“No. He was quiet. My phone rang late, so I was up. I checked on him a few times. Pete was only mumbling in his sleep, which given some of his nights . . .”
“Is fairly unremarkable. And you’re sure he didn’t say anything on the way home?”
“Not much. Definitely wasn’t in a sharing mood. But I do know finding Zeke Dublin here got under his skin.”
“Just his skin. Good to know.”
Before Levi could clarify—or not, Aubrey’s phone dinged. She looked to the vintage 1950s blond sideboard where they charged modern-day electronics. Levi leaned over and retrieved the phone, handing it to her.
“A text from Piper. Huh. Looks like you can file this under ‘interesting.’” Her glance moved between Levi and the phone. “The deputy chief’s lab personnel, with some help from 3M, determined the green hockey tape came from the same manufacturer. And while they couldn’t prove it came off the same roll, analysis concluded that the tape found with Trevor’s belongings, on his hockey stick, and the roll found with Liam’s effects were manufactured around the same time.”
“I’d say that makes it all something beyond coincidental.”
“It’ll be interesting when Dan gets his final lab analysis back on the tape connected to your victim.”
“I suspect it will. Aubrey,” he said.
She quit poking at her phone and made eye contact.
“It’s why I’m here. Our victim. I came by because regardless of any green tape, enough things are falling beyond the lines of coincidence. Particularly after what we learned last night.”
“Ah,” she said, putting her phone down. “We’re back to Zeke. And what did we learn? Other than the origin of a tattoo and that it could belong to any white male.”
“For one, we learned Zeke was with Jude Serino before he took off on his yearly sabbatical—a trip where no one has heard from him for weeks.”
“And you have no reason to believe that’s suspicious. His assistant told you it’s typical behavior, not atypical. Did she seem concerned about him?”
“She seemed pleased that online shopping was her only purpose at the moment. She wasn’t looking for a concern. But thanks to Jude’s weather girl Friday, we also know, before leaving on his trip, Jude stopped here to check on the Serino’s Maine development. Weeks later, and Zeke is right here too. Surely you can’t dismiss all that?”
“I’m not dismissing it.” Aubrey concentrated on her toast, reapplying jam. “I’m just trying to separate facts from overzealous investigative reporting. Information gathered by someone with a bias.”
“I’m professional enough to recognize a dividing line. But forget my take entirely. Last night, the late call that woke me up, it was from Dan. I’d left a message earlier, asked him to call no matter what time.”
“And what? When the bars closed at two, he—” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, that was a Piper-inspired remark. What did you and Dan discuss?”
“Aside from fleshing out Zeke’s association with Jude Serino, Dan had some new information. That’s where I had the coffee this morning. We met up to trade details.”
“How simpatico. Identical hair triggers when it comes to anything that remotely resembles a lead—especially if it’s aimed at someone you don’t particularly care for.”
“And you can’t say the same for Dan. He has no prior opinion about Zeke.”
“Except your current influence.”
“You know me better than that. Facts influence me, Aubrey. Not my personal opinion of Zeke Dublin. Not when it comes to something this serious.”
She shoved the butter knife onto her plate. “Mind of steel. Got it.”
“The point is, I told Dan what we learned about the tattoo, how it ties to the Serino family. You can’t possibly believe that wasn’t worth sharing?”
“As long as you also told him how E tattoo takers were paid a $5,000 bonus for getting one. With all sorts of blue-collar workers involved, hundreds of men could have that tattoo.”
“But only one ended up dead in a swamp with a bullet through his head. And I might be inclined to agree with you, less the new information Dan brought with him.”
“Which would be?” She folded her arms, staring at him.
“Yesterday, Dan’s forensic team revisited the crime scene. The marshy surroundings have made a thorough investigation nearly impossible. Considering the lack of red-flag evidence, which now includes a common-hit .22-caliber bullet, Dan thought another walk through at low tide was reasonable.”
“They found the gun?” Aubrey’s body braced.
“No. No gun.” From his jacket pocket, Levi produced a photo. “This is a picture of what they found tangled in a heron’s nest.”
