by Pandora Pine
Ten shut his eyes and said a silent prayer for Lorraine. “It was just like Jude thought. He ambushed her from behind, knocking the wind out of her. She couldn’t cry out for help.”
“Did she suffer, Tennyson?” Ellen’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“No, Ellen.” Ten shook his head and reached out to the bereaved mother.
“Will that help you catch him?” Lorraine asked.
“Did you see what he did after…?” Ten asked gently.
Lorraine’s brow knit together as she thought about Tennyson’s question. “Oh! I saw what he did with the knife and the secret phone.”
“You did?” Ten turned to Ronan. “Lorraine saw what the man did with the murder weapon and her phone.”
“He dropped them into the storm drain in the park.” Lorraine’s voice was filled with pride.
“If I show you a picture of the park, do you think you can point out which drain it was?” Ten asked, tapping the screen of his phone.
“There’s no need for that, I remember it perfectly. It’s right near the parking lot. There’s a pink dogwood tree beside it.” Lorraine smiled at the psychic.
“Lorraine said he dropped them both into a storm drain near the parking lot with a pink dogwood tree next to it.”
“Last question, Lorraine, what was he wearing that night?” Ronan asked, picking up his notebook and pen.
“Black. He was dressed in black jeans and a black tee-shirt. I remembered thinking, how fitting since his last name was Black.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“What are you going to do now that you have additional information about the crime?” Ellen asked.
Tennyson looked to Ronan. He wasn’t sure what the answer was to that question.
“I’m going to have to speak to my supervisor about this,” Ronan answered. “Knowing the details about the crime from the murder victim is one thing. Knowing where the murder weapon was dropped is another matter entirely. I’m not certain what our next step is, but I know I need to speak to Captain Fitzgibbon first.”
Ellen nodded. Understanding filled her eyes. “I know I was angry at you earlier for having spoken with Tom Hutchins. I just wanted someone to pay for killing my daughter. Thinking about it now, I want to make sure that the right person is being punished, not just any person.”
Tennyson thought that was a pretty open-minded thing for Ellen to be saying so soon after hearing all of this new information.
Dabbing at her eyes with a fresh tissue, Ellen cleared her throat. “Tennyson, why is my girl still here? Why hasn’t she crossed over yet? I want her soul to be at peace.”
“I want the same thing for you, Mom. Put away the shrine. Pick up your guitar. Color your hair. Go pink or aqua or pink and aqua! Then I’ll be at peace.” Lorraine laughed for the first time.
Ten swiped at his own tears. “She wants you to play the guitar and sing again. Color your hair and put away the shrine. Live your life, Ellen, then Lorraine will be at peace.”
Ellen laughed. “I was always partial to pink, like Cyndi Lauper in those new commercials she’s doing.”
“I say go for it!” Ronan laughed. “I’ll be in touch when we learn anything new.” He stood up and offered his hand to Ellen.
“Thank you both for coming out here today and letting me talk to my daughter one last time.” Ellen hugged Tennyson.
“We’ll see each other again, Mom. I promise. Tennyson, tell her to look for pennies. Now that I know she’s going to be okay, I’ll start leaving them for her. Ones with 1987 on them.”
“Start looking for pennies from heaven, Ellen. I have a feeling you’ll start finding ones with a very special year on them.”
29
Ronan
Ronan dialed Fitzgibbon as soon as he and Tennyson were back in the parking lot of the condo complex. He didn’t want to give too much detail over the phone, but he let his boss know there was an important development in the McAlpin case that involved the murder weapon and a possible cell phone. Fitzgibbon wanted Ronan and Ten to meet him in his office as soon as they could get from Quincy to South Boston.
Ronan had been so wrapped up in the idea of finding the murder weapon after three years, that he’d failed to notice that Tennyson hadn’t said a word since they’d left Ellen’s house. “Hey, you okay?”
Ten turned from the window to look at his husband. “I got a lot of easy forgiveness today. I’m not sure I deserve it.”
Ronan reached a hand out to his distraught husband. “You mean from Lorraine and Ellen?”
