by Elle Gray
“You are everything Agent Wilder said you are. And I’m willing to bet there’s even more there,” he says.
“Thanks?”
He laughs softly. “Ease your mind, Mr. Arrington. I would never ask you to do something illegal. When I told you I was going legit—sorry, legit-ish—I meant it. I’ve already established several legitimate businesses and entirely removed any connections to money laundering,” he says. “I would like to keep you on retainer to help me protect those business interests. As a show of good faith, I would give you full access to all my books so you could see for yourself that they are indeed as legitimate as they seem.”
“You don’t need me. There are a hundred other PI’s in the city who are less rigid and ethical than I am. Guys who are even more comfortable in the gray area than I am,” I say.
“It’s precisely because you are so rigid and ethical that I would like to establish this strategic alliance,” he says. “It would be all too easy for me to slip back into my old patterns and conduct my business in a less… how shall I put this?... in a less above-board way. But I am committed to becoming a respected member of the community. I want to change the legacy I am leaving behind. I would like to be known for my legitimate businesses and philanthropy than for… what came before.”
I shake my head. “Why does that even matter to you?”
“Because this city has afforded me every opportunity I’ve had. I love this city with all my heart. As much as you do, I would wager,” he tells me. “And before my time in this world is done, I would like to help take Seattle to even greater heights.”
I can’t help but hear the sincerity in his voice and feel slightly impressed by it. The man is smooth and slick, there’s no question about it. He’s an operator. Fish is comfortable working from the shadows. But there is a legitimate desire in him to grow and do better. To help Seattle grow and prosper. I can see that as easily as I can see that shiny suit of his.
“I’ll give it some thought, Fish. I know Blake trusts you, but I’m not quite there yet,” I finally say. “But I’m telling you now, I will not break the law for you.”
“And I appreciate that about you, Mr. Arrington,” he nods.
“Tell me how Veronica came to have a studio above your restaurant.”
A look of genuine sorrow crosses his face. “She was a lovely woman, and believe me when I say that I mourned her passing.”
I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that my wife had this shadow life—a life that included dealing with men like Fish. I’m not sure how I feel about it all yet.
“Did Blake introduce you two?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, she found me on her own. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that she was tenacious.”
A nostalgic grin touches my lips. “That she was.”
“She found me one day and told me she knew I had private studios. Secret places, really. She told me she was working on a story and needed a place she could store her things and never be found,” Fish explains.
“Did she tell you what she was working on?”
He shakes his head. “No. And I didn’t wish to press her on it. There are some things I believe I am better off not knowing.”
“It’s been five years,” I say. “And you haven’t touched any of her things. Everything was just as she left it.”
He nods. “I did. I was fond of your wife, Mr. Arrington. But I also knew that one day, you would come. Secrets never stay buried forever. I knew there would come a day when you uncovered what Veronica was doing,” he says. “And I also knew that trail would eventually lead you to my door. So, when you finally did arrive, Jia called to let me know. I arrived to find those men who were threatening to kill you had forced Jia to let them into the secret rooms—and then killed her.”
His voice trembles and the hard edge in his eyes grows even darker. I can see that Fish is taking Jia’s death personally.
“I am very sorry for your loss, Fish.”
His nod is stiff and curt. “Thank you,” he says. “But there is one person to blame, and it is not you.”
“Do you know who that person is?”
He shakes his head. “Not yet. But I’m looking into it.”
When Fish says he’s looking into it, I know it means whoever those men were working for is going to end up as dead as they are if he gets to him first. I can’t have that. I can’t be racing him to get to the bad guy. I look up at him, my expression sober.
“I would consider it a professional courtesy if you allowed me to conduct my investigation without having to worry about your men getting there first. There are certain questions I have only this man can answer,” I say. “And I’d like to have the chance to ask my questions.”
Fish stares back at me for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. There’s a fire in his eyes and I can tell he wants to kill the man who is ultimately responsible for murdering Jia. I get that. But there’s a bigger picture in play here. If Fish kills him, we never get to the bottom of what he was doing or why he had Veronica killed. After a long moment, Fish nods.
“As you wish. But know this—if you get to a point where you can’t take your investigation further, if you hit a dead end, I will step in and finish it,” he says, his voice hard. A shadow crosses his face, seeming to change it entirely. A cold light beams in his eyes, telling me this is a glimpse of the old Fish, not the new and legitimate one.
“If I get to that point and I can’t get him by legal, above-board means, I’ll be the first to tell you,” I assure him. “What matters to me is this man pays for what he did.”
“Then we have an accord,” Fish nods. “I took the liberty of having all the materials in Veronica’s studio packed up. You will find them in the trunk of your car waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Fish. I appreciate that,” I say. “Just tell me how much I owe you for the rent on the studio—”
“It is not necessary.”
“That’s years’ worth of rent. I can’t just—”
“It is not necessary, Mr. Arrington. As I said, I had grown very fond of Veronica. It is an honor for me to play some small part in helping bring her killers to justice.”
