He turned to me and smiled. A rare smile for Frank Belson. “You know Cahill told me that someone made a two-hundred-grand donation into the widows-and-orphans fund today.”
“No kidding,” I said.
“Jackie DeMarco,” he said. “A hell of a guy.”
54
The air conditioner in Susan’s house was on the fritz, and the upstairs of her old Victorian felt like the lowland reefs of Bora Bora. We lay in her bed on top of the sheets as I told her about my day and she shared what she could share of hers. “Can I ask you a professional question?” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “You are highly oversexed.”
“Not the question,” I said. “But thank you.”
The fan blew an insignificant amount of wind our way. Who knew Cambridge could be so hot? I got up, clicked up the speed on the fan, and got back into bed.
“How do you break up a bond between three people?”
“Now you’re getting kinky,” Susan said.
“Talking my work,” I said. “Not yours.”
“Mr. Firebug?”
“Alleged Mr. Firebug.”
“I thought you knew.”
“Knowing and proving are two very different things.”
Susan had on a black T-shirt and a pair of white lace panties. She turned over on her stomach and kicked her legs back and forth. Her legs were long, tan, and shapely. How I loved summer.
“What do you know about the youngest?” she said. “What’s his name? Teagarden?”
“Teehan,” I said. “Lost his mother at an early age. High school dropout. He lives and breathes the Boston Fire Department and all things firefighting. Works a low-paying job but has aspirations of becoming a true, real-life hero.”
“Does he stand a chance of becoming a Boston firefighter?”
“Nope,” I said. “Especially not now. But he did apply this winter. He’s a volunteer firefighter in Blackburn while holding a job at Home Depot. The application I saw showed he is somewhat mentally deficient. No one at Boston Fire took him very seriously.”
“What about the cop?”
“Big Ray Zucco,” I said. “I don’t know much about him. Belson pulled him in and questioned him. I think he hoped to appeal to a brother officer.”
“And part-time arsonist.”
“Minor character flaw.”
“Who would you say out of the three is the most insecure?” she said. “The one posing as a hero but knows he’s a fraud?”
“In a perfect world,” I said. “I would hope all of them.”
“But would Teehan, as the youngest, be the most vulnerable?”
“Yes.”
“And Donovan?” she said. “You believe he’s the leader?”
“I do.”
“You want to focus on Teehan’s anxiety,” Susan said. “If you could get Teehan and Zucco to worry about Johnny Donovan, you might break the triangle. Turn the two weakest members against the strongest.”
“That won’t work,” I said. “Zucco is in too deep with cops now. They have other plans. I just want Teehan to see Johnny Donovan as he really exists. He believes Donovan is a hero and trusts his leadership. Until that breaks, he won’t speak with me or with the cops.”
“You can push,” she said. “But to break the trust, he’ll have to see his hero in the act as a failure and someone not to be admired.”
“Johnny Donovan has already failed six ways to Sunday.”
“Do you think the kid believes he’s responsible for the death of those firefighters?” she said. “Or the murder of that Spark?”
“I don’t even know if Teehan helped him.”
“This sounds all very bound up in a father-son dynamic,” Susan said. She flipped onto her back, staring up at the circling fan. “The illusion of the father as a hero is hard to break unless he sees something very real and personal to him.”
“How about stone-cold logic?”
“Logic is a waste of time, my friend.”
“What’s real?”
“Real is experience,” she said. “It’s visual. Right now, he probably believes everything Johnny Donovan tells him. I’m betting none of them see what they’re doing as wrong. They have justified all their actions.”
“So all I have to do is make sure that Johnny Donovan really screws up and Teehan sees it?”
“Yep.”
“Piece of cake.” I kissed her on the cheek. “What do I owe you, Doc?”
Susan arched her back, stretched, and smiled. “I can think of one specific thing.”
I started to whistle “Heigh Ho” and sang, “‘It’s off to work I go.’”
55