“Oh, right,” he said. “I did check on that. The computer is indeed in his room at home, and I tried to take it, but then I got into a ‘discussion’ with my father, and it slipped my mind. I’ll get it for you.”
“And the phone?”
“In evidence, like you said. I can’t get it, though. They haven’t released the personal effects. But I’m working on getting the phone data to you. Apparently, there’s a way that you can copy everything that’s on the phone and look at it on a computer or something. Your friend Eden will know about it.”
“Great,” I said. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“But this isn’t why I called,” he said. “I called to apologize.”
“For what?” I was confused.
“You ran off pretty quick after the dinner the other night. I know it was because I was an ass to you,” he said. “I shouldn’t have refused your comfort. It was rude.”
“Whatever,” I said. “I know you don’t like to be touched. I shouldn’t have gone there.”
“I want to want to be touched, though,” he said.
“What does that even mean?” I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “No, you’re the way you are, and that’s that. I know I shouldn’t expect anything different.”
“I don’t want to be that way,” he said. “Look, a long time ago, I went into therapy, and I got myself to a certain point with it. I was in a bad way, and I couldn’t leave my room, and I had a therapist come and visit me, and she helped me. But eventually, I decided it was good enough, and I just stopped. Still, I know that I could change. I should change. I’d be happier in the long run. It’s just scary, and it’s a lot of work.”
“Miles, I’m not asking you to—”
“I know that,” he said. “I’m sorry I got into that. I know that there isn’t any chance for us to ever make this work, no matter how much I change. I just wanted to apologize.”
“Well, you don’t have to. Because there’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s really okay.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Miles?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you really think about us making it work?”
“Of course I do,” he said.
“Because I do too,” I whispered. Outside my car, the darkness was gathering, and it made me feel like I was being wrapped in a tight, safe cocoon.
“You do?”
“Yes. All the time.”
“Because I don’t really see you… taking steps,” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I keep telling myself that it’s not enough to accuse you of things or demand that you change. That maybe if I show you it’s possible to change, you’ll work on your shit. But sometimes I feel like I’m an idiot for even bothering.”
“What the hell?” The cocoon was starting to feel less comforting and safe and more constricting and strangling.
“I did that whole fucking testosterone thing—”
“Yeah, and what was the point of that?” I said. “I mean, all that pain and agony just to figure out that you hate sex anyway?” What was I thinking? There was no way this was ever going to work.
“It showed me where the problem was,” he said. “It helped. Kind of. But whatever, that’s not the point. The point is that I tried. Have you tried anything at all? Have you even spent one night alone in the past two months?”
“Of course I have. It’s not like that. I don’t have to have sex every second of every day.”
“Have you considered going to therapy, Ivy?”
My mouth felt dry. “You know, for a conversation that started out with you apologizing to me, the tables sure have turned.”
“Well, if you want to talk about us making it work, then we can’t ignore the elephant in the room, which is the fact that you could never be faithful to me anyway. Making everything we’re doing pointless.”
“This is what sets me off,” I said. “Conversations like this make me feel so crazy. And then I just have to shut my head up. Because all I feel is guilt and confusion and… and badness. So, if you want me to sleep with someone else tonight, by all means, keep going.”
“Oh, no, Ivy, you don’t get to put this on me,” he said. “You’re responsible for your own actions.”
“You know what? Fuck you.” I hung up.
I was shaking all over. How had that conversation changed so quickly? One second, it had seemed sweet and soft and wonderful, full of promise, and the next, it had turned on me like a viper.
I guessed that was the way with someone you’d loved for a long time. They knew just how to push your buttons and wind you up. He didn’t have any right getting on my case like that. Miles didn’t even know what he was talking about. I didn’t know why everyone kept insisting that I had some kind of problem with sex. Maybe I was just a sexually assertive woman. Maybe everyone was just threatened by that.
But deep down, I knew that any man who had as much sex as I did would also have trouble creating a normal life. Hell, look at Crane, who didn’t even have nearly as much sex as me. He couldn’t sustain a relationship or start a family or anything like that. And ever since he’d gotten tenure at the college, he’d stopped teaching any classes before ten in the morning, which wasn’t the kind of lifestyle everyone on earth could have.
So, whatever, I was fucked up. But I knew what would happen if I tried not to have sex. I’d be trapped with my own thoughts, with the noise of my brain, and I would have no way to get rid of it. I couldn’t handle that. I’d go insane.
I turned the key in the ignition and drove back to Keene. I didn’t even bother to go home first. I went straight to The Remington.
Crane was standing inside the door at the bar. He had two full shots of whiskey in front of him.
“Bad day?” I said.
“You could say that,” he said.
“Mine was great until Miles called me and basically said that I was a whore and the whole reason that our relationship never worked.”
“Yeah, I missed a class this morning,” said Crane, “and the department chair called me into his office and said that they’ve been having too many reports of my not showing up, and that even tenured professors can be fired if they really want to.”
