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Her assistant appeared with the book, and the headmaster held it close to her chest like armor. She didn’t offer it to Co
Co
“I don’t think that’s-”
“Why don’t you let me look at the book today, here, on premises. If I find what I’m looking for, you’re all set. No need to testify. If, on the other hand, you feel uncomfortable with that, I can see you up the grand jury tomorrow at One Pemberton Square, downtown.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Darget.” She handed him the book. “Let me find you someplace where you can look through this in private.”
“I may need to make some photocopies if I find anything useful.”
“Of course. Anything you need.”
Ten minutes later Co
There wasn’t much to miss. Zardino wasn’t the most popular guy. No pictures of him except for his yearbook portrait. Age had carved some measure of distinction into the puffy adolescent face. His features were more defined now, his eyes no longer downcast in teenage angst. The Richard Zardino Co
But the text below his photo was what Co
Nickname: Richie
Activities: Stage crew, Photography Club
Ambition: To marry the girl of my dreams
Favorite Quote: The arms of night restrain both men and immortals.
Co
That quote. The other kids had things like Life is what you make it and To be half the man my father is. Zardino went for something from a classics class. At East Boston High? And that girl of his dreams. Was she real or imaginary?
CHAPTER 70
Alves waited outside the classroom in Austin Hall until her law students had filtered out. Sonya Jordan stood at the front of the room packing her bag.
“Can I help you?” she asked without looking up.
“I’d like to talk with you about Mitch Beaulieu,” he said.
As she looked up, he saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. Then she went back to arranging her notebooks and textbook in her bag.
“I only need a few minutes of your time,” he persisted.
“I asked for a few minutes of your time three years ago. I tried to tell you about Mitch, to explain that he wasn’t capable of doing the things you believed he had done. I wanted to convince you that he was a good man, his only mistake was trusting whoever it was that set him up. You didn’t want to listen then. You, Detective Alves, treated me like some dumb bitch girlfriend in denial of her boyfriend’s criminal behavior.”
The anger in her voice stu
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Detective. You and your boss were so hell-bent on closing your case, putting it into the solved column, that you didn’t want to hear the truth. You had your man. All the better, a black man. Mitch Beaulieu was dead, and his suicide was as good as a confession. Now you come in here and think I’m going to speak with you?”
Sonya Jordan had the reputation as a fierce defender of her clients and as a brilliant but difficult lawyer. Alves had to get through to her. “I lost someone, too. One of the victims, Robyn Stokes. My wife Marcy and I grew up with her.”
Sonya Jordan looked away for a moment. “Marisela Alves is your wife?”
Alves nodded. “How do you know Marcy?”
“I represented Richard Zardino in his appeals. He and I make the rounds of the area colleges and law schools, letting students know about the injustices inherent in our criminal justice system. I speak with her classes at UMass Boston every semester. I didn’t know she was married to a cop.”
Alves smarted at the pejorative word. Cop. “Opposites attract.” Alves smiled.
Sonya Jordan didn’t. “What do you want from me?”
Alves knew what he had to say. And he knew that once he said the words out loud, they could never be taken back. No matter what the collateral damage. “I have to ask you to keep this conversation confidential, Ms. Jordan. At least for now. I think I might have been wrong about Mitch.”
Part Three
CHAPTER 71
It was not overly efficient, but it was the best Co
Since that day, any time Co
He used his early mornings and free evenings to sit behind the heavily tinted windows of the office ride. He was more than worried about his diet. Short on time, he was eating at every takeout place on the other side of the Mystic River -Spinelli’s, The Italian Kitchen, Katz’s Bagels in Chelsea. But his healthy diet would have to take the hit. Mooney and Alves had spent the last couple weeks chasing down leads and getting nowhere.
It was early in the morning, over a plain bagel and a quart of skim milk, that he saw her. Small, dark-haired. She was coming out of the bungalow directly across from Zardino’s old colonial, turning to be sure the door behind her was locked. She adjusted the strap of her pocketbook and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. The early light touched her face. Small, heart-shaped. A potential dream girl.
By the time she reached the sidewalk, she had her keys in her hand. She opened the door of a pale gold Honda Civic. Co
He almost lost her in Maverick Square and at the toll booths at the Sumner Tu
She pulled into a small, private lot on Newbury Street. Co