by Shawn Wilson
“Yeah.”
“Well—what you and the other guys might not know—he was about to withdraw his guilty plea.” Brick waited for Eric to respond. For a moment he thought his call had been dropped.
“Are you shitting me?” Eric asked.
“Check the court docket. The hearing was set in front of Judge Newton.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he kill himself before the hearing?”
“That’s one of the things I’m trying to figure out. The other, why did he plead guilty in the first place?”
“Hey, did you forget—you’re retired. If I were you, I’d take up golf or fishing.”
Brick laughed. “Maybe I will after—”
“Yeah, yeah … I know.”
“I figured you’d understand,” Brick said. Listen, would you be willing to do a little brainstorming with me?”
“Sure. I’d suggest getting together tonight, but I’m beat. How about tomorrow, around noon?”
“That works. Is Boland’s okay?”
“Absolutely. You can buy me a beer.”
“Deal.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
BRICK PICKED UP his pint of Guinness and took a sip. “Before I forget, Rory, here you go.” He slid the Nationals tickets across the bar.
Rory took one. “That’s all I need.”
“You and Kelly are still on the outs?”
Rory nodded. “You might say that—which is more than she’s saying to me.”
“The old silent treatment?”
“Yeah.”
“Give it time.” Brick picked up the other ticket wishing he’d be using it himself. “Eric’s meeting me here. I’ll see if he wants it.” Brick glanced at his watch. “Guess he’s running late.”
“If he doesn’t, I can try to sell it outside the park.” Rory wiped down the section of bar in front of Brick. “Do you want to go ahead and get some food?”
“Might as well. I’ll take an order of sliders with cheese.”
It was now half-past noon. Brick was about to check his phone for text messages when he saw Eric rush by the window. He stepped inside and looked around before glancing in Brick’s direction.
Eric pulled off his sunglasses and dropped them on the bar. “Sorry I’m late. I was taking my time, thinking I’d be early until I realized the clock was wrong. Guess the power was out last night, but not during the storm, sometime after it.”
“No problem. Rory said the lights flickered here a couple of times, but at my place, the power was out for several hours. Same street, two blocks south, you’d think we’d be on the same grid, but it’s D.C.”
“Yeah, there’s no rhyme or reason to the infrastructure. Remember when the manhole covers were exploding like popcorn? No one seemed to notice until one blew in Georgetown. Then it was national news. Tells you who rates.”
Brick agreed. “Several years ago, a cabdriver from somewhere in Africa told me he felt right at home here because D.C. is run like a third-world country. At the time, I thought he was crazy, but the more I thought about it, I realized it was dead on.”
Eric shrugged. “The whole country’s becoming the haves and have-nots.”
“I’m afraid you’re right, but at least we’ve got baseball.” Brick picked up the ticket. “It’s for tonight’s game, but I can’t use it. It’s yours if you want it.”
“It’s the Yankees—are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Brick sighed. “Only one drawback …”
“Obstructed view?”
“No.” Brick laughed. “You’ll be sitting next to Rory. I gave him the other one.”
“I think I can handle that. It’s none of my business, but I can’t believe you’re not going.”
“I can’t believe it, either.” Rory joined in the conversation. He leaned on the bar, positioning himself between the two men. “I don’t know but I think our man here is holding out on us. Got an invite to the White House for feck’s sake?”
“Something like that.”
“Really?”
“No, the ballet.”
Rory laughed. “Like I really believe that.”
“It’s the truth.”
Rory shook his head. “C’mon, you’re passing up a chance to see Mariano Rivera … the Sandman … maybe the greatest closer of all time … for the feckin’ ballet?”
“Promised a friend—just happens to be the same night.” Brick picked up his Guinness and took a drink.
“Friend? It better be a friend with benefits, some really good benefits.” Rory turned in Eric’s direction. “What can I get you?”
“How about his date to the ballet? Think I’d like to meet this woman.”
“You and me both, but afraid I can’t arrange that.”
