by Pandora Pine
“Not as dickish as I thought it would,” Ronan blurted out. “Now we can eat.” He got up from the table and started the line himself, leaving Jude alone at the kitchen table.
“Wow, that makes me sound like I’m king of the assholes, doesn’t it?” Ten took the empty seat next to Jude.
“Only a little. I know who I am and what I stand for, Tennyson. I get where you and your overprotective squad are coming from.” Jude sounded genuine. “I’m a total stranger and you’ve got no reliable data on me.”
“How did you get tangled up with Tank Hutchins and Bradford Hicks.” It was the question Ten had been dying to ask the P.I.
Jude laughed. “A man’s gotta eat and keep a roof over his head. I was at a point where I couldn’t afford to be picky.”
Tennyson had certainly been there a time or two in his early career. “Are you working toward getting Tank exonerated?”
“That’s the plan. Although I don’t mind telling you it’s a weight off my mind to find out he really is innocent.” Jude shrugged, leaning closer to Tennyson. “I’ve been in the P.I. game for a long time now. Everyone says they’re innocent. Ronan must hear that all the time too. It restores a tiny bit of my faith in humanity to find out that one guy actually is innocent.”
“Get away from my husband, dick!” Ronan bellowed, sounding half serious.
“For the love of God, Ronan. We’re just talking.”
“He’s halfway to kissing you, Nostradamus.” Ronan winked at his husband.
“As if.” Ten got up from his seat.
“What’s this great idea you have for getting us in to see Lorraine’s family so Tennyson can speak to her spirit? It’s the reason we let you into the house in the first place.” Ronan set his sandwich down on the table.
“Is he always this pleasant?” Jude asked.
“No, usually he’s worse.” Carson took the seat opposite Jude and seemed to be studying the newcomer. “Answer the question.”
“Call the family and tell them you’ve been approached by Tank’s new sleaze ball defense team. Say we’ve asked you to work for us and that we’re mounting a strong appeal. Tell the mother that if you could read Lorraine it might help to counter that appeal if it comes back to the BPD for further investigation.” Jude stood up from his seat and headed over toward the sandwich bar. Tennyson thought he could hear the P.I. whistling.
Ten exchanged an impressed look with Ronan. “That might be enough to get our foot in the door. What do you think?”
Ronan wore a sour look on his face that said he should have thought of that idea himself.
Ten bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. He didn’t need his gift to read his husband like a well-worn copy of his favorite book.
Love or hate Jude Byrne his idea was a good one. First thing in the morning, Tennyson was going to give it a try.
27
Ronan
Ronan stood on the stoop of his townhouse, waving goodbye to Jude Byrne as he drove off in his black 1966 Ford Thunderbird.
“Wow! That’s one hell of a car,” Truman said from behind him.
“Yeah it is! I thought about buying one of those before I came across the Mustang in one of those used car magazines.” Say what he would about Jude, the man had good taste in cars.
“Is that how you ended up with the ‘Stang? I’d always wondered.”
Ronan nodded and turned around to look up at his best friend. He took a seat on the brick steps and stared out at their neighborhood. A second later, Truman joined him.
“What did you think?” Ronan knew he didn’t need to explain himself any more than that.
Truman sighed. “He’s not as bad as you made him out to be. I was half expecting him to have horns and eat Brian for lunch.” He laughed dryly. “There’s a story there. That’s for sure. People fall into jobs for all kinds of reasons. Private investigators are in a class all by themselves. Usually they’re washed out cops or failed members of society who work better alone or like catching other people with their pants down, so to speak. I think he got lucky with Tank being innocent. I’m guessing not all of his clients fall into that category.”
Ronan nodded. “Ten talks a lot about psychic residue sticking to people. When you think about all of the cheating spouses he’s investigated some of their ick must have rubbed off on him over time. Not to mention his own baggage.”
“What do you mean?” Truman took his eyes off the Mustang to turn to Ronan.
