“Can’t right now. Someone tried to kill him.” She grimly informed him.
“What? Okay, I’m on it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, just tell me that he’s all right.”
“For now, he’s doing okay. I need you to keep this quiet.”
“Anything. I’ll have what you need in about a half an hour.”
CC thanked him. She didn’t miss the sound of fear in his voice. She still hadn’t started her car. Instead, she made a series of phone calls. Most led nowhere. Since it was a holiday, the information she desperately needed was on hold. “Stupid Columbus Day,” she snarled and headed home.
Chapter 36
The morning was dismal. The chilly dampness was just what CC would expect for a funeral. She stood by Jamie’s side trying to comfort her. Nothing in their lives made sense at the moment. It was all she could do to keep it together. Somewhere out there somebody was getting a kick out of their misery.
After the services, she cast a glance at Joyce Temple. She hated what she needed to do next. The first was to leave Jamie’s side. She felt a pang of guilt despite Jamie’s reassurance that it was all right.
“I have to get back to the hospital anyway,” she said and sniffed. “I’ve already paid my respects to the family. Jack’s family are being complete jerks to Joyce, just because they were separated when it happened.”
“Grief does have a way of turning people into assholes. Sorry about the language.”
“No worries, it’s the truth. I know you need to talk to them. I’d rather be on the road when you do that.”
“See you tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Be careful and call me later. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
CC paid her respects and carefully asked some questions. She also watched the crowd for anyone who didn’t belong. She hated using a funeral as a way to gather information. She always hoped that she wasn’t adding more grief to an already unbearable situation. When Joyce gave her a quick hug before she left, she felt mildly relieved.
She left the gathering at the cemetery and drove directly to the courthouse. After fighting to find parking, she finally caved in and paid to park in one of the city’s many garages.
After showing her badge in order to explain her firearms, she entered the courthouse. Leigh and a few others were waiting for her.
“The captain told me what happened. How is Max?” Mulligan asked.
“According to Jamie, he’s doing all right.” CC wanted as few people as possible to know about Max. She was still uncertain what she was going to tell Leigh. Not knowing who she should trust disturbed her. Then again, it was naive to think word wouldn’t get out. She took comfort from the fact that Max was tucked away where no one, not even another cop, could get to him.
“Do you know what happened?” Leigh was clearly concerned.
“Not sure yet,” CC hedged. “Deputy Brown, so nice of you to join us.”
“I just need to see Mr. Sharkansky arraigned, then I’ll be on my way.”
There was a hint of disdain lingering in Val’s voice that troubled CC. She could only hope the bitterness had something to do with her kid sister. She quickly excused herself when her phone began to vibrate.
“Talk to me, Wayne.”
“One bottle of Kettle One vodka, purchased by Dr. John J. Temple at Jobo Liquors on Cambridge street, five thirty-five p.m. on September 30. I know this because the good doctor used a credit card. Next, I broke into Max’s Facebook account, which took all of two seconds. The guy uses his badge number as his password. He did receive messages from a person named Bunny Trails. Bunny isn’t one of Max’s Facebook friends. In fact, Bunny has no Facebook friends. The only thing Bunny has done is send Max three messages about a boat that he or she is selling. The e-mail address is one of those free accounts where you can enter anything for your personal information and it goes through.”
“That would explain the name.”
“According to the information I got, the accounts were set up last week. Bunny’s address would place him or her in the middle of the Potomac River. I traced the IPO for the last message. It’s a pay computer located at Logan Airport. The user used a prepaid credit card, the kind any schmuck can pick up at your local supermarket. How is Max?”
“Hanging in there. Can you find out which supermarket our schmuck used?”
“I’m on it and anything else you need.” Wayne ended the call.
CC stared at her phone for a moment, trying to make sense of everything. Realizing that nothing was making sense, she returned to Leigh and Val who had been joined by Trooper McManus.
“They don’t really think Max is dirty?” Leigh said, clearly upset.
“I don’t know.”
“The Globe ran the story that you wanted, the body of an unidentified man discovered in a vacant seaside restaurant.”
“Good, that means Palmucci isn’t being a total idiot.” CC ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to calm herself. “I can see his point.”
“Come on, this is Max.”
“But if it wasn’t,” CC said. “He’s about to retire, his car is found at the track, and he’s found in an abandoned building down the road with drugs in his pocket. I can’t fault Palmucci for thinking he has something. Now let’s prove him wrong. What have you got for me, McManus?”
“Dr. Temple drowned.”
“No kidding.”
“No sign of a struggle. His blood alcohol clocked in at .16, twice the legal limit.”
“Good thing he wasn’t driving.”
“Not very conducive for swimming.” McManus cleared his throat. CC noticed that he seemed nervous. “Also, there were traces of hydrocodone.”
“Which is?”
“Vicodin.”
“Vodka and Vicodin. That can’t be a good mix.”
“According to Niezwicki, it will make you loopy as all hell. Checked the bottle like you asked. According to our guy in the lab, there were traces of vodka.”
“And?” Her brow furrowed. There just had to be more or why else would McManus bother coming to the courthouse?
