A Certain Justice

Griffin wasn't out of his office before Glitsky began punching Wes Farrell's number into his phone. Enough of this waiting – Rigby or not, he was going to make something happen.

56

Wes Farrell had stopped all drinking early the previous day and hadn't resumed after Sergeant Stoner had left at night. He had decided he had slipped up the day before with Lieutenant Glitsky, reading the man all wrong by trusting him. He thought that today he'd better be a little sharper if he was going to do any good work for his client and, while he wasn't ready to admit that his alcoholic intake had slowed him down or affected his judgment, he didn't want to take any chances.

He had been watching the television ever since he had gotten up and there had been no sign of Kevin's tape. Whether or not anyone would believe it, Wes had a hard time imagining that a news station wouldn't run it. True or not, they had to see it as a development in the case of the most wanted fugitive in the United States. It should have appeared on every station from here to Bangor, Maine, within minutes of its arrival at the station. What could have gone wrong?

He realized he had also erred in neglecting to ask Kevin for the phone number where he was, so he was reduced to waiting on the off chance…

And after his lecture the previous night about the probability of Kevin being the defendant in a murder trial, Kevin and Melanie might have decided – at last – to change their names and get into a witness-protection program. In Brazil, or something.

Bart was whining by the door, ru

He looked down at his suffering pet, not wanting to allow Bart to experiment again with the newspapers in the kitchen. Could be a bad precedent – Bart might get so he liked it. 'Okay, guy, we gave 'em a chance. Let's roll it out of here.'

He opened the door and Bart rushed to the top of the stairs, whining and circling again. Not entirely trustful of the police, who had blindsided him only hours before, Wes atypically locked his difficult deadbolt, not that it would do any good if anybody really wanted to get in but it made him feel more secure.

He was four steps toward Bart at the head of the stairs when he thought he heard the telephone begin to ring. He cocked his head, listening over the dog's whine. Second ring. Yep, the phone.

'Perfect,' he said aloud, reaching into his pocket for the keys, which had caught on a loose thread in his pocket. He pulled and out came his comb and all his coins, flung all over the floor.

Ring.

The keys were stuck to the inside of his pocket, which was now pulled inside out. Swearing, holding the keys awkwardly, he crab-walked to his door. Bart came ru

Hey, master! Wes! My man. We're going out, remember? I've got to pee a river! I mean it. I'll do it in the hallway here if…

Ring.

He knew the trick. He could get the deadbolt on the first try if he calmly inserted the key all the way and then pulled it out the one sixteenth of an inch…

Ring.

… and wiggled it just the right amount. There!

'Shut up, Bart.'

The other lock was a piece of cake. In, turn, open.

Ring.

Cross the room, ru

'Hello.'

Dial tone.

He dropped his hands in frustration and the keys, magically undoing their hermetic knot, fell to the floor. He stepped to the side and saw Bart looking up at him, moaning piteously over a fresh deposit.

His pocket still hanging all the way out, Wes stood stock still, then deliberately undid his zipper and pulled out his penis. 'I am a fucking one-eared elephant,' he told Bart, then tucked himself back in and went for a beer.

'That wasn't you?'

'No. This is the first time I've tried to call. We just plugged the phone back in. We wanted to get some sleep.'

'That's nice,' Wes said. 'So who was it?' He couldn't figure who else might have tried to call him. He never imagined it might have been Glitsky – not after the betrayal yesterday.

'I don't know,' Kevin said. 'How would I know who called you?'

Wes dropped it. 'Anyway, you get your nice sleep?'

'Yeah. We both feel better. Even my ribs…'

'Great. So what are you pla

A short pause, then: 'We don't know, Wes. Maybe just wait.'

'You know what for?'

'No. We don't know what to do. Maybe wait 'til tonight and then try to get down to Mexico, then I don't know, call you when things maybe calm down, see if by then something's turned up. I mean, somebody's got to be out there who can say what happened. Besides me.'

'Don't you think they would have come forward by now?'

'Yeah. But maybe not. Maybe they're scared, too. I mean, all this stuff outside. But after my tape comes out…'

'Speaking of which…'

'Yeah, I know. We're calling the station right after this. Something went wrong there. Melanie says it must have been the guard.'

'The guard?'

"The place was closed up. She left it at the night desk.' Wes bit off his reply. He'd like a nickel for every time a detail like this had cost someone a case. You didn't drop things off with second parties – you delivered them to principals even if you had to wait all night. 'You want me to call the station, take it from there?'

'I thought you said it wouldn't do any good.'

'On the other hand, as you just pointed out, it might bring somebody out of the woodwork, a believable witness, and you might get out of this yet.'

'You think so?'

'I don't know, it's a big if. I wouldn't get my hopes up. But at least it's possible. As things stand now, you either run or you go to trial. It's probably worth doing, that's all I'm saying. I could do it for you, keep you guys out of it.'

He heard mumbling at the other end of the line, Kevin discussing it with Melanie, then he was back on. 'If you really would…'

'I said so, didn't I?'

'It's better than ru

It was odd hearing someone ask that question nowadays, but Wes thought it very much in character. Kevin was a throw-back, a believer in doing the right thing – it was what had gotten him into this in the first place. All the right moves that had turned out so disastrously.

And Wes realized he had no choice either. The way Kevin was now was the way Wes had tried to be, had believed in being, before events in his life had soured him on believing anymore.

It was irrational blind faith, but giving solace to Kevin and Melanie, committing to help them, Wes realized he felt a whole lot better about himself than he had in a long time. It was the trick he had forgotten ever since Mark Dooher, since his wife… sometimes people didn't screw up on you. That was the thing he'd forgotten. You had to take chances. If you didn't you were dead, or might as well be.

'Wes?'

'Yeah, I'm sure. I do think it's your best shot, Kev. If you run and you're caught… no telling what would happen.' He didn't have to draw a picture. 'For now, I'd say lay low. Wait another day. Nobody knows where you are. Maybe something will break in your favor. You can always run, but once you do that, you're committed.'