Chasing Shadows

by Jason Richards

“And Lechmere,” I said. “Where the Best Buy is now. The original Lechmere store and Green Line station both got their names from being located in Lechmere Square.”

  “Well,” Jessica said, “you're a regular Cliff Clavin.”

  “Just sharing a little piece of local history,” I said.

  Both Filene's and Lechmere had gone bankrupt in the increasingly competitive retail landscape. I wondered if, like Mike in The Sun Also Rises, bankruptcy comes slowly and then suddenly for department stores? My train of thought was broken as I heard Jessica's voice.

  “When the girls arrive, try not to be intimidating.”

  “While I admit I can do intimidating extremely well when called upon,” I said, “I don't think my mere presence is intimidating.”

  “It can be.”

  “How am I being intimidating at the moment?”

  “Sitting you're fine,” she said. “But standing you can cast an imposing shadow.”

  “It's not like I'm Andre the Giant.”

  “Drew, you're six foot four and athletic.”

  “Tom Brady's six foot four and athletic,” I said. “I doubt the girls would find him intimidating or casting an imposing shadow.”

  Jessica looked at me with a smirk on her face. “Really? You're comparing them meeting you to meeting Tom Brady?”

  “What? It's a valid point.”

  “Drew, honey, you are very handsome.”

  I held up my hand to stop her. “No need to say more,” I said. “I'm not sure my bruised ego could take it.”

  Jessica kissed me on the cheek. She said, “Have I ever told you what I thought the first time we met?”

  “Yes. But I wouldn't mind hearing it again.”

  “I took a look at your wavy dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and dimpled chin and thought, wow! There is a handsome looking man.”

  “And then I swept you off your feet with my charm, intelligence, and overall toughness.”

  “Something like that,” she said.

  “There they are,” I said with a tilt of my head toward the Au Bon Pain.

  The four teens looked at me, glanced at their phones, and back to me. One of them said something. The other three nodded. They started walking toward our table.

  CHAPTER 5

  JESSICA STOOD AS THEY approached. Given our recent conversation, I wondered if I should remain seated. I thought I might appear rude. I stood, being careful to keep my intimidation and imposing shadow in check.

  “I'm Drew, and this is Jessica,” I said.

  Four pairs of eyes looked us each over for a beat. They seemed neither intimidated by me nor like they were standing in an imposing shadow. Good for the present situation, but I'd need to practice later to make sure I wasn't going soft.

  “I'm Madison. This is Olivia, Savannah, and Haley.”

  Madison wore the same Taylor Swift concert shirt as in the picture. Olivia wore a PINK shirt. I wasn't sure if that was the pop singer or Victoria's Secret line of clothing. Savannah and Haley wore shirts from either Old Navy or the Gap. I wasn't sure about that either. All four wore skinny jeans.

  “You look older in person,” Savannah said to me.

  Ah, the brutal honesty of youth.

  “The picture on my website is a few years old,” I said. “But like wine, I get better with age.”

  No reaction. Clearly not my crowd.

  “Where did you sit for the concert?” Jessica said to Madison as she considered the Taylor Swift shirt.

  Yep. That's Jessica. Saving my bacon right out of the gate. I at least deserve some credit for having the foresight to invite her along.

  “Like around the fifty-yard line,” said Madison. “Pretty awesome seats.”

  The other girls nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Best. Show. Ever.” Olivia said.

  “And there was that cute guy who was hitting on you,” Savannah said to Olivia.

  “He was soooo cute,” Haley said. “He totally wanted you.”

  “Sounds like it was a fun evening,” I said. “But we don't want to take up too much of your time.”

  The four teens looked at me. Buzzkill.

  “Thank you for meeting with us,” Jessica said.

  “Whatever,” Madison said. Her attitude cooled now that we were no longer talking about Taylor Swift or cute boys.

  “Please, have a seat,” I said.

  The girls each took a seat around the table. Jessica and I sat back in our chairs.

  “So you're a real private detective?” Savannah said.

  Perhaps a thaw was underway.

