Read Online F Train by Richard Hilary Weber - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Hilary Weber
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people, Raymond, and most people seem to like me. That one there, that jerk who just stomped out, he’s a glaring exception, I got to admit, but I can’t afford to make him my enemy. I still have too many years to go before retirement. And a family to support. Enemies in the commissioner’s office, Ray, even worse an enemy with the mayor’s ear, that much trouble I don’t need. Even if I do understand how you feel. It’s so insulting, it’s demeaning and patronizing. Only thing is, rubbing it in like you just did, Ray, doesn’t help me much. Won’t help the DA either.”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” He appeared genuinely apologetic, conscious of the damage he caused. “I owe you big-time. But you know, when I was with the Bureau, I actually had an uncomplicated outlook, you could say that. Only now when I run into an idiot like this guy, this boneless wonder with delusions of mediocrity, I don’t have to take it anymore, know what I mean? Wait till you’re retired, you’ll understand what I’m driving at. Things change.”
She regarded Raymond O’Hara with a mixture of curiosity and appraisal. Several opportunities presented themselves in the person of the retired FBI special agent, and questions came to mind. She put away her notes and closed her briefcase, readjusting her face, aiming for an expression of patience and acceptance.
“Ray, I understand, a guy like Howie Gerald can be pretty unbearable. And there’s one thing maybe you can help me with. Which would really be great.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“At the Bureau, you still have friends there, people you can talk to?”
No reaction. Only a blank, cautious stare into his glass. He sipped his beer in silence, and after a moment Flo took a gamble and expanded the question.
“Anyone who could tell you something about John James Reilly?”
His head tilted, side to side, as if weighing the consequences of an answer.
“Could be.”
Flo felt she should wait.
With an air of careful contemplation, Raymond finished his Guinness and called for another. “Lieutenant, you got a liaison at the Bureau for this case, right?”
“Maureen Canane.”
“Don’t know her. But she’s got her job to do. And what you really want to know, in my opinion, is about that woman he was with, right, not about him so much. It’s her. You want to know about Marie Priester, the mystery lady. She’s key.”
“Her, yes. But anything, Raymond, anything at all…like what kept Reilly away from his family most of the time, if it wasn’t Marie Priester? Was he on to something, on to someone in his work? He was assigned to UN delegations. Were there threats against any of those diplomats? Was there someone who may have wanted him out of the way? Was he a threat?”
“Right. Or was he simply unlucky, like everyone else in that subway car? You know, that’s probably your safest bet, the one right under your nose. Unlucky, all of them. It just wasn’t their night.”
“Their night? Maybe not. But that leaves me not only with who, Raymond, but also why. Why kill at random? What’s the point? All that effort, all that risk, and for what? So I want to make absolutely sure I can omit Reilly before we go down that madman route.”
“Right, before you go stalking off in the dark.”
“Exactly, off into fog. Where no one will want to believe us. Insanity is usually seen as a copout, either a faker’s defense or a screen for incompetent police work.”
“Let me think about it, Flo. I promise I’ll get back to you, one way or the other. Want another ginger ale?”
“I got to get back to the office.”
“Lucky you. And I mean it.”
1:40 P.M.
Misery, again…
Stepping out from Farrell’s, Flo Ott walked straight into an icy blast of wind, a squall lashing needle-sharp sleet in her face. Crouching, breathing hard, she turned up the parka on her goose-down coat and picked her way across a treacherously slick sidewalk to the curb.
Slowly, a dark vehicular shape
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” He appeared genuinely apologetic, conscious of the damage he caused. “I owe you big-time. But you know, when I was with the Bureau, I actually had an uncomplicated outlook, you could say that. Only now when I run into an idiot like this guy, this boneless wonder with delusions of mediocrity, I don’t have to take it anymore, know what I mean? Wait till you’re retired, you’ll understand what I’m driving at. Things change.”
She regarded Raymond O’Hara with a mixture of curiosity and appraisal. Several opportunities presented themselves in the person of the retired FBI special agent, and questions came to mind. She put away her notes and closed her briefcase, readjusting her face, aiming for an expression of patience and acceptance.
“Ray, I understand, a guy like Howie Gerald can be pretty unbearable. And there’s one thing maybe you can help me with. Which would really be great.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“At the Bureau, you still have friends there, people you can talk to?”
No reaction. Only a blank, cautious stare into his glass. He sipped his beer in silence, and after a moment Flo took a gamble and expanded the question.
“Anyone who could tell you something about John James Reilly?”
His head tilted, side to side, as if weighing the consequences of an answer.
“Could be.”
Flo felt she should wait.
With an air of careful contemplation, Raymond finished his Guinness and called for another. “Lieutenant, you got a liaison at the Bureau for this case, right?”
“Maureen Canane.”
“Don’t know her. But she’s got her job to do. And what you really want to know, in my opinion, is about that woman he was with, right, not about him so much. It’s her. You want to know about Marie Priester, the mystery lady. She’s key.”
“Her, yes. But anything, Raymond, anything at all…like what kept Reilly away from his family most of the time, if it wasn’t Marie Priester? Was he on to something, on to someone in his work? He was assigned to UN delegations. Were there threats against any of those diplomats? Was there someone who may have wanted him out of the way? Was he a threat?”
“Right. Or was he simply unlucky, like everyone else in that subway car? You know, that’s probably your safest bet, the one right under your nose. Unlucky, all of them. It just wasn’t their night.”
“Their night? Maybe not. But that leaves me not only with who, Raymond, but also why. Why kill at random? What’s the point? All that effort, all that risk, and for what? So I want to make absolutely sure I can omit Reilly before we go down that madman route.”
“Right, before you go stalking off in the dark.”
“Exactly, off into fog. Where no one will want to believe us. Insanity is usually seen as a copout, either a faker’s defense or a screen for incompetent police work.”
“Let me think about it, Flo. I promise I’ll get back to you, one way or the other. Want another ginger ale?”
“I got to get back to the office.”
“Lucky you. And I mean it.”
1:40 P.M.
Misery, again…
Stepping out from Farrell’s, Flo Ott walked straight into an icy blast of wind, a squall lashing needle-sharp sleet in her face. Crouching, breathing hard, she turned up the parka on her goose-down coat and picked her way across a treacherously slick sidewalk to the curb.
Slowly, a dark vehicular shape
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