Dead Ringer (Cold Case Psychic Book 6) by Pandora Pine (3)

“A bit surly?” Ronan asked under his breath. He looked up at Tennyson. 

Ten took a deep breath. “Do you believe in my gifts?”

Jude threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer the question, butt munch. It will make things go easier on you,” Fitzgibbon half-growled. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Jude sighed. “I’ve read about you in the papers. I’ve seen stories about you on television and I saw what you did with Tank in the prison. You’ve never read me and told me I was a Zulu warrior in a past life, so I don’t know if I personally believe in what you do.”

Ten nodded. It was an honest answer. “That’s the problem, Jude. I can’t read you.”

Jude pushed out a harsh breath. “Well, you don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

Fitzgibbon put a heavy hand on Jude’s shoulder. “He’s not saying he won’t read you. He’s saying he can’t. Who’s the asshole now?”

Jude cocked his head to the side. “I don’t understand.” 

“When I meet strangers, usually my spirit guides and my own intuition give me some clue about the person. Are they good or bad? Do they have something to hide? I got none of that when we met in the prison. To be honest, I was sick that day from all of the negative energy there. Fifty years’ worth of residue from killers and rapists was making me physically ill.”

“I didn’t know that could happen.” Jude sounded sympathetic.

“I didn’t know it could either. Not to that level, anyway.” Ten shrugged. “I figured I would be able to get a better read on you the next time we saw each other, but that day in Charlestown, I couldn’t read you then either.”

“Explain that to me.” Jude leaned forward in his seat. All of his attention was tuned into Tennyson.

“Right now, I know Ronan wants me to hurry this up because he wants a sandwich. He’s thinking about how he wants to get it on later. He’s also thinking that your cologne is off the hook.” Ten raised an eyebrow at his husband. “No, asshole, I’m not wearing it for you.” 

Ronan started to laugh. 

“Those are just the PG-13 rated things he’s thinking. His left foot is asleep and he’s got an itchy left ear.” Ten smiled at his husband.

As if on cue, Ronan scratched. 

“When I try to read you, Jude, I get nothing at all. You’re completely blank.”

Jude’s frown deepened. “So, what, that puts you on edge with me? Or it makes you think I’m a bad person or not trustworthy because you don’t have the upper hand? You’re just a regular guy when we stand toe to toe and you don’t like that, right?”

When Jude put it that way, it made Tennyson sound like the dick and not the other way around. He took an involuntary step back.

“Why don’t we all make a sandwich?” Truman offered.

“I want an answer to my question.” Jude demanded.

“Fine! I do feel a bit off kilter when you’re around. I don’t know if you’re friend or foe or what skin you’ve got in the game with Hutchins. Tank or Tim!” Ten could feel his temper starting to get the best of him and knew it was time to shut up.

Jude looked around the kitchen at all of Tennyson’s friends before his gaze landed back on the psychic. “I always think the best way to find out the answers to questions like that is to ask. Start an open and honest dialogue with spoken words, instead of poking around inside my head, uninvited. How does that sound?”

“Not as dickish as I thought it would,” Ronan blurted out. “Now we can eat.” He got up from the table and started the line himself, leaving Jude alone at the kitchen table.

“Wow, that makes me sound like I’m king of the assholes, doesn’t it?” Ten took the empty seat next to Jude.

“Only a little. I know who I am and what I stand for, Tennyson. I get where you and your overprotective squad are coming from.” Jude sounded genuine. “I’m a total stranger and you’ve got no reliable data on me.”

“How did you get tangled up with Tank Hutchins and Bradford Hicks.” It was the question Ten had been dying to ask the P.I.

Jude laughed. “A man’s gotta eat and keep a roof over his head. I was at a point where I couldn’t afford to be picky.”

Tennyson had certainly been there a time or two in his early career. “Are you working toward getting Tank exonerated?”

“That’s the plan. Although I don’t mind telling you it’s a weight off my mind to find out he really is innocent.” Jude shrugged, leaning closer to Tennyson. “I’ve been in the P.I. game for a long time now. Everyone says they’re innocent. Ronan must hear that all the time too. It restores a tiny bit of my faith in humanity to find out that one guy actually is innocent.”

“Get away from my husband, dick!” Ronan bellowed, sounding half serious.

“For the love of God, Ronan. We’re just talking.”

“He’s halfway to kissing you, Nostradamus.” Ronan winked at his husband.

“As if.” Ten got up from his seat.

“What’s this great idea you have for getting us in to see Lorraine’s family so Tennyson can speak to her spirit? It’s the reason we let you into the house in the first place.” Ronan set his sandwich down on the table.

“Is he always this pleasant?” Jude asked.

“No, usually he’s worse.” Carson took the seat opposite Jude and seemed to be studying the newcomer. “Answer the question.”

“Call the family and tell them you’ve been approached by Tank’s new sleaze ball defense team. Say we’ve asked you to work for us and that we’re mounting a strong appeal. Tell the mother that if you could read Lorraine it might help to counter that appeal if it comes back to the BPD for further investigation.” Jude stood up from his seat and headed over toward the sandwich bar. Tennyson thought he could hear the P.I. whistling.

Ten exchanged an impressed look with Ronan. “That might be enough to get our foot in the door. What do you think?”

Ronan wore a sour look on his face that said he should have thought of that idea himself.

Ten bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. He didn’t need his gift to read his husband like a well-worn copy of his favorite book.

Love or hate Jude Byrne his idea was a good one. First thing in the morning, Tennyson was going to give it a try.

 

 

27
Ronan

Ronan stood on the stoop of his townhouse, waving goodbye to Jude Byrne as he drove off in his black 1966 Ford Thunderbird.

“Wow! That’s one hell of a car,” Truman said from behind him.

“Yeah it is! I thought about buying one of those before I came across the Mustang in one of those used car magazines.” Say what he would about Jude, the man had good taste in cars.

“Is that how you ended up with the ‘Stang? I’d always wondered.”

Ronan nodded and turned around to look up at his best friend. He took a seat on the brick steps and stared out at their neighborhood. A second later, Truman joined him.

“What did you think?” Ronan knew he didn’t need to explain himself any more than that.

Truman sighed. “He’s not as bad as you made him out to be. I was half expecting him to have horns and eat Brian for lunch.” He laughed dryly. “There’s a story there. That’s for sure. People fall into jobs for all kinds of reasons. Private investigators are in a class all by themselves. Usually they’re washed out cops or failed members of society who work better alone or like catching other people with their pants down, so to speak. I think he got lucky with Tank being innocent. I’m guessing not all of his clients fall into that category.”

Ronan nodded. “Ten talks a lot about psychic residue sticking to people. When you think about all of the cheating spouses he’s investigated some of their ick must have rubbed off on him over time. Not to mention his own baggage.”