“Thank you, Fish. I truly appreciate that.”
He nods. “It is my pleasure.”
“The men who attacked me—”
“Have been taken care of. They will never trouble you, or anybody else, again.”
“Or be found by anybody, I’m sure,” I say and pointedly look around. “And I’m in an animal hospital rather than a regular hospital.”
“Gunshot wounds draw questions I’m sure you would rather not answer at this point,” he points out. “I thought it best to have you treated at a private clinic. And Dr. Xu is a fine surgeon. One of the best in China before I brought him over, in fact.”
“And yet, he’s working as a veterinarian.”
Fish shrugs. “He likes animals better than people,” he offers. “But he still does fine work. He said you will barely have a scar.”
I laugh softly. “You know, for a guy working his tail off to go legit, you still think like somebody wrapped up tight in your old, shady ways.”
Fish grins and spreads his hands out in front of him, giving me a small shrug and a sheepish grin.
“As you said, I’m legit-ish,” he says.
Sixteen
Cascades Memorial Park; Laurelhurst, WA
A cool wind blows, stirring the leaves on the ground and swaying the branches of the trees. The sky is brewing with dark, ominous thick clouds rolling in. A storm is coming. I follow the trail I know so well and still, after all these years, feel as if I’m walking uphill through molasses. Every step is an exercise in pain, though not the physical kind. With each step, I feel those cracks in my heart deepen even more.
I round a corner and see the pair of tall marble mausoleums standing side by side; twin columns of solemn loss. Several generations of Arringtons are interred there. Or at least, their ashes a
re. When Veronica died, I decided I didn’t want her in the family’s main mausoleum. Since I didn’t want her cremated, I didn’t want her to be too crowded in her final resting spot. So, I’d had a second mausoleum constructed beside the first. It was identical in design and material. I’d made sure that everything was exactly the same.
Of course, that didn’t stop my folks from getting upset and throwing a freaking fit about it. They were so angry, they threatened to cut me off from my inheritance. So, after telling them I didn’t need their money and that the new mausoleum was staying, they finally relented. Their reaction annoyed me to no end. It’s like their need to control me even extends into my death. I’m not having that, though. When it’s time for me to shuffle off this mortal coil, I’ll be interred with Veronica, our bodies side by side.
I use my key to unlock the door, then step inside. The interior is dim and cool, and I lay the bouquet of roses in my hand on her marble sarcophagus. I run the tips of my fingers over her name etched into the marble, tracing every letter, emotion welling up within me like a wave ready to break. I sit down on the small bench that sits next to her sarcophagus.
Aside from her office at home, this is the one place I feel close to her. Maybe it’s morbid since I am actually close to her body, but like her office, there are times I can feel her here with me. I find that I draw comfort while I’m here. I like to come down and sit beside her and just talk because I feel like she can hear me. And if somebody wants to think that’s weird or morbid, I don’t really care.
“Happy Anniversary, my love. I wish you were here to celebrate with me,” I say. “I think I’d have taken you to the Olive Leaf tonight. I know how much you love your Mediterranean food. And maybe after that, I would have rented out Woodland Park. I couldn’t have thought of a better way than just you and me having the run of the whole zoo for the night. It would have been amazing.”
One of Veronica’s biggest passions in life was animals. If she hadn’t gotten hooked on investigative reporting, I have little doubt she would have found some way to turn that passion into her career. We spent a lot of time touring zoos and aquariums together. She had such a sense of childlike wonder at all of them and it was a lot of fun seeing it all through her eyes.
I’d always planned on renting out the park one night. Just for the two of us. I’d planned on having a wonderfully catered dinner brought in and just spending the night listening to her seemingly bottomless well of facts about every animal in the park. But I never got around to doing that before she died—which is a regret that will haunt me until my own dying day. I just always thought there would be more time. That we’d have years upon years to do it. There’s scarcely a day that goes by that I don’t kick myself for it.
“I got everything you left for me. It was a little dicey there, but I got it,” I tell her, my voice echoing around the chamber. “Also met your friend Fish. I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about that guy. But I’ll admit, he’s not the monster I’ve always thought. At least, he’s not that monster anymore. Not totally. It’s surprising. But he’s definitely still got a dark side to him. Did you know that?”
I sit back and imagine her answer to that question and laugh to myself. Of course, she knew. Veronica was many things, but she wasn’t naïve. She sometimes pushed the envelope when it came to some of her associations. It was the nature of the work she did. Veronica sometimes had to deal with some shady, dangerous people. It always drove me nuts with worry, but I trusted her to not let herself get in too deep. She was smart and savvy. Veronica wouldn’t have let herself get close to somebody like Fish unless she’d vetted him. Unless she felt comfortable with him. That much I can be sure about. I look down at the thick white bandage around my forearm and purse my lips.
“If you trusted him, I guess I can too, huh?”
