Chapter 2
“THE dead man is important enough to rate special handling,” Dan said. “That means you’ll be lead detective.” They swerved around a tight corner on the narrow Beacon Hill street, tires not exactly squealing, but with enough acceleration to keep David’s heart pumping and glad to be back. It made his homecoming complete.
“Yes. The mayor’s daughter’s fiancé’s brother. The flags will be at half mast, I’m sure,” David said. He received a quelling look from his good friend. “Important in a very relative way. Tell me about the details,” he amended.
The chief smirked and said, “Did I mention the mayor’s daughter’s fiancé is also the Lieutenant Governor?”
“Ah.”
“Politicians are no joke in this town.”
“Although they seem to be very incestuous,” David observed out loud because he knew he could say anything to his friend.
“The mayor is well-liked, respected, and very good for the city. Not to mention the fact that he’s my boss—your boss too, now that Scotland Yard finally convinced him to let the BPD take you off their hands,” Dan reminded him.
“I assure you, the mayor is now at number one on my all time top-ten list of people to pay attention to. About the case …”
Dan finally got to the details. “The body was found in an alley behind a restaurant on Newbury Street.”
“How long had he been missing?”
“About thirty minutes. He got up from the wedding rehearsal dinner, presumably to go to the john. It’s a big affair with the families and wedding party. He was gone a while, and the mayor was due to leave so he could get to our party, so Rick, the deceased’s brother, went looking for him and checked out back.”
“Hmmmm.” This was the tough part. The more he got to know about the dead person, the more difficult it was to be detached. It was time he disengaged himself and put on his mental suit of armor.
“That’s it? ‘Hmmm.’ That’s all you got? Coming from the flipping Scotland Yard Flying Squad? Hmmm? Geez,” Dan joked.
David knew it was the man’s nerves. “Would you like a cigar?” David asked and lit one up for himself. Dan nodded, so he prepared a second and handed it to him. “I generally do my best work after I take a look at the scene, read the files worked up by the detectives, evaluate the evidence, etc.” He puffed. He knew his friend well. Ever since their boyhood days running amok in the north end of Boston, he’d had the same tendency to joke to relieve his anxiety. It never worked. Dan was too tense to be really amused. On the other hand, David had no trouble feeling amused. One couldn’t lighten up a murder investigation too much for his preference.
They took another sharp turn into a quick stop in front of a boutique-style restaurant on Newbury Street—Dan was in Dick Tracy mode now and loved to show off. There was no yellow tape and no blue-and-whites, but neon flashes of the trendy restaurant lights exposed about thirty people forming a chic crowd outside the place.
“Time for the show.” Dick Tracy opened his door and half his oversized frame was out of the car when his phone rang. “Shit.”
“I’ll go on without you.” David looked around to make sure there was no press. Luckily the coast was still clear. “Looks like the mayor’s been successful at keeping a lid on things so far.”
“Yeah. I told him I’d handle it myself with a handpicked crew—you included. I’ll be along in a second.”
“It was a very important murder,” Sophia-the-Pixie said. “He had no choice about leaving.”
They stood on the cobblestone sidewalk under an old-fashioned brass street lamp in front of Mabel’s townhouse, waiting for their cab. Grace sighed. She loved the feel of Beacon Hill. It was as if two centuries of history seeped inside her from the air. The sense of place infused her with all the brick-and-mortar sturdiness that held up all these years, like the stalwart families who lived here. Every time she came to Mabel’s home, she fantasized about what it must have been like growing up in a family like hers with a genuine family tree. Someday she’d have a family and start her own tree. She sighed again and looked at Sophia, who gazed up at her with expectant eyes.
“You don’t need to console me. He’ll call,” she said.
“He’s a tad old for you, don’t you think?”
Now that was more like the Sophia she knew and loved, pretending to be more cynical than concerned. She chose to treat the question rhetorically.
“So what’s with this interest in Mr. Distinguished? Weren’t you dating someone last week?” Sophia asked.