“What do you mean?” Truman took his eyes off the Mustang to turn to Ronan.

“Well, he’s a handsome guy. Everyone pointed that out. Repeatedly. No ring. No mention of a family, not even parents or siblings. I peg him at about twenty-seven years old. Looks like he’s traveled some. He’s definitely not a native New Englander and let’s face it, being a P.I. is a universal trade. He can do it anywhere.”

“I got that vibe too. He’s not from around here. He doesn’t have a New England accent and doesn’t say things like wicked pissah.”

Ronan laughed. “Truman, we live here and we don’t say wicked pissah either. Do you think Carson was able to read him?”

Truman shook his head no. “I don’t think so. He got bitchier as the afternoon wore on. That’s never a good sign. Is that why you’re sitting out here? Because you don’t want to go back in for the post-mortem?”

“How’d you guess?” Ronan laughed.

“Why the hell do you think I followed you out here?” He snorted. “We’re birds of a unique feather. Men married to psychics. Our own merry band of brothers.”

Truman made a good point. There were things they understood about each other that other married men would never comprehend. “I think I stashed some brownies in the vegetable crisper. Let’s go find out if they’re still in there or if Tennyson snapped them up in the middle of the night.” Ronan stood up and stretched his back.

When Ronan and Truman walked back through the living room, Dixie, Sadie, and Lola were standing guard over naptime. Three portable cribs were set up against the far wall and the dogs were taking turns standing sentinel. None of them left their posts to greet their owners.

“I used to be Dixie’s favorite,” Ronan grumped.

“Ditto for Sadie,” Truman agreed.

“Come on, let’s see what’s cooking in the kitchen.” Ronan let Truman go ahead of him so he could snap a couple of pictures of the dogs with the babies.

“Well, there you are!” Ten laughed. “I was starting to wonder if you ran off with Jude, like a modern-day Thelma and Louise.”

Carson laughed. “My money was on you being gagged and tied up in his trunk.”

“No!” Cole howled with laughter. “My guess was that Ronan was burying the asswipe in your backyard, Carson.”

“Why in my backyard?” Carson shot his brother a confused look.

“Because Truman was with him and he knows where you keep the shovel!”

“You all thought I was either running away with Jude, kidnapped, or committing a crime and you all stayed in the house? Thanks, guys!” Ronan rolled his eyes and headed toward the fridge where he was praying the brownies were still hidden.

“Someone had to watch the babies.” Ten laughed.

Finding what he was looking for, Ronan pulled the tub of brownies out of the vegetable crisper.

“What have you got there?” Carson asked.

“My precious, so piss off!” He pried off the plastic lid and held a brownie up to his nose.

“If you don’t share then I don’t share,” Carson gloated.

“We already know you couldn’t read Jude either, Carson.” Truman grabbed a brownie out of the bucket and shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

Carson’s mouth dropped open. His bottom lip quivered.

“We really should share, Ronan. He is the father of my children after all.” Truman laughed.

“He thought Jude kidnapped me and was content to sit in here gossiping like a clucking hen!”

“Ah, psychic, remember?” Carson tapped his skull. “We would have found you, Ronan! Eventually…” Carson trailed off.

“Eventually?” Ronan half-roared.

Tennyson plucked the brownie bucket out of Ronan’s hands. “The babies are sleeping, remember? Be a good host and share.” Ten whacked Ronan’s rear end and set the treats on the table.  “Now, can we talk about what Carson and Cole got from Jude?” His voice was on edge.

“You didn’t discuss that already?” Ronan took the seat next to Tennyson.

Ten shook his head. “We were waiting for you and Truman so we only had to go through this once.”

“I experienced a lot of what Tennyson did.” Carson sounded frustrated. “I wasn’t getting so much a blank page from him but static, like when you’re between radio stations. When I realized I couldn’t read him with my sixth sense, I used my regular intuition. It seems to me like the Hutchins case is just a job to him. He’s got no other stake in the case than a paycheck. He’s got no roots here in Massachusetts. Nothing that ties him here. No love interests. No family. No Mr. Right Now.”

“Mr. Right Now?” Fitzgibbon asked. 

Carson nodded. “That was one vibe that came through loud and clear. Come on, Fitz, weren’t you picking it up too?”

Kevin blushed like schoolgirl. “My son is sitting right next to me, Carson,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Even I noticed he was totally digging you, Dad.” Greeley elbowed his father.

Fitzgibbon mumbled something under his breath and reached for a brownie.

“I got the same thing,” Cole said. “The static when I tried to read Jude, I mean. I didn’t turn my gaydar on. I didn’t get anything malicious in him, but not being able to read him psychically really puts us all at a disadvantage. This must be what it feels like when Thor’s hammer doesn’t work.”

“Or when Captain America’s shield is in the shop,” Carson agreed.

“Oh please.” Ronan rolled his eyes. “You all are rock stars every day. I trust your instincts as much as I trust my own. We’re only going to be working with Byrne until the end of this case anyway. I just need to know Ten is going to be safe. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, really? Says the man with four bullet scars on his chest,” Kevin challenged.

“Hey I’m walking upright, aren’t I?” Ronan snatched another brownie and popped it into his mouth whole.

“Today.” Fitzgibbon silently made the sign of the cross.

“Did either of you get shifter vibes from him? I want to know if he’s a panther or a flamingo or something cool.” Greeley grinned.

Carson and Cole exchanged a silent look with each other. “To be honest, I wouldn’t know what to look for.”

Cole nodded his agreement. “It’s possible we’ve run across hundreds of bears or wolves, but if we don’t know the psychic clues that identify them, we’re kind of dead in the water. I mean I got nothing overt that identified him as something other than human. Keep in mind there are non-human entities other than shifters.”

Ronan’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? Like aliens?”

Cole shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I was thinking more along the lines of things like gargoyles or griffins. Things more mythological than animal.”

“Because all myth is rooted in truth somewhere,” Ronan concluded.

“You’re all skipping over the most obvious answer. I didn’t want to say anything because we hadn’t talked about it before.” Greeley looked around the table.

“What’s that, Boy Wonder?” Ronan snorted.

“Just ask him! Hey, man, are you a shark? Or an eagle? A lion? A tiger? A bear?”

“Oh my!” The table chorused.

“That sounds good in theory.” Carson smiled at the teenager, “but what if he doesn’t know any of this about himself? He had three psychics poking and prodding him psychically and no one could get through his barrier. He might not know that’s an unusual thing. He might not know this is a gift.”

“That would be something, huh? To have a gift like that inside of you and not even know it.” Greeley looked up at his father.

“This world is full of a lot of unexplainable things, kiddo.”