“Well, he’s a handsome guy. Everyone pointed that out. Repeatedly. No ring. No mention of a family, not even parents or siblings. I peg him at about twenty-seven years old. Looks like he’s traveled some. He’s definitely not a native New Englander and let’s face it, being a P.I. is a universal trade. He can do it anywhere.”
“I got that vibe too. He’s not from around here. He doesn’t have a New England accent and doesn’t say things like wicked pissah.”
Ronan laughed. “Truman, we live here and we don’t say wicked pissah either. Do you think Carson was able to read him?”
Truman shook his head no. “I don’t think so. He got bitchier as the afternoon wore on. That’s never a good sign. Is that why you’re sitting out here? Because you don’t want to go back in for the post-mortem?”
“How’d you guess?” Ronan laughed.
“Why the hell do you think I followed you out here?” He snorted. “We’re birds of a unique feather. Men married to psychics. Our own merry band of brothers.”
Truman made a good point. There were things they understood about each other that other married men would never comprehend. “I think I stashed some brownies in the vegetable crisper. Let’s go find out if they’re still in there or if Tennyson snapped them up in the middle of the night.” Ronan stood up and stretched his back.
When Ronan and Truman walked back through the living room, Dixie, Sadie, and Lola were standing guard over naptime. Three portable cribs were set up against the far wall and the dogs were taking turns standing sentinel. None of them left their posts to greet their owners.
“I used to be Dixie’s favorite,” Ronan grumped.
“Ditto for Sadie,” Truman agreed.
“Come on, let’s see what’s cooking in the kitchen.” Ronan let Truman go ahead of him so he could snap a couple of pictures of the dogs with the babies.
“Well, there you are!” Ten laughed. “I was starting to wonder if you ran off with Jude, like a modern-day Thelma and Louise.”
Carson laughed. “My money was on you being gagged and tied up in his trunk.”
“No!” Cole howled with laughter. “My guess was that Ronan was burying the asswipe in your backyard, Carson.”
“Why in my backyard?” Carson shot his brother a confused look.
“Because Truman was with him and he knows where you keep the shovel!”
“You all thought I was either running away with Jude, kidnapped, or committing a crime and you all stayed in the house? Thanks, guys!” Ronan rolled his eyes and headed toward the fridge where he was praying the brownies were still hidden.
“Someone had to watch the babies.” Ten laughed.
Finding what he was looking for, Ronan pulled the tub of brownies out of the vegetable crisper.
“What have you got there?” Carson asked.
“My precious, so piss off!” He pried off the plastic lid and held a brownie up to his nose.
“If you don’t share then I don’t share,” Carson gloated.
“We already know you couldn’t read Jude either, Carson.” Truman grabbed a brownie out of the bucket and shoved the whole thing into his mouth.
Carson’s mouth dropped open. His bottom lip quivered.
“We really should share, Ronan. He is the father of my children after all.” Truman laughed.
“He thought Jude kidnapped me and was content to sit in here gossiping like a clucking hen!”
“Ah, psychic, remember?” Carson tapped his skull. “We would have found you, Ronan! Eventually…” Carson
trailed off.
“Eventually?” Ronan half-roared.
Tennyson plucked the brownie bucket out of Ronan’s hands. “The babies are sleeping, remember? Be a good host and share.” Ten whacked Ronan’s rear end and set the treats on the table. “Now, can we talk about what Carson and Cole got from Jude?” His voice was on edge.
“You didn’t discuss that already?” Ronan took the seat next to Tennyson.
Ten shook his head. “We were waiting for you and Truman so we only had to go through this once.”
“I experienced a lot of what Tennyson did.” Carson sounded frustrated. “I wasn’t getting so much a blank page from him but static, like when you’re between radio stations. When I realized I couldn’t read him with my sixth sense, I used my regular intuition. It seems to me like the Hutchins case is just a job to him. He’s got no other stake in the case than a paycheck. He’s got no roots here in Massachusetts. Nothing that ties him here. No love interests. No family. No Mr. Right Now.”
“Mr. Right Now?” Fitzgibbon asked.