“Yes, but no more. Although he was a darling little man,” Grace said wistfully. She didn’t mean to sound wistful, because how could she? The last guy she dated wasn’t for her. None of them had been. Except maybe Oscar.
“Oh!” she said out loud. “I know why he fascinates me.”
“I thought you said you ditched him?” Sophia said.
“How could I when I haven’t dated him yet?” Grace said back.
Sophia blew out a breath. “No, I meant the guy from last week.”
“Oh. No. I gave him to Charlene. They were both into glass blowing, so I…”
“Grace, focus.” Sophia had her hands on her hips now.
She held in her laugh. “I loved his strong jaw, the way it was softened by his kind eyes. And his voice: a powerful voice, deep and reverberating …” Grace closed her eyes and let herself remember the feel of the sound of his voice near her ear when they were practically under the table.
“I hear you, but I still don’t see the big attraction,” Sophia said.
“He reminds me of Oscar,” Grace whispered. She felt that flutter again. Oscar was so long ago, but there’d never been another love like him since.
“He looks nothing like Oscar,” Sophia said. “Besides, Oscar was trouble.”
“Not his looks. Something about him. He has that confident king-of-the-world air about him like Oscar. He has elegance and a sense of fun.” She knew she was getting carried away, but she couldn’t stop. “And did I say he has that kind smile?” Grace took a breath and put a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating too fast.
“You got all that from tonight?” Sophia shook her head. “The only thing I saw that he has in common with Oscar is that he’s way too old for you.”
That comment caused a pang, but Grace shook it off. She also noticed he had a sadness underneath the fun, but she shook that notion off too. She wanted to hold onto her excitement. It was so rare, and she longed to feel this way about a man.
She wanted him to be Batman—Oscar’s alter ego.
“You know, Grace, I haven’t seen you this interested in anyone since Oscar, now that you mention it, and that had to be eight years ago.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve learned a lot since then.”
“Don’t get crazy here. You do remember that you and Oscar ended disastrously?” Sophia gave her that mother hen look that Grace was mostly fond of.
She patted Sophia on the arm. “I remember a lot about Oscar besides the ending. I wanted to marry him. I might have, too…”
“If it wasn’t for the pesky fact that Oscar—or should I say ‘Antonio’—was in the mob,” Sophia reminded her.
“Don’t exaggerate. That was only a rumor. He was more like an informant.” Grace remembered the ending. She had good reasons, but she was feeling the loss all over again just the same. She pushed a curl off her right eye.
“That man was trouble. You did the right thing to break it off.” This time Sophia patted her on the arm.
Sophia was right, but Grace couldn’t help feeling empty as she stood towering over her friend and leaning on her a little for support under the lamplight. “I’m over it.”
“Yeah, but you’re still searching for your father figure. Maybe what you learned is not to trust any man young enough to have a real relationship.” Sophia tugged on Grace’s arm.
“I would trust the right man if I found him.” She smiled down at her friend to reassure her but i
gnored the familiar concern about the father figure. Grace thought about her Oscar number two and considered the possibility. “I’m not a youngster anymore. I’m thirty years old. I know what I want.”
“You’ll meet your match.”
“What if I just did?” The taxi pulled up and they both got in.
Pixie looked skeptical. “You are kidding, right? He’s more like grandfather material than father material. You need to aim younger for the family. And I know that’s what you want most of all.”
Grace was not kidding about David. But Sophia was right; she wanted a family most of all. Something she’d never had.
“I have you and Mabel, don’t I?” Grace asked. She looked at her friend in the dark backseat of the cab and needed to hear the obvious answer.
“You’ll always have me—and Mabel too. And someday you will have your own family and a home with the picket fence and all. I know it, Grace. But you have to be careful and realistic. This Batman guy didn’t seem like the picket-fence type. Especially if he’s anything like Oscar. Plus, and I know I’ve said this before—he’s old,” Sophia said, pausing. “And he didn’t ask for your number,” she added softly.
