Dead Silent (Cold Case Psychic Book 3)

by Pandora Pine

  “Plus, whoever it is has to know that the waters are further muddied with Shawn being added in as a third possible suspect, which makes the reasonable doubt hole, as Ronan put it, double in size because the attorney of whomever we arrest now has two other very viable suspects to pin this murder on,” Fitzgibbon said.

  “Not to mention the fact that lawyers will be able to point to the BPD in this and say that we weren’t able to provide enough evidence to clearly identify which one of the three was the real killer.” Ronan sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders.

  “And that it took twenty years to even get this far,” Ten added.

  “Where do you think is the best place to connect with Harold’s spirit?” Ronan hoped he wasn’t being too pushy by just coming out and asking Tennyson, but time was of the essence here. They’d gotten all of the evidence off of the murder weapon that there was to get. What evidence they’d found in Harold’s wallet only made the motive for murder stronger against all three suspects, while not singling any one of them out.

  Ten frowned. He rested his chin in the cup of his hands and closed his eyes. A moment later he opened them and looked at Ronan. “I think I need to pull Carson and Cole in on this one. I’m not getting any information at all. Stubborn bastard.”

  Ronan nodded his agreement. “After that, we’ll bring Shawn Owens in for a little sit down and to find out what his DNA is doing on the murder weapon.”

  “I’ll say one thing for this case, it’s lived up to your promise of being boring, Ronan. So far, there hasn’t been one gunshot fired, no one’s been kidnapped, and the only drop of blood that’s been spilled has been between the suspects.” Fitzgibbon patted Ronan’s shoulder as he got up.

  “Shit, Cap, you realize you just jinxed us, right?” Ronan face-palmed dramatically. He said a silent prayer that wouldn’t be the case at all.

  37

  Tennyson

  “Who’s the most difficult spirit you’ve ever channeled?” Ten asked the Craig brothers when they were all settled in at Carson and Truman’s dining room table. Truman had planned on inviting everyone over for burgers and dogs on the grill, but a pop-up thunderstorm had forced the party to be held inside rather than outside.

  Carson and Cole looked at each other and shrugged. “I can’t really think of anyone,” Carson said. “Every reading I’ve ever done for a client went smoothly, in that the person they were hoping to connect with showed up.”

  Cole nodded along. “Same here. The spirit didn’t always say what the client was hoping to hear, but they’ve always shown up. Are you still having trouble with Harold Owens?”

  “Yeah, I haven’t been able to channel him yet. From what Ronan and I have learned about him, the thing that mattered most to him was his money. I’ve tried channeling him by holding his wallet and the I.O.U.s he kept in there and he never showed up.”

  “He kept I.O.U.s in his wallet?” Carson asked incredulously.

  “Our victim doesn’t exactly tug at your heartstrings. He loaned his kids tuition money and kept track, to the penny, of how much they’d paid him on the back of the cancelled check.” Ronan reached across Ten for the ketchup.

  “When my gift was gone, I kept thinking all I had to do was talk to this guy and the mystery would be solved. Now that my gift is back, he’s nowhere to be found.” Ten shook his head and took a bite of his hot dog. Mustard dripped from the back end of it to land on his plate.

  Truman handed him a napkin. “You’re hoping Carson and Cole can help you locate his spirit?”

  Ten, still chewing, nodded.

  “He seems like an asshole. I don’t think I want him in my house with my babies.” Truman’s green eyes narrowed in on Ronan.

  “Swear jar, husband!” Carson said with glee.

  “Hey, don’t look at me. This wasn’t my idea.” Ronan pointed to Tennyson with his free hand.

  “Thanks for throwing me under the bus, snookums.” Ten rolled his eyes. “Me channeling Harold was your idea, remember?”

  “Yes, and I also remember you throwing me under the bus with my missing password,” Ronan grumped.

  “Okay, bigdixx69!” Tennyson still couldn’t believe that had been Ronan’s work password.

  “What?” Carson howled with laughter.

