by J. P. Bowie
“You have to eat my cooking when I say so!”
Chapter Six
Pittsburg:
After he’d made a plane reservation for early the next morning, Nick had called his sister, Doreen, to let her know he’d be in town for the funeral. She had wanted him to stay with her, but Nick had nixed the idea. He would never feel comfortable staying with his sister’s family, knowing that Garcia just might be watching every move he made.
The cab, pulling up in front of him, brought him out of his reverie. “Marriott, Downtown,” he told the cabbie, climbing into the back seat. He sat, gazing from the window, at a town that had once meant home to him, and, he supposed, because of Doreen and Rich, a small part of him would always belong here. Looking out at the familiar streets and buildings, he felt a deep longing for things to be as they once were. The cab surfaced from the Fort Pitt Tunnel and cruised down Liberty Avenue. Nick, looking out through the cab window, recognized some of the familiar bars he’d frequented in his youth. Liberty Avenue had gained a certain amount of notoriety through the TV series “Queer as Folk,” though Nick had had to disappoint his friends in California by explaining that the real Liberty wasn’t anything like the one portrayed on television.
The cabbie turned onto Penn Avenue and stopped outside the hotel. After the cab pulled away, Nick stood looking around him, knowing that only a few blocks away was the police station where he, Sam and Andy had once worked—and where Andy had been shot dead only a couple of nights before. He wondered if Garcia was watching him now, if the man had tracked him from the airport—or was all this just his own paranoia. Maybe Garcia had left town, figuring his job done and moving on to more important things than killing Nick Fallon. Somehow, he doubted that. With a shrug of his shoulders, he made his way across the hotel foyer and checked in.
He called his sister and left the hotel phone number and his room number on her answering machine. He lay down on the bed and called Eric to let him know he’d arrived safely. They talked for a while, Nick assuring him that he was fine and he was just going to take a nap.
“What about when you go out?” Eric couldn’t quite keep the tremor from his voice. “Do you have someone to go with you?”
“Eric, don’t worry…”
“But I am worried, Nick. I’ll be worried till you’re back safe. I miss you already…”
“I miss you too. Just relax, babe. I’ll be back in a couple of days. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
After he put the phone down, he turned on the television and closed his eyes. He must have drifted off, for he was suddenly brought to alertness by an insistent knocking at his door. The room was dark. He turned on the light by the bed and glanced at his watch. He must have been asleep for over two hours. The knocking continued, then a voice, “Nick?” He hurried to the door and swung it open.
“Rich? What’re you doing here?”
His brother-in-law grinned at him. “Some greeting that is!”
“Sorry, come on in.”
“We got your message,” Rich said, giving Nick a hug. “I thought I’d stop by and take you to dinner.” He stepped back and looked Nick over. “You look beat.”
“I just woke up…”
“So, this is not so good, huh?” Rich looked around the room as he spoke, his good-natured face creased with concern. “You have some protection?”
“No.” Nick sat on the bed and Rich sat beside him. “What good did protection do for Andy?”
“How’s Eric?”
“He’s fine. Worried, now he knows about Garcia being on the loose. I just talked to him.”
“We’re all worried, Nick. That’s why I’m here, to keep you company.” He pulled a bottle of Scotch from his coat pocket. “I brought us some refreshments,” he said with a grin.
Nick took the bottle and poured two generous shots. They clinked glasses. “Just like old times,” Rich said after he’d drained his glass.
“Take it easy, brother-in-law.” Nick grinned at him. “I do not want my big sister blaming me for getting you soused.”
“No chance.” Rich poured himself another shot. “You know me. Where d’you wanna eat?”
“I think Deluca’s, if they’re still there.”
“Still there.” Rich stood up. “Let’s go then. I’m starved.”
Deluca’s, a family owned Italian restaurant in downtown Pittsburgh, had been a favorite haunt of Nick’s, along with what seemed half of the Pittsburgh police force. Now, as he and Rich entered the warm and boisterous atmosphere the restaurant provided, he recognized a few familiar faces.
“Hey, Nick!” The call came from a corner table where two couples were seated. As he and Rich found a table, he acknowledged the caller with a wave of recognition.
“A cop?” Rich asked.
“Yeah. Danny Villiers.”
Villiers, slim and dapper, rose from his table and approached them, hand outstretched. “Good to see you, Nick. Sorry for what brings you back, though.”
Nick took his hand. “Hi, Danny. Danny, this is Rich, my brother-in-law.” The two men shook hands, then Danny sat with them.
“I won’t hold you up. I just wanted to let you know that Garcia’s been apprehended.”
Nick gaped at him. “You’re shittin’ me!”
“No. ’Bout two hours ago. He was tryin’ to get on a plane. They’re holding him overnight then sending him back to the State pen in the morning.”
Rich beamed at Nick. “Oh man, that’s good news. You got nothing to worry about now.”
