Was it possible that Beck was right about Sydney? He couldn’t be. She wasn’t responsible for Sydney’s behavior. The phone rang and she hesitated before she reached over to the night table to pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey it’s Jamie. Good news. I got into Syd’s email. I pulled off a couple I think you should have a look at.”
“Okay.”
“Are you alright, Markie?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You sound funny.”
“I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. What’s wrong?” Alarm registered in his voice.
“Beck and I just had an argument” she said after a while because Jamie would needle her until he got it out of her.
“What was the argument about?”
“Does it really matter?” She didn’t want to get into it with him. A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with her shoulder.
“Yes, if it’s about Sydney.”
“Between the two of you, you would think I’m obsessed with Sydney,” she snapped. “She’s missing and could be hurt. I didn’t ask for this.”
“I know.”
“No you don’t know. What you need to understand is that she’s my responsibility and I have to find her.”
“Markie, I—”
“Good night, Jamie.”
• • •
Beck sped along the 1-93 North towards Boston. He had a plan when he left his office earlier and it didn’t involve him leaving Marklynn’s house until morning. He wanted a quiet evening. Ah hell, who was he kidding he wanted more than that. He had a seduction scene laid out in his mind.
Everything should have been perfect. Nothing was left to chance. He’d called Jamie to find out what food Marklynn liked to surprise her. The chocolate covered almonds were at the top of the list. Even the wine was carefully selected.
The evening started out promising. The kiss was incredible, intense. It had been a long time since he felt such passion for someone. And what did he do? Messed it up.
Rule number one: Never talk about your ex, dead or alive, in a conversation when you’re trying to impress. The evening moved from seductive to serious in a flash and he had no one to blame but himself.
Marklynn couldn’t have children. He had to let himself digest that information. Once that conversation started the mood changed. She had changed and wouldn’t discuss it. Beck wanted to talk about it, but she had shut down the topic before it got off the ground. By her reaction, he knew that topic was off limits. Period.
Damaged goods.
Beck had thrown the term out in conversation in reference to himself. When Marklynn latched on to it to describe how she felt about not being able to have children he didn’t like the term anymore.
They were both wounded from past relationships. Would they be able to see their way clear to trust each other? He wanted to.
He had always wanted a large family being an only child. Would he be willing to give up children to be with Marklynn? There were options available to childless couples. It was a discussion he was willing to have, but he wasn’t sure about Marklynn. Then again it was a little premature to entertain that kind of thought since he wasn’t sure whether or not she would want to have anything to do with him again other than a business relationship.
A part of him had died when his marriage ended to Monika. To him it signified failure and he never thought he would meet anyone again that would make him feel alive, until Marklynn.
Marklynn had not only made him feel alive…she made him want things he hadn’t thought about in a long time. It wasn’t about sex, but that would be incredible if their kiss was anything to go by. He wanted more, a relationship.
Marriage.
Marriage? Whoa. He hadn’t thought about marriage since Monika. Then his hand went to his chest absently stroking the scars beneath the shirt. How would Marklynn react when she saw him without his shirt? Would she even consider marriage to him? He was more damaged than her in more ways than one. There had been other women since his divorce but he was always careful, hiding behind the cloak of darkness.
Beck thought about Sydney and could’ve kicked himself. When the topic of conversation shifted to Sydney, he didn’t want to talk about her. That was the last thing he wanted to talk about.
What did he do? Throw a tantrum like a child that had his toy taken away and picked on the very subject he knew was a sore spot for her, her relationship with Sydney. She had every right to throw him out of her house.
His cell phone rang. He reached across to the passenger seat and grabbed it. “Beck.”
“It’s Detective Samuel O’Malley returning your call.”
Beck had forgotten he had called the man after Marklynn had shown up in his office with the pictures.
“Thanks for calling me back.”
Heavy bass played in the background as O’Malley yelled into phone. “I was surprised to hear from you.”
Beck had to pull the phone away from his ear. “I need to see you. It’s important.” He hit the breaks when a car cut in front of him and he laid on the horn.
“I’ve had one helleva a day and—”
“It’s about Monika Beck.”
After a long pause O’Malley said, “I’m at an Irish Pub off Union Street. “If you show up before the band starts the second set at 10:00 p.m. we don’t have to yell at each other.”
“I’m just getting into Boston. I should be there in about fifteen minutes,” Beck said and tossed the phone back on the passenger seat.
Beck made the drive in ten minutes and found parking on the street. When he got to the door of the pub, he turned pointing the keypad towards the Navigator locking the doors, setting the alarm.
He opened the door and paused at the entrance searching for O’Malley. A thin layer of smoke from the open kitchen hovered around the ceiling at the back of the pub.
Wood and lots of it seemed to be the decorator’s choice. From the tables to the chairs and booths against the wall, everything was crafted out of rich mahogany and it made the pub appear dark. Not even the cone shaped lighting that hung above the tables could brighten up the place.
