Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“Then let’s find some evidence to support that,” Gary said, his tone decisive.
Dan never ceased to be amazed by how ready Gary was to trust him.
Given his experiences of psychics in the past, Dan could understand Gary’s staunch opposition to Dan consulting on the Ludlow case.
Not one psychic had come up with anything to help Gary’s parents learn more about Brad’s death.
But Gary had still pushed aside his skepticism and given Dan his trust.
Dan wasn’t about to fail him, not if he could help it. True, there were occasions when his gift didn’t come through, but Gary accepted that.
What Dan loved? That didn’t make his contributions less valid.
“So how do we go about that?”
Del cackled. “That’s easy. Put Gary in front of a computer and he’d be able to give you everything you want to know about Ray, right down to the size of his—”
Gary coughed. “Haven’t you got work to do?”
“Why yes, I do, and so do you, so why don’t you stop cluttering up my morgue and go do it?” Del grinned. “Besides, I’ve given you enough help for today.”
“One last question. Who’s claiming Ray’s body?”
Del picked up his tablet. “Patricia Kennedy, his girlfriend.” He reached for a scalpel and held it out. “There’s still time, you know. I can go investigate your case, and you can stay here and perform my next autopsy.”
That grin hadn’t lost its wattage.
Dan was still smiling as they walked out of the medical center and back to the car.
“He likes you.”
“We go back a long way,” Gary admitted.
“I remember. You weren’t even a detective when you two first met.” Dan got into the passenger seat. “When we get back to the office? I’ll make the coffee—you work your magic with police records.”
Then Dan would see if he could work a little magic of his own.
Gary leaned back and picked up his cup of coffee. “Our Mr. Ray had a record for housebreaking. Served time for it too.”
“Did he work alone or with others?” Dan inquired.
Gary smiled. “Good question. The answer seems to be both. He pulled several jobs on his own, but a few names crop up linked to his. I’ve made a note of them. We’ll interview them ASAP.”
“The first person we need to talk to is Eddie’s girlfriend, right?”
Gary nodded. “I’ve found an address for her, in Dorchester. Topliff Street. And if you’ve finished your coffee, we’ll go.”
“If I’ve finished my—” Dan glared at him. “‘Can I have another?’ you said. ‘I need my caffeine,’ you said.”
Gary was still chuckling when they got to the car.
Dan shuddered as they passed Dunkin’ Donuts on Dorchester Avenue. “That’s one place I’ll never go for coffee as long as I live in Boston.”
Gary could understand that. The place wasn’t on his list of favorite places to go either. “It’s over. Ludlow will be spending a long time behind bars.” He took a left onto Geneva Avenue.
“I still have dreams about it, you know,” Dan murmured. “Most of the time, though, I wake up before I drink that laced coffee. And occasionally? I take a sip, and I can taste the Rohypnol, which is weird because I have no idea what that tastes like.”
Gary didn’t want to think about how close he came to losing Dan.
“You didn’t have a clue, did you? About who he was?”
Dan shook his head. “A lot of people don’t believe me when I say I can’t turn my gift on and off like a faucet.
They think it’s just there, period. A guy could go crazy if that were true.
Maybe that’s why it doesn’t work all the time.
Maybe someone up there gives me those quiet times to save my mind. ”
Then it struck Gary.
“You feel guilty about that, don’t you? About not realizing what Ludlow was up to?
” When Dan didn’t respond, Gary reached over and grabbed his hand.
“Now you listen to me. No one expected you to see Ludlow in the street, point to him, and say, ‘There he is. That’s him.’ And your gift came through in the end, didn’t it?
It provided you with enough insight to learn how Paul died…
about Lewis’s involvement….” He let go of Dan’s hand.
“Can we not mention that part? I swear, it happened three months ago, and some of your coworkers still give me the dirtiest looks.”
“But there are a lot more of them who know you did the right thing,” Gary assured him. “And the more cases we solve, the more they’ll come around.”
Dan snorted. “Some of them already have.”
Gary stilled. “What do you mean?”
“One of your coworkers—and I’m not going to name names because then you’ll get really pissed at them and you have to work with these guys―”
“Dan. Tell me.”
He sighed. “One of them said he was going to ask Travers if I could be ‘loaned out’ to help them with their workload.”
For a moment Gary was too stunned to speak.
What the fuck?
At last he managed to find his voice. “You said ‘he.’ So it was a male detective who had the nerve to say that?”
Dan made an unhappy noise. “See? I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“No, you did the right thing by telling me. And if I thought for one minute that Travers would even contemplate such a thing, I’d barge into his office and—”
“Get your ass fired. So you’re not going to do that, are you?” Dan gave him a searching glance. “Promise me, Gary.”