“Yeah…” Danny grinned at him. “I thought that would make your day.” He squeezed Nick’s shoulder. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral.”
Nick nodded and watched as Danny returned to his table. He turned to look at Rich. “I would have bet that Garcia would never have been caught this easy.” He shook his head. “Shows what I know.”
“But that’s great, Nick.” Rich’s warm brown eyes glinted with relief. “Doreen can stop worrying herself sick.”
“Right.” Nick pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call her right now and let her know.”
“Better call Eric too,” Rich prompted him,
Nick flicked a smile at his brother-in-law. “Hey Doreen, Nick. Pretty good, I’m at Deluca’s with Rich. One of the guys here told me they got Garcia all locked up again. So you can relax. Yeah, you bet it’s good news. Okay, I’ll call you in the morning. Bye…” He caught the waiter’s eye and ordered a bottle of red wine. “What’s the special tonight?” he asked.
“Lasagna,” the waiter said. “And it’s terrific.”
“I’ll have that…Rich?”
“Make that two.”
The waiter nodded and left to get their wine.
“Eric,” Rich said.
Nick chuckled. “You wanna call him and give him the good news?”
Rich reddened. “No. I’m just tryin’ to keep you on track, you know?”
“I know…” He smiled as he speed-dialed his home number. “Eric, it’s me. We just heard they got Garcia back in the pokey. Uh, huh…Yeah, it sure is. Hey, someone here wants to say hi.” He passed the phone to Rich, who looked at him wide-eyed.
“Uh… Hi Eric, it’s Rich. How are you? I’m good… She’s good…yeah, and the kids. Mmhmm… Well, don’t be a stranger. Come out and see us. Yeah, anytime, you know that. Okay, here’s Nick.”
As Nick closed his cell phone after talking some more with Eric, Rich fixed him with a beady-eyed look. “Why’d you do that?”
“I figured Eric would be happier knowing you were here with me.”
“Oh.” Rich was quiet for a moment. “I thought you were just razzin’ me.”
Nick looked up as the waiter delivered their wine and poured two glasses. “Lasagna will be right here,” he told them then went to bus the table next to them.
“So you and Eric, you’re doin’ good?”
“Very good, Rich, thanks for asking.”
“You still miss Martin, sometimes?”
“I’ll always miss him, Rich.” Nick’s smile was tinged with sadness. “Some people just make a huge impression on your life. One that changes you, and you can never forget. I know you thought the world of him.”
“Yeah.” Rich looked down at his wineglass as he spoke. “Sometimes I think about him and how he made it easy for me—you know, not knowing any gay guys ‘til I met you and him. How I had all these preconceived ideas about how you’d be. Doreen told me I was going to like you when we met, and I didn’t believe her for one minute, and then, that first time—” He looked at Nick and smiled. “Remember? We were all at Joe’s bar. I was so damned nervous meeting Doreen’s little brother, who I thought was going to be some prissy schmuck who wasn’t going to like me and try to cause problems with Doreen and me. I knew you were a cop and I just couldn’t put the two together, you know. A gay cop—what was that about? I always thought gays were hairdressers, designers and such. Then you and Martin walked into the bar, and here I’m looking for two fruits, and you were both so…so…like regular guys.”
Nick laughed out loud. “Rich, I have never heard you say so much all at once.” He broke off as the waiter brought their food. “Boy, smells good,” he said, thanking the waiter. He looked at Rich over his wineglass. “Two fruits, huh?”
“Sorry.” Rich gave him a sheepish grin. “You know I didn’t mean that.”
“I know. Cheers.”
“Cheers. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is… Jeez, what am I trying to say?”
“I think you’re trying to say that you felt comfortable around Martin and me.”
“Yeah, that…but there’s more. You guys kinda opened my eyes, made me think and make up my own mind about things, not listen to some of the crap I used to just nod my head and agree with. Know what I mean?”
Nick nodded and smiled at him. Where the heck was all this coming from, he wondered, chewing his lasagna thoughtfully. Rich was usually the quiet man of few words, content to let his wife take center stage in conversations. He tried to remember if he and Rich had ever had this kind of talk before, and he was sure they hadn’t. But Rich and Martin—that was different. While he had spent time with Doreen and the kids, they had bonded over the Steelers, the stock market and a growing admiration for each other. Nick knew Martin’s death was a tremendous blow to Rich. One he had kept carefully hidden in order to give all his support to his brother-in-law.
“So when are you and Doreen coming out to spend time with Eric and me?”
“Funny thing…” Rich said between mouthfuls, “we were thinking of going to San Diego for a kind of a second honeymoon. That’s not far from you, right?”
“Less than an hour away. That’d be great. Have you set a date yet?”
“I’m leaving that up to Doreen. We have to get the kids taken care of and all.”
“Right. Well, let me know.”
After they had settled the bill and walked out into the chill night air, Rich said he’d get a cab home, so they walked back to Nick’s hotel together.
