindsay asked not fooled for a second. Danny looked at her for a minute.
"I was just thinking about Aiden. I was just thinking how alike they are." Danny rubbed his face and cricked his neck. Lindsay knew how much Danny had liked her predecessor but she wasn't sure where he was going with this.
"What do you mean?"
"It's just that before we found Aiden ..." he hesitated. "...before she died, she was doing just this." He waved his hand at the room. "Running her own secret investigation. She was obsessed with catching D.J. Pratt and it cost her her life." Danny voice broke and she could see the tension in the lines of his face. Instinctively she knew what he thinking.
"Danny, that's not going to happen to Mac. We're not going to let it. We are going to find him." Danny smiled at his wife, at the determination in her voice and on her face. He nodded and opened the unmarked box file.
"Hm." Danny tipped his head to one side as he looked at the contents of the box. "Didn't know Mac was interested in boats." He continued to flip through the photographs. There were several of a boat and then several of some modern apartment buildings and some construction sites. Suddenly the computers on Mac's desk beeped. "Oh great. Adam's little gizmo has worked. Now we've got Mac's passwords." Danny jumped up and looked at the screen on the gadget Adam had attached to Mac's computer. "Huh what kind of crazy password is that?" Lindsay looked over his shoulder as he typed it in.
"567374463" Danny huffed. "How the hell does he remember that?"
"Wow. Look at all these files. Where to start?" Lindsay bit her lip. "Let's try the last one he accessed."
Danny ordered the files by date and clicked on the last one. A newspaper article popped up on screen with a picture of a modern office building. "Hell's Kitchen goes Greene." he read. "Okay so maybe he's into architecture and boats."
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'CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY'
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Jo Danville sank into another small sofa in another somewhat drab, simply furnished apartment. This time however, there were no photographs or memorabilia on the credenza, just a dried flower arrangement and delicate china ornaments. Where Don Flack senior's apartment spoke of his profession and his family this one said nothing about it's occupants. Jo cast her eye over the plain painted walls adorned with various needlepoint samplers in simple wooden frames. She noted the latest one sitting on a side-table with the needle sticking out. The owner of the needle came back and handed her a cup of tea. "Thank you." Jo sipped at the tea and tried her best not to shudder. It was very strong and very sweet.
The old lady settled herself into her chair with a swish of her skirt and picked up her needlepoint. "How can I help you dear? Is this about Finbar?" Her voice was soft and gentle; only the merest hint of an Irish accent still lingered.
Jo nodded. "Indirectly, I was hoping you could tell me about his sister and his nephew."
"Oh, did that other nice detective find her?" she asked as she peered down at her sewing.
Sheldon looked at Jo. "Other detective?"
"Yes, he came to see me several weeks ago not long after Finbar died. Such a nice man. He was very kind and so polite. He said his name was Taylor and he was looking for Finbar's sister. I told him that I hadn't had anything to do with her since Finbar was arrested. They killed him you know." She stabbed her needle into the material.
"What?" Jo's cup rattled against the saucer as she stared at Moira Gunn in horror.
The old woman didn't look up but continued in a smooth friendly voice as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "My Finbar. They killed him after all those years. I told that nice detective. Finbar hadn't had anything more to do with all that business. Oh to be sure, he was a supporter back then as many a true Irishman was. But after he went to jail and the troubles died down … well we just wanted a quiet life. He served his time and would never have given up the others. But they still killed him." Moira Gunn's needle stabbed at the material again.
"The others from the bank robbery?" asked Sheldon.
"Yes that and other jobs too. My Finbar was an accountant you know. He had a way with figures. I knew he managed their money but he never talked to me about 'the business' as he called it. Said it was better that way." She looked briefly up from her sewing and smiled at Jo.
"And his sister?" asked Jo watching the needle flying in and out of the material. It was almost mesmerizing. Jo shuddered again for no apparent reason.
"Maggy? His half sister actually. Colm was her son. Don't know what became of him I'm sure. Not a nice child." Moira Gunn's voice took on a secretive tone. "He was born out of wedlock. That's why he took his mother's name. Maggy went back to the old country but I guess she came back to New York when she married."
"When she married? Do you know who to?" asked Jo grimacing as she realized that the bottom of her tea cup was full of tea leaves. She set the cup down on the side table.
"Oh the other detective asked me that too. I don't recall his name but he was a builder. I remember seeing their photograph in the paper one day when they opened some big fancy building in Midtown. It had recycling and … solar things … you know?" Moira set down her sewing and picked up Jo's cup and saucer. Jo sincerely hoped she wasn't going to refill it.