Carson nodded. “That was one vibe that came through loud and clear. Come on, Fitz, weren’t you picking it up too?”
Kevin blushed like schoolgirl. “My son is sitting right next to me, Carson,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Even I noticed he was totally digging you, Dad.” Greeley elbowed his father.
Fitzgibbon mumbled something under his breath and reached for a brownie.
“I got the same thing,” Cole said. “The static when I tried to read Jude, I mean. I didn’t turn my gaydar on. I didn’t get anything malicious in him, but not being able to read him psychically really puts us all at a disadvantage. This must be what it feels like when Thor’s hammer doesn’t work.”
“Or when Captain America’s shield is in the shop,” Carson agreed.
“Oh please.” Ronan rolled his eyes. “You all are rock stars every day. I trust your instincts as much as I trust my own. We’re only going to be working with Byrne until the end of this case anyway. I just need to know Ten is going to be safe. I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, really? Says the man with four bullet scars on his chest,” Kevin challenged.
“Hey I’m walking upright, aren’t I?” Ronan snatched another brownie and popped it into his mouth whole.
“Today.” Fitzgibbon silently made the sign of the cross.
“Did either of you get shifter vibes from him? I want to know if he’s a panther or a flamingo or something cool.” Greeley grinned.
Carson and Cole exchanged a silent look with each other. “To be honest, I wouldn’t know what to look for.”
Cole nodded his agreement. “It’s possible we’ve run across hundreds of bears or wolves, but if we don’t know the psychic clues that identify them, we’re kind of dead in the water. I mean I got nothing overt that identified him as something other than human. Keep in mind there are non-human entities other than shifters.”
Ronan’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? Like aliens?”
Cole shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I was thinking more along the lines of things like gargoyles or griffins. Things more mythological than animal.”
“Because all myth is rooted in truth somewhere,” Ronan concluded.
“You’re all skipping over the most obvious answer. I didn’t want to say anything because we hadn’t talked about it before.” Greeley looked around the table.
“What’s that, Boy Wonder?” Ronan snorted.
“Just ask him! Hey, man, are you a shark? Or an eagle? A lion? A tiger? A bear?”
“Oh my!” The table chorused.
“That sounds good in theory.” Carson smiled at the teenager, “but what if he doesn’t know any of this about himself? He had three psychics poking and prodding him psychically and no one could get through his barrier. He might not know that’s an unusual thing. He might not know this is a gift.”
“That would be something, huh? To have a gift like that inside of you and not even know it.” Greeley looked up at his father.
“This world is full of a lot of unexplainable things, kiddo.”
“Don’t I know it. You won’t believe what book Kaye and I settled on next for our book club!”
“Don’t tell me you talked her into reading Harry Potter? I can’t imagine Kaye reading about the boy wizard.” Ronan laughed.
“It’s Fifty Shades. Isn’t it?” Carson howled, slapping Truman’s shoulder.
“Oh God,” Tennyson moaned. “I’ll never be able to get that visual out of my head.”
“That goes double for me.” Fitzgibbon shuddered visibly. “What book? Quick before they can suggest something worse.”
“Twilight!” Greeley crowed.
“Seriously?” Ronan asked. “The one about the vampires?” He’d never read the books.
Greeley nodded. “The books are YA, so there’s no sex. I figured that would work for Kaye.”
“Does she know there’s vampires and werewolves and stuff like that?”
“That’s the best part! She thought it sounded whimsical. Her word, not mine.”
“I can’t believe it.” Ten sounded dumbstruck.
“Count me in. I want to join the book club.” Ronan raised his hand.
“Me too,” Truman said. “Now that the babies are sleeping through the night, I have a bit more time on my hands.”
“I know what you should be doing with those hands, husband.” Carson shot his husband the hairy eyeball. “But count me in too.”
“I’m a man of many talents, wife.” Truman nibbled at Carson’s neck.
“What the hell. I’ll read it too.” Fitzgibbon smiled at his son. “How bad can it be?”
“That just leaves Uncle Cole and Uncle Tennyson.” Greeley looked back and forth between them.