The photograph depicted a cigarette butt with a Camel filter end. Nervous laughter sputtered from Aubrey. “What are you telling me, Levi? That instead of a smoking gun, you’ve just got a smoker?”
“Not any smoker, and you know it.”
She narrowed her eyes at what would be Levi’s stellar recall.
“I remember the story. The one you told me when Zeke was here five years ago. You said back in the day, he was always trying to quit smoking for you. You even went as far as to note his brand of choice—Camels.” He paused while she too rolled the late-night exchange through her head; she’d just arrived home from the Heinz-Bodette reunion. “Am I wrong? Put it together. Nobody’s heard from Jude Serino since he went on his trip.”
“And according to Jude’s assistant, he’s on a preplanned sabbatical—”
“There’s more.” Levi retrieved his phone and clicked on the screen until an image appeared. “It’s from a piece Dolce magazine did a few years ago. That’s Jude Serino, and in his hand is an Arturo Fuente cigar.”
“The cigar band you found near the road.”
“Maybe it puts the victim . . .” He hesitated. “And Zeke at the scene.”
Aubrey glanced between the picture on his phone and the photograph. “I don’t have Piper’s or Dan’s credentials, Levi. But I know enough about evidence and probable cause. I agree, it’s a coincidence that should be questioned. But any decent lawyer will also tell you it’s no more than circumstantial. Not unless you have something more damning . . . a fingerprint, DNA?” While Levi’s case was gaining momentum, Aubrey wasn’t about to abandon Zeke. Not when she might be the only person left to defend him. “You don’t even know who your victim is. Go back to Jude Serino. Does he have a wife, a family member raising a concern?”
“He’s divorced. Jude Serino doesn’t have any children. Bruno Serino hasn’t returned my calls. Even so, add it up. It’s not rocket science. We have motive, opportunity—a prime location that guaranteed rapid decomposition. Hell, we even know Zeke made the trip east with Jude. What more do you want, a confession from Zeke?”
“As opposed to conjecture? Yes. I might find it more convincing than roadside litter, or a cigarette butt that a bird or the tide could have carried for miles.”
“And I suspect it’s what a good defense attorney will say too.” Levi stuffed the photograph into his jacket pocket and clicked off his phone. “Regardless of your reservations, it’s enough for Dan. He’s started a formal inquiry. His team is in the process of collecting Serino DNA. According to Dan, Bruno Serino is currently abroad—China, then Europe, so it’s a little slow going. While we wait, I’m here to make an informal inquiry. You tell me Zeke doesn’t work for Jude anymore. You never conveyed any details, if it was an amicable parting or something—”
“Something like what?” she said snappishly.
“Something like the specifics surrounding Zeke’s split with Serino Enterprises. Surely he’s discussed it with you.”
Aubrey remained silent. Internally, she was wavering on Zeke’s involvement. Externally, she wasn’t ready to hand Levi information that would sound like a motive—namely Zeke admitting to parting ways with Jude on less-than-good terms. Her chest tightened, but then so did Aubrey’s resolve. Her bond with Zeke was str
onger than circumstantial evidence.
“I’m just asking,” Levi pressed, corralling her attention. “His sudden nonemployee status is a relevant question.” He paused, a note of graciousness. Otherwise, she might find herself the subject of a Levi St John interview. “Aubrey, we can ask him—or somebody like Dan will.”
She started to reply, then stopped. Instead, she picked up her cup and swallowed down cold tea. While Aubrey fought fissures of doubt, she didn’t want Levi to see any of it. “You’re going to feel ridiculous, Levi, when it turns out your John Doe is from the Local 409 Iron Workers Union—or wherever. A person Zeke Dublin’s never even met. That your victim had a gambling debt or drug habit, someone who owed money to the wrong people.” She flailed her arm upward. “Or it could be he’s just a poor schmuck who looked the wrong way at some street punk’s girlfriend and ended up dead in a Maine swamp.”
“I hope so, Aubrey . . . I really hope so.”
“Sure you do.” Her cup made clinking contact with its saucer, her face warming at the prospect of being wrong.
