Forever Haunt

by Adam Carpenter

  He thought of his mother’s phrase. The truth came with a cost.

  § § § §

  It was early dawn before Meaghan McSwain gave birth to a boy. He was eight pounds, five ounces. He had a shock of thick dark hair. His face was red from crying, Meaghan’s face too, from pushing. It wasn’t until seven o’clock when she was brought to her private room, and where the bundle that was her son was placed in her arms.

  Maggie sat beside her daughter on the edge of the bed, smiling as a grandmother would.

  Mallory stood next to Jimmy, their hands clasped in unison. Aunt and Uncle at the ready.

  “So, you got a name for this noisy one?” Maggie asked.

  “Yeah, of course I do.” Meaghan paused and looked up at them. “I know I don’t remember him like the rest of you do. But it’s the only name for him, the perfect name. Meet Joseph Rockland McSwain.”

  It would have been a tender moment except for the fact they all laughed.

  “Rockland?” they all asked.

  “I gotta get Rocky’s name in their somewhere. We may not be together, but he gets some of the credit.”

  “Guess this links the Martino family and the McSwains forever,” Maggie said.

  Jimmy thought of the Deans. They had once been linked to the McSwains. But life changes, people come and go. Jimmy kissed his sister’s forehead. “You did good. I’ll let you get some rest. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll come with you, Jimmy,” Mallory said. “Give Grandma some time.”

  The two siblings exited the hospital room, both proclaiming they needed coffee after the long night.

  “And not that hospital cafeteria crap.”

  “I’m sure we can find a Starbucks. Aren’t they on every corner?”

  “I’ll be ordering from Café Nero soon,” she said. “They’re all over London.”

  “You tell Ma yet?”

  “Tonight. Taylor’s coming over. We’ll tell everyone together.”

  Jimmy and Mallory stepped out into the sunrise of an early Manhattan Monday. A new week was upon them all, new opportunities awaiting them. Soon New Yorkers would be rushing to subways, to offices, starting the drone of another grueling work week. Jimmy wasn’t sure what he would do. His two cases were wrapped up, leaving him numb. He felt adrift, not tied down to anything. He felt free, despite the awful turn of events last night. Of course there would be follow-up. But the truth, it was no longer out there. It was inside him, giving his heart a fresh new beat. A sense of hope for tomorrow, which was now. The air felt warm today. Spring was approaching.

  “I’ve got something to tell everyone, too. No more nightmares. No more haunts,” he said.

  “Jimmy, look out…”

  Her words shocked him, shook him. He spun around. Not knowing what she was talking about, or what direction to face. All he did was push her and dive to the ground. The blast of a gun broke the quiet of the bright morning. Birds flew out of tree branches, squawking in protest. Jimmy felt pain, but he thought it was from the hard landing on the concrete sidewalk in front of the hospital. He cautiously gazed up to see if he saw any sign of a shooter. His mind was flooded with ideas. None of them made sense. What the hell had just happened?

  “Hey, Mallory, it’s okay. I think the shooter is gone…Mal…?”

  That’s when he saw the blood.

  Epilogue

  He didn’t need to hear the mournful tones of the bagpipes to know what today was.

  St. Patrick’s Day.

  He could have been at the parade, watching as the route traveled north up Fifth Avenue. Watching the proud members of the NYPD march in unison, brothers and sisters one with each another. The sounds of the spectators, their cheers were no doubt filling the streets, a celebration of culture and heritage and honor dating back centuries. For one man, Jimmy McSwain, what he chose to remember today was one man whose memory was linked to the parade. A man who was being returned to the ground, ashes to ashes.

  On this unusually cool March morning, a hopeful spring just days away, Jimmy stood before the fresh grave, his leather jacket wrapped tight around him, the wind whipping across the open land. The dirt was newly overturned, packed now, ready for seedlings to soon cover it with grass. A season of change was forthcoming. He would place a headstone in the coming weeks. Right now, it was too soon.

  Jimmy had ventured alone to this cemetery found upstate. His family was busy with other matters, important ones. Besides, they hadn’t known the man like he had. Only one other had, his partner, who was buried not far away. Two men whom he shared a link with. Yesterday, tomorrow, and forever. You just didn’t forget men or mentors.

  Jimmy closed his eyes and bowed in silent prayer, wishing Ralphie Henderson eternal peace. Rest.

  He felt a breeze pass by him, the chill oddly welcoming.

  When he gazed back up, he wasn’t alone. A smile graced his lips. He questioned nothing.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Jimmy, you look good. Happy.”

  “I’m getting there. Some days are better than others.”

  “That’s called life, my son.”

  He stared at Joseph McSwain, ageless in the glow of the rising sun, and to him it seemed like time hadn’t moved at all. Of course it had, too much of it. Jimmy was now thirty years old, a grown man. No longer did that fourteen-year-old boy exist. In fact, so much of yesterday didn’t exist. The clothes he’d worn that day, still bloodied, he had finally let go of. Symbols of tragedy were no longer necessary. That file thick with photographs and articles, relegated to storage, not needed daily. Perhaps someday he would pour through those pages again, but for reasons other than vengeance. Nostalgic purposes, a remembrance of what determination can achieve. Of what unconditional love can drive you to. And to remind him how he became the man he was, the son, the brother, the lover, the uncle. Only the future mattered now.

