“What's an end around?” I ask. Nathan smirks and gives me a look. “Seriously. I've been deluded for years, so don't just assume I know fucking everything.”
“Okay. An end around is when Samuel would arrest or bust someone, but then before the case went to trial, something would get screwed up, charges were never pressed, whatever. The key part of an end around though happens in the evidence room. Say that a week ago, the cops made a bust for ten guns. Then Samuel pulls the end around, and in checking in evidence from his bust, things get mixed up, and when the charges are dropped, the evidence is returned to the suspects, but the first case shows only five guns on their bust now. Guess where those other five guns went? Right into Samuel's friends' evidence.”
“And this was profitable?” I ask, surprised. “Seems like a lot for five guns.”
“Oh, Samuel pulled end arounds for more than just five guns,” Nathan said. “He was damn near an expert in doing that sort of evidence tag switch on stolen property, too. Computers, art, currency, anything except drugs. It wasn't that Samuel had a problem with drugs, it's just that NOPD policy is to destroy drugs regardless of whether charges stick or are dropped. He had a whole other funnel system in place for that one.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“He got greedy and lazy. One night, the evidence clerk was some Dudley Do-Right who saw the Detective Lieutenant doing the switcheroo. He went to Internal Affairs, who started to gather evidence on Grammercy. Peter's connections in the NOPD heard about it, but at the time the ADA in town was just as righteous as you could get. Also, this was just a few months after Hurricane Katrina, so the feds were still in town in force. Samuel felt the jaws closing in on him, so he came to Peter for help.”
“A faked death.”
Nathan nods. “We set it up nearly perfectly. The horse show was one of the first big events at the Fair Grounds after the hurricane, and Samuel got his wife to leave her phone behind to give them a reason to send their daughter back and out of the way. Theresa, Katrina's mother, was opposed to it, but Samuel browbeat her into going along with it. Katrina was the perfect witness to leave behind. Young, innocent, and traumatized enough that she didn't notice some of the details. I'd pulled similar jobs faking deaths in the Green Berets, so I was the one tasked with setting it up. I was actually there, although in disguise so Katrina didn't recognize me. After they sent her back, Samuel and Theresa jumped over a concrete wall that was there into a dump truck that was parked below, landing in a giant pile of kitty litter. When Katrina picked up her mother's phone, I hit the switch, blasting the car all to hell. She, of course, didn't see that there was nobody inside, although later two bodies were planted in the wreckage. That was actually done by the first firefighters to respond, a crew that also covers up arsons in that area for Peter and his friends.”
“So what happened to Samuel and Theresa? And how the fuck could they just leave their daughter like that?”
Nathan shakes his head. “That I don't know. I spent weeks unable to sleep after I had to hold that little girl, sobbing in my lap before the cops arrived. She was so distraught she never realized, even though she'd seen me... what, by then it had to be hundreds of times. I took her home more than once, you know.”
“Why was that?”
Nathan sips at his water again, and sighs. “Peter isn't the only DeLaCoeur who has had a few affairs. Not that I blame Maggie, with the way Peter's treated her over the years. But some of those play dates or business meetings... well, Samuel was doing more than having drinks with Margaret. I doubt she knows about the faked deaths. Peter probably wouldn't have filled her in, since it would hurt her more to think Samuel died back then.”
“What do you know about them now?” I ask, sipping my water. Nathan's showing at least a little bit of guilt, and as long as I have that, I'm going to drive with it, trying to use it to the best of my advantage. My jaw aches, but the peas help some. I'm more numbed by the idea of what Samuel did to his daughter, though. “Where's he live?”
Nathan shakes his head. “After the bomb, I only saw Samuel Grammercy one more time. Peter had gotten him some top-flight fake IDs, good enough to pass anything short of the FBI, and I delivered it to him at the airport. He and Theresa were booked on a flight, but I never troubled myself to find out where. Safer and less guilty to not know.”
“Miami,” I inform him, sitting back on the lounge chair. “That's a hell of a burden to carry for the past ten years, Nathan. I have a feeling it's not your lightest, either.”
“I've seen some things,” Nathan agrees. “Your point is?”
“You said it yourself. Maybe it's time to start balancing your ledger. I know that you can't stop Peter from sending other men against Katrina. But that doesn't mean you can't help us, too.”