  “Yes,” I said. “We both are. Jessica works for a large investigation firm in Boston. I am self-employed.”

  “So you couldn't get a job at Jessica's company?” Haley said.

  So much for the thaw. My credentials being questioned by a high school senior.

  “Drew could work anywhere,” Jessica commented in defense of her man. “He chooses to work for himself. In fact, he was once an agent with the FBI.”

  “Why did you leave the FBI?” Olivia said.

  How did this become about me?

  “Were you fired?” Madison said.

  Now they were tag-teaming me.

  “Or did you just wash out?” Savannah said.

  Everybody was getting in on the action. It felt like piling on.

  “Neither,” I said. “I decided I wanted a change.”

  “Mid-life crisis?” Madison said.

  “How old do you think I am?” I said. “Never mind. I'm not sure I want the answer.”

  “What can you tell us about Tina?” Jessica said to the rescue, again.

  Jessica gave me her you're welcome glance. I was at the ready to meet her with my thank you glance.

  “What do you want us to tell you about Tina?” Olivia said.

  “When was the last time you saw her?” I said.

  “We saw her the end of last school year,” Savannah said.

  “Before she dropped out,” Haley added.

  “She ditched us for her new boyfriend and his friends,” Olivia said.

  “Do you have a name for the boyfriend?” I said.

  “Aaron,” Savannah said.

  So, the boyfriend's name is Aaron. Who knew time at the mall could prove useful? But there you have it, a new piece of information to add to my investigation.

  “How about Aaron's last name?” I said.

  “Not sure,” Savannah said. The other girls shook their heads.

  “He went to a different school than us,” Haley said. “Plus he graduated last year.”

  “What’s the name of the school?” I asked. A master detective at work.

  The four teens shrugged their shoulders. The universal don't know.

  “Any idea where Aaron lives?” Jessica said.

  More shrugs from the four teens.

  “What about Aaron's friends?” I said. “Any idea who they are?”

  “Not really,” Madison said. “Other than their names are Carla and Stewart.”

  “Do you have any pictures?” I asked.

  “Tina sent us a selfie with Aaron when they first started dating,” Madison said. “Wanted to show him off. We don't have any pictures with Stewart and Carla.”

  “Can you send me your picture of Tina and Aaron?” I said.

  Madison nodded and then her fingers moved across the screen of her phone. My phone dinged with a new text message. I looked at the attached photo. A selfie of Tina and Aaron on a Swan Boats ride in the Boston Public Garden.

  They looked like normal teens. On a normal date. The picture certainly didn't tell the whole story.

  Then I noticed the jacket Aaron was wearing in the picture.

  “Do you girls recognize Aaron's jacket?” I said as I held up my phone.

  The four girls looked at the image on my screen. Madison then glanced back down at her phone. She spread her fingers across the screen to zoom in on the image. She studied it a moment.

  “I think it's Hanco
ck Academy,” Madison said.

  The other three girls nodded in agreement.

  “That, ladies, is what we call a clue,” I said.

  Madison, Olivia, Savannah, and Hailey looked at me like I was lame. Secretly, however, I think they were excited to help discover a clue. At least I was sticking with the idea. It made me feel less lame to the teen set.

  Perhaps I was gaining traction. “What about Tina's social media?” I said. “Any clues there? I checked Facebook and couldn't find anything.”

  Now the girls looked at me like I was an idiot. At best that I was clueless. It’s possible I wasn't exactly on a roll with them.

  “Facebook is for old people,” Savannah said. “You know,” she paused a beat, “like you.”

  Savannah strikes again. What age did she consider old? Whatever it was, I had passed it.

  “Tina was on Instagram and Snapchat,” Madison said. “She doesn't really use her accounts anymore.”

  “Could she have new accounts you aren’t aware of?” Jessica said.

  “Maybe,” Haley said.

  “Anything else you can think of?” I said.

  “Aaron likes to take Tina to a club in Boston,” Savannah said. “The Snake something.”

  “The Snake Pit?” I said.

  “Yeah. That's it,” Savannah said.

  She seemed somewhat impressed I came up with the name. Score one for the old guy.

