An Old Fashioned Family Tradition of Service – Part Two

The room was silent, except for the slight office noises filtering in.  Al Taylor smiled brightly, looking from face to face.  When the air conditioning cycled on, two officers jumped nervously.

The Police Captain, a fair man who’d been assigned to the matter by the mayor, himself, softly cleared his throat and said, “Sergeant, would you be so kind as to get Mr. Taylor a cup of coffee … as a matter of fact, why don’t you brew a fresh pot and fetch along several cups.”  The Sergeant, who had been staring at Taylor in shock, quickly left the room.  “As a matter of fact, gentlemen, let’s clear all non-essential personnel from the room before continuing with this interrogation.  Anders?”  A pale man with a hungry look in his eyes turned.  “I’m sure I don’t have to mention what will happen if any information were to leave this room, do I?”

By the time the Sergeant returned with the coffee, the interrogation room had been pared down to Taylor, his lawyer, the assistant DA assigned to the case, the Captain, and the officer assigned to recording the interrogation.  The Sergeant set the coffee, cups, and the selection of cookies he imagined that somebody like Taylor expected with his coffee, down on the table, then stepped – hopefully – toward the door.

“If ya don’t need me, sir?” He asked, fingers crossed.  It wasn’t that interrogations bothered him, or even the gory details (although hearing them from the lips of Thomas Albert Taylor was a little like hearing a confession of rape from a Kennedy), but he knew, instinctively, that the correct career move at this time was to be somewhere, anywhere, else.

“Please have a seat, McDaniels.  We’ll need a witness to this and better you than one of the rookies.”  The Captain leaned closer and added, softly, “Don’t worry, Mac; I’ll shield you on this one.”

“Tanks, Cap,” the heaver man muttered back, sitting and reaching for the coffee pitcher.  “That was cream wit two sugars, Mr. Taylor?”

Al Taylor agreed and happily accepted a cup of what was, no doubt, going to be as inferior a cup of coffee as he had ever consumed, but with no complaints.  These were good men, serving the community, and they deserved his respect and admiration.  He felt honored to share their traditionally terrible coffee.

His feelings towards those he considered to be fellow servants of the public good is why he didn’t simply kill the few that had stumbled onto he and Laura’s latest kill.  Instead, he’d carefully detained them until Laura had removed herself to safety and then surrendered with good cheer.  It wasn’t their fault if they lacked the wit to understand what they’d been doing or the education to realize the need of it.

He grinned at his lawyer boyishly while making a production of sipping his coffee, wanting to share the honor of the moment with the dour man.  Maxwell was a good man, a dependable man, considering that he was only worth a few million.  He had been a classmate of Al’s at Harvard, a scholarship boy who was slowly grinding his way forward in the Law School.  Now he headed his own firm, mostly due to the business of the Taylor family.

A good man, a dependable man, a proficient and talented lawyer .. but a dour one.  No brio, no joie de vivre, no simple pleasure of the moment … sad.

Captain Reynolds sipped his coffee and watched the third richest man in Massachusetts, no mean trick that, happily mug at his lawyer.  Two good men were in the hospital and, if you believed the testimony of both the third officer (who’d only suffered bruises) and Taylor, himself, they were in there because this little fop, this privileged scion of a family more powerful than almost any he knew of  beat .. them .. up.  The eldest son of a powerful family who weighed, perhaps, one-ten in his frilly silk undies, put two of his patrolmen in the hospital?!?

Sergeant McDaniels watched the clowning being done between wealthy men and shook his head.  Why, he’d taken his youngest to the Taylor Clinic not more than a year ago.  They saved little Francis and, since he was a policeman, there wasn’t even a bill for the rounds of surgery and nursing.  Thomas Albert Taylor had always been a friend to those who served … and now he was claiming to be a killer?  Even sillier, he was claiming that Laura Tennyson Fitzpatrick Taylor was also a killer?!?  Why, she was one of the finest ladies in the city, a throwback to the day when women wore gloves everywhere.

Maxwell Hassler sighed silently and nodded, acknowledging the goodhearted jibe from Al Taylor.  He’d been dreading this moment for decades, ever since he’d become aware of his old friend’s odd little quirk.  He didn’t know that Laura had been involved, but it only made sense, in retrospect.  Al was going to spend the rest of his life in the best mental ward money could provide and that was that.  One day, they’d pick up Laura and Max would have to do his level best to remove her from the tawdry affairs of her husband.  He nodded again, managing a weak smile and glanced at his watch.  The silly little shit just paid over ten thousand dollars of billable minutes to mug and roll his eyes at Max … that was at least worth a smile, wasn’t it?

The assistant District Attorney sat back and realized that, no matter what happened, his career had just ended.  There was no reward but termination for the man who convicted Thomas Albert Taylor and failure to nail down a conviction after he’d all but confessed would also bring swift release.  Briefly, he wondered if the DA knew about his wife and him.  It would explain why he’d been chosen to crash so spectacularly.  Oh, well … write a book about it later and live off the royalties.  He started composing an opening paragraph in his mind, while simultaneously searching for an appropriate title.

“Now, then, Mr. Taylor.”  The Captain set his cup down and refreshed it slightly.  “You were telling us about how you and Mrs. Taylor first met, fell in love, and married.  I assume from your final comment that she had been with you earlier tonight?  Might we speak of that before we go much farther?”

“Well, actually, Captain … Reynolds, wasn’t it?  Ah, thank you.  Actually, Captain Reynolds, I’d really rather prefer, if it’s all the same to everyone, to approach this evenings from the other direction, as it were.  You see, I feel it’s important you understand, exactly, what it is that Laura and I have dedicated our lives to and, precisely, why it’s necessary for the good of the community. I’ll do my best to be brief, but I must insist on my own narration on this.”

The Captain looked at the assistant DA with raised eyebrows.  The assistant DA shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

“Excellent!  Thank you, gentlemen,” Taylor gushed, adding with a sly smile as he warmed his coffee, “I believe I can guarantee that you won’t be bored.”