Maybe Grace should be worried that he wouldn’t call, but she wasn’t. Their encounter was brief, but she felt a mutual…something. There was no way he could have been immune to it.
“No, he didn’t ask for my number, but I gave it to him anyway,” Grace said with a sudden twinkling smile. She was pretty sure that would be enough.
David strode into the restaurant where the mayor waited for him.
“Where’s the chief?”
“He’s here. He’s taking a call. He’ll be right in,” David said. The mayor introduced him to his daughter Theresa, her fiancé, Rick Racer—also known as the Lieutenant Governor—and a few other relatives and friends. The pleasantries weren’t particularly pleasant under the circumstances, so he cut them short.
“Where’s the body?”
The mayor nodded over his right shoulder. Rick winced and looked down.
David followed the pair out back.
“It’s an apparent homicide.” The mayor sounded grim and comical at the same time. David was skeptical about the hush-hush treatment of the case. He thought they could have called it in the conventional way and dealt with the publicity—until he saw the body.
The dead guy was a dead ringer for Rick. “He’s your twin brother, I see.”
David could also see that the man was not dead. He leaned over the body to make sure, and even though there was a hole in his jacket right over his heart, and although it was oozing a red jelled substance meant to appear to be blood to an untrained eye, David saw no real blood. After checking the man’s vitals and his skull, he stood. This would be a good one. Nothing simple. It seemed like a mugging in the back alley, but it wasn’t.
The chief walked in and exchanged nods with the mayor and Rick.
“What’s his name?” The chief asked Rick.
“Nick.”
“Naturally,” David said. They all turned to him. Dan gave him a behave-yourself-look. David ignored him. “Rick and Nick. Twins. Your parents have a sense of humor. Good news, Rick. Your twin Nick is alive, albeit with a nasty bump on his head,” David said. They all looked startled, but the chief looked skeptical.
“How could that be?” Rick rushed to his brother and bent over him. He slapped at his face.
“He’s wearing Kevlar.”
“What? He can’t be—there’s blood.” the mayor said.
“Fake blood. The latest development in bulletproof vests, according to Crime-Fighting Quarterly. Any reason he should be wearing a bulletproof vest to a family rehearsal dinner?” David asked.
Rick stared back at him with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open for about two seconds before he recovered and resumed slapping his brother. “Gees. That’s Nick for you. He’s a New York City police detective. Married to his job. Never off the clock.” Rick took a deep breath and gave the prone man a hug. Then he stood.
“We need a medic. I’m going to kill him after we revive him. He gave me such a scare. And Theresa.”
“I got a medic on the way,” Dan said. “Any reason someone would want to follow your brother to Boston to shoot him?”
“You’ll have to ask him. But my guess would be he’s got plenty of enemies—on both sides of the law,” Rick said.
David exchanged a glance with Dan. His friend was looking for clues from him and he didn’t have anything yet, of course. They needed Nick fully alert so they could question him. But this was a tough audience. Meanwhile, everyone outside their little sphere in the back alley thought Nick was dead.
“Are we sure Nick was the target?” David asked, because someone had to say it out loud.
Rick turned white faster than David had seen anyone blanch since the time they found that snake in the Queen’s limo. David stepped closer in case the man fainted. Clearly the thought that he was the intended victim hadn’t occurred to Rick.
“God, please tell me you’re kidding.” Rick said.
“Of course it could be a random attack. Then again, he’s a dead ringer for you and this is your town. And I would guess since you’re in politics, you have your own share of anti-fans,” David said.
“I don’t think of him as my twin anymore. We’ve gone in extreme different directions—we’ve been different since we drew our first breath. Anyone who knows us would never confuse us.”
“Interesting. So, if it’s not a random attack, either someone chased Nick up here to murder him—someone who knows him and is particularly inept. Or someone who doesn’t know you very well thought they were killing you,” David observed.