Ten nodded. “Lorraine knew I’d met with Tank. She was still certain he was her killer at the time, but the look on her face...” Ten sighed. “If looks could kill, I’d be dead twice over. I still don’t think Lorraine believed me about Tank’s reading.”
“I don’t blame her.”
“What!?” Ten screeched.
“Calm down, sweetheart,” Ronan said in his softest tone.
“Calm down? You just said you don’t blame a murder victim for not believing one of my readings!” Ten’s tinny voice echoed in the small confines of Ronan’s Mustang.
“Let me finish what I was going to say.” Ronan paused to let Ten catch his breath. “I don’t blame Lorraine for believing her own eyes. She knows the man she knew as Jack killed her. She saw us meeting with that man. She had no possible way of knowing Tank had a twin. All she knows is that it’s the same face; same man. I’m not doubting you in the slightest.”
Tennyson huffed, but remained silent.
“When you showed her the picture of the twins together, do you think that changed her attitude?” Ronan tried again. He hoped taking a different tact with his emotional husband would get him to calm down.
“She was shocked, that was for sure. It was a blow to find out he’d given her a fake name. Then to find out there were two of them...”
“Why didn’t she know?” Ronan asked carefully.
“Know what? That Jack had lied to her or that the Hutchins brothers are twins?”
“Either. Both.” Ronan would take anything he could get at this moment in time.
Ten sighed as if he were dealing with an exasperating toddler. “I’ve told you before that dying doesn’t answer all of the unanswered questions of the universe. You don’t suddenly know what happened to Jimmy Hoffa or who assassinated President Kennedy.”
Ronan was trying hard to hold on to his temper. “Yes, I know that, but why wouldn’t Lorraine have attended the trial?”
Ten shifted in his seat and looked at Ronan. “In all the years I’ve been speaking to dead people, I’ve never once spoken to a soul who has attended their own murder trial. Would you?”
“Hell, yes!” Ronan said without hesitation. “I have so much to live for, Ten. I’m a newlywed with an entire lifetime to spend with my new and sometimes totally annoying husband. I have kids to raise and vacations to take and grandkids to spoil rotten. If someone murdered me I would be so fucking pissed off that you had damn well better believe I would be at my trial. Front row, center every day until the bastard who killed me was convicted and given the fucking death penalty.” Ronan slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.
Ten’s lips twitched. “What if it was justifiable homicide?”
Ronan snorted. “Then I’ll haunt you to the end of your days, Nostradamus.” He flipped on his blinker and pulled into the Boston Police Department parking garage. Nerves prickled up his spine. He had no idea what was in store for him with Fitzgibbon.
***
The office was strangely quiet when Ronan and Tennyson got off the elevator. Everyone was hard at work. No one was shooting the shit or hanging out at anyone else’s desk. Something was definitely up.
Walking past O’Dwyer’s desk, his fellow detective and friend shot him a sympathetic look that seemed to say “It was nice knowing you.”
“Oh, shit,” Ronan whispered to Ten.
“Yeah, everyone’s on edge. Are we about to get canned and they
all know it?” There was a nervous edge to Ten’s voice.
“I don’t think so. If I were a betting man, I’d guess there’s a special guest waiting for us in the Cap’s office.” Ronan ran a hand through his hair and straightened his tie.
Ten shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, man!” Ten started to laugh. “You have no idea just how special!”
Ronan pulled Tennyson aside. “Why are you laughing?”
“Let’s just say that when the captain made the call that he made to inquire what to do about our little fact-finding mission, he had no idea that his special guest would also bring a special guest.” Ten bounced his eyebrows at his husband.
“Is he wearing one of his blizzard sweaters?” Ronan snickered.
Ten shook his head no.
“Thank Christ for small favors.” Ronan straightened his spine. “Get it together and remember to act surprised when we see them.”
“Have you ever met either of them before?” Ten asked.
“I met the police commissioner after Manuel Garcia shot me and then again after Mark Abruzzi shot me. Christ, I really do need to stop getting my ass shot.” Ronan shook his head. “Truman was in the room with me when he stopped by that time, which is why you didn’t meet him. I’ve never met the big guy before. You ready?”
