Intimate Relations: A Finn O'Brien Crime Thriller

by Rebecca Forster

  "But, Thomas, this party wasn't all about pleasure. Whoever put it together had business to do. It was so important these very fancy men couldn't say no to the invitation."

  "Except the host wasn't a person." Cori put the can of nuts on the coffee table and dusted her hands. "The invite went through the Asylum offices at the request of a corporation. The guests were directed to download an app, the invite went through, and it disappeared from their phones once it was accepted. I can't imagine there isn't some way to retrieve that invitation. I'd like to have a look at it."

  "Don't bother wishing. Self-destructing message apps are amazing. You won't find a history," Lapinski said. "It's like Snapchat, but whatever Asylum was using was probably more sophisticated."

  "Amber used Snapchat before she went back to school," Cori said. "It always looked like trouble to me. I'm glad she got rid of it."

  "I'm not a fan, but that's the attorney in me," Thomas said. "I would also assume the invitation was sent to private numbers or emails. Even if you confiscated their phones, you might not have the phone it came in on."

  "So what would you suggest, Thomas?" Finn asked.

  "Try to find out if there was someone who didn't accept the invite. It might still be on their phone," Lapinski said. "Do you know how the women were invited?"

  "I assume the same way," Cori said. "I'll find out"

  "Do you have the name of the corporation? I can do a deep dive and try to figure out who is behind it. At the very least I can look at what they produce and get some idea of what might constitute an 'earth shattering' announcement."

  Before Finn could speak, Cori had her jacket, purse, and Lapinski in hand.

  "Oh, no you don't. Dinner time. We've done more in the last forty-eight hours than we usually do in a week," she said. "When you get on that damn computer you never quit." Lapinski got up and buttoned his coat, but his smile faltered when Cori asked: "You want to come, O'Brien?"

  Finn shook his head.

  "Thank you. I'll be fending for myself tonight."

  "Okay, I won't be late. If you're asleep, I promise to tiptoe past the couch," Cori said. "Leave the key under the mat if you decide to take off."

  "I will," Finn said. "But before you go, I have one more question. Thomas do you know the name of the person who invented Bitcoin?"

  "I do. Satoshi Nakamoto," he said. "Why do you ask?"

  "Does he have another name?"

  "Not that I know of." Thomas helped Cori on with her jacket "Again, why?"

  "One of the neighbors saw a man in the Cucas’ unit. I've written down the other name he gave me, but I can't remember. All I do remember is that he said it might be the man who invented the Bitcoin."

  "Nobody has ever seen him, so I doubt your guy would have a clue what Satoshi Nakamoto looks like," Thomas said.

  "The man didn't say it was him. He said whoever he saw was 'said' to be him."

  "Call me when you have the name, and I'll run it down. If it turns out to be Satoshi Nakamoto I want to shake his hand when you find him ."

  With that, Finn walked them out. He watched until Cori and Thomas were at the bottom of the stairs, and then took a minute to enjoy the soft night air. It was a quiet evening. Lights glowed golden in his neighbor's windows. The stars were bright, and there was a sliver of a moon. He looked at the Sento, his landlady's Japanese bathhouse, and thought he might ask her for an hour in the big tub.

  As a war bride, her husband had built it to keep her homesickness at bay. When she was widowed and left with a blind daughter to provide for, she had opened the bathhouse to a select group of clients. Since Finn had lived in his apartment, she had welcomed him into the Sento to soothe his troubles

  Tonight a soak in that bath was an enticing idea, but Finn had no problems to wash away only mysteries to solve. One day he hoped to find the person who took his brother's life. Sooner than that, Finn was determined to put a name to the dead girl from The Brewery, and another to the girl who haunted the top floor of the Cucas’ apartment unless they were one and the same—

  "O'Brien?"

  Finn looked away from the sky where Venus had been winking at him. Cori was at the bottom of the stairs looking up at him.

  "Have you sent Lapinski on his way, Cori?" Finn asked.

  "He's waiting in the car." She took a step up. Then another. "Look, I wasn't going to say anything 'till it was done, but if I don't say it I won't get a wink of sleep. I'm dog tired and I need my rest, so I'm not going to take any guff from you about this. I'm just going to tell you the way it's going to be."