  Except the past wasn’t done with him just yet.

  “He was a good man,” Joseph said.

  “Ralphie never let anything defeat him. Until recently.”

  “Everyone has their time, Jimmy. I know that full well.”

  Jimmy swallowed hard. “What happened was wrong. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I’m never far, Jimmy.”

  “I missed you Dad, every day. I fought for you.”

  “Sometimes too hard. But you won, Jimmy. For me. Ralphie will fill me in.”

  “Mom, she missed you, too.”

  “You’ve done her proud, my son. All of us. Your sisters, too.”

  It was the mention of his sisters which brought a sudden tear to his eye. “It was my fault.”

  “You can’t think that way, Jimmy.”

  “Everyone warned me, the cost. It was too great. I realize that now.”

  Jimmy felt a tender touch upon his shoulder. Like sweet dust from an angel. “She’s still with you, like you, not ready to give up on a fight. You struggled for years. To seek justice. Now it’s another’s turn.” A silence fell upon the cemetery, the vision of Joseph McSwain beginning to fade into the morning mist. “I’m never far away, Jimmy. Just look inside your heart. Don’t speak a word, just when you see your mother, give her a kiss. She’ll know.”

  “Yeah, she probably will.” Jimmy said this with a wistful smile.

  “Goodbye, Jimmy. You did right, bringing Ralphie here. We’ll share a beer, perhaps.”

  “He likes that.”

  “Just like you like boys.”

  Jimmy couldn’t help himself, the tears flowed even while he laughed. He watched as the figure faded to nothing, one final image hitting him like an old newsreel unspooling in his head. He at fourteen, his father calling out to him amidst the crowded aisles of the deli. Holding up the white paper bag and proclaiming, “Come on, Jimmy, I got the bagels, now let’s head on home before your mother kills me.” How strange those were his father’s last words. He hadn’t realized them until now. But thankfully, this time there was no sound of a bullet, no cry of anguish.
There was no death this time. Only silence, but for the whisper of the wind, no doubt carrying his father back to whence he came.

  Jimmy checked his iPhone for the time. Still early. Thought maybe he could make it back to the city for the parade after all.

  He could cheer on Frisano. Then tell him afterwards what he meant to him. That he loved him. After all, Jimmy had his father’s blessing.

  § § § §

  CASE FILE #101: THE FOREVER HAUNT

  Nothing in her condition had changed for nearly a month.

  Just the steady beep of the machines, keeping her alive. Otherwise, silence, no other signs of life.

  Today was the feast of St. Joseph, two days after the celebration of St. Patrick’s Day. An entire year had passed since I resumed my investigation into my father’s murder. Determined that by the time of the fifteenth anniversary, I would have solved it. I did, with a few weeks to spare. Usually we would all gather at our home, feast again as we had every St. Patrick’s Day. A shared meal where we would celebrate our culture, one where we appreciated the gift of family. Ma was home now preparing that meal, while Meaghan and baby Joey went through their daily routine of feedings, naps, crying. Sometimes it seemed like a competition between mother and son. Meaghan was going to have to grow up fast. Motherhood wasn’t easy. At least she had Ma at her side. No better role model.

  Which left me at Mallory’s bedside, here in a private room at Roosevelt.

  There was talk of moving her to long-term care. I hated that. Hated her being far away.

  But I hated all of this.

  Of course the bullet had been meant for me. I recognized the shooter just as the shot rang out. Fong, Mr. Wu-Tin’s associate, and apparently, assassin. He’d been detained while trying to leave the country, and subsequently arrested and was behind bars awaiting trial. Strangely, I had the NYPD to thank for that. But Mr. Wu-Tin wasn’t so easy a target to bring down, as it turned out. The back-up flash drive I’d handed over to Barone that night at the Westside Tavern had initially been deemed inadmissible by the courts. Lawyers were working overtime on that, both on the NYPD side and on Mr. Wu-Tin’s side. Life wouldn’t be easy for the crime boss for quite a while. One day he would be brought down. I had played my part, I knew now when to step away. The damage had been done.

  Mallory hadn’t woken up since the bullet ripped through her brain.

  Doctors weren’t sure she would ever fully recover. London was on hold, perhaps forever.

  “Mr. McSwain, we need to run some tests. You can come back in a little while.”

  A duty nurse, one of many who had overseen Mallory’s care. I thanked her for her good work, and then I made my exit. First from Mallory’s room, which had begun to feel like a second home, and then from the hospital, where I emerged into the falling darkness of a spring night. I was due at Ma’s by seven o’clock. Which left me ten minutes.

  I made my way along the streets and avenues of Manhattan, just as I did every day. This city, it was like another character in my life, it had its own beat, a pulse that wouldn’t quit. I had to hope it served as a metaphor for Mallory’s future. She hadn’t quit, she needed time to recover. Faith and prayer, that’s what Ma said would bring her back to us. No way, not now, not yet or ever, would she leave us.

