Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Respect,” Hill said, “is an interesting choice of words after Mr. Conklin sat on information relevant to the shootings of two of his fellow officers, for years in one case and decades in the other.”
“I didn’t know about Coyne for decades,” Conklin shouted, the words bursting from him in an urgent tone.
“Shut up, Paul,” Bagley said in a low growl. “Not another word.” Glaring at Hill, Bagley said, “Either you offer us something tangible or this conversation is over.”
“I guess it’s over, then.” Hill was the picture of calm coolness as he stood. Taking his lead from Hill, Terrell did the same.
They were to the door when Conklin cleared his throat. “Wait.”
“Paul…”
“Be quiet, Charles. This is my life on the line here, and I want to talk.”
Bagley scowled at him. “You’re a fool to do that without a deal on the table.”
“What kind of deal do you think they’re going to give me? The chief was Skip’s best friend. They’re going to throw the book at me.”
Sam growled. “You got that right, you worthless son of a bitch.” She held her breath waiting to hear what he would say.
Conklin sighed, seeming resigned to his fate. “I have one condition.”
“What’s that?” Hill asked.
“Drop the charges against my wife. She had no idea what I was asking her to do and shouldn’t be caught up in this.
If you leave her out of it, I’ll tell you what you want to know, and I’ll hope that in exchange, the USA will do what he can for me.
If you refuse to drop the charges against her, I’m not saying another word. ”
“I’ll make that recommendation to the U.S. Attorney, but as you know, that’s his call.”
“She’s a victim in this. I’ll swear on a stack of bibles that she knew nothing about that bag or what was in it.”
“So noted.”
Sam wanted to laugh at Conklin offering to swear on a stack of bibles. Didn’t he know his word—with or without the bibles—was shit at this point?
“You aren’t going to confer with the U.S. Attorney?”
“Not now, but I’ll make your wishes known.”
Conklin didn’t seem too pleased with that response but apparently realized it was the best he was going to get.
Sam had to give Hill credit. He never lost his cool when he probably wanted to reach across the table and shake the truth out of Conklin. That’s what she’d want to do, which was another reason it was probably better that Hill was handling this interrogation rather than her.
Hill projected a casual, disinterested attitude, but after having worked with him for some time, Sam knew that was only a facade.
He was one of the sharpest law enforcement officers she’d ever encountered, and if she couldn’t do this interrogation herself, she was thankful it was in the hands of someone she respected and trusted to get the answers she needed so badly.
“If you have information pertaining to the shootings of Officer Coyne and Deputy Chief Holland, I’m listening.”
After a long pause, Conklin sighed, his shoulders slumping into the position of a man accepting that life as he’d known it was over.
“The person you’ve been looking for all this time is Roy Gallagher.
” Conklin glanced at Hill, apparently expecting a big reaction to the name, and seeming disappointed when he didn’t get one. “The councilman.”
“I’m aware of who he is.”
“I’m telling you he’s behind the shootings of Coyne and Holland.”
“We already suspected that.”
Conklin’s expression registered his shock. “How?”
“Never mind how. Keep talking.”
Conklin sighed again and propped his elbows on the table.
Sam watched him so intently her breathing began to sync with his.
“You know Gallagher graduated from the academy with us—me, Skip, Steven, Joe, Jake and Wallack, among others, but that group was tight. Steven and me, we were the closest to Roy. When he was leaving the department, he came to both of us with a business opportunity. He’d been approached by some ‘backers,’ as he called them, who were encouraging him to run for the council.
They were interested in taking back some of the power, as they put it, that’d gone to what they considered outsiders—people who’d lived here a short time before running for the council.
They wanted to get the natives back in charge.
Because Roy asked us to, we met with them, heard what they had to say.
Steven, he was interested. He and Alice wanted to have kids right away, and she wanted to stay home with them.
There was no way he could swing that on a patrolman’s salary, so he signed on to help Roy get elected and earn some extra money. ”
“And you didn’t?”