The Tuesday night crowd ranged in age from the thirty something’s to the fifty plus. The thirty something’s huddled around the bar in groups talking and laughing. Others leaned against the wall with beers in hand.
“Beck, over here,” O’Malley yelled waving at him.
Beck made his way over to the booth and narrowly missed the waitress, a brunette with an attitude, almost spilling her tray of drinks.
“Sorry.” He apologized to the palm of her tattooed hand when she held it up to his face and kept on walking.
O’Malley hadn’t changed Beck thought as he slid into the raised booth. He had to be about mid or late thirties. With black wavy hair cut close to his temples, he was still the same clean-cut-neat-suit-and-tie-wearing man who’d showed up at his door to tell him about Monika’s death.
Beck had thought he was Irish when he’d first heard the man’s name. With no accent to go with the name, he assumed the man was Caucasian. He wasn’t expecting a dark-skinned man whose father was from Trinidad and his mother from Ireland. A rare combination, O’Malley had called himself during one of their conversations.
“Beer?” O’Malley asked and lifted his hand to call the waiter, a punk rocker with a bull ring through the cartilage dividing his nostrils.
“What can I get for you guys?”
“I’ll have whatever is on tap,” Beck said trying not to stare at the waiter.
“Make that two,” O’Malley told the waiter and he disappeared into the thick of the crowd towards the bar leaving O’Malley shaking his head. “Kids today. I thought only cows had rings through the nose.”
Beck smiled.
“The suspense is killing me.” O’Malley grabbed a handful of peanuts from a bowl on the table and tossed them into his mouth then dusted the salt from his hands. “What’s this about your late ex-wife?
”
Beck pulled the picture from his jacket pocket, laid it on the table and pushed it towards O’Malley. He picked up the picture squinting at it while working his mouth then brought the picture closer to the light above the table.
“You think it’s Monika,” O’Malley stated. Another handful of nuts went into his mouth. “Though, you can’t really be sure with her face in the shadows. Where did you get this?”
“You never believed Monika died in that boating accident. Why?”
The ink hadn’t dried on the divorce papers before the boating accident had happened.
Monika had felt she was entitled to everything. To some degree maybe she was. He didn’t have a nine-to-five job. The company had taken up all of his time and a lot of things were put on hold. He didn’t want to start a family until they were financially ready because he wanted to give his kids all the things he didn’t have growing up. She didn’t understand that because she grew up with money.
When he’d achieved the success he was striving for with the company their marriage had fallen apart. She had wanted him to sell Beck Security Systems, but after months of bitter negotiations she’d accepted a cash buy out of her share. Their boat, a twenty-eight foot cruiser and the four-bedroom colonial was also a part of the deal she received.
“Here you go, two beers,” the waiter said placing the drinks on the table pulling him back to the present. “Anything else I can get you?”
Beck shook his head. “Nothing for me. Thanks.”
“I’m good.” O’Malley waited until the waiter left then took a long drink of his beer before he spoke. “Monika’s death was too neat. Nothing was found. According to her dentist, she had extensive dental work done the previous year. If she was on board when the explosion occurred we should have found something to match up with her dental records.”
“You said yourself she was seen getting on board,” Beck said wanting to believe even though the evidence wasn’t supporting the facts.
“People lie.” O’Malley paused for a moment, twisting his mouth. “There was something I never told you since you’d made it clear back then you didn’t want to lay eyes on me again.”
“You thought I killed her.”
“Until your alibi checked out,” O’Malley said simply.
O’Malley didn’t apologize back then and Beck knew he wasn’t about to get an apology now. Because of the divorce settlement, O’Malley felt Beck had something to do with the explosion and set out to prove it. O’Malley was wrong, but according to him he was just doing his job.
O’Malley looked at the picture again. “I take it you no longer believe she’s dead.”
“With the picture I don’t know.”
The band started up. Heavy bass from the electric guitar filled the air drowning out their conversation. There was a stampede to the dance floor and O’Malley shook his head jerking his thumb towards the door.
“Not quite the sounds of Ireland.”
“It draws the younger crowd,” O’Malley said.
“I got it,” Beck said when O’Malley reached for his wallet to pay the bill.
After Beck paid the tab, they maneuvered their way through the crowd on the dance floor towards the door. They stepped out onto the sidewalk and were greeted by a warm gentle breeze and a clear sky. Even with the pub door closed, they could still hear the beat of the music outside.
“There’s something you should know,” O’Malley said fishing through his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “I got a voicemail from Marklynn Brooks right after you called. She was a cop, now a P.I. I think.”
Beck followed O’Malley as he walked towards a black vinyl top red corvette parked at the curb. If he had to guess would say a ‘72.
“Nice.”
“It’s a hobby,” O’Malley shrugged. “I’ve a lot more work to do both on the inside and out.”
“Did you call back Marklynn?” Beck asked still looking at the car. The driver side door had rusted along the trim. The car distraction bit didn’t fool O’Malley. Trying to downplay the fact that Marklynn wasn’t important didn’t wash. The man saw right through him.
