Parker & Knight

by Remington Kane

  “So, how did it go?” She asked.

  “She’s not going to help us, or herself, how about on your end?”

  “I put in requests for Hearn’s and Rachel’s phone records, but Nico doesn’t own a phone, at least not one in his name. I’m also trying to get a warrant to check Hearn’s computer records; maybe we’ll find something there.”

  Parker said nothing in return.

  “Hey Rick, you still there?”

  “I’m here, but... the chief was right. I’m too close to this case now that we’re investigating my ex-wife and her lover. As much as I hate to do it, I’m going to bow out of the investigation.”

  Jo sighed.

  “I was actually going to bring that up when you got back. I’m glad you came to the conclusion yourself.”

  “You don’t need me in order to solve it. You’re one of the best cops I’ve ever worked with, but I do have some news for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Rachel told me that she and Hearn are getting married.”

  “I’m sorry if that hurts you, Rick.”

  “Thanks, but I was actually thinking about how it might impact the case. If she’s willing to marry him, she’ll definitely lie for him.”

  “I agree, so I’ll have to break both of their alibis, but one way or another, we’ll get Nico for Charles Woolley’s murder.”

  “I know you’ll do it, now I’d better call the chief.”

  “All right, and I’ll keep you informed.”

  Parker called Chief Gabe Howard and told him about his decision. The chief not only agreed, but told him that he would have been reassigned in any event. He also suggested to Parker that he take a few days off to let his injuries heal properly.

  Parker declined that offer, but did opt to take the rest of the day off. He was no longer investigating the murder of Charles Woolley, and so Heather was no longer off limits.

  Also, Taggart’s was closed, and that meant that Heather had the evening free.

  He drove to her home, and as he did so, he passed by the scene of a previous murder, the murder of Tiffany Grace.

  He slowed as he drove by the Kents’ home and saw that it and the Grace home next door both had For Sale signs in their yards. Both homes also looked uninhabited and no cars were parked in their driveways.

  He shook himself free from the memory of the sad events that had taken place inside the Kent home, but cheered as he parked in front of Heather’s house and spotted her car.

  When she answered the door, she let him in, but then gave him a subdued smile and asked him why he was there.

  “I’ve come to see you of course,”

  Heather folded her arms over her chest.

  “I have a friend who is a waitress at the diner. She told me that she saw you having breakfast with your ex-wife. Is there something you want to tell me, Rick?”

  “It wasn’t a date, Heather. It actually involved the case. The man she’s seeing has given Nico Umbria an alibi, and I was warning her not to get involved.”

  “Is that why she kissed you?”

  Parker grinned. “You’re actually jealous?”

  Heather unfolded her arms and gazed up at him with a pleading look.

  “This isn’t funny, and I have to know that I can trust you.”

  Parker opened his arms.

  “Come here,”

  Heather hugged him and he spoke to her.

  “You can trust me. I know what it’s like to be betrayed and I would never hurt you. Rachel did kiss me before she sat down, but she left in a huff because I tried to warn her that she was heading for trouble.”

  “But now that she’s part of the case you’ll be seeing more of her, no?”

  “No, because now that she’s a part of the case I can’t continue to work on it. I’ve been reassigned.”

  “So your off the case, how does that affect us?”

  Parker smiled, lowered his head, and kissed her,

  “Does that answer your question?”

  Heather let out a squeal.

  “I want to go on a date, our first date. What time do you get off today?”

  “I’m free all day.”

  She turned and stared at a coffee table full of textbooks.

  “I’m supposed to be studying for a test, but I guess I could study late tonight instead.”

  Parker shook his head.

  “No. You keep studying and I’ll come back at six and pick you up. How does dinner and a movie sound?”

  Heather grinned. “It sounds great.”

  After they talked a little longer, Heather walked him out to his car.

  As he started the engine, she leaned in and gave him a kiss.

  “I can’t wait until tonight.”

  “Me too, and why don’t we go to Philly? I know a lot of good restaurants there.”

  “That sounds good.”

  Parker drove home, feeling happier than he had in a long time, and although he was off the case, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, and his mind turned to the meeting scheduled that night at Nathanial Taggart’s home.

  Was the old man willing to back down to Hearn’s pressure, or were things going to escalate? He let those thoughts go and returned his mind to Heather Jones.

  “Our first date,” he whispered to himself, and then smiled.

  Life was good.

  Chapter 20

  “Life is shit, boy; don’t you know that by now?”

  Patrick Taggart looked down at the scowling face of his aged grandfather.

  “It doesn’t have to be shit. There’s a whole world out there besides this little town, and I can’t believe that Tim Hearn is giving us so much grief over a bar.”

  “Hearn thinks I’m so old that I’m done, and he knows you have no backbone, so why not move in and take things over?”

  Patrick sank into a chair and checked his watch; it was eight o’clock.

  “Tim should be here any minute and then we’ll hash out a sale price.”

  His grandfather rolled the wheelchair closer and stared at him in disgust.