Ten nodded and followed Ronan to Fitzgibbon's office door.
Ronan knocked and took another deep breath.
“Come!” Fitzgibbon barked.
Ronan opened the door and saw the Boston Police Commissioner and the governor of Massachusetts sitting in the seats he and Tennyson usually occupied.
“Ronan, Tennyson, I assume you both know who my guests are.” Fitzgibbon pointed as if neither man had no idea who the men sitting in his office were.
Ronan shook hands with each man. “It’s good to see you again, sir,” he said to the Boston Police Commissioner. “Governor.” Ronan nodded as they shook hands. He took a moment to glance over at Kevin who looked like he was at the end of his patience.
Tennyson was shaking hands with both men when Ronan turned his attention back to him. “I didn’t realize my earlier call would warrant such a response,” Ronan said carefully.
“Neither did I,” Fitzgibbon muttered.
“Fitzgibbon explained about the letter and your two trips to Walpole, O’Mara. Tell us what happened today,” the commissioner said.
“Tennyson read the spirit of Lorraine McAlpin. She told us what happened to her on the night she was murdered. To make a long story short, she was groomed by a man calling himself Jack Black, who claimed to work for the FBI. We were not aware of this man because he was only communicating with her using a burner cell phone. He lured her from her apartment on the night of the murder, attacking her from behind once they were in the park. Once Lorraine was dead, he dropped the murder weapon and her destroyed cell phone into a storm drain near a pink dogwood tree in the park. She indicated it was the only tree of its kind next to a storm drain in the parking lot.”
“Did you try to recover the phone?” Fitzgibbon asked.
“No, captain. Once Tennyson and I were in possession of this information, we called you and drove straight here.” Ronan knew what Fitzgibbon was doing. Kevin was making sure his boss knew they’d followed procedure.
“We’re in a bit of a bind here. Thomas Hutchins has been tried and convicted of this murder,” the commissioner said.
“What is the state of his latest appeal?” the governor asked.
“I’m not sure, sir.” Ronan shook his head. “So far as I know, they are trying to find evidence that will allow them to petition to have his earlier conviction overturned.”
“You conducted a psychic reading for Thomas Hutchins, Mr. Grimm?” the governor asked Tennyson.
“Yes, sir,” Tennyson answered. “I was not paid for my time nor was I compensated in any way.”
“What’s your usual rate for that sort of thing?” His blue eyes danced in the afternoon light coming through the office windows.
“Two hundred an hour, sir, but for you, it’s on the house.” Ten’s smile was bright as the sun. “Your mother is quite a character.”
The governor’s eyes widened before he schooled his features again. He quickly turned back to Fitzgibbon.
“Out!” Kevin pointed to the door.
Ronan grabbed Tennyson and practically dragged him to the door, shutting it quietly behind him. “Have you lost your damn mind! That’s the Governor of Massachusetts!” Ronan felt like he was going to have a heart attack and a stroke at the same time.
“He’s going to call me,” Ten said simply.
“That’s not fair using your mind powers.”
“I wasn’t using my mind powers. Ronan. Prince, pauper, or governor, he’s going to want one last chance to talk to his mother.”
“Jesus Christ.” Ronan bit his lip to keep from laughing. “You’re going to be the death of me, Nostradamus.”
“Oh, and by the way, Kevin was totally sporting wood behind his desk.”
If he lived to be one hundred, Ronan would never be able to unsee that visual.
30
Tennyson
Tennyson couldn’t decide if Kaye coming out for Thanksgiving was a blessing or a curse. He, Ronan, Greeley, and Fitzgibbon were all standing at the JetBlue gate waiting for the queen herself to deplane.
“You look like you’re about to have kittens,” Kevin said from beside him.
“That obvious, huh?” Ten asked. He felt like he was going to toss his cookies.
“Only to people who love you.” Kevin elbowed his side.
“Oh good, so my mother won’t notice a thing is wrong then.” Tennyson started to laugh. He’d spent the last two days since he and Ronan had visited Ellen McAlpin cleaning his house like a maniac.