“Then I’ll have a Harp and a corned beef sandwich.”
Rory stepped over to the taps and filled a glass for Eric. He set it in front of him before turning back to Brick. “I bet it’s the blond. I’ve seen you leave with her a few times.”
“Tracy? No, in fact, she’s getting married soon … to another woman.”
“Holy jaysus!” Rory jumped back from the bar as if it had suddenly been electrified. “And all this time, I figured you two were—”
“Don’t know why you’re so interested in my social life.”
“Well, it’s not like I’ve got much going on in my own. I was living vicariously there for a minute, then you throw me a curveball. Kind of like Mariano—who you’re not going to see tonight.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Brick said. “All right, I’ll say this once so we can end this conversation. I am going to the Kennedy Center with a woman named Lily Nguyen. You don’t know her, but if you did, you would understand.”
“Lily Nguyen, the defense attorney?” Eric asked.
“Yes.”
Eric nodded. “Ah, now it all makes sense to me.”
“Not me,” Rory said. “On a scale of one to ten—?”
“Twelve.” Brick couldn’t help smiling as he said that. “And now, Rory,” Brick continued, “if you’re satisfied, could you check on the sliders I ordered?”
“Will do.” Rory turned and headed toward the kitchen.
Brick shook his head. “I don’t know what’s up with him.”
“Personally, I don’t care why you can’t use the tickets, I’m glad to have one. The game’s sold out, and the scalpers will be cashing in big-time.” Eric took a sip of beer. “How’s Nguyen reacting to Cruz’s death?”
“I haven’t talked to her today, but yesterday she was devastated. She was expecting a ruling on a motion to withdraw his guilty plea then finds out her client is dead. That’s tough.”
“I’m sure. But does she really think he’s innocent?”
“We all know Cruz isn’t a choirboy, but given what we’ve found, there’s reason to believe he’s innocent, at least as far as the Delgado murders.” Brick took a sip of Guinness and wiped the foam from his upper lip with the back of his hand. “We think he pled, not because he did it, but because he was being coerced.”
“Not sure I follow you,” Eric said.
“Looking back, I think the investigation went off the rails pretty much from the start.”
“Sliders with cheese.” Rory set a plate of three mini-burgers in front of Brick. “Need some ketchup?”
“Yes.”
Rory grabbed a bottle of ketchup from the shelf under the bar and handed it to Brick.
“Thanks.” Brick glanced at Rory’s hand and noticed a couple of nasty scratches. “What happened to your hand?”
Rory quickly dropped his hand down by his side. “I don’t know … I guess it’s courtesy of Elvis.”
Brick picked up one of the sliders. “You need to clip her claws.”
“I’ll make sure I do that in all my spare time.”
“Better than getting scratched like that. Watch that it doesn’t get infected.” Brick could tell he’d pushed one of Rory’s buttons. That wasn’t his intent.
“If you have a pair of nail clippers around here, I’ll take care of it.”
“Check the drawers in Eamonn’s desk. There’s probably one from a beer company—some of the trinkets and trash promotion shite they give us.” Rory yawned. “Think it’s time for my second Red Bull. Maybe, my third—who’s counting.”
Brick took a bite out of the slider. “Where’s Elvis?”
Rory shrugged. “Last time I saw her, she was sleeping on Eamonn’s desk.” He glanced back toward the kitchen. “Eric, I’ll go check on your sandwich.”
“No rush, I’m going out back for a smoke.”
“Thought you were going to quit,” Brick said.
Eric smiled sheepishly. “I am … just not today.”
Brick polished off the third slider and washed it down with the last swig of his Guinness before heading to Eamonn’s office.
“Adding pet groomer to your resume?” Eric asked when Brick passed him at the end of the bar.
“Maybe I should—might make me more marketable.”
Brick opened the door to Eamonn’s office slowly. Elvis wasn’t asleep on the desk. Instead, she was at the door ready to dart out if given the chance. He scooped her up and closed the door behind him.