  “Do you really think I’m selling that weasel my bar?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Hell no!”

  “Well then, why have the meeting?”

  The old man’s gaped-tooth grin was cagey.

  “You’ll find out, and when he gets here, you answer it. I sent Margaret off to her sister’s for a few days.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  The bell at the gates rang and the old man nodded.

  “Let our guest in, and let’s get this show on the road.”

  When Patrick returned with Nico, the old man pointed at him.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “My name is Nico Umbria.”

  “Umbria is Italian. You ain’t no Italian,”

  “My father was Italian, and my mother was Cuban, but I’m not here to discuss my roots; I’m here to buy a bar.”

  “Where’s that bastard, Hearn?”

  “Tim and I are friends. He sent me to negotiate for him, and by negotiate I mean that he’ll pay you exactly half of the last offer he made.”

  Patrick looked stricken.

  “Half? But, his last offer was insult enough. He must be joking?”

  Nico moved closer to Patrick, uncomfortably close.

  “If you think we’re joking then you haven’t been paying attention.”

  Patrick backed away and scurried behind his grandfather’s wheelchair. Nico laughed as he watched him, and then took a seat across from them in a leather wing chair.

  “What’s it gonna be old man? Do we make a deal, or do we continue to dance?”

  Nathanial Taggart chuckled, and the sound was so filled with phlegm that it made Nico clear his own throat.

  “Let me tell you something boy, I’ve been dealing with punks like you for over eighty years, and I’ll tell you just what I told the others.”

  Nico smirked. “And just what would that be?” />
  “Die,” the old man said. “I told them to die.”

  As he talked, a withered hand slipped beneath the blanket on his lap and found the gun hidden there. It was an ancient .32 Colt.

  The old man fired while the gun was still under the blanket and the first bullet hit Nico in the chest.

  Nico looked down at the blood spreading across his shirt in amazement, and then jumped up. As he charged the wheelchair, a second shot was fired at an upward angle and the slug caught him above the right eye and entered his brain.

  Nico screamed while clutching his head, and then fell backwards to the carpet, where he twitched in spasms with his eyes closed.

  Patrick had staggered backwards into the desk and was half sitting on it when his grandfather spun the wheelchair around and smiled at him.

  “That’s how you handle punks, Pat, and let me tell you something boy, it works every time.”

  Pat stared at his grandfather, a look of horror on his face.

  “You, you, you killed him, murdered him right in our house.”

  “He ain’t quite dead yet the way he’s twitching, but he will be... and he ain’t the first man I shot in this house; believe me... although it’s been a while since the last one.”

  “Oh God, the police will lock you away, even at your age, they’ll lock you away.”

  The old man gave him a confused look.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Once you bury this sorry sack of shit... he’ll be forgotten, and I guarantee you that Tim Hearn won’t try any more nonsense. Now, go get a shovel and dig a hole in... in the woods before he starts to rot.”

  “Are you mad? The only thing I’m going to do is call the police and an ambulance, maybe, maybe they’ll believe it was self-defense.”

  The old man reddened with rage.

  “Police? Damn you boy, be a man for once. We don’t need no police... especially that woman. Now, go do like I told you and... and get a damn shovel.”

  Patrick picked up the phone on the desk to dial.

  “Put that phone down! Damn you Pat, you listen to me, I—aaaghhh,”

  Nathanial Taggart grabbed at his chest as he clenched his eyes tightly.

  “Grandfather!”

  Patrick replaced the phone in its cradle and went to him, but there was nothing to be done. The old man stiffened in his chair, let out a gasp, and slumped back in his seat, dead.

  Patrick checked his pulse and found nothing, and the age-speckled flesh already felt cool to the touch. On the floor, Nico continued to twitch, but the spasms were growing less intense.

  For the second time that night, Patrick staggered backwards to the desk, but as he gazed at the dead form of his grandfather, two words entered his mind.

  I’m free.

  Chapter 21

  Parker had turned his phone off that night so that nothing came between him and Heather, and so didn’t learn of the events at the Taggart estate until he checked his messages after taking Heather home.

  The date had been fantastic and he and Heather realized that despite the difference in their ages that they viewed the world in similar ways.

  Parker found her more mature than many of the women he had dated and realized that her commitment to becoming a doctor was total.

  Between her classes, studying, and job at the bar, there was little time left for a social life. Parker was a man who worked long hours himself at a job that was more than a way to make money, and he both understood and appreciated what it would take for her to reach her goal of becoming a heart surgeon.

  The date ended in a deep embrace with the promise that there would be more dates to follow, and Parker couldn’t wait.

  Two weeks later, Parker and Knight sat at their desks, after having just finished doing the paperwork on their capture of a burglary ring.

  They had caught the three-man crew in the act as they were loading stolen goods into a van. The van was parked in the driveway of the house that was being robbed, and a watchful neighbor had called and reported suspicious activity.

  Parker took a sip from his cup and looked over at Jo.

  “Are we still on for Atlantic City, Sunday?”