Conklin shook his head. “I was already having trouble with my drinking. My first marriage was falling apart, and all my time was spent either working or drinking. I had no interest in politics, and frankly, I didn’t think Roy would make for a very good councilman. He’d been a terrible cop.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He didn’t care, took shortcuts, looked the other way so he wouldn’t have to do the paperwork. I was relieved when he said he was quitting. I liked the guy as a friend but not as a coworker.”
Sam wanted to know how Conklin went from being offended by a lazy coworker to breaking the law. Was it something that’d happened gradually, or had it been all of a sudden?
Even though the interview was being recorded, Hill took notes. “So he ran for council, he won and while he served the city he has presided over a very successful business empire.”
Conklin nodded. “You should look at how he came to have the money for that business empire. His father was a bus driver, his mother a cook at the Georgetown cafeteria. His grandparents were all immigrants with blue-collar jobs.”
“Sounds to me like you know where he came by the money, so how about you save us all some time and fill in the blanks.”
Excellent, Sam thought. That’s exactly what she would’ve said. Quit beating around the bush and spill it.
“Gambling.”
“What kind of gambling?”
“The illegal kind that happens off the grid where federal regulators and the IRS can’t get to it.
The kind his father-in-law was into before the Feds caught him doing other stuff, but the gambling…
that continued after Maurice Sands died.
Gallagher picked up the reins and has kept it going all these years. ”
Now we’re getting somewhere, Sam thought, her skin tingling as her heart beat so fast she could hear the echo.
“Gallagher and his business partners, Mick Santoro and Dermott Ryan, were running the gambling entity since before Gallagher left the force. It’s an all-cash business that yields a billion dollars a year.”
Sam stood up straighter at the words billion dollars. And Dermott Ryan. How do I know that name?
Conklin continued. “It’s my belief that while working for the campaign, Coyne figured out what they were up to. He was by the book, and my theory is that when he confronted Gallagher about it, Coyne got himself killed.”
“By Gallagher?”
Conklin shook his head. “No, it would’ve been Santoro or Ryan.”
“Why do you say that?”
“They’ve kept Gallagher clean to protect his council seat. Having him there has been good for business.”
“And how do you know all this?”
“I’ve been friends with Gallagher a long time.
I’ve known about the gambling from the beginning.
” Conklin paused, looked down at the table.
“A couple of weeks before Skip was shot, I was at a party at Gallagher’s house when I overheard them talking about Skip digging into Coyne’s killing and how he was determined to solve that case before he retired.
Gallagher told the others that if Skip picked up their scent in the Coyne case, something would have to be done.
” Conklin glanced at Hill. “Two days before he was shot, Skip went to see Ryan, asked him a bunch of questions about Gallagher.”
“That’s not in any of his files or notes,” Sam said.
“He might not have had a chance to document it yet,” Malone said, “but clearly he was on to the same thing Coyne had uncovered.”
“He was meticulous about the paperwork.”
“Something this nuclear, he might’ve kept out of the files until he had it sewn up.”
“Why do I know Dermott Ryan’s name?”
“He owns O’Leary’s, among other things, but he’s not there very much, so you may not know him personally.”
Stunned, Sam stared at the captain. The owner of the bar that had been like a home away from home to her dad was involved in his shooting? She staggered under the weight of that information.
Malone braced her with his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe.”
Sam couldn’t move or think or do anything other than reel.
“Sam! Breathe, damn it.”
She forced a shaky breath into lungs that felt like they belonged to someone else.
Time seemed to stop and the roaring in her ears became so loud it was all she could hear.
People close to her father at work and away from work had hidden information that could’ve solved his case years ago.
Right under her nose, under their own roof at HQ.
“I…I think I’m going to be sick.”
Malone hustled her toward the garbage can in the corner.
Sam heaved up the meager contents of her stomach and that she didn’t care her captain was holding her hair back as she puked would’ve concerned her under normal circumstances.
However, there was nothing normal about these circumstances.
When her stomach stopped heaving, she tied off the trash bag, her fingers fumbling through the basic steps of tying a basic knot.
Sam felt hot and cold at the same time, as her brain whirled and her heart pounded. Adrenaline raced through her system, as if she’d downed six large cups of coffee all at once.