Levi focused on his folded hands. She knew the habit: controlling emotion before replying. “So while you and I are in this really good place,” he said dully, “let me tell you the rest. While Dan works the Serino end of this case, I’ve taken it upon myself to investigate Zeke’s past.”
“You what?”
“I’m checking off the things somebody like Dan will if given enough cause. If it comes to that, nobody on Dan’s team will be looking to exonerate Zeke.”
“And you are?” she said, incredulous. “What did you do, Levi?”
“I called an old . . . friend.”
“Facts. I want specific facts.”
“You said Zeke was from Chicago, right? You know that much about him, before he and his sister joined up with the Heinz-Bodette troupe.”
Aubrey nodded.
“You also told me his parents’ deaths were . . . questionable.”
She reluctantly repeated the gesture.
“A few days ago, I called Genève Renard.”
She laughed. “Should I be surprised you did that, or just that an opportunity to do so took this long?”
He ignored the dig. “Genève is still on staff at the University of Chicago. Since I’m at a distance, and not in a position to fly off to the Midwest, she was agreeable to do some digging for me.”
“What is this, Levi?” This time Aubrey’s hand smacked hard against the table. “Twisted payback for Zeke showing up? Drop a dime to an ex-lover, ask her to check out mine?”
“No. It honestly struck me as a perfectly logical move. Genève knows Chicago inside and out. She has a lot of connections; she knows how to discreetly and thoroughly pursue a background investigation.”
“And she was ecstatic to hear from you, more than happy to help you out.”
“She didn’t turn me down.” He tilted his head at her. “Are you more bothered that I called her or that I asked her to look into Zeke’s past?”
“Neither!” She seethed. “Sorry to disappoint you, Levi, but a phone call to an old flame isn’t going to get a rise out of me.”
“Maybe what she found out will.”
“What’s that?” she said, forcing a tone of total disinterest.
“Newspaper stories that reported the murder-suicide of Zeke’s parents.”
“And?”
“And Genève’s a stellar investigative reporter.”
“So multitalented?”
“In a few phone calls, she managed to get beneath the surface of the story. The trail is old, and the sources weren’t great, but a rumor still runs through Zeke’s old neighborhood. Your footnote about their deaths being retribution was correct. Apparently, there’s suspicion that his parents’ deaths weren’t murder-suicide but retaliation linked to organized crime.”
Aubrey straightened her spine. “I see where you’re going with this. You think your ex-professor slash summer lover stumbled on a five-star motive.” She closed her mouth and stared him down. “Stop looking for a Zeke headline.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Aren’t you? Has your holiday-card-giving ex come up with anything besides ancient rumors? Until she does, we’re done with this conversation!” Aubrey jerked up from the table, slamming her chair into it. The sudden force was enough to send the box of ghost gifts flying forward.
Or was it?
“What the hell?” An always self-possessed Levi leaped up as if he’d seen a ghost.
From the alcove of the dining room, they stared at the aftermath. The leather tie had been loosely fastened. The force of the fall—or throw—caused the lid to open, ghost gifts fluttering like dust bunnies across the hardwood floors.
“Okay,” Aubrey said. “I lost it there for a second. But I didn’t slam the chair that hard. Did I?”
“Not unless you’ve been injecting steroids I don’t know about.”
Aubrey was about to say something else, but the buzzing sound from the box intruded, and she slammed her hands to her ears. “Oww . . . holy . . .” It was ferociously loud.
“Aubrey?” A second later, Levi was by her side, herding her toward the front door. “Outside, now!”
Bent at the waist, Aubrey shook her head and forced herself erect. She pushed away from Levi. “No,” she said to him, shouting, “Knock it off!” in the general direction of the room. The high-pitched buzz ceased on her words. She looked at Levi and stiffened her frame, though her fingers clamped into his forearms. “I put that damn box on notice days ago. It’s not in charge.” Her gaze darted around the room. “Not in my house. Do you hear me? You’re not doing this in my house!”
“You want to fill me in on what’s happening here?”
She continued to glance about, like a swarm of angry insects was buzzing through. “I’m not sure—someone or thing connected to that box. It was like a burst of rage, pent-up frustration. Our escalating argument was not going in the direction it wants.”
