‘The place looks good,’ he said.
‘It should,’ Karen replied. ‘You designed it for me. It’s good to know someone in the family has taste. Want a drink?’
He watched Mother wince.
‘Why not, it’s five o’clock somewhere,’ he said.
‘Good boy. I hate to drink alone.’ She snorted and started to cough. ‘Who am I kidding, I love to drink, alone or with someone. Doesn’t matter.’
‘It’s a little early, Mother,’ Leona said.
Karen headed towards the sideboard and parroted Leona. ‘It’s a little early, Mother. It’s a little early, Mother.’ She looked to Dalton, ‘Bourbon, right?’
‘Sure.’ He ignored Leona’s glare. She wanted me here. This could be fun, and maybe I will learn something new … something useful. And Grandma Karen could do what he couldn’t, push Leona’s buttons.
‘Mother,’ Leona said through a clenched jaw, ‘how have you been?’
Karen’s hands shook as she poured generous tumblers for her and Dalton. ‘Leona, do you need to ask? You stick me in this hell-hole and expect me to be what … grateful? We both know why you did it. You don’t want anyone to know where the great Leona Lang came from.’
‘That’s not true, I just want to make sure that you’re safe and—’
‘Cut the crap, dear. No reporters here. We’re family. And as far as I know, I’m the only real family you have. And Dalton, you be careful of those Langs. They’ll rip you and Leona to shreds in a heartbeat.’
‘I am aware,’ he said as he took the bourbon, and tried to remember if last month her shakes had been this bad. ‘Beware the cousins,’ he grinned.
‘True,’ Leona said. ‘But as long as the balance sheet is in the black and the shareholders get their twice-annual dividends, they can’t touch me.’
Dalton peeked down the hall to Grandma’s bedroom. The door was open and he saw the unmade bed and mounds of clothes on the floor. Not good. From there he meandered to the galley kitchen. The sink held a few dirty dishes and the fridge was well stocked with the easy-to-prepare foods Grandma liked. Though he knew she drank most of her calories.
‘I’m sure you’re being careful,’ Karen said to her daughter. ‘That is your special power. Especially now that your looks are in the crapper.’
Direct hit, Dalton thought. Wondering how many times in the space of their visit Leona and Karen would jab each other. This is why she wants me here. Fine. I’ll be her shield … for now. ‘Grandma, I don’t get it. This place is pretty lux. Is there something else you want?’
‘Ah sweetie,’ Karen sank onto the sofa. ‘Give me liberty or give me death. This place sucks. There’s nothing to do. No one worth doing it with.’
‘There’s no bar. That’s what you’re saying, Mother.’
‘Well, now that you mention it, the only thing that halfway passes as a club, is the lounge in the member’s hall. I won’t bore you with the details. The music sucks, and no available men under eighty. Should I continue?’
‘Call an Uber?’ Dalton suggested.
‘Been there, done that. It’s this town. It’s—’
‘Give it a rest, Mother. You’re over seventy. It’s a miracle you’re still alive, and we both know why you’re upset.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Dalton could almost read his mother’s thoughts. Would she pursue the topic or not? He sipped bourbon and waited.
‘Men, Mother. There are no random men here. That’s what this is about. And frankly, whether here or back in Boston, who’s going to want to take a hag like you to bed? If my looks are in the crapper, and thank you so much for saying that, have you checked a mirror lately? Have you ever considered that there might be other things you could do to occupy your time? This place is filled with activities and theatre trips to Manhattan.’
‘And that,’ Karen said with a rise to her voice, ‘would be a better place for me. Why can’t you get me some swanky apartment in the city? Tons of suitable activities for an old hag like me.’ She winked at Dalton.
‘Not an option, Mother.’
‘Yes, and what Leona says, goes. That’s how it’s always been.’ Karen swigged back her drink, braced against the sofa arm, and propelled herself up towards the sideboard.