  Arriving at the building on 10th Avenue and 48th Street, I paused to reflect on the past year, the years that came before them, too. I’d lived here all my life. I’d hit baseballs on summer afternoons in the nearby park, doused myself with water that was unleashed from fire hydrants during humid summers, I’d shared a first kiss with a boy on the nearby piers when I was sixteen. I’d walked these familiar streets to the point where I’d walked miles, by myself, with my Dad and with Ma, sometimes, back then with both of them. My sisters tagging behind. The five of us, all McSwains, one family amidst so many in this city. We all had our stories. Mine had its tragedies. But it also had its share of love.

  Speaking of, someone was waiting on the stoop for me. He smiled at the sight of me.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi, back,” Frisano said.

  “You sure about this?”

  “Tomorrow is no guarantee. Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Why didn’t you go in without me?” I asked. “Chicken?”

  He laughed. I kissed Frisano, felt the warmth spread between us. Like it was a first kiss. They all were now. We had so many firsts to look forward to.

  We entered the building together and I stole a quick glance at the rear apartment. No one had moved in after Help is Here had moved the Ramirez/Inshan family out. Up the five flights of stairs we went, and soon we had gone inside my childhood home. Frisano soon to gain insight into my family life. But hey, I’d done so with him. That Sunday dinner a defining moment in my life, our relationship. As we closed the door, Ma came out from the kitchen.

  “You must be, Frank. Welcome. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

  “Mrs. McSwain, I feel the same way.”

  “Come in, take a seat, meet the family. Jimmy, you didn’t say how handsome he is…”

  “Oh, geez, Ma…”

  Soon we sat down to dinner. Ma in her usual seat. Meaghan in hers. Baby Joseph, whom she insisted on calling Joey, was in a baby rocker placed on my usual chair. It was then I stole a look at the two remaining empty chairs, one which Dad always sat at, the other being Mallory’s. Ma just gave me a look, that smile probably the one that won Dad’s heart back when they were teenagers at the Sadie Hawkins dance. Then I took my seat at the place I’d earned. I sat in Dad’s chair, at the head of the table, and I’d never relinquish it.

  Life never tells you where it’s going. You wake up every day and see what it brings. You venture outdoors, work, live, laugh, fight. You rise to the challenges, or get angry from defeat. But you pick yourself up because what other choice is there? You watch with envy as the sun climbs steadily higher in the sky, only to see it tilt far over the horizon hours later, the world welcoming night. You had to accept life’s light and darkness. An endless cycle, day after day, week after week, year after year. It’s a sight you should be honored to see. Until another world comes to claim you, this one is yours. But it comes with a price-tag. Every decision has a cost.

  New cases happen when you don’t want them. I knew my purpose to right wrongs lived on.

  For now, there were ghosts everywhere. Memories of before. Memories of loved ones.

  And while our futures remained unwritten, uncertain, there was no reason they couldn’t begin with hope. Ma raised a glass and we all followed suit.

  “To Joseph McSwain,” Ma said.

  We all turned and looked at the baby. I said, “Happy St. Joseph’s Day.”

  I got up, kissed Ma’s cheek. She smiled, a glow on her face. She said, “He’s here.”

  CASE FILE #101: THE FOREVER HAUNT

  STATUS: SOLVED

  Jimmy McSwain will return…

  About the Author

  ADAM CARPENTER is the best-selling author of many titles of gay mystery, romance, and intrigue.

  His acclaimed Jimmy McSwain detective series includes HIDDEN IDENTITY, CRIME WAVE, STAGE FRIGHT, GUARDIAN ANGEL. and FOREVER HAUNT. The first two titles are available on audio as well. Jimmy will return in FRESH KILL.

  Adam’s sexy, soapy trilogy begins with EDEN’S PAST, followed by EDEN’S PRESENT and EDEN’S FUTURE--available on audio, and soon in eBook and print from MLR Press.

  His “White Pine” firefighter novels include SECRET FLAMES, HEAT OF THE MOMENT, A RAGING FIRE, and BURNING TRUTH, with are available in eBook and print from MLR Press. The first book is on audio, too.

  His “European Flings” series begins with the short story PASSPORT TO A FLING, followed by the newly titled, full-length novels FRENCH MEN, ITALIAN GUYS, ENGLISH LADS, and AMERICAN HUNKS.

  His “Wonderland” trilogy, co-written with Curtis C. Comer and Jeff Wilcox, are, in order: DESPERATE HUSBANDS, DESPERATE LOVERS, and DESPERATE ENEMIES.

  Among Adam’s other
novels are DUDE RANCH, the White-Pine spin-off THAT PASSIONATE SEASON, SUMMER’S CHOICE and its spin-off, ISLAND DESIRES.

  His short fiction, which includes the novellas YOU OWN ME and A YEARLY TRYST, has been collected in NOCTURNAL DELIGHTS, available in eBook from MLR Press.

  Adam is currently writing on a new trilogy, The Cane’s Inlet Mysteries: SCANDALOUS LIES, SINISTER MOTIVES, and SUSPICIOUS TRUTHS.

  MLR Press

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