Day 12, Word Count: exactly 15,090

Another mini-milestone and this time it is an exact count - I made a copied version where I took out any chapter headings and notes I had inserted, so now I definitively know that I have 15,090 words. If I can write 9,990 by Monday midnight I will be exactly on track for actually completeing this. 3,330 words on Saturday sunday and monday? No problem! Yeah, right . . .

Read on for today's additions


“Congers shot Rohmer that night. He also killed the Councilman. Who came first I don’t know, but the way I figure it, Congers went in first, fired one into the wall to draw in Harry and then blasted away. Before anyone else could get there, he finished off Sanders. They guy was pretty feeble and it wouldn’t have been hard for Congers to make it look like a suicide.

“He had the piece he’d taken off the pimp from downtown and he just used that to do Harry and then the Councilman. He figured that no one was ever going to be able to match the ballistics from this to anything the pimp had done, since he was going to swipe the gun out of evidence anyway.

“Congers just never figured the gun would make it back into circulation and eventually fall into an actual honest cop’s hands. It was a million to one odds that it fell to someone like Moynihan who was able to put it together with what happened to Rohmer. I mean, any other cop, straight or bent, wouldn’t have even thought about the connection to Rohmer and the Councilman’s shooting. Moynihan did because he’s a gun freak and that such a unique gun had been used in his friend’s death.”

“Terry, I don’t really know what to say. I mean I think that this is big, don’t get me wrong. It’s definitely huge that the Councilman didn’t kill himself and that a fucking cop did. And the fact that it was all part of a cover up makes it even more important that you go to someone with this,” Jenny paused. “But, Terry, I mean . . . really, what’d you need to bring me into this for. This is beyond me, this Family connection, I believe you, but you have to admit it’s tenuous, at best.”

McGruder opened his mouth to reply, but the professor went on.

“And what does it have to do with Marcus and his run for mayor?” she finished.

“Yeah,” he said. He was tired. Bone tired. “I know it’s thin. It’s so fucking thin, it’s goddamn see through. But it’s there, Prof. It’s there and it’s nasty.”

“Explain it to me then,” she said. Not harshly, but the patience was starting to edge out of her voice. “Make me see it, Terry.”

“The Family scored a lot of points in the media with the takedown of all those minority thieves. Those sex-crazed, money-grubbing thieves. And they found a golden boy in the D.A. who was prosecuting the case. Your hubby.

“Now, I don’t have anything that says Webster was in with the Family before this all went down. But I’ve had this guy, photographer I know, go through all the old pics I had him taking while I was investigating the scholarship scandal. He goes through like five or six hundred negatives before he comes up with three shots of what I wanted.”

“What?” She was back on the edge of the couch now. Leaning in towards McGruder and all he wanted to do was meet that lean and hold her. But he went on instead.

“Webster,” he said, unable to keep the sneer out of his voice or off his face. “Eating at some fucking fancy Midtown French place with two known Family members. And these aren’t middle executive type members. These are two guys that are suspected of being liaisons between the mysterious council members and the foot soldiers that do all the dirty work. One named Donald Golden. The other is nameless as yet. Even the guys I got the information on the Family from don’t know his name and those guys work for one of those government acronyms, if you know what I mean.”

Jenny just nodded and made a ‘go on’ gesture with the fingers of her right hand.

“So, any other day, these pics wouldn’t have mattered. I had the kid take shots of anyone who seemed to be at the trial or the press conference on a regular basis. He happened to see each or both of these guys at nearly all of the proceedings and decided they might be worth following one day. He was as surprised by who they met for lunch as I was, but he says that he forgot to tell me about the pics back then, because they day he shot them, well . . .”

“What? Shit, Terry, why are you pausing?”

“The day Webster was eating lunch with these two Family members was the day the Post broke the story on our affair. The kid never told me, because he had to wrestle my drunk ass out of a Blarney Stone that night and by the morning, things were already hitting the fan.”

“Oh,” she said, a slight shade of crimson coloring her face. McGruder knew this was going to be the tough part. Had known it since last night when he’d finally decided he was going to go to her with the story. But he didn’t think it would be this goddamn awkward. “Yeah, you sure dealt with that one well.”

“You don’t have to tell me. And since I never said it enough then or since then: I’m sorry that it turned out that way. I’m sorry that I’m such a shit. I’m sorry I got you involved and that I didn’t protect you after that.”

“Nobody needed to protect me, Terry,” she said. “That wasn’t the fucking point! But you could have stuck with me. You’re so goddamned stubborn with everything else, but you fucking let what we had go without even the slightest fight. Don’t you get that’s why I hated you?”

Hearing her say that she hated him stung. He knew she had and he damn well he deserved her hate. But hearing it. Man.