And then she heard Conklin sobbing in the interrogation room and was doubly glad she wasn’t in there because there was no way she’d be able to hold back the burning need to punch him in the face.
She’d like to think she’d learned her lesson about punching her fellow officers after the Ramsey incident, but in this case, it would surely be justified.
Straightening, she took the tissues Malone handed her and wiped her mouth with shaking hands. He looked as undone as she felt, which brought her comfort. At least she wasn’t the only one who found this excruciating.
“You should go home. We can take it from here and get it done.”
Sam looked up at him. “No fucking way am I going home.”
He gave her a long, piercing look before he nodded.
They turned their attention back to the interrogation room where Conklin had his head down on his folded arms, his entire body shaking with sobs. “I loved Skip. I truly did.”
Sam wanted to claw his eyes out. “Fuck you, you son of a bitch. You motherfucking rat bastard—”
“Sam.”
The chief’s stern tone ended her vocal diatribe, but the diatribe inside her would never end. She wanted to stab that cowardly bastard straight through the heart with the rustiest steak knife ever.
“When did you figure out that they were behind the killing of Steven Coyne?”
“About a year before Skip was shot. When he said he was going to take another look at the case, I tried to tell him to leave it alone.” Conklin sniveled as snot leaked from his nose. “But he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You warned him off the investigation?”
Conklin nodded as he wiped his face on his sleeve. “I tried to. I told him that messing with Gallagher wasn’t a good idea.”
“I feel like my head is going to explode,” Sam said.
“Mine, too,” Malone replied, his teeth gritted.
“What did he say when you tried to warn him off?” Hill asked.
“He was determined to get justice for Steven, even if it led to people who’d rather forget what’d happened to him. He said he would never forget.”
“Did you tell Gallagher that Skip was on to them?”
Conklin dropped his head into his hands and muttered something.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes, I told him!”
“And you did that knowing it could get your friend killed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Gallagher had shit on me that could ruin my life.”
“What kind of shit?”
“I…I was involved with the gambling. I made a small fortune. My wife… She had no idea where the money came from, and she would’ve left me if he told her because her father bankrupted their family gambling when she was a kid.
I…I really love her. She saved my life in so many ways.
I couldn’t lose her. And if it got out, it would’ve ruined my career along with my marriage.
If he found out I knew about Skip digging into the Coyne case and didn’t tip him off, he would’ve come at me hard. He might’ve even tried to kill me.”
“So in order to save your career, marriage and your own skin, you were willing to sacrifice Skip’s life?”
Conklin’s sobs echoed loudly through the speaker connected to the interrogation room.
“Tell me how Skip’s shooting went down.”
Conklin took a minute to pull himself together.
“Santoro was waiting for him. When he was leaving that day, Santoro pulled out ahead of him and then started darting in and out of traffic and generally causing chaos. Skip did exactly what they expected him to, by turning on his lights and giving chase.”
“Why that part of G Street?”
“It’s mostly deserted after GAO lets out for the day.”
“What else is there? What else have you been hiding while pretending to serve as a decorated police officer?”
“Nothing! There’s nothing else.”
“That’s good, because I’ve heard more than enough.” Hill pushed a yellow pad across the table. “Write it all down and sign it.”
Bagley cleared his throat. “I assume my client will be treated with leniency due to his cooperation.”
Sam wanted to punch him, too.
“Your client will get exactly what he deserves.” Hill stood and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
After a minute, when Hill didn’t enter the observation room, Sam went looking for him and found him in the hallway, leaning against a wall, his head down. Everything about his posture expressed his dismay at having to extract that information from a fellow law enforcement officer.
“You did a great job,” Sam said.
“I’m sorry you had to hear all that. I can’t imagine how painful it had to be for you.”
“At least now I know.”
“I imagine that’s a small comfort.”
“It’s better than not knowing. What happens now?”
Hill straightened out of his slouch. “Now we arrest Gallagher, Ryan and Santoro, blow the lid off their entire operation and throw their asses in jail for the rest of their miserable lives.”