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and
moved on.  That’s what they do.  That’s how they
operate.  They answer to no one.  They live
nowhere.  They’re tethered to nothing.”
    “Then how the hell does somebody go about
finding such a guy to hire him?”
    I shrugged.  “Soldier of Fortune
magazine.  Underground methods of communications.  You
know somebody who’s a friend of a friend who heard of a guy. 
The price of a hit like that would be astronomical.  We’re not
talking about services for hire to a disillusioned housewife.”
    “Okay,” Crevan said.  “That’s
helpful.  We’re looking for somebody with money, somebody well
connected.”
    “I’d agree.  The person who hired the
LDSK had to be in that elusive one percent of wealth.”
    Devlin frowned and took the conversation in
another direction.  “We think we have a leak but can’t prove
it.”
    “Meaning?” Johnny asked.
    “Isn’t that what the two of you realized
when Levine told you that Marcos had no idea that Datello was the
one turning on him?  He thinks it’s Franchetta.  Now he
thinks Franchetta’s the one who embezzled all that money.”
    “And he’s probably right,” I said. 
“But, I think I see where you’re going with this, Devlin.  If
somebody knew why Datello killed David Ireland, and knew that the
feds weren’t using that information against Sully Marcos, then we
certainly have a leak somewhere.”
    “Not on our end,” Johnny said.
    “Maybe.  Maybe not.”
    They stared at me again,
dumbfounded. 
    “There is conceivably one other person who
knew about Danny’s involvement in something incriminating Sully
Marcos who isn’t a cop.” It was a tenuous thread, but there
nonetheless.
    “Southerby,” Johnny growled.
    “Yes.  So in addition to finding out
who visited Dad at Attica, wouldn’t it behoove us to find out who
Southerby has been talking to other than his attorney?”
    “His attorney could be the leak,” Johnny
suggested.
    I disagreed.  “If Southerby’s lawyer
knows anything, you can bet your ass that Marcos would know it
too.  Marcos is still pinning the whole thing on
Franchetta.”  I glanced at Johnny.  “I’m pretty sure
Marcos believes that Franchetta’s been lying to him all
along.  Especially since the murder weapon used to kill my
ex-husband was found in a waste management plant Sully owned.”
    Johnny’s fists clenched.  “That’s a
point I hadn’t considered, Doc.”
    “I’m missing something,” Crevan frowned.
    “We’re pretty sure that Franchetta was
following Hamilton at Sully’s request,” Johnny said.  “He
likely observed a suicide and took the gun, thinking they might use
it as a tool to frame someone else after Hamilton’s body was
discovered.”
    “But that missing weapon would make it look
like a murder, not suicide,” Devlin said.
    Crevan was staring at me.  “And that’s
exactly what Special Agent Mark Seleeby thought,” he said. 
“So Franchetta kept the gun Rick used to kill himself, thinking
that he could somehow leverage something from Helen if the FBI
investigated her for the murder.”
    “Which they did,” I said.
    “Ah hell,” Devlin shook his head. 
“They were bound and determined to use you one way or another,
weren’t they?”
    “I’m not so sure that Marcos isn’t still angling for some way to use her,” Johnny
growled.  “Over my dead –”
    “ Don’t say that,” I
interrupted.  The last thing I wanted was Johnny tempting
fate, particularly when the niggling fear of my karmic debt was so
strong.  “I’d rather it be over my dead body than yours.”
    Nobody spoke for a long while.  There
was no eye contact, no acknowledgement that what I said was right
or wrong.  Maybe on some level, we all understood that while
people may think they are getting away with murder, in the
end, that simply isn’t the truth.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
    We needed to find Mike Lucero.  My one
and only conversation with Dad while he was still