  "Then time to get whatever it is off your chest." Finn turned toward her. He rested his hip against the stairwell wall that ran the length of the walkway, crossed his arms and gave her his full attention. "Sure, I wouldn't want to be responsible for you losing your beauty sleep."

  "Stop smirking and cut the deep-dive into the Irish," Cori said. Finn settled his expression into one appropriate to his partner's mood. Cori took a deep breath. "Okay, here it is. I'm going to be late tomorrow 'cause I'm headed out to talk to Bev."

  Cori held up a hand, anticipating his objection.

  "Look, she's involved in this thing no matter how you look at it. You didn't tell Captain Smith about her, and that tells me you're none too sure how you're feeling about things."

  "But—"Finn got no further. Had Cori been a cat she would have arched her back and hissed at the interruption.

  "I mean it, O'Brien. I'm sympathetic, mind you. I near lost my mind when Amber got involved in our business and almost got herself killed." Cori shook her head, trying to banish the horrible memory. "Family should never even come close to what we do. I was going to fib and tell you I was going to church, but you wouldn't believe that. And God would damn me to hell if I lied about His house, so this is the truth. I have some questions for Bev, I'm going to ask them, and I'm going to do it alone. Got it?"

  "I do, Cori," Finn said, but Cori kept on.

  "I mean, I know you can pull rank here. If you want to stop me you can, but it's for your own good." She tossed her hair. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and stared him down. "So, you can talk now, but it won't change anything."

  "'Tis kind of you to let me know how it will be."

  Cori opened her mouth. She was still leaning into the next step, ready to take it if she had to get in his face. When it dawned on her that there was not going to be a fight, she buried her disappointment behind a flare of her nostrils, a lick of her lips. She pulled her shoulders back. She looked majestic.

  "Well, you're welcome." Her head snapped down. Her eyes cut away from his. Finn tried not to laugh as he waited to see what would come next.

  "Yeah, well, that's it." Cori turned away, went down the stairs, and started toward Thomas's car.

  "Cori." Finn called to her before she was halfway across the lawn.

  "What?" she snapped as she turned back around.

  "I remembered the man's name. Ding Xiang. Tell Thomas."

  "Sure. Whatever."

  With that Cori was gone, and Finn knew she hadn't heard him. That was fine. She deserved to enjoy her victory. Thomas opened the door for her, waving back at Finn after she was safely in the car. Finn waved too.

  There was no question that Cori was a friend for life. She was wrong about Beverly and her impact on him, but she was right that it would be better if he did not do the follow up. Woman to woman might get further than ex to ex. It was information Finn wanted, and he didn't care how it came to them.

  Leaving the night to itself, Finn went back inside, cleared away the empty beer cans and nuts. He put the folded sheets on the couch. Everything was in order but he wasn't tired enough to turn in, so he got his jacket and left the apartment. He paused after he closed the door, and then put the key under the mat. You never knew what might drag you away in the dead of night, and he never wanted to leave Cori out in the cold.

  "So what happened?" Lapinski asked as he drove toward Maria's.

  "No
thing," Cori said.

  "Well, that's good."

  "Yeah." The light from the street lamp shined softly on Cori's hair. Lapinski thought she looked beautiful; Cori was only thinking about Finn. "He turned a corner, Lapinski. All that talk about being over Bev wasn't bull."

  "Now you don't have to worry about him," Lapinski said. "You can concentrate on us."

  "What?" she said, clearly not thinking about Lapinski and an 'us' as she squinted into the oncoming headlights.

  "Just wondering what you were thinking about,” he said.

  "Sorry, nothing really. Finn asked me to ask you about someone, and I can't remember the name."

  "Brain dead," he said as he took her hand. "You need food."

  "You're a gem, Lapinski." Cori gave his hand a squeeze and then let it go. "Drive on."

  "My pleasure, Anderson," he said.

  Her stomach grumbled. Lapinski smiled; Cori didn't. They were thinking the same thing, that all felt right with the world. The difference between them was that Thomas Lapinski was looking forward to things getting better still while Cori Anderson was wondering how long it would all last.