“I know what a shit I am,” he said, soft. “But, Jen, do you see what this means? What him having lunch with the Family reps means during the fucking trial?”

She didn’t respond right away, still looking pissed about what happened three years ago and then McGruder saw the light go on. Actually saw her make the connection and her whole face change with the knowledge. At first it was excitement at figuring it out and then the color just drained out.

“Jesus,” she whispered. “He fucking knew all along. He knew that that cop Congers killed Councilman Sanders and you cop friend. He knew everything!”

McGruder gave it another minute to sink in. Then he said, “Jen, Jimmy Congers is your ex-husband’s chief of security. He’s on him, everyday, like a shadow. And in about a week’s time, if the polls are right, Marcus Webster is going to be Mayor of New York City.”

Chapter Sixteen

“My God, Terry. Nothing is ever small potatoes with you, is it?” Garcia asked as she sank backwards into the couch.

McGruder laughed. It was deep and from the gut. It was the first time in a long time that laughing had felt so natural. “I pass those stories along to the hacks,” he said.

Jenny looked up from behind her hands which she had covered her face with and actually bore a smile of her own. It lit her face like a scrubbed sunrise. McGruder was stunned by how much more beautiful that simple gesture made her.

“What do we do with all this information?” she asked. “I mean really. You have a ton of connections, here, and even some things that obviously tie together, but there are a hell of a lot of loose ends, McGruder. I mean, like, a whole roomful worth.”

McGruder thought before he responded. Thought about all the things he’d learned in the last few weeks and then about the other things he’d put together on his own after his late night call from Moynihan. He thought about everything that had happened three years ago with Councilman Sanders, the scholarships, his friend Rohmer, and the goddamn D.A., Jenny’s ex-husband, Marcus Webster. He thought about all those things and everything that he and the professor had talked about in the last three hours.

He thought about all those things and said, “Nothing.”

“What?!” Jenny nearly screamed.

“You heard me. Nothing. I walk away,” he said. He was glad that he was able to say it a second time. Just being able to say it a second time, meant that he might be able to actually do it. “This is bigger than what happened before. Bigger and a hell of a lot messier. And there are just too many factors we can’t see. Too much of an x-factor that we can’t possible play the odds and win. So, I walk away.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Terry?” she asked. “You just spent three hours laying out this - - this, I don’t know - - this fucking plot! And now you want to just say, thanks for talking, I gotta go?! This Family or whatever they are, are going to have my fucking ex-husband sitting in a very powerful position in a week’s time. Because the polls are right, Terry. Webster is going to win in a fucking landslide. And you say you’re not going to do shit to expose this? You’re going to walk away? No fucking way!”

“Listen to me. I appreciate your time. I know how hard it must be to have me sitting here. And I didn’t plan to walk away from this. Not after everything I put it. Especially not when things point towards the one sonofabitch I wanna nail more than anything. I didn’t come here to walk away,” he said. “I came here, because I needed your help. I needed you to help me set these things out in order. To give them structure--”

“And now you have that structure and you just want to walk away?” Jenny interrupted him.

“Let me finish, all right?”

She answered with a barely perceptible nod and a more than perceptible scowl.

“This . . . thing. This whole fucking conspiracy I’ve uncovered. There’s too much here. I can’t handle this and not get stuck. Or worse. Bringing to this to the cops, these Family guys aren’t going to just roll over. They killed a fucking city councilman for fuck’s sake! Do you think they are going to just surrender and come in? I mean, they don’t even have to kill me, I’m too much like the scum sticking to the bottom of their shoes – I’m easy to wipe off, without the added mess of killing me. But they fucking could, Jen. They could kill me without fucking thinking about it. And there is no way that I am bringing you into it!” he finished, just barely keeping it all under a shout.

“The fuck you aren’t,” Jenny said. “You’ve already brought me into it. What the hell did you think I was going to do once you laid this on my doorstep, Terry. Say, well, loddy-da, interesting little story, Ter, now be on your way, I have to go back to my life and ignore everything you just told me? Is that what you thought, McGruder? Is it?”

He started to respond and then stopped. He was red in the face and leaning over the table, his fisted knuckles boring into the rich wood of its surface. For her part, Jenny was tightlipped and defiant. She was like a bulldog just waiting for Terry to make his move so she could tear into him and finish him. It was what he’d always loved about her.

Still did.

“No,” he said. Honestly. “I didn’t. I hoped that you would. That you’d just let me bounce the thoughts off you so I could get them figured for myself and then tell me to fuck off for good. But I knew you wouldn’t, Jen. I know you’re too much of a warrior for that.”

“Damn right,” she said. A hint of smile creased her lips once again.