“Good girl, Elvis.” Brick set her down on top of Eamonn’s desk and stroked the cat’s back. The cat responded with a couple of head butts and one very loud meow. “Glad you’re in a good mood.” He pressed on her right front paw to expose her claws. To Brick’s surprise, the cat’s front claws on both paws had been removed. He checked her back paws. Those were intact and in need of trimming, but it was unlikely they were responsible for the scratches on Rory’s hand. Then again, maybe it was possible, considering Elvis’s contortions.
With one hand, he held her securely as he opened the middle drawer. Next to a small box of Band-Aids were some paper clips, a couple of ballpoint pens, loose change, and Post-it notes but no nail clippers. Brick felt uncomfortable going through Eamonn’s desk, but he was determined to make good on his offer. He pulled open another drawer. A stack of invoices filled most of the space, but something wedged in the corner caught his eye. He bent down to get a closer look and recoiled at what he saw.
A taser. Why would Eamonn have a taser? In all the years Brick had known him, he never heard Eamonn express any concerns about his safety. So, if it didn’t belong to him, in all probability, it belonged to Rory. Brick needed to think clearly, but disjointed images and thoughts collided in his brain. Was it possible this was the taser that caused the bruise on Maria’s hip? If so, it could only mean one thing—Jose and Maria’s killer had been hiding in plain sight all along.
“How’s it going in there?”
Brick was startled to see Rory standing in the doorway. He banged his knee as he slid the drawer closed. Brick struggled to keep his voice steady. “Not so good, I … I couldn’t find the clippers, but Elvis has agreed to pick on someone else.”
Rory turned and walked away.
Brick reopened the drawer. He regretted not having a pair of the latex gloves he always carried when he was on the job. He wanted to get the serial number of the taser but couldn’t risk messing up any existing fingerprints. Instead, he had to settle for a quick photo. He checked the image on his phone before slipping it back into his pocket. It wasn’t great, but he could see the make and model. That was better than nothing. Brick closed the door to Eamonn’s office and went back to his place at the bar.
“Find what you were looking for?” Eric asked.
“What?” Brick realized Eric had spoken to him, but his mind was elsewhere.
“Asked if you found the clippers.”
“No.” Brick wanted to tell Eric about the taser, but now was neither the time nor place. There were too many things to confirm and for that he would need help from Ron, which might take some time. Instead he signaled to Rory.
“Another Guinness?” Rory asked.
“Just the check, I need to get going.”
“Thanks for the ticket.” Eric picked up a napkin and wiped some mustard from his hand before extending it in Brick’s direction.
“Enjoy the ballet.” Rory handed Brick the check while attempting a pirouette that nearly sent him crashing into a case of Jameson.
Brick wasn’t amused. He left a ten and a couple of ones on the bar.
CHAPTER FORTY
IT WASN’T THE first time Brick barely remembered leaving Boland’s, but the other times he’d had more than one Guinness. He climbed the stairs to his apartment, slid his key into the lock, and opened the door. With thoughts of Rory’s possible involvement in the Delgado murders, his brain was in overdrive. Why had Rory allowed him to check Eamonn’s desk, knowing he might find the taser? Carelessness? Or did he want to get caught? Brick reached for his phone to take another look at the image of the taser but saw a text message from Ron.
“One of each. All doing fine. Catching some zzzzzs.”
A boy and a girl—exactly what Ron had prayed for. A fleeting smile crossed Brick’s lips as he looked at the texted photo of the two babies. As much as he wanted his ex-partner’s insight, he couldn’t disturb him now. Instead, he grabbed a pad of paper and sat down at the table. For several minutes he stared at the blank page, thinking back to the day he discovered Jose’s body. He tried to recall the details of the conversation he’d had with Rory. He remembered Rory saying he’d been away for the weekend and that was why he was just finding out Jose hadn’t shown up for work for a couple of days. If it was true, Rory had an alibi that should be easy to verify. But if he was lying, all the calls and text messages were nothing more than a ruse. One Brick bought into like a sucker for a Ponzi scheme. Was Rory so calculating he went to Jose’s building, knowing what he would find like a killer joining a search party after he had dumped the victim’s body?