  15

  According to Finn's mother, the middle of the week was the time to be prudent. When he was small, there was no television, no staying up late, and no midnight snacks on a school night. When homework was done, Finn and his brothers and sisters would go to their prayers and beds.

  He could not argue that this was not a 'school night'. It was Wednesday, middle of the week, but his ma was nowhere near Mick's Irish Pub and he was old enough not to have any homework. So Finn O'Brien was wearing out his welcome at the dartboard. He had a Guinness in one hand and the last dart in the other. He bent his knees, held his right hand near his brow, and teased those watching.

  "'Tis headed for the Little Audrey," he called as he feigned his throw.

  "In your dreams, O'Brien," hooted a deep baritone voice.

  "Throw already." A woman said, but her chiding was all in fun.

  "Here it comes." Finn rocked. He let the shaft fly straight and sure until, at the last moment, it deviated a millimeter to the ring and bounced off. There was a collective groan, a spattering of applause, and a lot of laughter.

  "Sure, I was robbed." Finn threw up his arms. "'Tis a London's 5 board. Geoffrey, what happened to the Irish Black that used to be here. Geoffrey!"

  Finn pushed through the weeknight crowd. He was still chuckling when he slid onto a barstool next to Gretchen. Beautiful, tall, dark haired and eyed, she was a firefighter and a regular at Mick's. Gretchen was a woman used to pressure, and one who believed that all the boredom of the job was worth the one moment she saved a life, a home, or a business. Her work was a calling, and she never considered another path. Her father and his father before her had done the same.

  "O'Brien, don' you be blamin' de new board," Geoffrey said. "You be givin' Mick's a bad rap if you sayin' de board be bad. Everybody be losin' now and again."

  "I guess you wouldn't believe me if I told you I threw the game would you, Gretchen?" Finn gave her his best smile.

  "Not on your life," she said. "But I'll buy you another round as a consolation prize."

  "That is kind, but if I have one more I'll be asleep on this stool."

  Finn took another drink, and saw he had two more good swallows before he would call it a night. He put it aside to make it last a bit longer.

  "O'Brien, he be havin' a big case." Geoffrey put all his weight behind the word 'big'. When Finn saw the twinkle in his eye, he knew what was coming next. "He be seein' de ex-wife, and it weren't no picnic."

  "Ah." Gretchen gave Geoffrey a knowing look and offered Finn a sympathetic smile. "Still nursing that broken heart, Finn?"

  "As much as Geoffrey would like you to think so, no," Finn said. "And I'd like barman to keep his opinions to himself."

  "No opinion." Geoffrey shook his head and those dreads swayed on his shoulders. He had changed his beanie to an elegant black knit. "Love be love. It don' go away easy. I say dat don' matter. Not how many you love, just dat' you be true to the one you wit. You not wit her, you don' be true."

  "Love the one you're with, Geoffrey, that's how the song goes. I'll have another." Gretchen slid her glass across the bar, leaned into Finn, and whispered. "It's Coke. I've had a long day too."

  Geoffrey went to fill her glass. She rested her chin on her upturned hand and with the other pulled her long hair over her shoulder. A small scar ran through her right eyebrow. Her nails were short, her hands were strong but delicate looking. Finn had seen her dressed for work. He preferred her this way, in her jeans and a flowery shirt of some billowy material.

  "Do you believe that? Love the one you're with?" Gretchen asked.

  "I fear I am a romantic. I'm wanting a woman to watch my back for all eternity." Finn drained his glass. "But my ex was not the one. Still, my heart longs for the happy ending and holds out hope it will come."

  Gretchen chuckled. "After all this time, how could I have missed that you believed in rainbows and unicorns?"

  Finn swiveled on his stool. The woman deserved a man's full attention, especially for a conversation like this.

  "And what about you, miss?" he said. "Rainbows or fireworks?"

  "They both fade away before you want them to, so that's a false choice. But let me think," Gretchen said. "Okay, here goes. I love a good burst of fireworks now and again, but they need to be few and far between to be appreciated. The rainbow? Every girl wants the rainbow."

