Whoever was really responsible for Glen Winchester's death wouldn't have a clue how much shit he stirred before he had a look in Tony Cullen's eyes. I had known the man for almost all my life, been kind of close to him for almost ten years and I couldn't remember another occurrence of him losing his ever-arrogant smile. I told him everything I knew about the case because I trusted that him and I had enough similar worries. We were in the same boat as long as I was honest. If I wasn't my brothers would have suffered from it.
Tony wasn't joking around. The fact that he directly referred to my brother as ''people who could be suffering from the instability created by Winchester's death'' indicated me that Tony's credibility and strenght itself was affected. For the first time in my life, I had the responsibility to watch my brother's ass. I wouldn't fail, I rarely failed what I did over the course of my life, but this was special. The lives at stakes were more than work for me.
''So, where do we go from there Tony?''
''Ain't none of your business Mike, go do your private dick thing of yours and watch that crazy ex. Leave my boys to take care of the actions.''
''What are you going to do, take down Thornburg? Greenwell?''
''Mike, I thought you were more brilliant than this. I'm going to get your ass home, just leave the dirty work to me and your brothers. We've been always good to you so far, so be good to us and beat it...please''.
All that Tony would ever saw in me was Little Mikey. The kid that got his throat slit at MacDonald's and got his brothers in the crime loop by the same occasion. As sympathetic he could've appeared to me so far, he was still far from the ethereal Vito Corleone. He was a mobster, what the police services would immediatly flag as a sociopath. Tony would never care about who I would become, in fact, nothing would move if I wouldn't.
''Tony, please stop the car.''
''Come on kid, don't take any of this personnal, you're just ill-equipped to deal with the situation...you...''
''Tony, I'm not asking for much, please stop the damn car.''
''OK, whatever...'' he said, pulling aside.
''Look, I refuse to go to bed at night with the idea that I will never know what drove Karen over the edge and what forced Trevor Greenwell into hiding. I'm not exactly sure which one of them is lying to me the most so far, but I need to figure out why a perfectly happy couple on a smooth run was broken up...and why in all this confusion, they turned back to me. And I will find out Tony...''
I was getting my master's in bullshit. Greenwell, to some extent, was just a milking cow. He had money and would find a way to make me independant from Tony and my brothers. Question of pride. As for Karen, that was also all about me. If I was asked the question a few days before, I would've said it was all about her, truthfully, but with what I've known, and what I've seen, the important for me was to get closure and send her packing. Her little number with Tripp Greenwell left me unimpressed. So did my white knight performence with Tony. He grabbed me by my t-shirt and slammed me into the passenger door of his car.
''I have enough to worry about right now without having to look for your sorry ass. All you are right now is because of me. You're not anything special. I pay your rent, I fix your problem...hell I even tampered some of your grades in school. I think you should know a little better who's your daddy and what's good for you. You're starting to piss me off you ungrateful little fuck''.
He opened the door and pushed me out of his car. I rolled out limply and stopped my fall by knocking my back against the overpass's anti-suicide barrier. Tony, for some reason, drove me further away from my appartment and my office to leave me in socks and t-shirt under a greyish, windy weather. I wasn't far away by any means, but walking fifteen minutes in that weather without an overcoat and shoes would probably get me a cold, which is not the greatest disease to have when you're a private detective. When you need to follow someone silently, coughing and wheezing aren't exactly prescribed.
Tony left me food for though with his little Michael-Fredo scene in the car. I had never seen the guy losing his cool but I had heard stories from Pat and John about how he loved to make scenes to everyone and that even sometimes he quoted gangster movies in it. Would I have to tell them about Tony's outburst of anger towards me? Something was telling me to keep to myself. They would dismiss it as being typical Tony's and encourage me to stay out of his business. My brothers were survivors, not investigators, they wouldn't bite the hand that fed them no matter how bad they would be treated. To a certain extent, I could understand. I was the trouble and according to Tony, nothing more than another mouth to feed.
I felt my stomach turn, suddenly the cold didn't mattered all that much. How good of an investigator I really was? I always based my self-confidence on the fact I could debunk any criminal and out-do cops at their own work, but if Tony tampered with my notes at the academy, I had no idea what my worth really was. Maybe I was just an average Joe playing in heavyweight circulation with a Superman cape tied on my back and a big S drawn on my shirt with a marker. Have I been just another Peter-Pan-Happy-Self-Esteem kid all these years?
As soon as I got home, I got in my shower and realized, under the hot stream of water that I was freezing outside. We might have been in the summer, but shitty weather at 4 AM could still do the job and murder you if you stayed outside too long. The Pacific was unforgiving in terms of rainfall and humidity. This summer particularely was. There was a cool, enjoyable wind during daytime that we never knew before, but nighttime was chilly, even with good clothes on.
I sat down in my shower and tried to regroup, to put in perspective the events of the last few days. What was Shea Thornburg's angle in this? The chief of police position, of course, but what didn't make sense was the involvement of Reed Greenwell in his ascension to power. Were Greenwell and Thornburg really with each other? That would explain the scapegoat position Trevor Greenwell found himself in. Was Trevor really telling me the truth though? I needed to have a talk with him in order to figure that out.
Trevor was on the run with no valid phone number and mail adress, I wouldn't reach him unless he wanted to reach me. Was he really the top dog in class all these years I thought I was better than him? Could have I ranked as high as him in Seattle's police? The only angle I had left was Karen. She was my only reachable ressource that seemed to be directly involved in that affair. Anyway if I really wanted to help out Trevor, I needed to get to his brothers before him. Him too seemed to be supported by his family, did they turn against him after a big mood swing of righteousness? Maybe I should watch my back when trying to do the right thing.
I was pulled from my thoughts by the phone. Whenever my phone rang in between 11PM and 6 AM, it made me worried. Whenever someone had good news to tell you about, decency told him to wait for acceptable hours to call. Whenever someone had bad news to tell you about, decency told him to wait as well. But whenever something couldn't wait before being fixed, people called as soon as possible. 4AM was when most people were having REM sleep. The one that really gets you going for the next day. This had to be important. I picked up with my heart beating like crazy. My interlocutor didn't even gave me time to say hello.
''Mike, it's me'' said Mo ''man, you've gotta come here''
''Let me guess, Karen''.
''No, it's you asshole, some dumb fuck from the police came here looking for you. He questionned Karen and me with a pretty shitty attitude. Pat is on his way, you better get your ass here boy.''
''Don't you think they'll have somebody to watch the house?''
''Nah, they are gone. I know how to spot a cop car Mikey.''
''All right, I'm coming''
I hung up. Not sure what was true behind that story, but I had to get to Karen first.
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