“Don’t I know it. You won’t believe what book Kaye and I settled on next for our book club!”

“Don’t tell me you talked her into reading Harry Potter? I can’t imagine Kaye reading about the boy wizard.” Ronan laughed.

“It’s Fifty Shades. Isn’t it?” Carson howled, slapping Truman’s shoulder.

“Oh God,” Tennyson moaned. “I’ll never be able to get that visual out of my head.”

“That goes double for me.” Fitzgibbon shuddered visibly. “What book? Quick before they can suggest something worse.”

“Twilight!” Greeley crowed. 

“Seriously?” Ronan asked. “The one about the vampires?” He’d never read the books.

Greeley nodded. “The books are YA, so there’s no sex. I figured that would work for Kaye.”

“Does she know there’s vampires and werewolves and stuff like that?”

“That’s the best part! She thought it sounded whimsical. Her word, not mine.”

“I can’t believe it.” Ten sounded dumbstruck.

“Count me in. I want to join the book club.” Ronan raised his hand. 

“Me too,” Truman said. “Now that the babies are sleeping through the night, I have a bit more time on my hands.”

“I know what you should be doing with those hands, husband.” Carson shot his husband the hairy eyeball. “But count me in too.”

“I’m a man of many talents, wife.” Truman nibbled at Carson’s neck. 

“What the hell. I’ll read it too.” Fitzgibbon smiled at his son. “How bad can it be?”

“That just leaves Uncle Cole and Uncle Tennyson.” Greeley looked back and forth between them. 

“I’m out, kid. Sorry. Cassie and I are working on a new project.”

“What kind of project? Ohhh...” Greeley’s mouth hung open like a fish out of water.

Carson shot a silent look at Tennyson who nodded. “Do you know or are you guessing?” Carson asked. 

“I heard the word in my head.” Greeley said. His eyes were glued to Cole. 

“What word did you hear?” Curiosity tinged Cole’s smile. 

“Brady.” Greeley looked up at Tennyson.

“Jesus Christ, kid.” Carson laughed. “Spoiler alert!”

“Nice job, Greeley!” Cole patted the teenager’s shoulder. “I thought you were going to say baby or something like that, but you nailed it.”

“Is Cassie expecting?” Ronan asked.

Cole shook his head. “Not yet, but your future daughter isn’t the only little soul Bertha has been visiting.”

“Christ, there must be a whole wing of the heaven nursery dedicated to our family.” Ten laughed. 

“Good! That might help with Project Gobble.” Greeley rubbed his hands together as if he had a diabolical plan he was about to lay out for everyone.

“What the hell is Project Gobble.” Ronan had a feeling he knew what it was or rather who it involved. 

“Well, I’ve been trying to butter Kaye up for the big ask.” Greeley held his breath as he met Ten’s eyes.

Ten sighed. “You want her to come out here for Thanksgiving.” It wasn’t a question.

“Don’t you, Uncle Ten?”

Ten mumbled something under his breath.

Ronan thought he heard something about “a vat of spiders,” but he wasn’t going to repeat that out loud. 

“Sure,” Ten agreed. “If she can behave herself and not hand down a list of rules.”

Carson started laughing. “I second that motion. Do you have any idea how hard it was not to fornicate with my own husband in my own house? For the love of God.”

Truman started to giggle. “What the hell are you talking about? We fornicated plenty! We just had to do it with you gagged.”

“Hey!” Fitzgibbon whacked Truman. “My seventeen-year-old son is sitting right here, dumbass!”

“Uh, officer?” Truman turned to Ronan. “This man just assaulted me.”

“Snitches get stitches, Tru...” Ronan flashed a wicked grin.

“So, getting back to the point here,” Greeley said. “Is Project Gobble a go or no go?”

“It’s absolutely a go!” Ten announced. “If my mother stays at your house!”

“I second that motion,” Ronan agreed.

“All in favor?” Truman said.

“Aye!” The table chorused. 

 

 

28
Tennyson

Tennyson hadn’t slept well. He’d kept playing the conversation to come with Lorraine McAlpin’s mother over and over in his head. By the time it was late enough in the morning to make the call, Ten had no idea what to say to the woman.

In the end, he’d gone with the words Jude Byrne had suggested. Technically, they were the truth. He had been contacted by Tank Hutchins’ defense team who was mounting a strong appeal. He and Ronan were not working for Tank. No money or goods had changed hands in exchange for Tennyson’s reading of Tank that day at Walpole. If Bradford Hicks insisted on paying for the reading at a later date, Ten would insist he make a donation to the Salem chapter of Toys for Tots since Christmas was just around the corner. He’d make sure to tell Hicks that the donation needed to be a sizable one. 

It has surprised him when Ellen McAlpin had known who he was when he’d introduced himself. It turned out she was a South Boston girl and had followed the Michael Frye case with special interest, having grown up in a house only two blocks away from the Frye home. 

Ellen had cried when Tennyson told her about the Hutchins appeal. She cried harder when he’d asked if he could read Lorraine.

Now, he and Ronan were in the Mustang cruising down I-93 South toward Marina Bay in Quincy to conduct that reading. 

“You okay?” Ronan asked.

“I think so.” Ten rested his head on Ronan’s shoulder. “This still feels so backward to me.”

“Every case is different, but yeah, I know what you mean. Are you going to tell Ellen that Tank is innocent?”

Ten picked his head up. He studied his husband’s profile for a few seconds, stalling for time. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks she has a right to know.”

“What is the other part saying?”

“The other part is the coward in me who doesn’t want to hurt this woman or get into some kind of shouting match with a grieving family member who’s already been through enough.”

“I don’t think that’s cowardly,” Ronan said. “There’s parts of criminal investigations we keep from family members all the time.”

“Yeah, but isn’t that because you’re investigating them as suspects?”

“Not always. If I was murdered, shot in the head by a killer. Would you want to know the gory details of it? What the killer did with my body afterward? Or that the bullet went through my right eyeball?” Ronan shuddered.

Ten was silent for a minute. “I would, Ronan, because I would find out eventually, right? I mean I’d get those details from your autopsy or from a D.A. Or during the trial when the pictures were shown to the jury. I’d rather know the facts before, so there are no surprises. I get what you’re saying though. You hold back some details to save the family grief.”

“In this day and age, it’s all about transparency, right? I’m not necessarily a fan of that. There’s just some information that people don’t need to know.”

“We’ll see how it goes.”

“I promise I won’t share your secret.” Ronan set a hand on Ten’s thigh.

Ten nodded and went back to staring out the window.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Ronan was flashing his badge to the security guard at the gate to the condo complex. After they were waved through, Ten got a good look at the buildings overlooking Boston Harbor.

“Wow, this is quite a place.” Ronan whistled. 

