--Evil Men, Dead Men--
--Evil Men, Dead Men--
Líadan stopped for a moment up at the bar. She was getting ready to put in an order when her stomach seized on her. This time, she didn't see much, but she heard her brothers' voices chanting the prayer, followed by gunshots. Suddenly, she was looking through Conner's eyes. Down a peephole, she saw a face she'd never forget, a face she never wanted to see again; there sat the other man who'd held her arms while the third had killed her sister. "I've been waitin' fer this asshole" Conner's voice sounded in her head. A few seconds later there were more gunshots, this time more erratic. When they stopped, she heard Conner's voice again. "Forget it, Roc, it's a family prayer. Our father's father before 'im, so that's our shit." She sucked in a sharp breath and made it to Brannon. Why would they be talking about the prayer?
"Turn on the news fer me?" Brannon's brow wrinkled, but he changed the TV to channel 22 and turned up the volume. "Hey! Shut it a second!" she called out to the room. They objected, but quieted when she yelled, "I just want ta hear this bit!" She caught anchorwoman Sally McBride on location at the Lakeview Deli.
"These murders coupled with the suspected Mob-related killings that occurred at this local Boston Deli earlier this afternoon brings the death toll to six, just today. There's no doubt that all the victims have been criminals. Perhaps this explains why a public outcry to have these crimes stopped has not been heard."
"Thanks, Bran. Oh, and I need these fer Cary's table." She handed him the slip as the phone started ringing. "I got it." She picked up the receiver, covered her other ear and said, "Faerie Queen."
"Lee, is that you, Sweetheaht?"
"Aye, Shane. What can I do fer ya?"
"Nothin'; I just needed ta vent fer a minute. You seen the news at awll ta-day?"
"Just caught it; sounds like yer busy."
"Well, we got Smeckah mad at us, 'cause we didn't tell 'im about Lakeview. That's wheah we'ah headed now. He wants ta look the scene ovah, see if he can find any links."
"Alright, Shane, well, you take care now. Good luck, and let me know if ya need anythin'."
"Will do, Sweetheaht. You be caheful ta-night. Apparently, theah's some dangerous guys on the street."
"Somehow, I'm not worried," she laughed. "I'll talk ta ya later."
"'Night, Sweetheaht."
In the morning, she went back down to the station for some more translating. Duffy had called Mrs. MacNamara, who then roused Líadan from a fitful sleep, early that morning. He left her alone in the office while she worked. Like the night before, her gut spasmed. There was lot of shouting and gunfire. Her left arm screamed at her, and then her right thigh. She hadn't known pain like this since she'd had a knife point dragged down the side of her face. The vision let her go, and she shook it from her head. She knew, somehow, that her brothers were in pain. But she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it right now. She set back to her work and a few minutes later, Duffy burst into the room. "We got anothah big one, Sweetheaht, I gotta go."
"If I stay in the car, can I come?" She already knew what had happened. She was just hoping that they wouldn't find Conner's and Murphy's bodies; though, somewhere inside her she knew she would be able to feel it if they were dead. Duffy thought for a quick second, and looked around.
"Come on," he finally beckoned.
She rode in the front seat next to him, her right foot up on the dashboard and her elbow resting on her knee. He pulled the car up to the scene and put it in park, taking the keys with him when he got out. He joined Greenly, Dolly, and Smeckerout in front of the house. Her vision blurred again, taking her breath with it. This is gonna hurt. She saw the gray-haired man from her childhood nightmares standing in front of a car. He had a long black coat and a weird gun belt that held six holsters. Conner and Murphy stood behind another man--was that Rocco?--reached over his shoulders and started firing. No! You can't beat him!her own voice screamed in her mind. But it was too late. She was pulled back to the present, hearing Smecker scream, "It was a firefight!" Then he raised his pistol in the air and fired a shot. He started freaking out after going to check on blood samples. She instinctively dropped her head a little, trying to hide from his rage. He flailed and threw himself to the ground. What is wrong with this guy? He seemed to have gained his composure again when he stood, perhaps finally realizing that he was acting like a child. Without warning, pain shot through her arm again, burning this time. A few minutes later, her thigh felt the same. She saw Murphy sitting behind Conner, holding a rag in his teeth. Someone she couldn't quite make out held an iron to Conner's leg, right where she felt the pain. Conner reached up behind his head and grabbed a hold of Murphy's hair, pulling his brother to him tightly. For a brief moment, her heart remembered what it was to have someone care for her like that. Her teeth remained clenched until it let go of her. Duffy came back to the car and got in. "Ya alright, Lee? Ya look a little wiped out."
"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I'm just glad I don't haftawork ta-night. Maybe I'll finally get some sleep." He smiled sympathetically at her, briefly touched her knee, then started the car and drove back to the station; Líadan still had some work to do on her translating.