“Come on, Ten. She agreed to fly out here again only three weeks after the last time. She must miss you.”
“No!” Ten turned an angry look at Kevin. “She misses your son!” Ten looked at Greeley who was standing a few feet away, holding a sign he’d made for Kaye. It read, “Welcome, Grandma Kaye!” The sign looked like an entire AC Moore store threw up on it. It was rainbow colored and full of so much glitter that Fitzgibbon’s SUV was going to sparkle for years to come.
“Okay, you’re probably right. What’s important is that she’s here through Christmas.” Kevin’s smile was so bright, it nearly split his face in half.
“What?” Ten felt all of the blood drain out of his face. “That’s not funny, Cap. I know we’ve given you endless shit over you popping wood over the governor, but that’s no way to get me back.”
Kevin burst out laughing. “When I get you back for outing my man crush, you’ll know it. What makes this little bit of news so damn delicious is that it’s true!” He slapped Ten hard on the back and pointed to the runway tunnel. “Hark, there’s your mother now!” He laughed harder and headed toward Greeley who was calling Kaye’s name and waving frantically, as if she were a member of One Direction.
Son of a motherfucking bitch... Why was he always the last one to know everything?
“Greeley!” Kaye Grimm shouted, running toward the equally exuberant teenager. “I missed you so much.”
Tennyson felt his lunch rise up in his throat. “Please pinch me to make sure I’m awake,” he mumbled to a stunned-looking Ronan.
“Only if you pinch me back. I don’t have words for that.” Ronan pointed to where Baptist dragon queen and gay teen were hugging the life out of each other. “It’s like those videos on the internet where mother tigers are cuddling with baby pigs. The tiger should be eating the pigs.”
Ten nodded in agreement. He shut his mouth, so his shock wouldn’t be so apparent. “It’s against nature, but there it is. Live and in living color.”
Fitzgibbon was snapping pictures of the happy reunion on his iPhone. “Isn’t this great?”
“Awesome,” Ronan deadpanned.
“Fantastic,” Ten echoed.
�
��Party poopers!” Kevin turned back to the huggers. “Hello, Kaye.”
“Hello, Kevin. It’s good to see you.” Kaye was beaming from ear to ear.
“Hello, Mother Grimm.” Ronan waved.
“Mother Grimm? Sounds like something out of a twisted fairy tale.” Tennyson snickered.
“Ronan,” Kaye said coolly. “Hello, Tennyson.”
“Hi, Mom. Why don’t we go get your luggage?”
“Sure, that will give me time to catch up with my boy.” Kaye wrapped her arm around Greeley. “I have something for you in my bag.”
“Your boy?” Ten was dumbfounded. He turned and headed for the baggage claim area before he said something he’d regret.
“Where do we stand on the murder weapon and cell phone?” Ronan asked Kevin. “Have we gotten a ruling from your secret lover yet?”
Kevin stopped dead in the middle of the terminal. He shoved a meaty finger into the center of Ronan’s chest.
“Play nice, boys!” Kaye said as she and Greeley walked past them arm in arm.
The fight passed out of Fitzgibbon. “I’m waiting to hear back from the commissioner. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I can’t imagine we’ll hear back on this until Monday. That evidence has been sitting in this storm drain now for three years, another few days isn’t going to make any difference. Hell, it might not even be there anymore and if it is, the chance that there’s any viable evidence left is one in a million.”
Tennyson had considered the same thing. Massachusetts had had its share of blizzards and thunderstorms over the last three years. Just one of those storms alone could have been enough to wash the pieces of the phone away, especially the tiny SIM card. The first rain would have washed any prints or DNA off the knife, but Tennyson knew there was more to the murder weapon than biological evidence. If it was part of a set it could be matched back to the killer.
“Is this something that we need to tell Bradford Hicks and Jude Byrne about?” Ronan asked.
“Not yet.” Fitzgibbon shot Ronan a fiery look. “You know better than this, Ronan. We’re in a tough spot here.”