“I like our sleepy little suburb.” Ronan had a point though. This complex was off the hook. It had its own marina where pleasure craft and houseboats were moored. It even featured off-season boat storage for residents. Local celebrities called this place home. TV weathermen and sportscasters lived here, along with well-known radio personalities. The location was close to Boston and made for an easy commute. 

“This is it here.” Ten pointed to the left. There was a large arboretum heralding the main lobby of building number two. 

Parking the car, Ronan turned to look at his husband. “You’ve got this.”

Ten nodded. “I’m a little nervous about meeting Ellen. I’ll be okay.”

“I love you, Ten. I’ll be right by your side every step of the way.”

Ten nodded and brushed a kiss across Ronan’s lips. “Let’s do it.”

“Here? In the car?” Ronan laughed.

Ten laughed along with him. “Ask me that question again when the weather gets warmer.” 

“You underestimate my abilities to keep you warm, Nostradamus.” Ronan kissed him hard and moved to get out of the car. 

Ten knew Ronan could keep him plenty warm. He was just worried about getting stuck in a snowdrift overnight. He followed Ronan out of the car and toward the building.

Ronan announced them at the front desk and shortly after, they were allowed to proceed to the elevator bank. “This is the life, huh?”

Ten shook his head. “I love our townhouse out in the country.”

“Me too. I’m becoming quite the country mouse.”

Ten laughed as the elevator doors opened on the eleventh floor. He schooled his features and got himself ready to meet Ellen McAlpin.

When they got to unit 1126, Ronan knocked on the door.

Tennyson was about to thank him for being here when the door was opened by Ellen McAlpin. She was a tiny woman with pure white hair. She didn’t look much older than fifty, but Ten knew losing a child could have awful effects on a person.

“Tennyson!” Ellen greeted warmly, pulling him in for a hug. “And you must be Ronan! Come in. Please, both of you, come in.”

Tennyson entered the well-lit condo and wasn’t surprised to see a shrine set up to Lorraine in the living room. There were framed pictures of the young woman taken too soon, along with memorabilia from her life. Her red high school graduation tassel was framed along with her purple college tassel. There was a glass jar filled with movie tickets and another filled with seashells. “This is amazing,” Ten said when he heard Ellen approach from behind him.

“It’s not much, but these were the things that meant the most to my baby girl.” There were tears in Ellen’s voice.

“What happened to all of the things in her Charlestown house?” Ronan asked.

“It’s all in storage in case those damn vultures need to paw through it again.”

“By vultures, do you mean Thomas Hutchins’ defense team?” Ten asked gently.

Ellen nodded. “I knew they wouldn’t need personal things like this, but they insisted that everything be boxed up and kept for future appeals. Have you ever heard of anything so ludicrous in your entire life?”

“Actually, I have.” Ronan offered her a tender smile. “Usually though, the police or crime scene unit will box up what they think they’ll need. I haven’t heard of an entire apartment being kept on reserve.”

“I was about to pack all of Lorraine’s things and take them home with me,” Ellen sniffled. “I didn’t want to disturb her home, but I couldn’t keep paying her rent, you know? The day I was going to finally do it, a lawyer showed up with an injunction and would only let me take a few personal possessions, like the movie tickets and Lorraine’s diplomas and tassels.”

“I’m so sorry, Ellen.” Tennyson meant it. He understood the driving force behind what Bradford Hicks had done in his trying to secure Tank Hutchins’ freedom at all costs, but on the other hand, Ellen McAlpin had lost her daughter.

“Can I get either of you some coffee or tea?”

Ronan shook his head no.

“I’d love some tea, Ellen. Thank you,” Tennyson replied with an easy smile.

Ronan narrowed his eyes at his husband. “What’s up with that? You never take tea from strangers.”

“I don’t see Lorraine here.” Ten had been trying to reach out to her since he’d walked through the door but hadn’t gotten any response.

“Shouldn’t she just be here?” Ronan looked worried.

Ten nodded. He wasn’t used to this happening. Usually he showed up for a reading and the spirit in question was ready to go. He got up from the couch and wandered over to the large sliding glass doors that overlooked Boston Harbor. Ten could see the John F. Kennedy Library. It reminded him of the time he’d spent in South Boston with Ronan when he lived there. Ronan loved going for runs out by Columbia Point.

“Lorraine, my name is Tennyson. It would mean so much to your mother if we could speak this morning.”

“You don’t fool me! You’re working for him!” a voice hissed back.

Oh, so that was the reason Lorraine wasn’t ready to reconnect with her mother. “I can explain that and frankly, you’re not going to believe what I’m about to tell you.”

“Let me guess, twins?” a sassy voice shot back. “The only thing more cliché than that is the idea of a good twin and an evil twin.”

Ten pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of Tim and Tom Hutchins. “I don’t know if you can see this, but, yes. These are the Hutchins twins.”

“Son of a bitch!” Lorraine McAlpin appeared in front of Tennyson.

“Hi, Lorraine. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Tennyson said. “We have a lot to talk about. The main reason I’m here is to reunite you with your mother. I know there are other things you’d like to discuss though.”

“You’re damn right there are.” The harsh look on her face softened. “I do want to speak with my mother. Three years is way too long to go without hearing her voice.”

“Here’s the tea. I made a cup for Ronan too, just in case,” Ellen was carrying a tray with steaming mugs of hot water.

“Let me help with that, Ellen.” Ronan rushed to her side and grabbed the tray.

Tennyson turned back to Lorraine. “I promise I can explain all of this to you. Let’s give your mother the healing messages she needs first and then I’ll give you the answers you deserve.”

Lorraine nodded and looked up at her mother. “I can’t believe how much she’s aged. Did I do that to her?” The heartbreak in her voice was gutting.

“Why don’t we find out.” Ten said gently. He walked over to the sofa where Ronan was setting out the mugs of steaming water. He’d placed a green tea bag next to Tennyson’s cup. “Lorraine is here with us, Ellen.”

“I knew it! I could hear you whispering. Can she hear me?” Ellen sat in the chair opposite the sofa.

“She can.” Ten turned to Lorraine who was kneeling next to her mother’s chair.

“Hi, Mom. I’ve missed you so much. I stayed away because I didn’t want to see how badly my death was upsetting you.”

“Lorraine says she hasn’t been around because she knew how hard her death would be on you.” It was a hard message for Tennyson to deliver. He could see for himself how hard Ellen had taken her daughter’s untimely passing. It wasn’t just the color of her hair. There was no spark in her eyes either. Ellen seemed to be an empty shell of her former self.

“It hasn’t been easy, that was for sure. It got better when that man was convicted, but I knew seeing him in prison orange wouldn’t bring my girl back. I’m still alone here.” Ellen swiped at her misty eyes.