“By the look on your face, I take it you know her.”
“Yes.” Beck didn’t want to elaborate.
“I didn’t call her back, yet. I wanted to talk to you first. She said something about a picture she wanted to show me.” O’Malley glanced at Beck when he stopped beside the car and opened the door. “The picture she wants to show me, I’m assuming, it’s the same picture you gave me.”
“Yes. I think her sister, Sydney took the picture and now she’s missing.”
“And you both believe there is a connection.”
“Yes.”
Beck heard a low whistle from O’Malley.
“Brooks is probably trying to track the sister down on her own. She has the manpower for it. Well, I can’t blame her. What she went through when she filed the lawsuit against the department. Most of the guys treated her like she had the plague or something.”
“You didn’t,” Beck guessed. From what he could remember of the man, he was tough but fair.
“She was a good cop. Sometimes things just happen,” O’Malley said and Beck thought he detected a note of regret in the man’s voice, but he wasn’t sure for what.
“What was the suit about?”
“You’ll have to ask her that yourself. From what I remember some hotshot investigative reporter named Michael Blake did a story about her fight that nearly brought down the department. Heard she walked away with a truck load of money.”
“Maybe she deserved it.”
“Maybe.” All of a sudden O’Malley turned his head towards the parked cars that lined the street.
Beck followed his gaze. “Something wrong?”
“Nah. Look, I can’t officially reopen the investigation again on Monika Beck. The picture is not enough to go by.” After Beck filled him in on what was going on at Beck Security Systems O’Malley said, “Okay, there is enough to pique my curiosity. I’m not making any promises. Let me look into it and get back to you.”
“That’s all I ask.”
“What about Marklynn Brooks?”
“Leave her to me.”
“Whatever you say.”
O’Malley’s gaze slowly swept the parked cars that lined the street once again as if he was looking for something.
“What’s wrong?” Beck asked following O’Malley’s wandering gaze. “Don’t give me that nothing answer.”
“We’re being watched.”
• • •
Phoenix ducked down into the seat of her white Volvo when Sam O’Malley’s gaze swept up and down the street. She knew she couldn’t be seen, but didn’t want to take the chance. It didn’t matter that she was parked in the shadows between the two light posts. She had to be careful.
It was only a matter of time before Sam O’Malley was contacted. She thought for sure it would have been Markie she would see with Sam, not Beck parking outside the pub an hour ago.
A hunch. She played it and it paid off. Since she didn’t know for sure if she was in any of the pictures Sydney had taken, she’d err on the side of caution and assumed she could be recognized.
It would have been nice to see the pictures. Malcolm said Beck had a set Markie had given him. Asking Malcolm to show the pictures to her would throw suspicion in her direction. She had already tipped her hand when she’d expressed her jealousy over Markie.
It didn’t matter that Malcolm had said Beck didn’t recognize anyone in the picture. Beck must have suspected something or he wouldn’t have connected with O’Malley.
With Markie and Beck meeting already, she figured she would track down O’Malley just in case. He seemed to like the Irish Pub. Why was beyond her. The place was a dump. One beer was his limit and he drank alone.
Phoenix had assumed the next meeting would’ve been between Markie and O’Malley. Beck was the surprise. She hadn’t expected to see him. It shouldn’t have been a surpri
se to her. Beck was smart. He always seemed to land on his feet. Look what he’d accomplished after the divorce. His company was a success, not to mention the penthouse condo where he lived. That should have been her address, not his.
Well she would take it all away from him just like he’d taken everything from her.
Phoenix watched as Beck and Sam shook hands and parted company. They were getting too close.
• • •
Marklynn woke up the following morning a force to be reckoned with. Mad at the world would be an accurate description. Beck was a part of the world and he was at the top of the list.
“How dare he tell me I’m afraid to live my life?” She mumbled in front of the bathroom mirror while curling her hair. After she finished, she combed her fingers through the curls allowing her hair to fall just below her ears.
Her eye didn’t hurt as bad as the day before, but it didn’t look all that great either. The black coloring around the eye had turned a nice shade of purple and once again she stayed away from makeup. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she applied a plum shade of lipstick and then dropped the tube in her purse.
She didn’t feel like dressing up today. With no scheduled meetings for the day, her choice of attire was the Brooks Investigations white shirt, a pair of jeans and the red stiletto boots. Sydney’s boots. They were the only footwear in her closet that fit. When she’d taken them from her sister’s closet after the break-in, it was only to wear home. She hadn’t intended on wearing them again. Yet, she reached for them and pulled them on.
They were not only different in personality, but in fashion style as well. Where Markie was conservative, Sydney was all about the latest trends and hot colors. The red stiletto boots was not something Markie would purchase. It wasn’t practical. Yet, when she looked down at her feet, she didn’t mind them. They made her feel close to her sister quashing the dreaded fear pooling in her stomach that she may never see Sydney again.
She had never shared anything with Sydney. They never had that typical sister relationship. Perhaps that would change once they were reunited. She would make more of an effort.
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