“No,” I said, shocked. “Didn’t you just blow off all your classes for a month once? Nothing bad happened then.”
“That was a different group of kids,” said Crane. “It’s give and take, really. Teaching freshmen 101 is hell, because they don’t give a fuck about learning and they don’t respect you. But when you cancel classes for three weeks in a row, they don’t so much mind and report you. When you’re teaching upperclassmen who are majoring in English, they get annoyed when they aren’t getting their money’s worth. So, yeah.”
I made a sympathetic face. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It really upset me, and I think it might be kicking in a depressive episode, which I really just can’t handle.”
“Oh no,” I said. Crane was bi-polar. Depressed Crane was ridiculously bad. Manic Crane was fun for a while, but then Manic Crane would sometimes go and do super crazy things. Like marry twenty-two-year-olds. Thing was, I shouldn’t really compare the two of us, now that I thought about it. Crane really did have a problem. A real, honest-to-goodness documented issue. He took medication for it and everything. Crane was functioning as well as he was because of that medication. If Crane and I were similar, then maybe Miles was right, and I should be going into therapy for my sex addiction.
Ugh.
I grabbed one of Crane’s shots and took it. I did not have a sex addiction.
“Hey,” said Crane.
“I’ll buy you another one.” I was already signaling the bartender.
“The thing is,” said Crane, “if I start getting really depressed, I’ll start canceling more classes. It’ll just become a vicious cycle.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” I said. “Because Miles tells
me that I should stop sleeping with people, and it just makes me feel guilty and awful. And the only thing I can do when I feel guilty and awful is sleep with someone. So, then it just becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“Of course,” said Crane, “what they were complaining about wasn’t really my canceling classes. If I show up and put a note on the door, it’s not a big deal. But if I don’t show up at all, and then the kids come in and just sit in the classroom for twenty minutes waiting for me, then that’s a big problem, apparently.”
“You still call them kids in college?” I said.
“They’re always kids,” he said.
“You really did that?” I said. “Just didn’t show up for class? More than once?”
Crane downed the shot. His shoulders slumped. “I always mean to get up for class. It’s just sometimes, I’m so fucking hungover.”
I sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I can see how that might happen.”
The bartender put two more shots of whiskey in front of us, as if to emphasize my point.
“Oh, hey,” said Crane. “You know how you were talking about drugs at Keene, and how everyone’s doing ecstasy?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I know a girl who’s dealing that stuff. Her name’s Molly Colligan, and I think she’s pretty close to the source of the stuff, whether that’s the famed Professor X or not. I know how you can get in touch with her too.”
* * *
“I’m sorry,” said Molly Colligan, “I thought that you wanted to purchase some product. I’d be happy to help you with that. But I’m afraid I don’t really know much of anything about Gilbert Pike or the shooting.”
“Well,” I said, “it’s just a few questions. And it’s really more about your relationship with the O’Shaunessys.”
“My relationship?” She furrowed her brow. “Why would I have a relationship with them?”
“Not you personally,” I said, “but your supplier. You’re selling ecstasy, and that’s encroaching on the O’Shaunessys’s territory. There’s bound to be some animosity between you.”
“Well, I suppose so,” said Molly. “But if there is, it’s all on their side. We’re slaughtering them in sales. No one wants to buy their X. It’s an inferior product.”
“Well, so have they made any threatening advances toward you about that?”
“Not since Cori, no,” she said. “I think they didn’t enjoy the heat from that murder investigation.”
“The O’Shaunessys killed Cori?” I said. How had I missed this? Had I really been so busy with Ralph the Hatchet follow-ups that I hadn’t heard? I must have, but it was strange, considering not very many people died in Keene every year.
“Oh, they weren’t arrested or anything,” said Molly, which really didn’t answer the question, “but Cori was all messed up in a relationship with one of the guys.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I remember.” I’d overheard a conversation in Shamrock’s about that, back when I was investigating the Ralph thing. “Well, anyway, are you guys afraid of the O’Shaunessys?”
“Like I said, we’re slaughtering them in sales. If anything, they’re afraid of us,” she said.
“Have they tried to do anything to hurt you? Anything that might require retaliation?”
“No,” she said. “Be serious. Look, the O’Shaunessys aren’t all that interested in selling molly, anyway. It’s not their style. They’d prefer to get people hooked on the harder stuff—cocaine, heroin, crystal—nasty drugs like that. They’re a huge crime organization. Losing some sales of X is a minor annoyance for them. They make up for the difference with all their other enterprises. They don’t care about us.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think you’re downplaying this a good bit. I’m not sure why.”
“I’m not sure why you’re asking these questions.”
“Well, as I’m sure you’re aware, one of the victims of the shooting was Charlene Jarrett, who’s related to the O’Shaunessys. She’s the big guy’s granddaughter, in fact. Now, if someone wanted to really stick it to the O’Shaunessys, killing her would do it. If someone was responding to some form of threat, for instance.”
“You don’t think the shooting was just a shooting?”