“Ask my mother if she’s still singing.” Lorraine didn’t take her eyes off Ellen.

“She wants to know if you’re still singing.”

“Heavens, no.” Ellen shook her head. “I learned how to play guitar when I was a little girl and I taught Lorraine when she was about five. We used to duet all the time. Her father hated it. I think it was half the reason he walked out on us when she was ten years old. He was sick of hearing us sing Backstreet Boys songs.” Ellen laughed. “There was no way I could ever pick my guitar up again after…” Ellen sunk her head into her hands.

Lorraine reached up to stroke her mother’s snow-white hair. “You have to sing again, Mom. To remember me. To celebrate our life together.”

Ten felt tears sting his eyes. “She says she wants you to sing again so that you can remember your time together and celebrate your daughter. Don’t let that gift you shared die, Ellen,” Ten added.

“Is she okay, Tennyson. Does she look okay?” The worry was etched all over Ellen’s face. “I saw my baby after what that monster did to her. The medical examiner said that I should just remember her the way she was, but I had to see…” Ellen shook her head as if to clear the memory from her mind’s eye. “Does she look like that now?”

Ten shook his head no. “Your daughter is beautiful with her flowing brunette hair. Her smile is lighting up this entire room. When we pass, all of the pain and ills of the physical world stay here, they don’t follow us into the spirit world. Lorraine is perfect.”

“Thank you, Tennyson,” Mother and daughter said together.

“You’re welcome.” Ten looked at Ronan who gave him a sharp nod. “There’s something I need to share with you, Ellen, before we move on to the second part of this reading.”

Ronan reached out to take Ten’s hand. “A few weeks ago, I got a letter from Tank Hutchins.”

Ellen’s posture stiffened at the mention of her daughter’s killer.

“I know his name is the last thing you want to hear,” Ronan said, “but I hope you’ll listen to what we have to say.”

Lorraine’s mother nodded.

“In his letter, Tank said that he was innocent and that he thought Tennyson and I could prove it.” Ronan shut his mouth.  He looked up at Tennyson who squeezed his hand.

Ellen looked back and forth between Tennyson and Ronan. “How could the two of you prove it? There was DNA evidence. I’m no scientist, but the experts at the trial said the DNA matched Mr. Hutchins.”

“That’s part of the problem, Ellen. It matched both of them, Tim and Tom,” Ronan said. “In the letter, Tom thought that if Tennyson read him, Ten would see that he was innocent of the crime.”

“Oh, dear.” Ellen’s eyes widened. “So, you went to see him. You both went to see my daughter’s killer?” Her voice was neutral, betraying no hint of emotion.

“Only I went at first,” Ronan said. “All convicted killers claim to be innocent. I figured if he was just another bullshit artist then I didn’t want Tennyson wasting his time going down there to meet him. I found his story to be credible.”

Ellen clenched her teeth in response to Ronan.

Tennyson could see the visceral response the grieving mother had to Ronan’s words. He knew this wasn’t going to get any easier. “I was very reluctant to go down to Walpole and meet him. Usually, I’m on the other side of these cases, helping the victim’s families. I love my husband, Ellen, and I went to the prison as a favor to him. When I read Tank Hutchins, I found that he was telling the truth. He didn’t kill Lorraine.”

“And you’re never wrong?” Ellen half-shouted.

Ten held out both hands in supplication. “This is the part of Lorraine’s story you have to hear. When Ronan and I got here, your daughter wouldn’t speak to me because she was angry that I had spoken to her killer.”

Ellen shook her head. Her confused eyes darted back and forth between the psychic and the detective. “You just said that Thomas Hutchins didn’t kill my daughter.”

“Tim and Tom are identical twins, Ellen. They look alike and share the same DNA,” Ronan said simply. “If Tom wasn’t the killer, it must have been…”

“Tim,” Ellen said breathlessly.

Ronan nodded. “We need to ask Lorraine what happened the night she was killed.”

“Why?” Tears slid down Ellen’s cheeks. “Why does my baby need to relive those awful, terrifying last moments of her life?”

“If we have the details of the crime, it will help us get a confession out of the real killer. Like if Lorraine can say he wore a red shirt, we can look for it in Tim’s house,” Ronan said.

“It’s been three years, Ronan. How will that help now?” Ellen sighed, sounding defeated.

Ronan reached a hand out to Ellen. “You’d be surprised what kinds of evidence killers keep as trophies or how resilient DNA is under all kinds of conditions. Not to mention that if we can give the killer details about the crime, it will make him more apt to blurt out something since he thinks we already know what happened.”

“You’re stronger than you think, Ellen,” Ten chimed in. 

“I’m ready to tell my story,” Lorraine said. She stood up from beside her mother’s chair.

“Lorraine is ready to talk. Are you ready to listen?” Ten asked. “I know how hard this is going to be.”

Ellen nodded. She reached for a tissue from the box on the table beside her and dabbed at her eyes. She straightened her shoulders, looking Tennyson in the eyes. “I’m ready.”

Lorraine paced behind her mother’s chair. “I’d been seeing this man named Jack for a few weeks. He was handsome. Kind. He paid for things when we went out. I hadn’t told my mother about him because I wasn’t ready to introduce them yet. I’d dated a lot of frogs and I wanted to wait until I was sure he was my prince.”

Ten turned to Ronan. This was a development he wasn’t expecting. “Lorraine says she was dating a man named Jack. She hadn’t told you about him, Ellen, because she wasn’t sure if he was a keeper yet.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes, scanning the notes he’d taken. “Lorraine, we found no phone or electronic records of any communications between you and a man named Jack. Actually, we found no outside communications at all except for well-established people in your circle; your mother, friends, and coworkers.”

Lorraine nodded. She gave a rough laugh. “Jack worked for the FBI. He gave me a special phone for us to communicate through that couldn’t be traced or hacked. Or, so he said. I realize now that was just a line of bullshit.”

Ten’s mouth hung open. “She says he gave her phone to use to contact him with. Says he worked for the FBI…”

“What was his last name?” Ronan asked gently.

“Black,” Lorraine laughed. “I can’t believe I fell for that. Just like the actor. Or like Men in Black… God, what an easy mark I was.” Tears slipped down her face.

“What’s she saying, Tennyson?” Lorraine asked, sounded panicked.

“She realizes that the man played her. That the name he gave her, Jack Black, was fake, and so was their relationship.”

Ellen’s sharp blue eyes narrowed on Tennyson. “She thinks she was targeted by this man on purpose?”

Lorraine nodded. “He groomed me. Made me fall for him. I have no doubt of that now. What I don’t understand is why?”

“She thinks this man preyed on her but doesn’t know why.” Ten turned to Ronan. “Why would a man do this?”