“I’m out, kid. Sorry. Cassie and I are working on a new project.”
“What kind of project? Ohhh...” Greeley’s mouth hung open like a fish out of water.
Carson shot a silent look at Tennyson who nodded. “Do you know or are you guessing?” Carson asked.
“I heard the word in my head.” Greeley said. His eyes were glued to Cole.
“What word did you hear?” Curiosity tinged Cole’s smile.
“Brady.” Greeley looked up at Tennyson.
“Jesus Christ, kid.” Carson laughed. “Spoiler alert!”
“Nice job, Greeley!” Cole patted the teenager’s shoulder. “I thought you were going to say baby or something like that, but you nailed it.”
“Is Cassie expecting?” Ronan asked.
Cole shook his head. “Not yet, but your future daughter isn’t the only little soul Bertha has been visiting.”
“Christ, there must be a whole wing of the heaven nursery dedicated to our family.” Ten laughed.
“Good! That might help with Project Gobble.” Greeley rubbed his hands together as if he had a diabolical plan he was about to lay out for everyone.
“What the hell is Project Gobble.” Ronan had a feeling he knew what it was or rather who it involved.
“Well, I’ve been trying to butter Kaye up for the big ask.” Greeley held his breath as he met Ten’s eyes.
Ten sighed. “You want her to come out here for Thanksgiving.” It wasn’t a question.
“Don’t you, Uncle Ten?”
Ten mumbled something under his breath.
Ronan thought he heard something about “a vat of spiders,” but he wasn’t going to repeat that out loud.
“Sure,” Ten agreed. “If she can behave herself and not hand down a list of rules.”
Carson started laughing. “I second that motion. Do you have any idea how hard it was not to fornicate with my own husband in my own house? For the love of God.”
Truman started to giggle. “What the hell are you talking about? We fornicated plenty! We just had to do it with you gagged.”
“Hey!” Fitzgibbon whacked Truman. “My seventeen-year-old son is sitting right here, dumbass!”
&n
bsp; “Uh, officer?” Truman turned to Ronan. “This man just assaulted me.”
“Snitches get stitches, Tru...” Ronan flashed a wicked grin.
“So, getting back to the point here,” Greeley said. “Is Project Gobble a go or no go?”
“It’s absolutely a go!” Ten announced. “If my mother stays at your house!”
“I second that motion,” Ronan agreed.
“All in favor?” Truman said.
“Aye!” The table chorused.
28
Tennyson
Tennyson hadn’t slept well. He’d kept playing the conversation to come with Lorraine McAlpin’s mother over and over in his head. By the time it was late enough in the morning to make the call, Ten had no idea what to say to the woman.
In the end, he’d gone with the words Jude Byrne had suggested. Technically, they were the truth. He had been contacted by Tank Hutchins’ defense team who was mounting a strong appeal. He and Ronan were not working for Tank. No money or goods had changed hands in exchange for Tennyson’s reading of Tank that day at Walpole. If Bradford Hicks insisted on paying for the reading at a later date, Ten would insist he make a donation to the Salem chapter of Toys for Tots since Christmas was just around the corner. He’d make sure to tell Hicks that the donation needed to be a sizable one.
It has surprised him when Ellen McAlpin had known who he was when he’d introduced himself. It turned out she was a South Boston girl and had followed the Michael Frye case with special interest, having grown up in a house only two blocks away from the Frye home.
Ellen had cried when Tennyson told her about the Hutchins appeal. She cried harder when he’d asked if he could read Lorraine.
Now, he and Ronan were in the Mustang cruising down I-93 South toward Marina Bay in Quincy to conduct that reading.
“You okay?” Ronan asked.
“I think so.” Ten rested his head on Ronan’s shoulder. “This still feels so backward to me.”
“Every case is different, but yeah, I know what you mean. Are you going to tell Ellen that Tank is innocent?”
Ten picked his head up. He studied his husband’s profile for a few seconds, stalling for time. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks she has a right to know.”