‘No, Mother.’ Leona’s face grew red. ‘That is not how it’s always been. And everything I’ve achieved has been through my efforts. Nothing, absolutely nothing came from you. At least nothing good.’
‘Hah!’ Karen turned. ‘Your looks. You got those from me. But beauty fades.’
‘True and the drunken Swede you took to bed … and can’t even remember his name. And growing up, all the questions. Who’s your father, Leona? What does he do? No idea. No fucking idea.’
‘Oh boo hoo. Poor Leona. Here comes the pity parade. It’s not like things have gone so wrong for you. Did you ever wonder how maybe I had something to do with that?’
Dalton finished his drink and wondered about a second. But his current buzz was pleasant, and the drama was too rich to derail. He knew his mother. While she appeared in control, the twitch in her jaw foreshadowed an eruption.
‘In certain lights,’ Leona said, ‘I do owe you. For not having clean school clothes. For coming home and finding you passed out on the couch, and the time you burned down our apartment with a cigarette smoldering in your bed. You made me lie to the fire marshal and police that I caused it. That I was playing with matches. You were a fabulous mother. And let’s not forget the men. The uncles who’d hang around for a few days. And they’d look at me. I was eight the first time one of those bastards touched me. And where were you? Too drunk to stop it. Too drunk to care. Too drunk to give a shit about your only child.’
‘Lies. You make stuff up. You always did that. Always told lies. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve this treatment. I’m an old woman, locked away by a daughter who doesn’t care. I was a good mother, Leona. Lots of people have worse. I had worse.’
‘Fine. I’ll put that on your tombstone. Here lies Karen Krawsinska, there were worse mothers.’ She shook her head. ‘Why do I even bother. I’m glad to see you’re doing well. I’m sorry you’re unhappy with your one-point-five-million-dollar prison, but no, there will be no Manhattan apartment. And here’s the thing, Mother, everything you have hinges on your discretion. Should I find that you’ve done anything to disparage me, or should you again give an interview, this prison will be gone. No condo, no housekeepers, no weekly booze and cigarette delivery. So take some Ubers and see if you can get laid. I’m beyond caring, and no, none of the hell you put me through as a child was a lie. I remember it all. And I wish I didn’t.’ She turned to Dalton. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘Sure.’ He put his tumbler into the sink and walked to his grandmother. He kissed her on the cheek. ‘You be good,’ he said.
‘I always am. Visit me without her. We didn’t even get a chance to talk about your latest video. It’s wonderful, baby. You should pursue your music full time. You have a talent. It’s a pity to waste it.’
‘I love you, Grandma.’
‘Love you, too, baby boy.’
‘Dalton,’ Leona said. ‘Let’s go.’
He rolled his eyes.
‘Do it,’ Karen urged.
‘She hates it when I do.’
‘I know. Do it for me.’ Karen smiled, he saw a glint in her eyes.
He glanced at his mother who clearly wanted out. He lowered his voice, and in a pitch-perfect imitation of Leona Lang whispered, ‘Dalton, let’s go.’
Karen grinned and clapped her hands. ‘Love it. Love you.’ And she gave him a second sloppy kiss.
‘Got to go,’ he said, still in Leona’s voice.
She beamed at him, but as the screen door shut behind her she shouted, ‘Whatever Leona wants, Leona gets.’
EIGHT
Frank’s head spun with what ifs, on a Friday that seemed like it had no beginning or end. And now, here he was, seated on a sta
inless-steel workbench in the Brookline PD’s forensic IT lab next to Brody who three hours back had turned into Sean. But why am I really here? I can’t go to jail. I can’t get locked up. Not again.
He’d been asked to help unlock Jackson’s computer and to serve as a technical consultant on its scientific contents. But why am I really here?
Gabe, the balding computer guy, had started with the admission. ‘We haven’t made it past the log-in screen. Any chance you know his pass code?’
‘It’s HarveyKillsJackson,’ and Bingo, the screen booted up with Jackson’s last words, an email to him, with an ultimatum, and a motive for Frank to murder his mentor front and center for all to read.
