that he had no
idea what Sullivan was up to.”
“He lied.”
She shot me a look. “Wouldn’t you,
Helen? A ruthless killer is standing in front of you,
literally threatening your life, and a lie seems like a bad
idea?”
“Of course not. So why was everyone
convinced that David Ireland had information against Sully
Marcos?”
“It was a tragic mistake. Danny was
involved with some litigation involving one of the unions.
His attorney picked up a floppy disk that Danny had used to record
information he’d spent years compiling, and it ended up on the
district attorney’s desk. Danny told me he never knew that
Ireland figured out the code he used, until Danny approached him,
to ask that the disk be returned. When he realized that he
decoded the information on the disk, Danny said he actually felt
relieved. Mr. Ireland wanted to help my husband expose the
truth, Helen, I swear.”
“And Southerby figured it out.”
She nodded. “And he was content to let
everyone believe that Danny ordered him to kill David
Ireland. Of course he didn’t. Danny wanted the man to
go away convinced that Sullivan’s leak didn’t come from Darkwater
Bay. But Southerby got the scent. He killed that
district attorney, searched his office for any evidence against
Sullivan, or anything that might incriminate Danny. When he
didn’t find anything, he disappeared.”
“Which was when Johnny and Detective Briscoe
found him in Jersey City and brought him back here.”
She nodded. “Then that horrible police
captain figured out something was fishy between Southerby and
Danny.”
“Did Danny know that Mitch Southerby didn’t
really die sixteen years ago?”
“Not until he came back to Darkwater Bay
last fall after Lowe’s arrest hit the national news.”
“Jesus,” I finally saw the truth that
revenge and hatred kept me from accepting. The pieces began
to rain down into place, things that never quite added up.
“Danny didn’t order Southerby to torture Johnny.”
“No, but Southerby called us in Hawaii after
you called with your search warrant. Danny jumped on his jet
to come back immediately. He wanted to stop him from killing
anyone else, Helen.”
“And the men at the medical examiner’s
office?”
“Wait,” Celeste said. “There’s
more. When the jet landed, those men that were with my
husband when you arrested him were waiting for him. He wasn’t
willingly in that Escalade that morning, Helen. Did you
bother to wonder why of all the armed men in that vehicle, Danny
was the only unarmed man? That he was driving? Danny
didn’t drive himself anywhere.”
“Why didn’t he tell me any of this? I
could’ve helped him. I could’ve protected him.”
“Protect and help? He was convinced
you murdered Rick.”
God. The memory of my bloody hands,
the red stain draining down the trap in the sink the day Alfred
Preston killed Danny flashed before my eyes. I really am
responsible for his death. All of this is my fault. I
came out here, I arrested Jerry Lowe. Southerby saw his
opportunity…
“Celeste, this is important. What was
Danny’s relationship with Jerry Lowe?”
“They hated each other.”
“Do you know why?”
“Other than the fact that Lowe and his dirty
cops tried to blame Danny for every crime in town while he himself
was responsible for most of it?”
“But did Danny know he was
responsible? When did he know?”
“When the rest of us did. He was sick
when the truth came out about Lowe.”
“Because he, like everybody else, believed
Salvatore Masconi got away with murder,” I said.
“He thought what he had done was right,
Helen. I know it was wrong. He knew it was wrong.
He thought he was protecting people.”
“Did Danny tell you what really happened to
Salvatore Masconi?”
Celeste hesitated. Then nodded.
“He went out to sea on one of Danny’s ships and never made it back
to shore.”
How could I
idea what Sullivan was up to.”
“He lied.”
She shot me a look. “Wouldn’t you,
Helen? A ruthless killer is standing in front of you,
literally threatening your life, and a lie seems like a bad
idea?”
“Of course not. So why was everyone
convinced that David Ireland had information against Sully
Marcos?”
“It was a tragic mistake. Danny was
involved with some litigation involving one of the unions.
His attorney picked up a floppy disk that Danny had used to record
information he’d spent years compiling, and it ended up on the
district attorney’s desk. Danny told me he never knew that
Ireland figured out the code he used, until Danny approached him,
to ask that the disk be returned. When he realized that he
decoded the information on the disk, Danny said he actually felt
relieved. Mr. Ireland wanted to help my husband expose the
truth, Helen, I swear.”
“And Southerby figured it out.”
She nodded. “And he was content to let
everyone believe that Danny ordered him to kill David
Ireland. Of course he didn’t. Danny wanted the man to
go away convinced that Sullivan’s leak didn’t come from Darkwater
Bay. But Southerby got the scent. He killed that
district attorney, searched his office for any evidence against
Sullivan, or anything that might incriminate Danny. When he
didn’t find anything, he disappeared.”
“Which was when Johnny and Detective Briscoe
found him in Jersey City and brought him back here.”
She nodded. “Then that horrible police
captain figured out something was fishy between Southerby and
Danny.”
“Did Danny know that Mitch Southerby didn’t
really die sixteen years ago?”
“Not until he came back to Darkwater Bay
last fall after Lowe’s arrest hit the national news.”
“Jesus,” I finally saw the truth that
revenge and hatred kept me from accepting. The pieces began
to rain down into place, things that never quite added up.
“Danny didn’t order Southerby to torture Johnny.”
“No, but Southerby called us in Hawaii after
you called with your search warrant. Danny jumped on his jet
to come back immediately. He wanted to stop him from killing
anyone else, Helen.”
“And the men at the medical examiner’s
office?”
“Wait,” Celeste said. “There’s
more. When the jet landed, those men that were with my
husband when you arrested him were waiting for him. He wasn’t
willingly in that Escalade that morning, Helen. Did you
bother to wonder why of all the armed men in that vehicle, Danny
was the only unarmed man? That he was driving? Danny
didn’t drive himself anywhere.”
“Why didn’t he tell me any of this? I
could’ve helped him. I could’ve protected him.”
“Protect and help? He was convinced
you murdered Rick.”
God. The memory of my bloody hands,
the red stain draining down the trap in the sink the day Alfred
Preston killed Danny flashed before my eyes. I really am
responsible for his death. All of this is my fault. I
came out here, I arrested Jerry Lowe. Southerby saw his
opportunity…
“Celeste, this is important. What was
Danny’s relationship with Jerry Lowe?”
“They hated each other.”
“Do you know why?”
“Other than the fact that Lowe and his dirty
cops tried to blame Danny for every crime in town while he himself
was responsible for most of it?”
“But did Danny know he was
responsible? When did he know?”
“When the rest of us did. He was sick
when the truth came out about Lowe.”
“Because he, like everybody else, believed
Salvatore Masconi got away with murder,” I said.
“He thought what he had done was right,
Helen. I know it was wrong. He knew it was wrong.
He thought he was protecting people.”
“Did Danny tell you what really happened to
Salvatore Masconi?”
Celeste hesitated. Then nodded.
“He went out to sea on one of Danny’s ships and never made it back
to shore.”
How could I
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