  Ronan’s face turned red like a lobster coming out of a pot. “You think up a password on the spot. It’s not as easy as you think. At least I spelled dixx phonetically…” Ronan trailed off.

  “Well, now there’s a saving grace,” Cassie chimed in. “Can I have the relish Ronan?”

  Ronan passed it over to her. “So, how are we going to lure this spirit in to talk with us? None of his family is here and we don’t have any of his objects.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to be luring anything, are we, Mom?” Carson asked.

  Tennyson waved to Bertha Craig who was standing behind Ronan with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “I should be earning a consulting fee, boys.” Bertha cackled.

  Cole and Carson laughed along with their mother.

  “Is Bertha making fun of my bigdixx too?” Ronan rolled his eyes.

  “No, she’s demanding a consulting fee for all the work we’re throwing her way.” Ten whacked Ronan’s shoulder. “And enough with the bigdixx crap. It’s not as big as you think,” Ten whispered.

  Ronan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “That’s not what you said last night.”

  “Sweet Jesus, Tennyson.” Bertha covered her ears. “It’s not bad enough that I’m dead and have to serve at your pleasure, but now I have to listen to this big dick bullshit?”

  “Ho! Swear jar, Mom!” Carson laughed.

  “Sorry, Bertha! My bad.” Ten turned back to Ronan. “You’re right, Ronan. It’s the biggest dick on planet Earth. Happy?”

  “I don’t know what the heck the two of you were just talking about.” Ronan pointed back and forth between Tennyson and the empty spot just behind him, “But I don’t want to be in the middle of it anymore. Bertha, my dearest love, it would be wonderful if you could make contact with Harold Owens. He’s an uncooperative bastard who’s making our lives hell at the moment.”

  “I love it when Handsome’s charming like this.” Bertha set a hand on Ronan’s shoulder.

  “She’s loving on me, isn’t she?” Ronan was all smiles.

  Ten nodded.

  “Oh, Bertha. If we’d only known each other in person. We could have run away together to the Bahamas.”

  Bertha laughed. “You’d have made one hell of a cabana boy, kiddo.”

  Cole choked on his drink. Cassie whacked his back. Carson started to laugh too.

  “What did she say?” Ronan turned to Tennyson.

  “She’s talking about alternative career choices for you, Ronan. Let’s just say you’re doing just fine as a cop.” Ten cleared his throat. “You’ll be on the lookout for Harold, Bertha?”

  “You know I’d do anything for the two of you.” She pressed a kiss to the back of Ronan’s head. “Tell your friend Fitzgibbon that Greeley is in the clear. That boy is one in a million. I’ve been sitting with him at night when the big man goes home. He’s a fighter, that one.”

  “I’ll let him know,” Ten agreed. “Cap will be happy to hear that. Ronan too.”

  “Well, if those are the only marching orders you boys have for me, I’m off to spend some time with my grandbabies.”

  “Bye, Bertha!” Ten waved. Cole and Carson joined in.

  “Ronan too, what?” Ronan got up and served himself another cheeseburger.

  “Bertha said Greeley is in the clear and that he’s a fighter,” Ten repeated. He had seen the same outcome for the boy himself, but was wary of telling Fitzgibbon, not wanting to get his hopes up, just in case. The future was fluid and could change at any time.

  “He’s a good kid,” Ronan agreed. “Cap was just saying this morning how much he’s into Harry Potter.”

  “It’s nice to see him getting bac
k to the business of being a teenager,” Truman said.

  “Here, here!” Carson raised his water bottle. “What’s the next step in the investigation now that Sherlock Bertha’s tracking down Harold Owen’s spirit?”

  Ronan grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “A squad car is going to pick up Shawn Owens first thing in the morning and bring him in for an interview.”

  “That should be interesting now that you have your gift back,” Cole said.

  “As reprehensible a human being as he is, I just don’t see him driving all the way back from Portsmouth, New Hampshire to Dorchester in a snowstorm.” Ten shrugged. “The only motive we have for him is the five thousand dollars that Shawn still owed his father for the plumbing school tuition. Even if the old man was harping on him to pay it back, at least he was out of the house and didn’t have to hear about it every day.”