"Environmentally friendly?" Sheldon smiled.
"That's right. Environmentally friendly. So clever what they can do these days. " Moira smiled at Sheldon and then her face took on an intense feeling of pain. "I do hope he's all right." She muttered as she turned away and looked intently at Jo's cup.
"Who?"
"That nice policeman. I warned him to be careful. The leaves don't lie." She swirled the cup and looked at it again. Sheldon looked at Jo in confusion. "Mm. Your future is linked with his I see. But you must be careful or you will lose him." Suddenly the old lady put down the cup and reached out and grabbed Jo's hands with surprising force. "Tread lightly when your paths cross again. Do not cross the spider's web." Jo pulled away at the intensity of the old woman's words and the sudden icy feeling that crept up her spine setting every nerve on edge. She got up quickly and thanked the woman for her time. Before Sheldon was half-way out of his seat, Jo had reached the door. As he thanked her and made to leave, Moira Gunn turned to him. "Don't be so sceptical young man. The leaves don't lie. Just because you're a scientist and a doctor doesn't mean that there aren't other powers at work in this world. Watch out for Maggy. She's a cruel woman." Moira picked up her sewing again and Sheldon watched the needle fly in and out as he left the apartment. He paused outside the door and frowned. He was sure he hadn't mentioned to her that he was a doctor.
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'CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY'
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"Quinn Morrison! NYPD!" Don Flack banged on the door as the uniformed officers glanced up and down the dingy hallway and gestured to a nosy neighbour to go back inside. "Quinn Morrison open up!" Don could hear a scuffling sound from inside and the door opened a crack to reveal an elderly man with a scraggy beard and bloodshot eyes.
"Whadd'ya want?" he snarled.
"NYPD" Don held up his ID. "Can I have a word?" The man gestured for his ID. Don handed it over and the old man peered at it before looking up at Don. He laughed and opened the door thrusting the ID back at Don.
"Well if ain't another bloody Flack. Might have known one of his sons would become a cop." Quinn Morrison shuffled down the corridor. Don was surprised. Quinn Morrison looked a lot older than his file had suggested but judging from the smell in the apartment and the empty bottles in the filthy kitchen, the years in prison and the alcohol were taking their toll. While the man took a seat in a battered old armchair, Don had no choice but to remain standing. The only other seat in the almost derelict apartment was occupied by a mangy-looking old dog chewing on a bone. The dog eyed him as he entered the room but decided the bone was more interesting. Don eyed the dog just in case; he'd had his fair share of run-ins with dogs.
"So whadd'ya want?" Quinn snarled. His face contorted into a leer. "Lost something?"
Don's hackles rose. "What do you know about Mac Taylor?"
The leer widened into a grin. "Only that he murdered my boy."
Don fought to keep his anger under control. "Your son and Colm Gunn got themselves killed when they attacked the crime lab to get back their drugs. And you know it." A shadow of something like disappointment passed over Quinn's face at the mention of drugs. "Now where is Mac Taylor?"
"I don't know."
"Don't give me that." Don stepped closer towering over the former bank robber. The dog raised it's head.
"I don't know." Quinn insisted shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. He sniffed. "I couldn't believe it when Taylor came sniffing around again. He's a tenacious sonofabitch. Like a dog with an old bone. I told him to leave it be. Not to go stirring up the past but he'd finally identified Colm and he wasn't about to let it go."
"If something's happened to Mac Taylor and you know anything about it, I will personally make sure you go down as an accessory. Now what do you know?"
"I don't know anything. I told him nothing. And I'm telling you nothing." Quinn reached out for the glass of whiskey on the table next to him. Don swung his arm and swept it off the table, the crash of breaking glass causing one of the uniformed officers waiting in the entrance to step inside to check all was well. The dog raised it's head and growled. "He was asking about Maggy. Maggy Gunn. Colm's mother. I told him to leave it."
"What do you know about her? Where is she?" Don was getting angrier by the minute. The old man knew something.
"I don't know where she is and I don't want to know. She's trouble. She always was. Now get out."
"Not until I find out where Mac Taylor is." Don stepped forward. The dog growled again.
Quinn slumped in his chair. "Look. I was just the bag man back then. It was for the cause. I didn't want no part in the murdering. That was all Maggy. Now I've said enough. If she finds out I've talked to you I'm a dead man. Now arrest me or leave. " Quinn looked at Don with a mix of fear and hatred, though whether that was for Mac, for Don or for himself Don couldn't have said. "I don't know where Detective Taylor is but if he's found Maggy, he's probably dead too or wishes he was."