“Nah,” Seth said.
“We didn’t call you Magic O’Malley for nothing,” McGinty smiled, coughed, and closed his eyes again. His face took on a blueish cast. He waved his hand. “You can play.”
“I’d rather talk,” Seth said.
“Heard you had some hot, young girlfriend,” McGinty opened his eyes to wiggle his eyebrows.
“She’s taking a break from being my girlfriend,” Seth said. “I wore her out.”
McGinty coughed a laugh.
“Her name is Amelie,” Seth said.
“Same as that song we used to hum when we were chasing VC in those damned tunnels?” McGinty chuckled.
“She’s named after the song.”
“I heard that song once when I was on an elevator,” McGinty said. “No offense, but I had to get off the elevator. That song, in a small space? Brought too much back.”
Seth waited. Eventually, McGinty would get to the point.
“I’m running out of time, Seth,” McGinty said. “I know I’ve only got a few months left. I can feel it in my bones.”
McGinty nodded to Seth.
“I like that you don’t try to talk me out of it,” McGinty smiled. “You’re a good friend.”
“Just seen it before,” Seth said.
“We’ve seen a lot of death, you and I,” McGinty said. “How many years did you work homicide?”
“Fifteen?” Seth shrugged.
“That’s right,” McGinty said. “You and Mitch did a tour in Vice. You really out?”
“I’m on contract to the new chief, but I haven’t started yet.”
“Sounds cushy,” McGinty said. “When you s’posed to start?”
“Why?” Seth gave McGinty a hard look. “While I appreciate the old man routine, and I know you’re sick, I’ve known you, Harry McGinty, for a long, long time. You’ve never made a social call in your life. Why are you here?”
McGinty smirked and Seth chuckled.
“There are two things I’d like to do before I die,” McGinty said. “I’d like to take Mary Ann on that cruise to Greece. You know, I promised I’d take her to Greece when we got married thirty-five years ago? Never did. I made the reservation on Monday. We’re going at the end of the month.”
“And the other thing?” Seth asked.
“I have this . . .”
“Case I’d like to solve,” Seth said with him. “Of course.”
McGinty smiled.
“Every old detective has a case he couldn’t solve,” Seth said. “They’re like bones we can’t stop chewing on.”
“You still have one?” McGinty asked. “Heard you just solved that Saint Jude thing.”
Seth nodded.
“Then you’re bone free,” McGinty said. “Old dog like you, you need a solid, unsolved case between your teeth to get the juices flowing again. And this is a doozy.”
Seth smiled at the image, and his old friend laughed. His laugh became a cough. Seth got up to get him a glass of water.
“I wouldn’t say no to some of that sixty-year-old Scotch you keep down here,” McGinty gasped through breaths. “You pour, and I’ll talk.”
“Deal.” Seth got up from the piano bench and went to the bar. He poured McGinty a few fingers of Scotch. “Ice?”
“Sure,” McGinty said.
Seth got ice and a bottle of water from the small refrigerator he’d installed under the bar and brought McGinty the drink. He sat on the piano bench and watched his friend drink down the Scotch. When his glass was empty, Seth got the bottle.
“I forgot that you’re trying to use up your father’s Scotch,” McGinty said.
“I still have more than a case,” Seth said.
“It’s good Scotch,” McGinty smiled
“You were going to tell . . .”
“Yes, yes,” McGinty waved at Seth’s impatience. “Why waste time with pleasantries when there’s a murder on the line?”
Seth smiled.
“It’s simple,” McGinty said. “That’s why.”
“Simple, unsolved, and a doozy?”
“That’s right,” McGinty said.
“What is it?”
“Four individuals were killed in the summer of 1994 in Minneapolis. I’d just made sergeant and had a couple kids working under me. It was . . . a good year. But any year before this . . .” McGinty gestured to the portable oxygen tank. “ . . . was a good year.”
“Why ‘individuals’?” Seth asked.
“I knew you’d catch that,” McGinty said. “Two men; two women – one old; two middle aged; one young. Killed on different days of the week, in different areas of the city, with different weapons – knife, couple handguns; shotgun; but . . .”
“No M.O.,” Seth took a battered manila folder from McGinty’s outstretched hand.
“No,” McGinty said. “At least one of these is considered solved. This guy, Frank Kolar. They charged the wife because she wanted a divorce and he wouldn’t give it to her. There was some question of money missing from their account six or seven months prior to this incident. Her defense lawyer said he spent it on hookers and beer.”
McGinty nodded.
“And?” Seth asked.
“She got off,” McGinty said.
“And you don’t think she did it?”
McGinty shook his head. Seth waited through a long, pregnant pause.
“Okay,” McGinty said. “You’re going to get there soon enough.”
“Get where?”
“There’s no link between these murders,” McGinty said. “Or these.”
He took a folder out of the inside pocket of his jacket and held it out. Seth took the folder and opened it.
“Four more murders,” Seth said. “Omaha.”
“Kansas City,” McGinty threw another folder onto the sofa. “Jefferson City. Bismarck has five.”
