Chapter 5: The day before Christmas
I was off duty that morning, and it was just as well because I didn't get any sleep at all the night before. I was meeting my father for lunch and I wasn't sure what to say to him. Hey Dad, merry Christmas, and by the way, my partner thinks you killed his father, what do you say about that? I've never been so nervous in my life, even when I kept telling myself he would definitely have a good answer for everything that happened. I paced outside the little Italian restaurant because I was half an hour early, but decided to go in anyways. I adjusted my uniform in the restaurant window before I went in. My father hated sloppiness.
When I entered the over-stuffed restaurant, I was surprised to see my father was already sitting at a table, chatting with someone else in uniform. He saw me and gestured for me to come over.
"Officer Finney, meet my good friend Chief MacIntyre. Eddie, this my son."
I shook the other man's hands and thought oh no, not another big shot to help me "advance my career".
"So, Brendan, right? Your father talks about you a lot. Third in your graduating class, and I heard you've got a cool head and steady hands in the streets. Your father must be damn proud of you." Chief MacIntyre smiled at me.
I could feel my father's stare, but today I really couldn't go on chatting casually about my various accomplishments. "I'm really sorry, Sir. but I need to talk to you, in private." I turned to my father.
My father's eyes narrowed for a brief second and then he smiled. "Please excuse us, Eddie. I guess my son and I have to discuss some last minute Christmas shopping issues."
Chief MacIntyre stood up, "of course Cathal. Tell Angela Merry Christmas." We shook hands again and finally he was gone.
"What was that all about?" My father's voice was low but menacing enough.
I swallowed hard. There was no easy way to say this so I had to come right out and get it over with. "Dad, remember my partner Davis?"
My father leaned back, "of course, I thought I told you he should come talk to me. What is it this time?"
"Well, it's not that simple. He found some evidence, evidence that seemed to incriminate…you." I hesitated.
My father look at me for a while and almost burst out laughing. "That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. This friend of yours has got a pretty wild imagination." Then his tone turned more serious. "I guess he showed you the IAB file, didn't he?"
I nodded.
"Well, what can I say? Some people just have to dig even if they can't handle the dirt. Do you want to know what really happened to his father? I'll tell you. He was crooked as hell. Sullivan and I were his partners and we tried to talk some sense into him but he wouldn't listen. I guess your partner didn't tell you, but his old man had a second family on the side and five kids that he needed to support. Finally I decided that it really wasn't right. I gave him a choice, either go to IAB and confess or I will do it for him."
I interrupted, "but Sullivan claimed Ty Sr. was already going to IAB the next day."
"No, the coward took the easy way out. If he went to IAB he could be charged and lose his pension and everything. Who's going to feed his two families then? So he took a gun from police custody and hired some low-life to shoot him and make it look like he died in the line of duty. I know because I investigated his death. Sullivan always thought I was responsible, and I guess I was, in a way. The whole thing just sickened me so much that I decided to transfer to internal affairs. Think about it, a good life, ruined for nothing except money. I kept all this quiet because I didn't want your friend to grow up thinking his father was dirty, but he can't seem to leave anything alone, and that Sullivan can't keep his mouth shut. This is how they are gonna repay me after all these years of sitting on the truth?" My father's fist banged on the table, and I've never seen him get so heated in a public place.
Somehow I still wasn't satisfied. "What about Raymond Morris? And the ex-detective who gave Monroe the folder?"
"Son, they caught Morris for killing a cop. The dead definitely can't testify so he had to pin it on someone else to save himself. Don't tell me you're gonna take the words of a convicted cop-killer over that of your father? He probably made enemies in prison that decided to get ride of him. About that ex-IAB detective, that was a damn shame. But you of all people should know we get death threats all the time, this could just be one that finally caught up with him." He put his hand on my shoulder "Brendan, I'm glad you came to me. Now that everything's laid out we can get it all cleared up. I'm sorry for you friend, but he's got to start perceiving things for the way they really are."
I didn't know what to say. There really can't be any doubt left. What was I thinking? "Dad, I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but Davis's been giving me a hard time. Maybe you can talk to him, and in the mean time I should ride with someone else."
"Come on, son. I wouldn't have put you two together if I didn't think you could handle it."
His comment caught me off guard. "What do you mean? You put me with Davis? Did you hope that I'd come to you about what he told me?"
"Now you're getting paranoid. What did I tell you about politics? Keep your enemies close and your friends closer. From what I've heard from you he's your friend and you two seemed to work well together. A good partner is hard to come by, I was doing you a favor. I'm sure that everything will be fine again once I've had a chat with him and get him to finally see the light." He gestured to the waiter to bring some more food. "Now, son, you gotta eat and don't forget to come to dinner early tonight. Your mother's baking a feast. I have to go."
I watched him leave and felt relieved. Questioning my father's integrity was not something I enjoyed doing, even if he had an answer for everything. I watched him from the window, but something unusual caught my eye. His silver sedan followed from behind but he got into a black van that I've never seen before. I could just make out that someone was sitting in the front next to the driver's seat and that there was a huge dent on the car right below its left taillight. The snow was really blurry now and I didn't catch the plate number. It's probably just one of my father's informants. The thought dissipated from my mind as I scrambled through lunch. I was definitely going to be late for my shift.