  “Sure, Matt and I are meeting you at your house at eight, and then we’ll go have breakfast, or do we have to pick Heather up first?”

  “Heather will be with me.”

  “Is she staying the night?”

  Parker smiled. “Yes she is,”

  “Good for you, I’m glad things are working out.”

  “Working out? I’ve never been happier.”

  “Speaking of happy, your ex-wife is now Mrs. Timothy Hearn, I also hear that she’s going to be half-owner of Taggart’s.”

  “She called me the night before the wedding.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I wished her well and told her I was with Heather?”

  “What did she say about that?”

  “She hung up.”

  “I’m actually surprised that Patrick Taggart has agreed to sell Hearn the bar. I would think he’d be the last person he would sell to.”

  “He told me that he got the last laugh anyway. It seems Hearn was under the impression that the land on the other side of the lake came with the bar, but it doesn’t, in fact, the old man left the house and the land to Patrick’s younger brother, Nate Taggart.”

  “How come I’ve never met him?”

  “I’ve never met him either and the chief said that he left town years ago. He also said that he’s more like his grandfather than is good for him.”

  Jo sighed.

  “I would have liked to have arrested Nico for Woolley’s murder.”

  “You still might get your chance someday.”

  “No, the doctors think Nico’s coma is irreversible.”

  “So, Hearn got the bar, got free of his involvement with Nico, and got my ex-wife,”

  Jo stood and grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair.

  “If Hearn was stupid enough to get mixed up with Nico, then he’ll slip up someday,”

  They rode down in the elevator together, and as they were walking out the door, Parker’s phone beeped, informing him that he had a text. It was Heather, telling him that she was free and would meet him at his house.

  Jo waved to him. “Have a good night.”

  Parker smiled.

  “Count on it.”

  Part III

  Game Over

  Chapter 22

  THE BENNETT NURSING HOME , WASHINGTON NEW JERSEY, 8:06 p.m.

  Becca Conner was in a bad mood.

  Tonight was the grand reopening of Taggart’s Bar & Grill and she had to work.

  Her friend Ginny had called and told her how different everything looked, and she would know. Ginny had worked her way through nursing school while waitressing at Taggart’s.

  Becca sighed.

  I’m stuck here with all these zombies when I should be having a good time.

  “Zombies” was how Becca thought of the patients, many of whom were comatose, and none of whom were ambulatory.

  Becca was stuck working every Friday and Saturday night because she had only been recently hired, and so was handed all the worst shifts. However, the job did pay considerably more than the last one she had and she would be able to save enough to pay for more schooling and get her R.N.

  THUMP!

  The sudden noise frightened Becca. It seemed to come from a room across the hall and two doors down, but the only people in that room were both comatose, and her supervisor, Mrs. Howard, was in her office watching TV, as usual.

  Becca called out.

  “Mrs. Howard, is that you?”

  THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! BAM!

  Becca jumped out of her seat and stared at the open doorway leading into the room. It wasn’t so much the noise that frightened her, but the light.

  The lights had come on in the room and the lights worked with a motion sensor to save energy. The only time they would come on would be if someone were m
oving around in there.

  Through the open door, she could see Mr. Carroll’s feet and legs beneath the blanket, and they were as still as ever. Mr. Carroll had suffered a massive brain injury two years ago when he attempted suicide by ramming his car into a telephone pole. He hadn’t killed himself, but he might as well have, because although his heart still pumped blood, his brain was virtually dead.

  Someone must be breaking in. Becca thought, as she stretched out over the desk, craning her neck while looking to the right in an effort to see farther into the room.

  “What’s going on?”

  The voice came from Becca’s left and startled her so that she let out a scream.

  “Oh God, Mrs. Howard, you scared me to death.”

  Mrs. Howard looked at Becca as if she were a simpleton.

  “Why are you so skittish tonight?”

  Becca pointed at the lit room, and as she did, more noise came from it.

  “I think someone is breaking in.” Becca whispered.

  Mrs. Howard, a sturdy woman of formidable bulk, began walking towards the door. When she reached it, she eased her head past the doorframe and peeked in with one eye. An instant later, she spun around and called to Becca.

  “Call the hospital and have them send an ambulance. One of the patients has awakened from his coma.”

  “What? I thought they couldn’t.”

  “Just make the call, Becca!”

  Mrs. Howard rushed into the room and helped the man, who had been attempting to lower the side rails on his bed. When she saw that his eyes were alert, she spoke to him.

  “It’s all right. You suffered a terrible injury but you’ll be all right.”

  The man grunted at her and raised a weak hand towards his face.

  Mrs. Howard pushed the hand away.

  “That’s a feeding tube. A doctor has to remove it, but in the meantime, please don’t touch it, you might injure yourself.”

  The man nodded slightly, and then his eyes looked pleading, as he grunted some more, this time forming words.

  The words were unintelligible due to the feeding tube and the raspiness of his recently inactive vocal cords, but Mrs. Howard took the tone as questioning.