Chapter 10
Becky flipped a purple pancake with a practiced flourish, the brightly colored batter spilling out the sides and onto the griddle with a pleasing hiss.
A coffee maker gurgled behind her, its rich aroma mingling with the vanilla from the pancakes and making her moan out loud.
“Damn that smells good,” she said loudly.
“It really does,” said Gwen from the doorway. “Pancakes?”
She nodded, a fat curl of long red hair falling from the mass atop her head. “For you and your friend. I was dating this chef who taught me to make the most incredible pancakes.”
Gwen’s eyes widened. “Purple, I see.”
Becky beamed. “That was my idea.”
“Very nice touch. But I’m afraid Colin took the T to the city hours ago.” Becky’s house was just two blocks from the commuter train into downtown Boston.
Becky’s face fell and she turned back to lift purple circles onto a plate. “Oh, when I didn’t see him on the couch, I just figured he’d made his way upstairs during the night.”
“We’re not together.”
A slow smile spread across Becky’s face and she raised her eyebrows. “He looks at you like you’re together.”
“He does?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“And how do I look at him?”
Becky nodded dramatically. “Like you got a little something for Christmas.”
“Well,” Gwen sighed, pouring herself a cup of coffee, “I’m afraid all I’ve received in that department is a big lump of coal.”
“Have you been a good girl?”
“Of course.”
“That’s your problem.” Becky brought the plate of pancakes to a large wooden table, along with a bottle of real maple syrup.
Gwen laughed. “It’s good to see you, Becky.”
Becky took a large bite of pancake, the purple fleshy insides showing between her teeth when she smiled. “You too.”
“So tell me about the chef.”
“What chef?”
“The one who gave you the pancake recipe.”
“Oh,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “He wanted to play house.”
“But you didn’t.”
Becky opened her arms, fingers splayed. “I already have a house.”
“True.”
“I just can’t picture myself settling down with one man.”
“Not ever?”
Becky grimaced, shaking her head. “It’s not me, you know?”
Gwen nodded. “I do.” She dragged a pancake through the thin river of syrup. “It’s funny how we can see ourselves as singular, or as part of a duo. I’ve been single for eleven years, but I still catch myself thinking like a married woman.”
“Do you still feel David...” she looked up to the ceiling, “…around?”
“I did. The first few years, especially. Sometimes he was so close, it was like he hadn’t left at all. But gradually, it lessened.”
Becky took a sip of her coffee. It was dark and robust, with enough sugar and heavy cream to make it appeal to her childlike taste buds. “Do you still miss him?” she asked.
“I still wish things had turned out differently, but I suppose I’ve gotten used to living without him. It’s been a long time.” Gwen smiled softly. “Sometimes I feel like a very old woman.”
Becky looked over Gwen’s smooth, glowing skin, and took in the vibrant natural gold of her hair, her graceful posture, so like a dancer’s. She said, “How old are you?”
“Thirty-six.”
“No way.”
Gwen nodded.
“My mom was forty-two when she had me.”
“David and I wanted children.”
“Do you still?”
Gwen shook her head. “Not by myself.”
“Which brings us back to the beefcake you showed up with on my porch last night.”
Gwen nearly spit out her food, and laughed. “I told you, there’s nothing between Colin and me.”
“Well, why the hell not? That man is hot. Smokin’ hot, even.”
“It’s complicated.”
Becky’s eyes lit and she leaned forward. “Oh, I love complicated.”
Gwen waved her away. “There’s nothing, really.”
“Spill it, Gwen.” Becky stood, taking both their coffee cups to the counter for a refill. “I can be relentless. Want to see?” she asked, slamming the bright red mugs down too hard on the counter and flashing huge eyes just inches from Gwen’s face.
Gwen sighed. “Oh, all right.”
“Goody, goody!”
“Colin is the brother of David’s best friend, Rowan.”
“Okay.”
“When David and I were dating, we went to a few parties at Rowan and Colin’s house.”
Becky flashed Gwen an excited smile as she covered her plate in syrup. “Go on.”
“I found Colin attractive, of course, what woman wouldn’t? But I wasn’t interested in him that way.”
“You were in love with David.”
“Exactly. I was in love with David.” She covered her face with her hand before taking a fortifying breath and continuing. “So one day, David and I were taking the train to another party at Rowan’s house, and I was sort of dozing, but not really asleep. I was in that netherworld between the two.”
Becky nodded. “Uh huh.”
“And I was daydreaming about… Colin.”
“Because he’s hot. Smokin’ hot. Hell, I was dreaming about him when I was cooking the pancakes.”