“Well, I’m glad we’re dealing with an inept would-be murderer,” Rick said.
“Hmmm,” Dan said.
“You stole my line,” David said under his breath so only his friend could hear.
The chief smirked. “Probably taken by surprise rather than inept.”
“We’ll know soon enough, when we can question Nick about what happened,” David agreed. Rick continued to try and revive his brother, shaking the man’s shoulder and patting his face.
“If it was a murder attempt, I wonder what the murderer will do when they find out they haven’t murdered anyone at all,” the mayor mused.
Everyone looked at him. David could hear a disconnected drain spout dripping onto the cement somewhere in the alley. His mind went back to a case he had twenty years ago. It was the case that got him his first promotion up the ranks at Scotland Yard.
“Nothing,” he said. They all turned in unison to face him.
“I wonder what the murderer would do if they knew they’d killed the wrong person?” David said to Rick and the mayor, and it had the desired effect of scaring them into silence.
“If need be, I have a plan. It’s based on an old case of mine. We keep the fact that Nick was not murdered a secret among us.” David didn’t quite know why he felt so strongly about this. His famous instinct was at work. It had been so long, he wasn’t sure how doable this would be, but it was time to think it through.
“Interesting approach. But why?” the mayor asked.
“It will help keep Nick from being hunted down again,” Rick said.
“But how does that help us trap the would-be killer?” The mayor seemed to be enjoying himself. Dan looked at David. That was the question he needed a minute to answer.
Nick stirred and moved. Rick pulled his brother up by the lapels to help him sit.
“I can’t believe you’re standing here discussing my demise while you left me lying in this skuzzy alley,” Nick said.
There was a hubbub while they helped him off the ground and into the kitchen and got him a chair. Other than a banged-up skull and a hoarse voice, he appeared no worse for the wear, David thought. The man rubbed his chest at the point of the bullet’s impact.
“Make sure no one comes in here and sees him alive and well. The fewer people who
know there hasn’t been a murder the better,” David told Dan.
“I’ll take care of that. So far no one knows there’s been a murder—real or not—outside this party. The police were never called officially,” the Mayor said.
“What about an ambulance?” Rick asked, still hovering over his brother.
Nick shook his head. “No one is after me. I didn’t see who shot me, but I saw and heard enough to know it wasn’t a professional job. If it was anything I was working on it would have been planned and executed better.”
“In other words, if someone were going to murder you, they would have had a better plan?” Rick asked.
“Exactly.”
“So they’re after me?” Rick squeaked out.
“What exactly happened?” the chief asked Nick.
“I got up to go to the john and I heard a noise like someone was trying to get in the back door. So I went out there to investigate and slipped out the back. I couldn’t see anyone. But”—he paused and glanced at his brother—“I could swear on our mother’s grave I heard a man’s voice say ‘Racer? Rick Racer?’ like he was confirming my ID. I went for my gun at that point.”
“I don’t suppose you got a look at his face?” the chief asked.
“No. He was in the shadows and had a stocking mask on. Which is strange—I hadn’t noticed that at first. Things happened quickly. But I’m certain this was no random attack. Also—maybe I heard him talking to someone on the street or maybe on the phone. Whatever it was about, it was not random.”
“Are you absolutely positive your assailant said Rick and not Nick?” David asked. A lot hinged on this.
Nick shook his head. He was afraid of that.
“But I’m at ninety percent, and it makes sense. This is Rick’s town, not mine.”
David exchanged a glance with Dan. A plan coalesced in his mind. “Here’s the strategy. I agree with Nick. I think the target was Rick.” He needed to stop himself from rhyming—it was becoming a distracting habit. Every time he did it, a vision of Grace popped into his head. He shook it out and got himself back on track. “Even if it wasn’t intended to be a murder, we can’t take a chance. We proceed as if the murder happened, and that it was Nick they killed. Assuming that he was the wrong target, we would have the advantage of possibly setting a trap if the would-be killer tries again.”
The Throwbacks Page 3