It took him a few minutes to let his anger slide from boiling to simmer. “Travers wouldn’t agree to it,” he concluded when his mind was clearer.
“I concur.”
“And you’re right. Telling me who asked would not be a good idea.”
Dan squeezed his thigh. “So let’s forget I even mentioned it.” He paused. “You did say we were going to Topliff Street, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“Because we just passed it.”
Gary pushed out a groan. “My mind is so not on the job.” He scanned the road ahead for a place to turn.
“Then before we go to see Patricia Kennedy, we take a moment so you can calm down. You need to be your usual amazing self when we walk in there.”
Gary smiled. “So I’m amazing?”
“You’re also fishing.” Dan grinned. “Yes, you’re amazing. And when this day is finally over, you can take me home where you get to prove how amazing you are—in bed.”
“Now that’s a goal.”
Gary took a left onto Topliff Street.
Right then his focus needed to be on work.
Patricia Kennedy—except she insisted they call her Pat—was a mess. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she looked as though she hadn’t slept for at least a day.
“Thanks for coming,” she said, wiping her eyes with a scrunched-up paper tissue. “Someone called me last night when they found him, though.”
“When was the last time you saw Eddie?” Gary asked, his voice quiet.
“Yesterday afternoon. He told me he’d be home after eight.”
“Did you know where he was going yesterday evening?” Dan’s voice was equally soft.
“Sure. He had a job on. Breaking into some place in Belmont.” When they both stared at her, she snorted. “You thought I didn’t know? Course I knew. I didn’t have a problem with it. Guy’s gotta earn a buck somehow, right? Gotta pay the rent, buy food, pay the bills.”
“He told you he was going to break into somewhere?”
She blinked. “He didn’t give me specifics, if that’s what you’re asking. And I was lucky to get that much out of him. I hardly saw him. He was always at that goddamn bar.”
“Which bar?” Gary’s pen was poised over his notebook.
“O’Keeffe’s on Boylston Street, over in Back Bay. Swear to God he should’ve used that as his address. He was there far more than he was here.”
“When did he tell you about the job?” Gary asked.
“A few days ago. He staggered in after spending all night in the bar. He was there yesterday afternoon too. I called him to ask what he wanted for dinner. Needn’t have bothered.
He’d grabbed a burger at O’Keeffe’s.” She gulped back a sob.
“Guess I don’t have to worry about what to cook for him anymore, do I?
” Another swipe at her eyes. “Okay, so he was a crook, but he was all I had, and I loved him. I used to call him my little ray of Irish sunshine. Every time he pulled off a big job, I wanted for nothing. And when he was inside, I visited every chance I got. He made sure I was taken care of. His buddies would check in on me, make sure I was doing okay.”
“Which buddies?” Gary had the list of Eddie’s known associates in his notebook.
“The usual crowd. Hank, Iggy, Mo, Jake. All of ’em hung out at O’Keeffe’s. Thick as thieves he was, with that lot.” Another gulp. “Hey. That’d be right. They were all a bunch of fucking thieves. Pardon my language.”
Gary rose. “Thanks for your time, Ms. Kenne—Pat. Sorry to have intruded.”
“Just make sure you catch the rat-faced bastard that bumped him off,” she flung back at him. “I don’t know who he was doing the job with, but I watch TV. I saw the news. And no, I didn’t recognize whoever was with him.”
“But you recognized Eddie?” Dan inquired.
She scrunched up her face. “To be honest, not at first. It was only when someone called to ask if I’d seen the news that I took a second glance.
And even then it was really hard to tell it was him.
” She swallowed. “You know, for a second there? I thought maybe that mystery caller had it all wrong. That wasn’t my Eddie.
And then the cops rang and blew that theory all to hell. ”
“Mystery caller? You don’t know who called you?”
If Dan hadn’t gotten in first, Gary would have asked the same thing.
“No clue. Didn’t recognize his voice, so it wasn’t one of the boys.” She wiped her face with another tissue. “No sir. Never heard that voice before in my life.”
A.T. O’Keeffe’s turned out to be an Irish pub and bourbon club.
The interior was long, narrow, and dark, with deep brown molded tiles on the ceiling, acres of gleaming mahogany, and red-and-gold flocked wallpaper.
Along one wall was the bar, with a line of high stools and a huge TV screen on which the news was showing.
It seemed quiet, but then again, it was a Wednesday night.
Gary nudged Dan, inclining his head toward a couple of guys seated at a booth, lost in conversation.
“Who are they?” They seemed familiar.