“Betcha you’re feeling a lot easier now Garcia’s locked up again.”
“You could say that, though I’d feel a helluva lot better if they’d caught him before he got to Andy. Margo has to be thinking the same thing. You going to the funeral tomorrow?”
“I gotta work, but Doreen says she’s going.”
“Tell her I’ll see her there then.”
“Come back to the house after.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Nick put his arms around Rich and held him tight. “Thanks, bro…it meant a lot, you being here.”
Rich held him, patting his back affectionately. “You take care, now,” he said as a cab pulled up outside the hotel entrance. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Seven
The morning of Andy’s funeral dawned cold and gray. By noon, a steady rain began to fall. Nick and Doreen stood together, huddled under her umbrella, waiting for the graveside service to begin. Nick, having forgotten Pittsburgh’s famously changeable weather, was wearing a raincoat he had borrowed from Rich. Even though the circumstances were far from ideal, Nick had been happy to see his sister again. Eight years his senior, she had been his rock in his formative years, taking the place of the parents he had hardly known.
Nick glanced around at the fifty or so mourners, mostly cops wearing grim expressions and their wives trying to look brave for Margo’s sake. All these women knew that it could be their husbands they had come here to bury—one or two even wished that were so.
“Nick…” He turned at the sound of the gruff voice behind him.
“How’ve you been, son?”
“Captain Fitzpatrick,” Nick murmured, shaking the hand extended to him. “Good to see you, sir. This is my sister, Doreen.”
Fitzpatrick shook hands with Doreen and smiled. “I would have guessed that,” the Captain said, taking in Doreen’s lush, dark brown hair and hazel eyes. “But you’re a deal more winsome than your brother.”
Doreen laughed lightly. “A true Irishman, I see. Full of the blarney.”
“Only when it’s deserved.” Fitzpatrick eyed Nick carefully. “I know you and Andy were friends, Nick. How are you holding up?”
“Better now I know Garcia’s behind bars again. I’m just sorry they didn’t get him before…”
Both Nick and Fitzpatrick paused in their conversation as Margo approached them. Fitzpatrick removed his cap and inclined his head as he took her hand. “My sincere condolences, Mrs. Hawkins. Andy will be very much missed by us all.”
Margo nodded, accepted a hug from Doreen then looked at Nick. He thought he could detect a momentary flicker of resentment in her eyes as she stared at him.
“Good of you to come, Nick, you too, Doreen. Come by the house later, won’t you?”
Nick watched her as she walked slowly away toward where her mother and children were standing.
Fitzpatrick cleared his throat. “She’s taking it really hard, of course,” he said.
Nick shrugged. “She’s probably wishing it had been me.”
“Oh, Nick…” Doreen tugged at his arm. “She wouldn’t feel that way.”
“I would, if I was in her shoes.”
Fitzpatrick coughed politely. “Well, I think they’re about to start. Good seeing you Nick. Take care, now.”
“Why did you say that?” Doreen asked as soon as Fitzpatrick was out of earshot.
“I know she’s feeling bitter, Doreen.” Nick put his arm round his sister’s shoulders and led her closer to the graveside. “She’s thinking about everything that Andy’s left behind—her, the kids, their home. She asked me once, after Andy had told her I was gay, what my legacy would be. What would I have brought to this world when I would never marry and have kids to follow me…”
“She said that?”
“Mmm. So now she’s probably thinking why the hell wasn’t it me Garcia gunned down, instead of her husband.”
“Oh, Nick.” Doreen fell silent as the service started. The rain had stopped, though ominous black clouds remained overhead. Doreen lowered her umbrella and took Nick’s arm, pressing close to his side as she listened to the minister’s opening statement. Nick felt her shiver as the air was suddenly filled with the eerie lament of a lone piper standing nearby.
From his vantage point, some hundred yards from where the mourners were gathered, Garcia looked down the sights of his rifle until he had found the man he had come to kill. He rested the barrel on top of a marble gravestone and smiled grimly. What fools the police were, he thought, his thin lips twisted with perverse pleasure, how easily duped. They thought he was the man they now held in jail, waiting to be transported back to the state penitentiary. How soon, he wondered, would it be before they realized the man they were holding was not Francisco Garcia, but an imposter, a loyal man who would be greatly rewarded for his participation in this part of Garcia’s masterful plan.
A sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips as he drew Nick’s f
ace into full focus. There he is, the last one responsible for my Joseph’s death. How fitting he should be at a graveside when he dies. His finger tightened on the trigger as he drew aim.
Nick, trying to concentrate on the words the minister droned, was momentarily startled by the hand that gripped his shoulder. His reflexes, fine-tuned even more by the events of the past few days, made him turn swiftly to face what may well have been an adversary. Instead, he saw the gentle, smiling face of Dr. Norman Phelps, the psychologist who had counseled him after Sam’s death.