Dear Frank:
It pains me to be your stumbling block. Yet, through the lens of my decades I see what you cannot or will not. Your research has ramifications far beyond your purely altruistic aims. Yes, I believe you could save those children. But at what cost? That’s the rub and until you can address it in a manner that assuages my concerns I see us and you at a crucial point. For me to continue to offer my support I would like you to consider formally terminating your current research. Perhaps develop a new project that focuses on one of the many rich and related topics. I believe for someone as brilliant as you, this should not be difficult. However, should you not decide to terminate your current efforts
‘This was the fight you’d told me about,’ Sean, then still Detective Brody, had said.
‘Yeah. Either I switched up my work, found a new sponsor, or packed my bags.’
‘No idea being an egghead was so hard,’ Detective Brody said with a smile.
‘He never finished it.’
‘It helps confirms the time of death, not long after you left.’
‘This is interesting,’ Gabe said.
‘What?’ Sean asked.
‘About a third of the emails in his history came from dark web servers.’
‘Then I’m surprised they’re still there,’ Frank said, finding it hard to breathe. ‘They delete themselves after they’re read.’
‘You know about this stuff?’ Gabe asked.
‘Jackson was obsessed with privacy. I’m surprised he hung onto these.’
‘Who’s Blue E?’ Sean asked, as he leaned into the screen. His shoulder brushed Frank’s.
‘No clue,’ Frank said, but what was on the screen raised strange possibilities. Not so much from the content, which was about manipulating DNA in live organisms – essentially his work – but how it was signed by Jackson. ‘Yours always.’
‘Here’s another one from … I’m assuming a her. February of this year. Is she talking about you?’ Sean asked.
Frank read the brief message.
J –
Theory is wonderful, but at some point becomes masturbatory. When Dr G progresses off the page and into the lab, or more importantly, into the nucleus, then we’ve moved forward. Has this happened? Will this happen? My inquiring mind wants to know.
Blue E
‘He had a girlfriend?’ Sean asked.
‘No. At least, not that I knew of. He was married and widowed.’
‘And you knew him well.’
‘I thought I did.’
‘Thing about homicide,’ Sean said, ‘turns out a lot of the time people aren’t who we thought they were.’
Now, three hours later and slogging through hundreds of emails, Frank wondered, Why aren’t I a suspect? Or I am, and this is how they do it? Soften me up with beautiful hazel eyes, and a wonderful smile … and he’s smart, and funny, and great. I’m crushing on the guy who’s about to arrest me. And sitting so close made it impossible to avoid shoulder grazes, and the accidental bump of feet or knees below the table.
‘Earth to Doctor Frank,’ Sean said.
‘Am I a suspect?’ He blurted. ‘Is that why I’m here?’
‘No. You’re not,’ Sean said. He paused and met Frank’s gaze.
Frank didn’t flinch or blink. He was confused, from the tingle in his toes to the whirl in his gut, to the hammer of his pulse in his ears. What is going on? I think I might puke. So uncool. And that’s what you’re worried about?
‘I’ve not told you everything. I can’t and probably shouldn’t. But we found the jewelry that was taken. It was pawned by a drug addict name of Brian Baker. Thirty-two, with an extensive arrest history. We tracked him down.’
‘And he confessed?’
‘He was dead,’ Sean said. ‘Got his hands on what was probably fentanyl-laced dope and he OD’ed.’
Frank felt like he’d been punched. ‘And that’s that. I should have stayed later. I should have …’
‘Stop,’ Sean said. ‘You can’t undo the past. He still had a few pieces of Ruth Atlas’s jewelry. It would have been enough for a conviction.’
‘If he were alive,’ Frank said, gazing into Sean’s eyes. It was awkward but comforting and even wonderful in the midst of another awful thing in his life. And this is where I turn into a twelve-year-old with a crush and make an idiot of myself. ‘So why are we doing this?’