“He could be a thrill killer,” Ronan said thoughtfully. “He could have been a budding serial killer and counted on the fact that twin DNA would save him in the end.”

“What do you mean?” Ellen asked.

“Most juries rely solely on DNA evidence to convict, but when you tell them that two people have the same DNA profile, that makes them balk. Most of those cases end in acquittal.” Ronan unlocked his phone and flipped through his pictures. “Lorraine, is this Jack?” He held up a picture of Tank and Tim Hutchins.”

Ten watched as Lorraine’s spirit approached Ronan and got a closer look at the image on the phone. “Oh, Jesus. That’s him. The problem is, I don’t know which one of them is Jack.”

“She says that’s the face, but she doesn’t know which one of them is the man she dated,” Ten relayed.

“What happened that night, Lorraine?” Ronan asked.

“Jack called to ask if he could come over and go for a walk. I agreed since it was such a nice night. He texted me on the private phone when he was outside. We walked across the footbridge and into the park. He was telling me that he was ready to take our relationship to the next level. I was so excited that I wasn’t really paying attention to anything but the full moon above us. He attacked me from behind, driving me into the ground so hard that it knocked the breath out of me. I had no chance to scream. Before I knew what was happening, I was standing next to my own body watching him stab me.”

Ten shut his eyes and said a silent prayer for Lorraine. “It was just like Jude thought. He ambushed her from behind, knocking the wind out of her. She couldn’t cry out for help.”

“Did she suffer, Tennyson?” Ellen’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“No, Ellen.” Ten shook his head and reached out to the bereaved mother.

“Will that help you catch him?” Lorraine asked.

“Did you see what he did after…?” Ten asked gently.

Lorraine’s brow knit together as she thought about Tennyson’s question. “Oh! I saw what he did with the knife and the secret phone.”

“You did?” Ten turned to Ronan. “Lorraine saw what the man did with the murder weapon and her phone.”

“He dropped them into the storm drain in the park.” Lorraine’s voice was filled with pride.

“If I show you a picture of the park, do you think you can point out which drain it was?” Ten asked, tapping the screen of his phone.

“There’s no need for that, I remember it perfectly. It’s right near the parking lot. There’s a pink dogwood tree beside it.” Lorraine smiled at the psychic.

“Lorraine said he dropped them both into a storm drain near the parking lot with a pink dogwood tree next to it.”

“Last question, Lorraine, what was he wearing that night?” Ronan asked, picking up his notebook and pen.

“Black. He was dressed in black jeans and a black tee-shirt. I remembered thinking, how fitting since his last name was Black.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“What are you going to do now that you have additional information about the crime?” Ellen asked.

Tennyson looked to Ronan. He wasn’t sure what the answer was to that question.

“I’m going to have to speak to my supervisor about this,” Ronan answered. “Knowing the details about the crime from the murder victim is one thing. Knowing where the murder weapon was dropped is another matter entirely. I’m not certain what our next step is, but I know I need to speak to Captain Fitzgibbon first.”

Ellen nodded. Understanding filled her eyes. “I know I was angry at you earlier for having spoken with Tom Hutchins. I just wanted someone to pay for killing my daughter. Thinking about it now, I want to make sure that the right person is being punished, not just any person.” 

Tennyson thought that was a pretty open-minded thing for Ellen to be saying so soon after hearing all of this new information.

Dabbing at her eyes with a fresh tissue, Ellen cleared her throat. “Tennyson, why is my girl still here? Why hasn’t she crossed over yet? I want her soul to be at peace.”

“I want the same thing for you, Mom. Put away the shrine. Pick up your guitar. Color your hair. Go pink or aqua or pink and aqua! Then I’ll be at peace.” Lorraine laughed for the first time.

Ten swiped at his own tears.  “She wants you to play the guitar and sing again. Color your hair and put away the shrine. Live your life, Ellen, then Lorraine will be at peace.”

Ellen laughed. “I was always partial to pink, like Cyndi Lauper in those new commercials she’s doing.”

“I say go for it!” Ronan laughed. “I’ll be in touch when we learn anything new.” He stood up and offered his hand to Ellen.

“Thank you both for coming out here today and letting me talk to my daughter one last time.” Ellen hugged Tennyson.

“We’ll see each other again, Mom. I promise. Tennyson, tell her to look for pennies. Now that I know she’s going to be okay, I’ll start leaving them for her. Ones with 1987 on them.”

“Start looking for pennies from heaven, Ellen. I have a feeling you’ll start finding ones with a very special year on them.”

 

 

29
Ronan

Ronan dialed Fitzgibbon as soon as he and Tennyson were back in the parking lot of the condo complex. He didn’t want to give too much detail over the phone, but he let his boss know there was an important development in the McAlpin case that involved the murder weapon and a possible cell phone. Fitzgibbon wanted Ronan and Ten to meet him in his office as soon as they could get from Quincy to South Boston. 

Ronan had been so wrapped up in the idea of finding the murder weapon after three years, that he’d failed to notice that Tennyson hadn’t said a word since they’d left Ellen’s house. “Hey, you okay?”

Ten turned from the window to look at his husband. “I got a lot of easy forgiveness today. I’m not sure I deserve it.”

Ronan reached a hand out to his distraught husband. “You mean from Lorraine and Ellen?”

Ten nodded. “Lorraine knew I’d met with Tank. She was still certain he was her killer at the time, but the look on her face...” Ten sighed. “If looks could kill, I’d be dead twice over. I still don’t think Lorraine believed me about Tank’s reading.”

“I don’t blame her.”

“What!?” Ten screeched. 

“Calm down, sweetheart,” Ronan said in his softest tone.

“Calm down? You just said you don’t blame a murder victim for not believing one of my readings!” Ten’s tinny voice echoed in the small confines of Ronan’s Mustang.

“Let me finish what I was going to say.” Ronan paused to let Ten catch his breath. “I don’t blame Lorraine for believing her own eyes. She knows the man she knew as Jack killed her. She saw us meeting with that man. She had no possible way of knowing Tank had a twin. All she knows is that it’s the same face; same man. I’m not doubting you in the slightest.”

Tennyson huffed, but remained silent. 

“When you showed her the picture of the twins together, do you think that changed her attitude?” Ronan tried again. He hoped taking a different tact with his emotional husband would get him to calm down.

“She was shocked, that was for sure. It was a blow to find out he’d given her a fake name. Then to find out there were two of them...”

“Why didn’t she know?” Ronan asked carefully. 

“Know what? That Jack had lied to her or that the Hutchins brothers are twins?”

“Either. Both.” Ronan would take anything he could get at this moment in time.