“So that was the box’s attempt at counseling?”
“Don’t mock, Levi.” She furrowed her brow. “It took serious energy to move the box like that. I’m sure me slamming the chair into the table helped channel the anger. But you saw it; it was hardly enough force to do that.” She pointed at the fallen letter box and scattered ghost gifts. Just as she did, a hefty breeze rose from the barely open window. It muscled its way through the room, robust enough to lift two papers, separating them from the rest.
Levi looked toward the window and now-still curtain. “Okay, so I won’t even attempt to assign logic to that.” Together, they approached the papers.
“And these.” Aubrey picked up the two pieces of green construction paper. “It’s not just the box. The entity that’s here now, I assume it wants us to focus on these.” Not only were the papers warm, but they vibrated under Aubrey’s touch.
Together, Aubrey and Levi said, “Eli Serino.”
“And it’s not just Eli,” Aubrey said. “These two ghost gifts, we know they’re different from almost everything else—a drawing of Santa Claus, some simple mountains, and the word ‘Springfield.’”
“Wait. Let’s invite some logic into this. What are the common denominators here? What are we overlooking? Green construction paper . . . both pieces torn from the whole sheet. Like you said, different from most everything else in that box.”
“Yet . . .” Aubrey tipped her head at the box. “Somewhat similar to the blue construction paper, the star.” They both turned, looking at Peter Ellis’s box of ghost gifts. The star remained inside, undisturbed. She stared, a wave of yesteryear encroaching on the foreground waves, stick-drawn house, and bright sun with the word spelled out. “Right now, the blue star just feels . . . nostalgic.” Aubrey looked at Levi, the word slipping from her stream of consciousness. “But I’m not getting anything more than that off it.”
“Okay, so let’s stay with the green construction paper for now. Springfield,” he said. “Springfield, Mass—sound
s like a town to me.”
“Could be. But google it. Do you know how many states have a city or town named Springfield? It’s hardly a map.”
“Okay, so it’s an idea.”
“I suppose, but what do green construction paper . . . the possible town of Springfield, somewhere, USA, and these arbitrary drawings lead us to? Moreover, other than a vague connection to Trevor Beane’s brother, what does any of it have to do with Eli Serino?” The bizarre taste of sour green apple and sugary sweetness rose from Aubrey’s palate. “Yuck. What is it with him and that taste?”
“What taste?”
“A sweet-and-sour apple flavor. I’ve been associating it with Eli Serino for a while now. I think it’s gum.”
As the dead boy’s name hit the air, a pinging noise sounded. It came wrapped in a web of déjà vu and rose, distinct and rhythmic. Levi was silent, his gaze pinned to Aubrey. The taste grew strong, and so did a memory. “Levi, you told Piper and Dan the story about us visiting Eli’s house years ago. Do you recall the specific details—other than him scaring the bejesus out of me?”
“Uh-huh,” he answered but didn’t move a muscle. “You mean things like the smashed glass of a French door and a bloody rash around your throat? Pretty tough to forget.”
“And you also know my beliefs about spirits and suicide—people who succeed in the act, ironically, their connection to here remains strong. Their inability to move on is tied to unfinished business.”
“Like Brody.” It came out reverently, Levi referencing his brother. As he spoke, his gaze finally detached from Aubrey, darting around the room.
“Exactly. Brody couldn’t move on until he’d made peace with you. A difficult task, but one we accomplished.” Their gazes met again. “But Eli Serino—he was so troubled, angry, in life and in death. He’s been hovering. We know that.” The pinging sound amplified, like a homing signal telling Aubrey she was on the right path. “I think part of what Eli’s been trying to convey is that his ability to communicate is restricted, maybe by setting.”
“What brings you to that conclusion?”
She pointed to the box. “He just did. Insofar as Eli’s been present, the best way I can describe his manifestation is ‘shadowy.’ At first I thought he was being stubborn, a troublemaker. But now I don’t believe his behavior is intentional; I think it’s stunted.”
Foretold (A Ghost Gifts Novel Book 2) Page 27