‘To be thorough, Frank. You said some interesting things about Jackson. They all checked out. People feared him. Hated him. Didn’t feel bad that he’d been murdered. A couple said they weren’t surprised. I was sort of shocked.’ Sean broke eye contact. ‘Not what I expected about an academic.’
‘You made a conclusion before evaluating all possibilities,’ Frank said.
‘Yes, professor. That’s why we’re here, looking at all the ways Jackson insulted and attacked his peers. A bruised ego or destroyed career has been motive for many murders. Not to mention the financial side. When he went after something, he took no prisoners.’
And there’s that smile. A, is it possible he’s gay? B, is it possible he’s into me? And C, I always get this shit wrong. ‘That was Jackson. A one-man army against big pharma. And thank you for taking this seriously.’
‘You’re welcome. In my job ninety percent of the time things are what they seem, but you never know when the other ten percent will hit. Parts of this case seem too tidy. It gets my spidey-sense tingling. Did you know that the cost for the average cancer patient from diagnosis to death is over a million bucks?’
‘I did. It’s a massive money-making industry. And most of it’s crap. It enraged Jackson.’
‘And it seems like your work with those telomeres … Can I ask you something?’
Frank was struck by the sincerity in Sean’s tone. ‘Sure.’
‘I pulled your article, A Theoretical Argument for Extension of the Hayflick Limit. Took me a couple times to get the gist. If I understood it, you’re proposing a process that can reverse tumor growth and potentially extend life. This is why you’ve got all these drug companies blowing up your phone, correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK.’ Sean paused, and returned to the last Blue E letter. ‘So, is it just theory? I know you said it was, but …’
Frank said nothing.
‘Frank?’
He felt trapped. Here was the heart of what had pissed off Jackson and what if Detective Brody … Sean, wasn’t who he seemed. What if he’s connected to a drug company? What if this is a different sort of trap? One that comes with beautiful eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time. Since he’d published the article Sean referenced, on three occasions he’d had curious meet-cutes with exceptionally handsome men. Two had progressed to dates, both cut short over dinner when the conversation shifted to his work and pitches from pharmaceutical giants. ‘Is this part of the investigation?’
‘Not really, but you got to admit, this is fascinating stuff. You don’t have to tell me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘And you just did.’
‘Tell me you’re not a secret agent for a drug company.’ Frank tried to make it sound like a joke. It didn’t.
‘I’m not.’
‘I did a small study with tumorous Norwegian rats,’ he blurted.
‘What happened to the rats?’
/> Frank faced Sean, Jackson’s object lesson about Leona Krawsinska screamed in his head. ‘I shouldn’t tell you this.’
‘I won’t repeat it.’
‘They got better.’
‘No more tumors?’
‘Not a one.’
‘And you know that because … when the study was over you sacrificed the animals.’
‘I did.’
‘Why?’
‘To perform thorough dissections on all the major organs. I needed to see if in fact the infusion I’d given them had been taken up into all nucleated cells. And …’
‘And what?’
‘People started to notice that my rats acted different from other rats.’
‘Go on.’
‘Smarter, bigger, on more than one occasion Grace and I came into the lab to find they’d figured out how to unlock their cages.’
‘You terminated the study before people asked uncomfortable questions?’
‘Yes.’
‘That must have been hard. I mean, no fan of rats, but they sound kind of fun.’ Sean looked at him hard. ‘Did you kill all of them?’
Frank started. He hadn’t told Sean about Caesar and Lavinia, the two he’d saved from the post-study massacre and dissection. ‘You ask good questions, Detective.’
‘It’s my job.’
Frank’s cell buzzed. He felt sick to his stomach. I shouldn’t have told him any of this. What have I done?
‘Speaking of,’ Sean said. ‘You going to get that?’
Frank glanced at the screen. It was Grace. He nodded.
‘Let me give you some privacy.’
Frank watched as Sean walked to the other side of the narrow room, stop checking out his ass … is that why you told him? Nice ass. ‘Hey Grace.’
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