It was possible Rory was leading a double life and the question gnawing at Brick was why hadn’t he suspected him before now? He knew the answer even though he hated to admit it. He was too close to the investigation to be objective. He didn’t think so at the time, but the old cliché of hindsight being 20-20 couldn’t be more applicable. And had he not been so blind to the possibility of Rory’s culpability, a young woman in Arlington might still be alive. To Brick’s way of thinking, he might never be able to adequately atone for his mistakes, but for now, he couldn’t waste time wallowing in regret. He owed it to the victims to find the truth even if it meant implicating Rory.
Brick closed his eyes and tried to visualize what may have happened inside Jose’s apartment. Rory’s connection to Jose was obvious and that, no doubt, connected him to Maria. But how did Cruz figure into the equation? And if Rory was armed with a taser, why did he bludgeon Jose with a towel bar he ripped off the wall? Brick was convinced the taser was used on Maria, but was that before or after attacking Jose? Which one of them was his primary target?
Hurriedly, Brick wrote down the questions as they occurred to him. Despite his best effort, it was still hard for him to picture Rory committing two, maybe three, murders. What could have triggered him to act in a way that seemed so out of character? Ask anyone who frequented Boland’s and there would be agreement regarding Rory. With his Irish accent and gift of gab, he was a charmer. But then, according to people who knew him, so was Ted Bundy.
* * *
Brick stood in front of his closet staring at his collection of ties hanging on the rack, but his thoughts weren’t about which tie to select. All the unanswered questions surrounding Rory dominated Brick’s focus. Bringing Lily up-to-date wouldn’t exactly be typical Saturday night dinner-date conversation, but might as well get it out of the way over dinner and hopefully they’d be doing a dance of their own after the ballet. Brick grabbed a maroon and navy striped tie and closed the closet door.
Before leaving his apartment, he did a quick personal inventory. Teeth brushed, hair combed, tie knotted, and fly zipped. He disconnected his cellphone from its charger and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
; It was just after five p.m. He had plenty of time to walk to Lily’s place. From there, they could catch a cab to Foggy Bottom and grab a quick dinner before heading to the Kennedy Center. The cool April air was refreshing and Brick welcomed the exercise, both physically and mentally. From experience he knew that the best way to find answers was to take a break from thinking about the questions. He hoped his strategy would work this time.
“We have the walk light.”
Brick turned to his left and saw an elderly woman, stooped and leaning heavily on a cane.
“Excuse me?”
“The light—it says ‘walk.’”
“You’re right.” Brick deliberately matched her pace to ensure she crossed safely. They made it to the other side as the seconds counted down to zero.
“Have a good night,” she said and smiled warmly.
“Thanks.” Brick returned the smile. “You do the same.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
Brick watched as she continued on her way halfway down the block before disappearing inside an elegant vintage apartment building. There was something about the woman’s demeanor that reminded Brick of Eamonn. Through him, Brick’s perspective on aging had changed over the years. What was the Irish proverb he often quoted? Brick thought for a moment before recalling the words: “Don’t regret growing older; many are denied the privilege.” It was heartbreakingly true. Brick knew more than his share who had been denied; Jose was just the most recent. And learning Rory was responsible would break Eamonn’s heart.
Try as he might, Brick couldn’t turn off his thoughts. Now that he was within sight of Lily’s building, he’d have someone to bounce his ideas off of. He stepped up his pace and turned onto 17th Street.
Before climbing the steps to the building, Brick paused for a moment. The sweet scent of lilacs filled the air. He breathed deeply. Lilacs were his mother’s favorite flower. He headed up the steps and entered Lily’s security code on the intercom keypad. He reached for the door handle, bracing himself for the deafening squawk of the buzzer.
It was the last sound he remembered hearing.