“Vicodin.” He seemed reluctant to reveal this information “It was in a powder form. Someone crushed it up and added it to the vodka. We ran the bar code, like you suggested.” He referred to his notepad. “It was purchased on the day he died, at Blanchards on Revere Street at five past three. Cash sale, and before you ask, the store tapes automatically rewind after seventy-two hours. The sale has already been taped over. The guy popped a couple of pills and washed them down with vodka and ended up taking a swim. That’s it.”
“Okay.” CC’s jaw clenched. She was unhappy that McManus was ready to dismiss the whole thing as an unfortunate accident. “Let me run a couple of quick questions by you before you finish typing up your report. Would a doctor know not to mix Vicodin and booze?”
“Come on, you’ve seen it, some of them are worse than the junkies.”
“True. Still, why not just take the pills? Why crush them up?” It was clear by the blank look on his face he didn’t have an answer. “Next question, why walk several blocks to buy a bottle of vodka on a cold night when you have an unopened one sitting in your freezer? Before you answer that one, tell me how he bought the bottle when he was still at the hospital, filling in for my wife? What did you find out about the Charlie Card?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s a bit hinky. It’s a special needs card. It has a picture because the user gets a discount on public transportation. Ran the name, picture, and prints. It belongs to June Devlin. She has a long rap sheet, for drugs and prostitution. She lives on Shirley Avenue.”
“A crack-addicted prostitute who lives on Ho’ Row. Isn’t that a shock,” CC said. “How did her stuff get into Jack’s condo? His son was there bright and early that morning to drop off some mail. Mike Temple swears the place was as pristine as ever.”
“She couldn’t have,” McManus stammered before he continued. “
Ms. Devlin was busted outside the Squire on Friday night. She won’t have any money until the third of the month when her disability check comes in, so she couldn’t post bond. Because of the holiday, she wasn’t arraigned until this morning.”
“So you’re telling me Dr. Temple bought a bottle of vodka while he was at work, even though he already had one in his freezer.” CC carefully spelled out everything for McManus’s benefit. “Then he put crushed up painkillers in his vodka, even though it would be easier to just wash the pills down with the vodka. He also had a visit from a working girl who was in jail. Then he strolls down to the beach and passes out in the water. Is that what you think happened? Did you locate his keys?”
“No,” he said. “The keys inside his condo were what you said, car and work. We never found the other set of keys. Why are you so interested in his keys?”
“Because you need a key to lock or unlock the door, and someone locked up that place. Honestly, does any of this sound plausible to you?”
“No.”
“How about this?” CC took a calming breath before continuing. “Jack took his evening stroll, which was his habit. Somewhere along the line we don’t know where or how he had a couple of drinks, unaware the vodka was laced with a little extra something. He was dumped in the water. Drunk and medicated, he drowned. It looks like an accident. His drinking buddy goes back up to his condo and plants the now empty bottle and the lady’s belongings.”
“Why?”
“That I don’t know.”
“If he drank an entire bottle of vodka, his blood alcohol level would be much higher,” Mulligan said astutely. “Add in the Vicodin, and he wouldn’t have been able to walk down the hallway much less to the beach.”
“The only prints on the bottle were his,” McManus tried to argue.
“I have no doubt,” CC said. “The guy who set him and Max up is smart. Cold night on the beach, a person wearing gloves wouldn’t look out of place.”
“Bad luck does seem to follow you around,” Val grimly noted. She jerked her thumb at the doors of the courtroom, alerting everyone that it was time. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend, but the clerk is calling us in.”
CC’s stomach churned. She hated the way things ended. Shark could have had a much different life. The sight of him there in his orange jumpsuit in shackles broke her heart. As kids, they had the same advantages and disadvantages. Her life, after a series of troubles, went one way and his another. She found it strange that as he stood there at the defendant’s table he seemed at peace. The case was announced, and still Shark stood there looking completely serene. “How do you plead?” Judge Dillard asked in a bored tone. Everyone expected the standard “not guilty” everyone offers before allowing the wheels of justice to turn.
“Guilty,” Shark said with a sly smile.
Dillard blinked, clearly surprised. Even the court reporter paused. Dillard flipped through the file and gaped at Shark.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, I did it,” Shark said.
“Because?”
“I didn’t like him.”
“Okay. We can schedule sentencing in—”
“Now works,” Shark said. “Why waste time?”
“Is there a plea bargain in place?” Dillard questioned clearly confused.
“No, Your Honor,” the ADA answered equally befuddled.
“Your Honor.” The weary-looking public defender finally spoke up. “My client, against my advice, has made it clear that he doesn’t wish to waste the court’s time or money.”
“I did it,” Shark repeated. “I heard he was here. I got transferred up here. I made a shank out of my toothbrush. The guards almost found it. They’re very good. This isn’t a reflection on them. I got close to Beaumont, and I stabbed him. Is there anything else you need to know?”
“It’s not even my birthday,” Dillard whispered, apparently astonished by the morning’s events. “The victim?” He turned his attention to the prosecution table.
“Mr. Albert Beaumont was a federal prisoner,” the prosecutor said. “Recently captured by the marshal service for violating his probation in Connecticut.”
“And what was the victim on probation for?”