I lean back against the wall and let myself think about Veronica. I think about all the good times we shared. I think about the first time I met her and indulge in a thousand other memories that float through my mind. I’m getting to a point where all I remember are the good times, and I don’t know when that happened. For so long, all I seemed able to remember was seeing her torn and broken body after the accident. Whenever I thought about her, even the good memories were tinged with a dark sadness. I could only ever think about Veronica through the prism of my grief.
But as I sit there in the mausoleum, “celebrating” what would have been our wedding anniversary, my mind drifts back through time and all I feel is the warmth and joy she inspired in me. All I can see are the good times and love we shared—a kiss in the rain one night when we’d been camping, her snoring in the theater after falling asleep during a performance of Phantom, and a thousand other things that make me smile. A thousand other things that fill me with the bright white light of joy. Things that fill me with the boundless sense of love I always felt for her in life.
As I sit there, reveling in my memories and the emotions that come along with it, May’s face suddenly flashes into my mind. It comes completely out of the blue. I try to push it aside, feeling like this isn’t the time, but in my mind’s eye, May smiles at me, her green eyes sparkling like polished emeralds framed by her dark auburn hair. I hear the sound of her rich, warm laughter. I see her smile and feel the softness of her skin. Thinking about May fills me with a sense of happiness too. It’s different from what I felt—still feel—for Veronica, but almost as potent.
I shake my head, trying to clear my head of all the thoughts bouncing around inside of it like balls on a billiards table. I try to push away all the emotions churning inside of me, not understanding where those thoughts of May came from. I look over at Veronica’s sarcophagus and frown.
“Was that you? Are you trying to tell me something?”
I got no answer, of course. But my thoughts about May came so far out of left field, it almost feels like they had a guiding hand. I’m gripped by a small pinch of guilt for letting thoughts of May interfere with my celebration of my anniversary with Veronica, but it’s nowhere near as thick or deep as I would have expected.
“I just don’t think I’m ready, Veronica. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be ready,” I say. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get over you, and if that’s the case, it wouldn’t be fair of me to get involved with somebody knowing I won’t ever give them one hundred percent. Not with you filling up my heart the way you do.”
In the distance, the sound of thunder rolls across the cemetery and another gust of wind blows by outside. I’ve never been one for signs and omens, but all this is kind of weird. Some small, silly piece of me is trying to convince the rest of myself that Veronica’s here, trying to communicate. That her love for me is so strong that even after she’s gone, she can still send me guidance and love. It’s stupid, of course, but it actually brings me a small measure of comfort to think so. But if that’s the case, what is she trying to tell me? Is she trying to tell me she approves of May? Or is that simply my subconscious desires telling me I want to be with her? Unfortunately, I’m probably never going to know which it is.
Besides, I’ve got much bigger things on my plate right now. Things far more important than my relationship status. Maybe once this is over and the dust has settled I’ll revisit the issue, but right now, I need to put every ounce of my focus and my energy into solving this case once and for all.
“We’re going to get them, Veronica. You put the ball in motion and I’m going to take it the rest of the way,” I tell her. “You’re going to have your justice. I swear on my life you will.”
Seventeen
Archton Media Corporate Tower, Subfloor 1, Room 3; Downtown Seattle
“Don’t suppose you’re finally coming around to the idea of coming home to help run the family empire, huh?” asks my brother George.
I arch an eyebrow at him as I set the boxes Fish left in my trunk down on the long, highly polished table made of cherrywood. We’re in one of Archton Towers’ private conference rooms and I think it’ll do per
fectly. It’s got Wi-Fi and is equipped for audio and visual. A long whiteboard runs nearly the length of the wall, and there’s plenty of space to stretch out and move, around which is a good thing since I have a feeling I’ll be spending a lot of time here for a while.
There’s a sitting area with a plush sofa and a pair of oversized wingbacks set off in a corner that’ll do for catching a few winks if needs be. The only drawback is that it’s subterranean so there are no windows. But it’s a small sacrifice to pay for the security I’ll have by using this room. It’s otherwise perfect.
“No, I’m not coming back to Archton,” I say. “But thanks for asking.”
He shrugs. “I just thought when you asked to use a private conference room it was because you were rethinking—”
“I asked to use the room because it’s private and secure,” I tell him. “I need it because it’s harder to break in here than it is into Fort Knox.”
George cocks his head and looks at me curiously. He and I couldn’t be more opposite in just about every way possible. I stand a full head taller than him and work out regularly. I may not have the toned physique of a professional athlete, but I like to think I’m still in pretty good shape. George used to be even bigger than me back in the day—I played cornerback in high school while he was a tight end—but the years have caught up to him a bit. He’s started wearing glasses in the last few years and is starting to show a bit of a middle-aged paunch—a few years too early, considering I’m the older brother. George is sharp, though. One of the smartest people I know. He had the burning desire to run the family company I never did, despite our father’s wishes. I’ve always thought George was the better choice. He’s got a better head for this sort of thing than I do. That might not be the case if I applied myself to the job, but I’d rather dive headfirst into an active volcano than work in that boardroom, so we’ll never know.