  “Families are complicated,” Truman said. “The money is the only outstanding motive you can name. I’ll bet Shawn had twenty years of stacked up offenses he could tick off to the two of you about his father if you ask him the right way.”

  Ronan slapped a hand down on the table. “You’re in the wrong line of work, Tru, managing the bakery. You should have been a cop.”

  “I was in human resources for twelve years. It’s not that different from being in law enforcement. The only difference is that I didn’t get to handcuff or frisk people.”

  “He’s making up for lost time by doing that to me in private!” Carson crowed.

  “Take that, bigdixx!” Truman laughed.

  38

  Ronan

  Ronan felt like a little kid on Christmas morning. His present was waiting for him in the interrogation room in the form of Shawn Owens. According to the officers that brought their number one suspect in from New Hampshire, Owens was one pissed off motherfucker.

  Good. If Owens was emotional that meant he wouldn’t be as guarded with his words. He’d be more likely to let something slip that a more careful man would keep hidden.

  Of course, with Tennyson back in the game, that gave Ronan a second ace in the hole. Ten would be able to read Shawn and formulate questions from there. Ronan would do what he always did and go with his gut.

  “You about ready to do this?” Fitzgibbon asked from behind him.

  Ronan turned away from the two-way glass separating him from Shawn Owens. He’d been watching the pissed off man pace around the interrogation room for the last ten minutes. “Just about. I was enjoying watching him stew in his own juices for a few minutes.

  “Tennyson is ready. He’s waiting for you outside the interrogation room door. He looks pretty jacked for this interview.”

  “He’s got his confidence back again, Cap. I can’t tell you how much it means to see him back to his old self again.”

  “I bet. Now get in there and kick some ass.” Fitzgibbon clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll be watching from in here.”

  “Did Ten tell you what Bertha said about Greeley when we spoke with her last night?”

  Fitzgibbon nodded. “She’s quite a lady, watching over my boy like that when I can’t be there for him. I wish I could have known her.”

  “Me too, Cap. I can’t help thinking she’s got all our backs.”

  “Get this thing wrapped up, huh? Christ, it feels like you’ve been working on this boring case for months.”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch.” Ronan laughed. “There’s too many bullets, he says. Now there’s not enough bullets. Make up your damn mind.” To be honest, Ronan didn’t mind this boring case. Everyone was safe, there were no bullets flying around and no one was in danger of being kidnapped, punched or kicked. Life was good. He headed out of the back room and out to find Ten.

  “Oh good, there you are.” Tennyson was pacing in front of the interrogation room door.

  “I was talking to Fitzgibbon. He’s watching from behind the two-way glass. You ready to do this?”

  “Yeah.” Ten held up his fist.

  Ronan bumped it and made an exploding sound. He opened the door to the room. “Good morning, Shawn.”

  “What the hell’s so good about it? You dragged me out of my house and into a waiting cruiser in front of my whole neighborhood. What kind of bullshit is that?” Shawn crossed his arms over his chest.

  “We couldn’t take the chance of you agreeing to come on your own. So, we sent a car for you.” Ronan sat down across from his suspect with Tennyson taking the seat next to him just like they’d planned.

  “Why am I here?” Shawn demanded.

  “We want to know more about your father’s relationship with your family.” Tennyson said. “Was he the one in charge of the money?”

  Shawn seemed taken aback by the line of questioning. “Yeah, he knew down to the fucking penny what was spent in our house.”

  “What about your mother’s money? Did he keep track of that too?” Ten asked, sounding surprised.

  “It wasn’t her money. It was his. Even though she earned it, it was his. His house. His family. His money. His decisions. Get it?” Shawn sneered.

  Ronan got it all right. “So your mother needed his permission to spend the money she earned?”

  “Yeah. He was a total shithead like that. It’s the one thing I swore I would never do to my wife and daughter.”

  Well, at least the asshole had a bit of a soul. “Even for necessities like haircuts and feminine supplies?” Ronan shot Tennyson a grossed-out look. “I mean, I can’t imagine anything more humiliating than asking for money to buy tampons and pads.”