“Lewd act with a minor,” the ADA explained. “Mr. Beaumont was classified as a level three.”
“I see.” Dillard nodded. “A little jailhouse justice. Mr. Sharkansky, you do know that if I sentence you now, this is it? Based on your record and the nature of the crime, you’re looking at life without the possibility of parole.”
“I know,” Shark responded with a hint of a smile. “It’s okay. I understand that I won’t be getting out.”
“I must say, that in the thirty years I’ve been sitting on this bench, this has never happened before. The court accepts your guilty plea and sentences you to life to be served consecutively with your present jail term.”
“Huh?” Shark turned to his lawyer.
“That means, you start this sentence after you’ve completed the time you are serving for, let’s see, assault and possession with intent to distribute a controlled substance,” Judge Dillard carefully explained.
“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Shark was led out of the courtroom through the side door.
“I don’t believe it,” Val said. “Never saw anyone just say, yeah I did it.”
“Told you.” CC couldn’t help gloating.
“I guess that’s it for me.” Val sighed as they exited the courtroom.
“Wait.” CC couldn’t believe she was trying to keep her there. “What about who helped Beaumont?”
“Aiding and abetting is a big deal,” Val wearily explained. “But as I’ve explained before not listed under the scope of my duties. I just catch them. The agency will assign someone to check into it Detective Calloway, it’s been an adventure.”
“Right,” CC nodded sensing that there was nothing she could say that would change Val’s mind. “I’m guessing next time you’ll just go on vacation.”
“I think I will.”
“Good luck, Deputy.” CC offered her hand. She was pleased when Val reciprocated the offer. She looks like an abandoned puppy, CC couldn’t help noticing. She wondered just what it was Stevie did to the poor woman.
“We need to get to work.” Leigh nudged her.
“We don’t have a case. I should go see Max.”
“That would be a case. I’ll start on the West Coast cases,” Leigh eagerly volunteered. CC was more than happy to give Leigh Brooks’ number. Having another ally might be just the push they needed.
Mulligan said, “I got a call this morning from my friend with the IRS. Your pal Nolan is already being investigated by the Newton Police.”
“Really?”
“A pharmacist in Four Corners tipped off narcotics that he’s been writing far too many prescriptions for oxycodone and other controlled substances.”
“Now we know how he’s maintaining his lifestyle.” CC shook her head with disgust.
“Newton and the IRS are working together. Rumor has it something is going to go down soon.”
“One less headache.” CC was slightly relieved about having Nolan audited. “I’ll see you back at the station.”
“Give Max a hug from me.”
* * *
“Dr. Jameson to see Seymour Butts,” Jamie said after buzzing for entrance to the private ward.
“Seymour Butts?” CC laughed. “Good one.”
“I swear the boss came up with that one. I thought you’d like it. Max is much more responsive. That pushy detective hasn’t been up to see him, yet. I think he’s having trouble getting through to Max’s doctors.”
“Jamie, he needs to talk to him,” CC cautioned.
“And he will,” she said as they entered the ward.
“Thank you.”
“No need.”
“I’m serious, honey.” CC paused just outside of Max’s room. “Having Max stowed away is a big help.”
“I trust you,
” Jamie said. “If you think Max is in danger, I’ll help any way I can. You’re my brass ring. Following your instincts has saved our lives more than once. If you say someone’s in trouble, I believe you.”
“I hate that all of this is coming back to haunt us. I hope that I’m wrong.”
“I wish for that, too.” Jamie’s words were overly cautious for CC’s liking. “But if you’re convinced it’s Fisher, I think we should at least rule him out before making any rash decisions. Go have a chat with Max. I’m sure Shirley could use a break.”
CC flashed her badge to the cop who was sitting outside of the room looking completely bored. She didn’t recognize him; the only thing she noted was that he was a Saugus cop. Palmucci might have had problems getting up to talk to Max, but Jamie had made good on getting an armed guard for his room.
“Hey, knucklehead,” she teased Max after giving Shirley a big hug. “Just what kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?”
“Wish I knew.” He shrugged and rubbed his forehead.
“Shirley, Jamie wants to take you downstairs for lunch,” CC said. “I’ll keep an eye on this Jack wagon.” Once Shirley had made her departure, CC’s smile faded. “Seriously, what happened?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Max rubbed his head again. His pale complexion and agonized expression spoke volumes. “I went to look at a boat. The price was good. Too good to ignore. I figured if it lived up to the hype, Shirley and I could sail it down to Florida. Kind of a second honeymoon.”
“Even though you don’t know how to sail,” she couldn’t refrain from pointing out. “Did you ever talk to the seller on the phone?”
“No, just a couple of messages on my Facebook account.” Max’s voice was strained. He seemed to be struggling. “A guy lost his job and had to sell his boat because he really needed the money. I figure what the hell I’ll take a look.”
“Did Bunny Trails give you any information about who he really was?”
“No the name cracked me up, but people are always coming up with silly shit online.”
“Another reason to stay away from it.”
“I guess he knew I was looking for a boat because I’ve talked about it a lot on my wall.”
Checkmate (Caitlin Calloway Mystery Book 2) Page 33