  Except the Snake Pit was bad news on many levels.

  But I did have new information. The boyfriend's first name is Aaron and he had graduated from Hancock Academy, he had friends named Carla and Stewart, and they liked to frequent the Snake Pit. These were some leads to follow-up on. In detective land that is progress.

  “Thank you all,” I said, “you've been a big help.”

  “Can you really help Tina?” Madison said. Her voice layered in concern.

  “I'm going to do my best,” I said.

  I wasn’t confident they thought my best was good enough.

  The more I thought about Tina's situation, the more troubled I was with what we had learned. The Snake Pit was no place for a teenage girl to be going. It was no place for any decent human being to be going.

  Breaking news that day was a beaten body found in a dumpster in the alley behind the Snake Pit. Not the first time for that particular dumpster. Likely not the last.

  The girls showed no awareness of the news, so I didn't bring it up. No need to worry them about Tina anymore than they already were. Perhaps they wouldn't find out. Most teens aren't news wonks.

  The girls left and did whatever teenage girls do in a shopping mall. Probably very similar to what Jessica did in a shopping mall. While she got a start at Macy's I called Bonnie with an update.

  Unlike our four teens, Bonnie had seen the news. Like any good parent would, she freaked when I mentioned the Snake Pit as part of the narrative. Yes, it was horrible. Yes, the Snake Pit was no place for her daughter to be going. But I did my level best to let Bonnie know it was unlikely the two had anything to do with each other. We agreed to set it aside. At least for the moment.

  Bonnie still wanted to confront Tina. Reasonable. Something most parents would do in the same situation. It all made perfect sense to me. Nonetheless, I asked her to hold off.

  First, I wasn't convinced Tina would admit to any of it. She already was living with Aaron. It would likely only push her away to the point we couldn't get her back.

  After we hung up I let out a sigh. I had been honest with Bonnie about what I learned. I owed her that. What I didn't reveal was my sense of bad mojo emerging with this case.

  What I feared was there was more to the story. There almost always was in cases like Tina's. The Snake Pit was an easy place to get into trouble. The kind of trouble Bonnie had been dreading. Maybe even worse.

  CHAPTER 6

  JAX AND MIKEY

  THE BLACK RANGE ROVER pulled off Atlantic Avenue in Cohasset onto an oceanfront estate. A large Colonial house with cedar shingle siding featured prominently in the center of the property. Jax and Mikey looked out the windows from the back seat as the SUV turned into the circular driveway. The Range Rover came to a stop near the front steps to the house.

  “We're here,” the drive said abruptly.

  Jax and Mikey opened the Range Rover's back doors and stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. A gentle ocean breeze swept off the Atlantic. The salty air mingled with the scent of flowers and recently cut grass.

  “How much you think Jocko paid for this place?” Jax asked Mikey.

  “Seven mil, easy,” Mikey said.

  Jax whistled. “That's a lot of dough.”

  “More than we'll ever see,” Mikey said. “But at least we get to take in the occasional view.”

  Mikey threw his arm around his brother's shoulders. The twins each stood six foot five and weighed a little north of three hundred pounds. While they were slow on their feet, they had quick hands combined with a force that hit like a ton of bricks. Both threw punches like flashes of lightning, but Mikey would be the first to admit that Jax had some of quickest hands he'd ever seen.

  The front door to the Colonial opened and Jocko Scarpelli stepped out. “Hello, boys,” Jocko called out. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  Jax and Mikey walked up to the front steps to where their boss stood. Jocko Scarpelli was medium height and weight, but he appeared small standing next to Jax and Mikey. He was the picture of J. Crew at the beach wearing khaki chinos, a salmon pique polo shirt, and taupe boat shoes. His thick black hair was held perfectly in place with a ton of hair product. Jocko's bronze skin was cleanly shaven, and he smelled like he bathed in Polo cologne.

  Even when he tried to feign warmth, Jocko's dark eyes betrayed him. They were cold and empty. Even Jax and Mikey were chilled by his stare.