Ten sighed as if he were dealing with an exasperating toddler. “I’ve told you before that dying doesn’t answer all of the unanswered questions of the universe. You don’t suddenly know what happened to Jimmy Hoffa or who assassinated President Kennedy.”

Ronan was trying hard to hold on to his temper. “Yes, I know that, but why wouldn’t Lorraine have attended the trial?”

Ten shifted in his seat and looked at Ronan. “In all the years I’ve been speaking to dead people, I’ve never once spoken to a soul who has attended their own murder trial. Would you?”

“Hell, yes!” Ronan said without hesitation. “I have so much to live for, Ten. I’m a newlywed with an entire lifetime to spend with my new and sometimes totally annoying husband. I have kids to raise and vacations to take and grandkids to spoil rotten. If someone murdered me I would be so fucking pissed off that you had damn well better believe I would be at my trial. Front row, center every day until the bastard who killed me was convicted and given the fucking death penalty.” Ronan slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.

Ten’s lips twitched. “What if it was justifiable homicide?”

Ronan snorted. “Then I’ll haunt you to the end of your days, Nostradamus.” He flipped on his blinker and pulled into the Boston Police Department parking garage. Nerves prickled up his spine. He had no idea what was in store for him with Fitzgibbon. 

***

The office was strangely quiet when Ronan and Tennyson got off the elevator. Everyone was hard at work. No one was shooting the shit or hanging out at anyone else’s desk. Something was definitely up. 

Walking past O’Dwyer’s desk, his fellow detective and friend shot him a sympathetic look that seemed to say “It was nice knowing you.”

“Oh, shit,” Ronan whispered to Ten.

“Yeah, everyone’s on edge. Are we about to get canned and they all know it?” There was a nervous edge to Ten’s voice. 

“I don’t think so. If I were a betting man, I’d guess there’s a special guest waiting for us in the Cap’s office.” Ronan ran a hand through his hair and straightened his tie. 

Ten shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, man!” Ten started to laugh. “You have no idea just how special!”

Ronan pulled Tennyson aside. “Why are you laughing?”

“Let’s just say that when the captain made the call that he made to inquire what to do about our little fact-finding mission, he had no idea that his special guest would also bring a special guest.” Ten bounced his eyebrows at his husband. 

“Is he wearing one of his blizzard sweaters?” Ronan snickered. 

Ten shook his head no. 

“Thank Christ for small favors.” Ronan straightened his spine. “Get it together and remember to act surprised when we see them.”

“Have you ever met either of them before?” Ten asked. 

“I met the police commissioner after Manuel Garcia shot me and then again after Mark Abruzzi shot me. Christ, I really do need to stop getting my ass shot.” Ronan shook his head. “Truman was in the room with me when he stopped by that time, which is why you didn’t meet him. I’ve never met the big guy before. You ready?”

Ten nodded and followed Ronan to Fitzgibbon's office door. 

Ronan knocked and took another deep breath. 

“Come!” Fitzgibbon barked. 

Ronan opened the door and saw the Boston Police Commissioner and the governor of Massachusetts sitting in the seats he and Tennyson usually occupied. 

“Ronan, Tennyson, I assume you both know who my guests are.” Fitzgibbon pointed as if neither man had no idea who the men sitting in his office were.

Ronan shook hands with each man. “It’s good to see you again, sir,” he said to the Boston Police Commissioner. “Governor.” Ronan nodded as they shook hands. He took a moment to glance over at Kevin who looked like he was at the end of his patience. 

Tennyson was shaking hands with both men when Ronan turned his attention back to him. “I didn’t realize my earlier call would warrant such a response,” Ronan said carefully.

“Neither did I,” Fitzgibbon muttered. 

“Fitzgibbon explained about the letter and your two trips to Walpole, O’Mara. Tell us what happened today,” the commissioner said.

“Tennyson read the spirit of Lorraine McAlpin. She told us what happened to her on the night she was murdered. To make a long story short, she was groomed by a man calling himself Jack Black, who claimed to work for the FBI. We were not aware of this man because he was only communicating with her using a burner cell phone. He lured her from her apartment on the night of the murder, attacking her from behind once they were in the park. Once Lorraine was dead, he dropped the murder weapon and her destroyed cell phone into a storm drain near a pink dogwood tree in the park. She indicated it was the only tree of its kind next to a storm drain in the parking lot.”

“Did you try to recover the phone?” Fitzgibbon asked. 

“No, captain. Once Tennyson and I were in possession of this information, we called you and drove straight here.” Ronan knew what Fitzgibbon was doing. Kevin was making sure his boss knew they’d followed procedure.

“We’re in a bit of a bind here. Thomas Hutchins has been tried and convicted of this murder,” the commissioner said.

“What is the state of his latest appeal?” the governor asked.

“I’m not sure, sir.” Ronan shook his head. “So far as I know, they are trying to find evidence that will allow them to petition to have his earlier conviction overturned.”

“You conducted a psychic reading for Thomas Hutchins, Mr. Grimm?” the governor asked Tennyson.

“Yes, sir,” Tennyson answered. “I was not paid for my time nor was I compensated in any way.”

“What’s your usual rate for that sort of thing?” His blue eyes danced in the afternoon light coming through the office windows. 

“Two hundred an hour, sir, but for you, it’s on the house.” Ten’s smile was bright as the sun. “Your mother is quite a character.”

The governor’s eyes widened before he schooled his features again. He quickly turned back to Fitzgibbon. 

“Out!” Kevin pointed to the door. 

Ronan grabbed Tennyson and practically dragged him to the door, shutting it quietly behind him. “Have you lost your damn mind! That’s the Governor of Massachusetts!” Ronan felt like he was going to have a heart attack and a stroke at the same time. 

“He’s going to call me,” Ten said simply. 

“That’s not fair using your mind powers.”

“I wasn’t using my mind powers. Ronan. Prince, pauper, or governor, he’s going to want one last chance to talk to his mother.”

“Jesus Christ.” Ronan bit his lip to keep from laughing. “You’re going to be the death of me, Nostradamus.”

“Oh, and by the way, Kevin was totally sporting wood behind his desk.”

If he lived to be one hundred, Ronan would never be able to unsee that visual.

 

 

30
Tennyson

Tennyson couldn’t decide if Kaye coming out for Thanksgiving was a blessing or a curse. He, Ronan, Greeley, and Fitzgibbon were all standing at the JetBlue gate waiting for the queen herself to deplane. 

“You look like you’re about to have kittens,” Kevin said from beside him.

“That obvious, huh?” Ten asked. He felt like he was going to toss his cookies. 

“Only to people who love you.” Kevin elbowed his side. 

“Oh good, so my mother won’t notice a thing is wrong then.” Tennyson started to laugh. He’d spent the last two days since he and Ronan had visited Ellen McAlpin cleaning his house like a maniac.

