Page 96 of Fish in a Barrel
“And Boehner called my house Saturday morning and told me he would put Nathan’s death in the papers. He’d smear our boy all over the press if we didn’t fall in line with Cartman’s agenda. He wanted me to reopen the Halliday case, to void it and try it again, and… and I couldn’t! I couldn’t! And Elaine heard me arguing and called Myron, and Myron heard the whole story and….” He broke then, sobbing into his hands. “He’s all we have left of our son, and he’s so lost. He’s just trying to protect us, and I just want to retire so I can care for my wife….”
Jackson changed position and wrapped his arm around Brentwood’s shoulders, comforting the man in a way Ellery was pretty sure he’d needed for a long time.
Everybody had their pressure point, Cartman had said smugly, and Ellery wanted to go back into the interrogation room and have Jackson push a nerve in his wrist until he passed out.
“Who’s he going after next?” Jackson whispered. “We need to know, sir. We can’t save him if the cops get him first.”
“Cartman,” Brentwood hazarded. “He heard the conversation and knew Cartman was the one applying pressure—”
“Cartman’s in the police station,” Jackson told him. “I think he’s got another hour or two there. For the moment he’s safe. Who’s next on his list?”
Brentwood grimaced. “I’ll be honest,” he murmured, sounding detached. “I was really hoping it would be Cartman. God, all the bad things people say about lawyers….” He shuddered, and Ellery found himself oddly sympathetic.
“Judge,” he said, his voice kind.
Brentwood nodded, understanding. “Goslar,” he said after thinking about it. “He’ll go after Goslar. It was Goslar’s idea to pressure Cody Gabriel, and once Myron heard that… I could see it falling into place. I could see it clicking behind his eyes. He’s needed to make someone pay for Nathan’s death. He’s said it a thousand times. If it wasn’t going to be Cartman, it would be Goslar. These people were threatening Elaine and me and Lindsey and all the happy memories he had in his adulthood and—”
“And he couldn’t take it,” Jackson said softly. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it before handing it to Ellery, mouthing, “Text Fetzer.”
Ellery did, making it brief.Keep Cartman at the station under police protection. Where’s Goslar right now?
“Sir,” Jackson said softly, “I’m going to be honest. I can’t guarantee we’ll take him down alive. Do you understand?”
Clive Brentwood covered his eyes with his hand and nodded, once.
“Do you have someone you can call? A doctor you trust? A pastor or priest?”
He shook his head despondently, and Ellery had the feeling he’d been very, very much alone these past weeks. Well, of course. He couldn’t talk to his colleagues, and he’d been worried—so worried—about his partner, the one person he would have talked this over with. His daughter, his son-in-law? He wouldn’t want to worry them. All it took was one moment of weakness to isolate and alienate a human who lived for the love of others.
“I want you to call an ambulance for your wife and take her in for a suicide watch. Make sure she’s in the hospital when all this goes down. I have a friend I’m going to call for you. I know you’re not Jewish, but he’s a good guy, and he’ll walk you through the mental health system and be someone to stand with you two. Don’t worry. He won’t even try to get you to go to temple. I haven’t gone, and I’ve been talking to this guy since January, okay?”
Brentwood nodded, still obviously distraught.
“And I’m going to get Joey to sit with you and Elaine until the ambulance gets here and Rabbi Watson gets here, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispered.
“You’re going to have people to take care of you, but we’ve got to go.”
“Okay.” He wiped his eyes with his palm and looked at Jackson and then Ellery. “Thank you both,” he rasped. “Do what you can.” He swallowed. “Hurry. I haven’t heard from Myron since he stormed out of here Saturday, determined to stop Boehner and Goslar and the other three cops. I don’t know if that’s going to satisfy him. If someone doesn’t… doesn’t call him back… he may….”
They nodded. Ellery already feared it was the truth. Lance Corporal Myron Adler may have signed his death warrant already with the first shot.
Sometimes violence was the only recourse, even for good men.
JACKSON NEEDEDto make some calls—he had all the contacts—and Ellery escorted Judge Brentwood back to his study.
On their way back, a touch of the shrewd judiciary Ellery had come to respect returned.
“You know Joey, the young man in charge of our housecleaning service?”
Ellery let out a snort. “Yes. He’s… well, helped us out is the wrong choice of words, but there is no right one.”
For a moment, Brentwood allowed himself to be distracted. “I’m sorry?”
“Jackson and cars,” Ellery said bluntly. “He destroys them. He doesn’t even have to be touching them. It’s…. If I believed in curses, I’d say he’s cursed. His last vehicle was parked in a grocery store parking lot, and he and Henry came outside after doing business in the store and found the car damaged, and my insurance company is about to quit on us, and Jackson has had it with me buying him things. So Jackson gave the car to Joey because….” He resisted the urge to flail his hands, and Brentwood’s mouth quirked up, the tiniest bit.
“Joey knows a guy,” Brentwood supplied.