  “That was his game. It was all about humiliation. Keeping us all in line. Letting us know that he owned us in one way or another. Fucker used to keep cancelled checks in his wallet of money we’d borrowed from him, so he could hold it over our head.”

  “Did he hold it over your head, Shawn?” Ronan asked. He had a feeling he knew the answer to that question.

  “Of course he did. Old bastard never passed up the opportunity to let me know I owed him money.”

  “Did he do that to you on that last day? On Christmas?” Ten asked.

  “How the fuck’d you know that?” Shawn’s mouth hung open.

  Ronan opened the folder in front of him and pulled out the plumbing tuition check. “We found this in your father’s wallet.

  “Of course you did.” Shawn rolled his eyes. “I could have paid him back at any time.”

  Ten shot Ronan a confused look. “So why didn’t you?”

  “The principal of the damn thing. All he ever did was ask for the money. He never called me to see how I was doing or to ask about Debbie or lord for-fucking-bid to see how his granddaughter was, but he always called to ask for his precious money. I stopped paying him just to piss him the fuck off.”

  “That’s an interesting strategy.” Ronan grimaced.

  “What was he going to do? Call the cops? Ruin my credit? Repossess my plumbing license?” Shawn’s laugh was bitter.

  Ronan had to admit he had a point. Harold Owens could do none of those things. He also had to admit that what Shawn was saying also didn’t give him much motive to kill his father. There was no real consequence for not paying back the money, other than Harold’s constant bitching about it. It all seemed to be a twisted passive-aggressive game with no winners.

  Shawn Owens was a total tool, but he wasn’t a murderer. At least not according to Ronan’s gut, but there was the small question of Shawn’s DNA on the murder weapon to clear up. “We have a few more things to talk about.”

  “Fine. What?” Shawn asked impatiently.

  “You know that your father was killed with a piece of a two-by-four. Where did the piece of wood come from?” Ronan asked casually, as if the question was really of no significance.

  “My father was the master of half-assed, half-finished projects. In the basement of that house were at least a half dozen things we’d started working on together that we’d never finished.”

  That would certainly explain why Shawn’s DNA would be on the
piece of wood used to bash Harold’s brains in. It would also explain how the wood got into the house in the first place. “Your mother and sister knew about those unfinished projects in the basement?”

  “Of course they did. It was one of the things my mother used to bitch about.” Shawn started to absently pick at a hangnail on his left thumb.

  “Who do you think killed your father?” Ten asked.

  “Why does it even matter anymore?” Shawn asked, looking tired. “My family is all blown to hell now. My daughter isn’t speaking to us. I could go to jail for assaulting my mother and my sister. Then there’s the issue of the money I would have gotten if I wasn’t such an asshole.”

  “Oh, you know about the double sets of cards?” Ronan had been wondering if Maxine or Hope had let that cat out of the bag. He would have paid to have been a fly on the wall when that news broke.

  “My court appointed attorney showed me the evidence when he asked about a plea bargain.” For the first time since Ronan met Shawn Owens, the man actually looked remorseful.

  “What was the plea offered?” Tennyson asked.

  “Since I have no criminal record, the DA is willing to settle for a two thousand dollar fine. A thousand dollars for each count of simple assault and two hundred hours of community service. I wouldn’t have to go to trial or serve any jail time.”

  “Did you take it?” Ronan asked. To be honest, he would have been a fool not to have taken the offer. In his opinion, you jump at any chance to stay out of jail, especially when you actually committed the crime you’re being charged with.

  “I did,” Shawn admitted.

  “What about Debbie? Was she charged with anything?” Ten asked.

  Shawn shook his head. “The DA declined to press charges against my wife, my mother and my sister.”

  “I’d say you all got lucky this time around.” Christ Ronan sounded like one of those pompous judges on Law and Order. He was sure Ten would have a good laugh over that later. “What isn’t so lucky is your DNA on the murder weapon.” Ronan opened the manila folder to his right and pulled out the lab results. He slid them across the table to Shawn.