“Any more?” Seth looked to see what else McGinty was carrying.
“Not that I’ve found,” McGinty shook his head. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if there were more, a lot more.”
“Why do you think these . . . are related?”
“Feeling,” McGinty said. “That summer – 1994 – I couldn’t shake the feeling they were related. Summer after? Omaha – four murders. You remember in those days, we didn’t have the computers like we have now.”
“And Omaha PD?”
“They charged a guy with a couple, but nothing stuck,” McGinty said. “They got somebody in Jefferson City.”
“But you don’t think he did it?”
“He didn’t do it,” McGinty said.
“Serial killer?”
“Murder-for-hire,” McGinty nodded. “That’s what I think. Kill a few in a city every summer and move on. Those smart FBI profilers can’t see the connection, but to me? It’s plain as day.”
“The Kolar wife is guilty,” Seth said.
“Or the husband,” McGinty said. “He could have changed his mind. She said he came home in a rush that day and wouldn’t leave her side.”
“He got in the way,” Seth said.
“Most people think I’m nuts,” McGinty said.
“I know you’re nuts,” Seth said.
“Ain’t that the truth?” McGinty’s smile looked happy and worn, like a Jack O’Lantern that had dried out in the hot sun.
“But never about murder,” Seth said.
“I was a good detective,” McGinty said.
“You remember that day we were supposed to go down in Cu Chi and you said . . .”
“It’s not a good day to be a rat.” Remembering the young man he’d been, McGinty brightened. He sat up a little straighter. “You and Mitch were just kids. What were you. Sixteen?”
“Seventeen,” Seth said. “You saved our lives.”
“Was a long time ago,” McGinty shrugged.
“Did you ever put a computer on this?” Seth asked.
“I found the other cases, if that’s what you mean,” McGinty said.
“But never put all the facts in
a computer to see what came up,” Seth said.
McGinty shook his head.
“What else should I know?” Seth asked.
“You mean you’ll take a look at this?” McGinty asked.
“Of course,” Seth nodded.
“Why?” McGinty chuckled.
“Because you deserve to die in peace,” Seth smiled. “Plus, it gives me something to do.”
“While your hot girlfriend is on a break?” McGinty asked.
Seth smiled.
“Come on,” Seth said. “Let’s get some rellenos.”
Seth helped his old friend to his feet, and they made their way to the elevator.
“You’ll keep me in the loop?” McGinty asked.
“When do you head back?” Seth asked.
“We’re vacationing in Crested Butte for a week,” McGinty said. “Mary Ann’s at the art museum this morning.”
“Do you have email?” Seth asked.
“Mary Ann does,” McGinty said. “She’s on that thing every day.”
“Phone?”
McGinty nodded.
“Landline?”
“You mean one of those portable cancer causers?” McGinty asked. “No thank you. I prefer to get my cancer the good old-fashioned way – fighting for Uncle Sam.”
He smiled and Seth chuckled.
“How ‘bout this? I’ll call you every evening,” Seth said. “Until your cruise.”
“You think you can solve this by the end of the month?”
“I can try.”
McGinty nodded and they got on the elevator. They rose to the first floor before McGinty said, “I sure hope you do.”
“Why?” Seth asked. “Why this case?”
“The guy gets away with it,” McGinty said. “Twenty, thirty, fifty . . . a hundred murders. He kills and walks away. Every time. He walks away. It . . . pisses me off.”
As if on cue, the elevator doors opened to the first floor.
“It’s about time,” Maresol yelled from the kitchen. “Your rellenos are getting cold.”
Seth nodded to McGinty and followed him out of the elevator.
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The Tax Assassin is available in eBook
and paperback everywhere you purchase books.
Claudia Hall Christian
Claudia Hall Christian writes page-turning fiction that is bright, funny, and highly memorable. Her life “why” is to shine the light on the beauty and strength that lies within every human being regardless of their struggles in life. Her characters shake up the darkness as they use their own trauma to influence their world positively. Claudia’s highly entertaining work inspires readers to become their best selves. She calls her work great stories about good people caught in difficult time.
Claudia is the author of the Alex the Fey thriller series, the longest running serial fiction the Denver Cereal, the Seth and Ava Mysteries, as well as the Queen of Cool, Suffer a Witch, and the Case Book of Abee Normal, Paranormal Investigations.
When Claudia is not writing, you can usually find Claudia with her bees, her husband, her two Plott Hounds, or on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest.
For more information about Claudia, go to ClaudiaHallChristian.com
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You can find Seth and Ava on Facebook at: Facebook.com/SethandAvaMysteries
Seth shares his Twitter account with Ava at : Twitter.com/SethOMalley
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Many of the characters in the Seth and Ava Mysteries also appear in the Denver Cereal, sweet and crunchy serial fiction. You can get a free copy of the Denver Cereal, Volume 1, everywhere you purchase e-Books.
We expect to publish ten novellas about Ava’s adventures solving cold cases in rural Colorado.
Little Girl Blue, a Seth and Ava Mystery Page 11