Back at the precinct, Duffy left her alone in the office so that she could finish as quickly as possible. When she was done, she reread it to make sure it was understandable. Her eyes stopped, and she went over it again. Is that really what I think it is?She stood up, her eyes staying on the page. "Shane!" Duffy wasn't at his desk, so she started frantically running around the station trying to find him. Carrying the legal pad, she called his name and dodged the other officers. She finally found him when she burst into the office Smecker was using. "Shane! I think I found something!" She handed him the pad and pointed out the spot she had seen. He read it, then flipped through the rest of the pad of paper to find another set of dialog. He flipped back and forth several times before dropping the pad on the desk and wrapping his arms around Líadan. She stood dumbfounded as he planted a huge kiss on her cheek.
"It's finally enough ta get a wahrant," he smiled at her. A hand flew up to her mouth in disbelief, and Dolly and Greenly joined in the celebration, each taking his turn embracing her.
As the Detectives helped the District Attorney gather the evidence and piece it together to start mounting a case against Pappa Joe Yakavetta, Líadan lay down on the bench just outside the office. Beneath her head was her own coat, and Duffy's lay over her to keep her as warm as she would get in that station. A finger reached out and moved the hair away from the right side of her face. With her eyelids still closed, she said, "Ya think I could grow up with two older brothers and not know yer there, Shane?" She opened her eyes to find Smecker looking down at her and jumped a little.
"That's quite a scar you have there." She sat up and dropped her chin to make her hair fall back across that side of her face. "They're going to be a while in there, maybe even all night. You can probably go home and get some rest."
"Thanks, but I'm not stayin' to see what they find. I don't walk home after dark by m'self anymore. There's at least one of these guys still out there." She indicated her right cheek. "So I'm waitin' fer Shane ta take me home," she explained.
"Well, look, I'm gettin' outta here; I have some work to do at home. I could give you a ride somewhere."
"Thanks, but I'd rather stay here as long as I can. I don't have heat."
"Where do you live?"
"On 7th. It's technically an illegal loft on the third floor of the building."
"And you don't have heat?"
"Nope."
"In that case, do you wanna come crash on my couch for a little while? It's not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it's better than this bench, I can tell you that much." She looked at him hard for a moment. She usually didn't trust men, but there was something about this one. He was a good man; she could feel it.
"Alright, thanks." He offered her a hand to her feet, then she put on her coat, dropped Duffy's off at his desk, and followed Smecker out to his car.
The minute she walked into his timeshare she knew she'd been right about the first time she'd seen him. There was no doubt about the fact that this man was a homosexual. It didn't bother her; it was just blatantly obvious by the way he lived. He got a sheet out of a linen closet to put over the sofa. Then he got out a pillow and blanket and made sure Líadan was comfortable.
While she slept in the other room, he pulled out the finger he'd found behind the bushes at the crime scene earlier that day. He hadn't told anyone about it; this was his case, and he didn't want to lose it to the locals if he didn't have to. He dipped the tip of the finger in ink and rolled it across a plain white sheet of paper, then scanned it into his computer. He linked the computer to the local AFIS database and began running the print. A few moments later, the Automated Fingerprint Identification System gave him a match: David Della Rocco, a known Yakavetta family numbers runner, according to the arrest report. He looked at the face first in curiosity, and then in recognition. That was the man who had passed him outside the station, bringing clothes to the MacManus brothers.
He ran into the other room where Líadan lay asleep on the couch. He didn't rouse her gently this time; he pushed on her shoulder, rolling her onto her back to look up at him towering over her. It startled her, and she threw up her hands to defend herself. "Who's David Della Rocco?!"
"What?" She was very groggy and didn't understand half of the words he said. Blinking, she pulled herself into a half-sitting position.
"Who is David Della Rocco?!" he repeated slower.
"Um . . ." She sat up all the way and closed her eyes, trying to think. He was obviously angry, and she didn't want to find out what happened if she didn't come up with some information. "The boys--um--a, a friend . . . Roc--Rocco. I only met him once when Bridge and I first moved out here; we went to McGinty's with 'em. Tall, long brown hair, beard . . . Italian, I think. I'm sorry; I don't know more." Her expression told him she was being entirely truthful; she had told him all she knew of the man.
"Just, answer one other question for me."
"Aye?"
"What are they doing?" He seemed almost exasperated.
"In our family, especially on the boys' father's side, we were taught that evil should be punished, and that indifference was unacceptable. Near as I can tell, the boys felt some sort of calling."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm afraid not," she admitted.
"You're uh," he shook his head absently, suddenly distracted. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Sweetheart." Then he grabbed his sport jacket and walked out the door. Líadan sat surprised for a minute. Did he just call me Sweetheart?
As Líadan lay down and fell back to sleep, Smecker found his way down the street and to an underground bar. He needed a drink . . . or seven.