  Jocko Scarpelli was not a man to be crossed. He was ruthless and had the resources to act on his ruthlessness. And he did. Often. It was why he employed Jax and Mikey.

  “Come in,” Jocko said.

  Jax and Mikey followed Jocko into the large foyer with wide wood plank floors and white walls. Seaside art hung on the walls. A large model of a schooner sailboat sat on a sideboard table along the wall. Natural light filled the space from large picture windows in the living room at the end of the hall. Beyond the windows was blue sky and the Atlantic Ocean.

  The three men walked down the hall into the family room. A white sectional sofa was strategically placed to offer both a view of the ocean and the stone fireplace.

  “Have a seat,” Jocko said, motioning to the sofa.

  Jax and Mikey sat with a view of the ocean. Jocko sat opposite them on the sectional. He eased back into the sofa and crossed his legs.

  Without being asked, a maid entered with a tray of lemonade. She placed three glasses on the center table and left. Mikey checked out her backside as she exited.

  “She's a hot little number,” Jocko said.

  “Sure thing, boss,” Mikey said.

  “I like to surround myself with beauty,” Jocko said. He paused a beat. “Except for you two ugly mugs. But I don't employ you for your looks.”

  “No, boss,” Mikey said.

  Jocko picked up his glass of lemonade and sipped. “Freshly squeezed,” he said. “None of that powdered crap.”

  Jax and Mikey picked up their glasses and drank. Jax thought the lemonade too tart, but he wasn't going to say so. Jocko never liked to be questioned. People who questioned Jocko tended to end up dead. Jax and Mikey usually did the killing, but Jocko certainly had other capable men. Even ones capable of killing Jax and Mikey if Jocko ever gave the order. Men who would gun them down from a hundred yards away – never getting close enough for Jax and Mikey to unleash their brute force.

  But Jocko preferred Jax and Mikey's style. It was more savage and brutal. A beat down worked very well in his line of business. People tended to pay when Jax and Mikey showed up. Most of the time. But not always.

  Sometimes peopl
e even tried to cheat Jocko Scarpelli. People like Jack Murphy. That is when Jax and Mikey were especially effective. Their marks either made good or were made an example of. Unfortunately for Jack Murphy, he ended up as the latter.

  But there was a problem. Jax and Mikey got a little sloppy, and Jocko was not pleased. It was why they were summoned to his home in Cohasset. But they didn't know that. Not yet. They were about to find out.

  “Boys,” Jocko said, “we have a little problem.”

  “What's that, boss?” Mikey said.

  “Do you watch the news?” Jocko said.

  “Just ESPN,” Jax said.

  Jocko nodded. He didn't employ the twins because they were well-informed on current affairs.

  “Well,” Jocko said, “it is all over the Boston news how Jack Murphy's body was discovered in a dumpster behind the Snake Pit.”

  Jax and Mikey looked at each other.

  “You must recognize this does not make me happy,” Jocko said.

  “No, boss,” Mikey said.

  “We thought that dumpster would be emptied soon after,” Jax said in their defense.

  “Well, it wasn't,” Jocko said. “A busboy at the Snake Pit found the body when he put out the trash.”

  Jax and Mikey looked at the floor like two children being scolded.

  “This was sloppy work from you two,” Jocko said. “Not up to your usual high standards.”

  “No, boss,” Mikey said.

  “We're sorry, boss,” Jax added.

  “It will never happen again,” Mikey said. “And we can assure you that there is no way it can be traced back to us.”

  Jocko took a sip of his lemonade and nodded his head. “Let's hope not,” he said. “Look at me, boys.”

  Jax and Mikey looked up. Jocko's eyes bore into them and his face was stoic.

  “You do good work for me, so I am going to let this mistake slide. But this isn't baseball, I don't allow three strikes. You get this one. That's it. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, boss,” Jax and Mikey responded in unison.

  “Good,” Jocko said. “Now, I'd like to discuss how we are going to handle Bradley Whitcomb.”

  The nice looking maid returned with three fresh glasses of lemonade. She placed them on the table. Then she picked up the original glasses and placed them on the tray. She exited without a word or making eye contact with any of the three men.