  She raised her chin to indicate her naked ring finger.

  "I had it once. Didn't work out. I wouldn't turn down the chance to try again."

  "But..."

  Finn urged her on but before Gretchen could answer, a roar erupted from the back of the pub. Someone called to Finn to check out the bulls eye the woman with the cheeky laugh had tossed. Finn smiled and waved, but he did not want to end the conversation with Gretchen. He always had an appreciation for her beauty and an admiration for her calling, but now he saw her character. He knew she was smart, but now he understood that she was thoughtful. She was quiet, but she could speak her mind.

  "The topic was rainbows, I believe." Finn let his hand drop to the bar. His finger tapped the top of her hand.

  "Well, if you really want to know the truth, I am somewhere between you and Geoffrey. I'm a practical kind of girl. If I'm going to have a man home with me, I want him to be the kind who will linger in the morning and kiss me before he leaves. If he says he will call, I want him to follow through. If he won't then he doesn't have to say anything, and I appreciate the time we had together," Gretchen said. "So I will settle for a little bit of the rainbow and hope there are a few Screaming Mimi's thrown in for good measure. In the end, it's the choice that matters. I hope I choose well."

  "I'm thinking you deserve more, Gretchen."

  She picked up his hand and laced her fingers through his. She looked at the coupling, smiled, and then raised her lovely dark eyes to him and said:

  "That's exactly what I'm talking about, Finn. You just gave me a little of that rainbow."

  "You're an easy one to please."

  "You might change your mind if you gave me a whirl," she teased. "I may surprise you."

  "I may surprise myself."

  Ten minutes later Finn paid the tab. Geoffrey saw them off. As Finn walked with Gretchen to her apartment, he was very happy that he had left the key under the mat.

  Emi kept her eyes down, but slid them toward her husband now and again as if expecting something to happen. Anger? Fear? Sadness? Frustration? She saw nothing out of the ordinary. He worked as he always had: diligently, lovingly, brilliantly.

  It was a day and a night again. They were in the workshop, side by side, creating the things that made them rich and now caused them grief. It seemed a lifetime ago that the police had come, and yet an instant; it seemed a dream, and yet all too real. But Enver acted as if their problems had nothing to do with him. It was as if the police had n
ot questioned him like they would a common criminal. It was if a girl had not died in this very house. As if those horrid people with their sick play acting had not soiled their home. It was as if that man—the jellyfish—had not gone upstairs to finish what he started, and take what belonged to him.

  Enver had slept for the night and most of the day; Emi could not. When he wakened, he ate and went to the workroom, reminding Emi that they had orders to fill. Two companions had to be finished by the end of the week. The first was near completion. She was one of their best. Her long blonde hair was fashioned into loose braids. She had smaller breasts than were usually requested. Emi took great care with the companion's femur to make sure it attached to the hip properly. It was imperative that the hips moved smoothly. When they did Emi felt a surge of pride. She had, indeed, done something no one else ever had; she had created a joint that moved better than a human's. She had made a 'skin' that contracted and stretched like that of a young girl. All this would have brought them millions of dollars; it would have kept them secure their entire lives. Now Emi wasn't sure what she could do with these things she had made. She wasn't even sure she could continue working with Enver. Emi sealed the companion's skin permanently, so that the seam could not be seen with the naked eye. She had not even shown this technique to the jellyfish man.

  Enver was working on the second one now. He painted the eyes—his masterful signature. His face was so close to his work that it almost seemed he might kiss the thing. Emi turned her head away because if he did she would be sick. What he was working on wasn't a woman. It wasn't even a companion. It was silicone stretched over a face and skull made of plastic and metal. It rested on a satin pillow, the back of the skull exposed, the head hairless.

  Emi sighed and pulled a metal foot, ankle, fibula and tibia in front of her. She arranged them just so, fiddling with her unique joint. It was a puzzle to figure out how to integrate the leg joint to meet the client's specifications. The man wanted his doll to stand pigeon-toed, her pretty little feet turned inward like a child's. It was not for her to tell the client that it wouldn't be possible. It was for Emi to figure out how to make it so that the companion could stand in the way he wished.