“You have no idea,” said Gwen, nodding. She took a slow sip of her coffee.
“And?” Becky asked.
“Oh, you won’t believe it.”
“You’re killing me, Gwen.”
A voice from the kitchen doorway turned both their heads around. “She got to the party, all gorgeous with her hair wound up atop her head, this wispy little dress clinging to her in the summer’s breeze.”
Gwen turned back around, covering her mouth with her hand.
“And?” asked Becky.
“And I called her on it.” He was standing shock still, his brown eyes molten and fixed on the back of Gwen’s head.
“Called her on what?”
“The dream.”
Becky’s mouth dropped open and she gasped dramatically. “You called her on the dream?”
Colin crossed the threshold and stepped into the kitchen, never looking at Becky as he continued, “I could feel her. Every touch. Every thought that ran through her mind on that train. We shared something.” He knelt before Gwen’s chair, and she turned back around, her cheeks highly colored and vibrant as she stared at him.
“Holy shit,” Becky said loudly.
“I never even got to touch her,” he said, reaching out and lightly stroking Gwen’s face, making her chin come up. “But I paid the price as if I had.”
Becky leaned forward in her chair. “Price? What price?”
“I lost her.”
“I was never yours to lose,” Gwen said quietly.
“And I lost David,” he said.
Becky’s voice sounded like she was trying not to cry. “I thought David was Rowan’s friend.”
Gwen leaned back away from Colin and rose, breaking their connection. “David lived with Rowan and Colin from the time he was twelve.”
“Oh my God, so he was like a brother to you!” cried Becky, her hand to her chest.
Colin stood, continuing to watch Gwen as she busied herself with the breakfast dishes. “Yes,” he answered.
“What happened next?”
Colin’s mouth formed a hard line. It was Gwen who spoke. “Colin got drunk and nearly made a pass at me. Rowan had to ask him to leave.”
“Oh my God.” Becky was shaking her head.
Colin looked at Becky for the first time. “Rowan did ask me to go, but I didn’t give a shit what Rowan wanted. I left when David asked me to go.”
Gwen quickly turned to face him, a dishtowel in her hand. “David asked you to leave? My David?”
He nodded.
Gwen turned back to the counter and made a brief show of trying to wipe it down before throwing the towel into the sink. She brushed past Colin on her way out of the kitchen. “Damn it, Colin.”
Becky listened to Gwen’s retreating footsteps as she took in the measure of the man across the room. He stared at the dishtowel, his hands in the pockets of his khakis. She liked him instantly. “It’s not going to be easy,” she said.
He shook his head. “No. No, it’s not.”
“But she’s worth it,” Becky said.
He nodded. “I know.”
Satisfied with that answer, Becky set about finishing the dishes Gwen had abandoned. “How do you feel about purple pancakes?”
Colin’s meeting with Randy Barr had gone well. A fellow deputy U.S. Marshal and an old friend of Colin’s, Barr didn’t ask questions when Colin asked him to print out the paperwork and meet him in Quincy early this morning.
But Barr didn’t have access to Jerry’s entire file. Those papers had been turned into ashes by the flames that ripped through Colin’s house, and he had no way to get them again without going through Walker.
He rubbed at the tension in his shoulder.
Colin was doubting his mentor, and that fact had his conscience and plain good sense doing backflips inside his brain.
Walker was the person Colin trusted above all others, yet the man was one of only a handful who could have been responsible for the explosion.
He cursed under his breath. He’d spent the better part of two hours skimming documents from the trials that Jerry Ahearn testified in, getting up to speed on the major players involved in each of the three cases.
That, combined with what Barr had been able to tell him about the modern day Irish Mafia in Boston, gave him a good idea of where to begin his search for information.
“There’s a bar called Flynn’s in Southie,” Barr said.
“It was the epicenter of the organization, back in its day. Now it’s a local-hangout-turned-tourist-trap, decorated with newspaper stories of crimes and stuff.
I’ve been there a couple times with my boss for lunch.
They have a whole spread devoted to Jerry Ahearn. ”
“What, with coverage of the trial?”
Barr nodded. “Other stuff, too. Pictures, a gun. There’s this big map that shows everything he testified about. It’s really cool.”
Maybe he’d find something at Flynn’s that he was not finding in this stack of governmental paper.
Colin frowned, dropping his pen and rubbing his temple.
He reached for the plate Becky had brought him, selecting a tall turkey sandwich from the miniature buffet of lunch choices.
There were three pigs in a blanket, two California rolls, and a small glass bowl of what smelled like peanut noodles with chopsticks sticking out.