“I’m exploring all the angles.”
She nodded slowly. “Well, listen, here’s what I think. If someone was going to try to send a message to the O’Shaunessys, then why would they cover up that message? A hit on Charlene Jarrett should look like a hit, shouldn’t it?”
I didn’t say anything. Maybe she was right.
“Besides, there’s no violence between us and the O’Shaunessys.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Let’s just say that we work with another… family, and the O’Shaunessys are not interested in getting involved in a war with that family.”
“Another family…” So, they must be backed by one of the O’Shaunessy’s rivals. There were other crime families that had influence in this region. “I see.”
“We’re on fine terms with the O’Shaunessys, thank you very much.”
There hadn’t been an all-out mob war in quite some time, and there wouldn’t be one in the near future either. The families were smart enough to realize that it only brought attention to all of them. Lots of dead mobsters made for easier arrests, and the family members were happy to testify against each other. Overall, it was better left alone. So, she was right. If she was working with another mafia family, then there wasn’t any retaliation going on between them.
This end was dead as a doornail.
* * *
“Well, I guess that makes sense,” said Brigit, chewing on her bottom lip. We were back in the office, and I was explaining to her what Molly Colligan had told me. “So, we don’t think the dealer did it?”
“Well, we don’t think the dealer did it because of a rivalry with the O’Shaunessys. I’m not opposed to the idea of thinking that he did it for some other reason.”
“Like what we said before?” she said. “Like it was all an accident?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But what if it’s still connected to Charlene Jarrett? Something that Molly said to me got me thinking. She said that if the shooting was meant to be a hit on Charlene, it wouldn’t have been made to look like a school shooting. We aren’t looking for a blatant killing, one that sends a message. Instead, we’re looking for something that needs to be covered up. But that could still be a hit on Charlene. It just might be for reasons other than having to do with drugs.”
“Okay,” said Brigit, “then why’s the dealer involved?”
“I just… have a feeling about that guy.”
“Yeah, he did seem shifty,” said Brigit.
“But, you know, maybe someone hired him to do it.”
“I don’t see how he could have gotten the gun from Gilbert if he was hired to do it,” she said.
Damn it, maybe she was right.
“This Charlene thing, though. You don’t just kill the granddaughter of the big O’Shaunessy boss for no reason.”
“Okay,” said Brigit. “Well, I guess we can look into her a little, see if she had any secrets, any enemies.”
“Right,” I said, “let’s do that. Grab your coat.”
* * *
“Enemies?” said Missy Corden, Charlene’s roommate. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know, people who didn’t like her,” said Brigit.
Missy knitted her eyebrows together, deep in thought. We were at the apartment she had shared with Charlene, off campus, but only a few blocks from the college. It was located in one of the apartment complexes in town. Lots of students lived here, but it wasn’t affiliated with the school.
“Was there anyone she argued with a lot?” I said.
“Not really,” said Missy. “I mean, except her mom. She and her mom used to yell at each other on the phone a lot. I could tell her mom was yelling too, because she was so loud that I could hear the other side of the conversation.”<
br />
“What was she arguing with her mother about?” I asked.
“Oh, you know, the usual stuff,” said Missy. “What courses she was taking at college. How she wouldn’t live at home. The guy she was dating.”
“And who was she dating?” I said.
“I don’t really know his name,” said Missy. “She told me, but I never met him. He didn’t come here. She always went to his place. Anyway, I know he was really rich, and she said that she was ashamed to take him around her family and stuff. That’s ‘cause her family is, like, the mob.”
“Yes, we know that,” said Brigit.
“No, seriously, it’s like The Sopranos, only the Irish version,” said Missy. “I used to watch The Sopranos on Amazon Instant Video. My family didn’t even know that we could stream video with the Prime subscription, but I found out, and I would tell them that there were all these HBO shows on there. True Blood was on there, you know?”
“I didn’t know, but thank you for telling us that.” I might have sounded a little sarcastic.
Missy didn’t seem to notice. “No problem. Honestly, sometimes, I wish I still lived at home so that I could watch that stuff, but I don’t know my mother’s login for Amazon, and she won’t tell me what it is, because she’s afraid I’ll use her credit card and order stuff and have it shipped to me. Which I so would not do. I just want to watch the videos, you know?”
“About Charlene,” said Brigit. “Anyone she argued with that wasn’t her mother?”
“Um…” Missy thought about it. “I don’t know. Not really. But if you’re looking for enemies, you should look for people who had something against her family, don’t you think? Some people didn’t like her just because of who her parents were. I don’t think that’s fair or anything, but people can be assholes. I mean, Charlene didn’t even want anything to do with what her family did.”
“I see,” I said. “So that was why she was paying her own way through college and refusing to take their money?”
“No,” said Missy, looking at me like I was insane. “Why would you say that?”
“Well, if she really wanted nothing to do with them… You know what, never mind,” I said. We were done here. “Thanks for your time, Missy.”
Born Under a Blond Sign Page 12