“Come on, Ten. She agreed to fly out here again only three weeks after the last time. She must miss you.”

“No!” Ten turned an angry look at Kevin. “She misses your son!” Ten looked at Greeley who was standing a few feet away, holding a sign he’d made for Kaye. It read, “Welcome, Grandma Kaye!” The sign looked like an entire AC Moore store threw up on it. It was rainbow colored and full of so much glitter that Fitzgibbon’s SUV was going to sparkle for years to come. 

“Okay, you’re probably right. What’s important is that she’s here through Christmas.” Kevin’s smile was so bright, it nearly split his face in half.

“What?” Ten felt all of the blood drain out of his face.  “That’s not funny, Cap. I know we’ve given you endless shit over you popping wood over the governor, but that’s no way to get me back.”

Kevin burst out laughing. “When I get you back for outing my man crush, you’ll know it. What makes this little bit of news so damn delicious is that it’s true!” He slapped Ten hard on the back and pointed to the runway tunnel. “Hark, there’s your mother now!” He laughed harder and headed toward Greeley who was calling Kaye’s name and waving frantically, as if she were a member of One Direction.

Son of a motherfucking bitch... Why was he always the last one to know everything?

“Greeley!” Kaye Grimm shouted, running toward the equally exuberant teenager. “I missed you so much.”

Tennyson felt his lunch rise up in his throat. “Please pinch me to make sure I’m awake,” he mumbled to a stunned-looking Ronan.

“Only if you pinch me back. I don’t have words for that.” Ronan pointed to where Baptist dragon queen and gay teen were hugging the life out of each other. “It’s like those videos on the internet where mother tigers are cuddling with baby pigs. The tiger should be eating the pigs.”

Ten nodded in agreement. He shut his mouth, so his shock wouldn’t be so apparent. “It’s against nature, but there it is. Live and in living color.”

Fitzgibbon was snapping pictures of the happy reunion on his iPhone. “Isn’t this great?”

“Awesome,” Ronan deadpanned.

“Fantastic,” Ten echoed.

“Party poopers!” Kevin turned back to the huggers. “Hello, Kaye.”

“Hello, Kevin. It’s good to see you.” Kaye was beaming from ear to ear.

“Hello, Mother Grimm.” Ronan waved.

“Mother Grimm? Sounds like something out of a twisted fairy tale.” Tennyson snickered.

“Ronan,” Kaye said coolly. “Hello, Tennyson.”

“Hi, Mom. Why don’t we go get your luggage?”

“Sure, that will give me time to catch up with my boy.” Kaye wrapped her arm around Greeley. “I have something for you in my bag.”

“Your boy?” Ten was dumbfounded. He turned and headed for the baggage claim area before he said something he’d regret.

“Where do we stand on the murder weapon and cell phone?” Ronan asked Kevin. “Have we gotten a ruling from your secret lover yet?”

Kevin stopped dead in the middle of the terminal. He shoved a meaty finger into the center of Ronan’s chest.

“Play nice, boys!” Kaye said as she and Greeley walked past them arm in arm.

The fight passed out of Fitzgibbon. “I’m waiting to hear back from the commissioner. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I can’t imagine we’ll hear back on this until Monday. That evidence has been sitting in this storm drain now for three years, another few days isn’t going to make any difference. Hell, it might not even be there anymore and if it is, the chance that there’s any viable evidence left is one in a million.”

Tennyson had considered the same thing. Massachusetts had had its share of blizzards and thunderstorms over the last three years. Just one of those storms alone could have been enough to wash the pieces of the phone away, especially the tiny SIM card. The first rain would have washed any prints or DNA off the knife, but Tennyson knew there was more to the murder weapon than biological evidence. If it was part of a set it could be matched back to the killer.

“Is this something that we need to tell Bradford Hicks and Jude Byrne about?” Ronan asked.

“Not yet.” Fitzgibbon shot Ronan a fiery look. “You know better than this, Ronan. We’re in a tough spot here.”

“We’re gonna be in a tougher spot if this goes haywire somehow.” Ten shook his head.

Kevin stopped dead again. “What are you talking about?” His green eyes burned. “What do you know?”

“Calm down, Kevin. I don’t know anything. Secrets have a way of coming out. You know that. We all know that. If it somehow comes to light that the BPD knew about possible exonerating evidence and didn’t do anything about it for days on end, that could look bad for you and the department. People love to shit on my gift until it helps them out of a jam and then you know they’ll shit on you for keeping a lid on it.” Ten shook his head. This day was getting worse by the minute.

Kevin nodded. “I know that, Tennyson. I have to wait until I get word from my superiors. Isn’t there anything you can do with your gift? From a distance?”

Ten thought about that for a minute. He’d heard of remote viewing but had never tried it before. The only person he knew of who had that gift for certain was Madam Aurora. Under any other circumstance he wouldn’t mind asking for her help, but in this situation, the fewer people who knew about this potential evidence the better. “There might be a way I can look into things without leaving the house. I’ll check into it.”

Ronan picked up his hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Tennyson!” Kaye angry whispered.

Greeley leaned over and said something to her.

“Yes, Mother,” Ten said, feeling very weary. He knew what was coming. Kaye was going to dress him down about holding his husband’s hand in public.

“You look very nice today.” Kaye managed a small smile before she turned back to Greeley and stepped onto the escalator leading down to the baggage claim area.

“We’re stuck in The Twilight Zone,” Ten muttered.

“She’s your mother,” Ronan mumbled back. “I just came along for the ride because we’re going out to dinner.”

“Shit like that’s gonna get you kicked out of your house if you’re not careful,” Kevin pointed out. “And you know who’s sleeping in our spare bedroom, right?”

Ronan turned to Ten. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Nice save, Columbo.”

***

“Greeley, tell me more about this grinch-popping you’re doing with the turkey tomorrow,” Kaye asked when they were finally settled into Kevin’s SUV and were heading north toward Salem.

“It’s spatchcocking, Grandma Kaye,” he laughed. “It’s this thing the big-name chefs on The Food Network do where they cut out the backbone of the turkey and flatten it out.”

Kaye frowned. “Young man, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Think about a book that you open in the middle and lay flat. After I cut out the backbone and flatten it a bit, I’ll put a super-secret, fresh herb mixture under its skin and it will cook on the grill for a few hours.”

“What’s my role in the Thanksgiving festivities?” Kaye sounded excited to participate.

“Chief dragon in charge?” Ten volunteered.

“I heard that,” Kaye said from the backseat. “I don’t know why you think I’m the enemy here.”

“Neither do I, Mom. I must have imagined the last thirteen years.” Ten went back to staring out the window and watching the scenery roll by.

“Has everyone picked up or downloaded their copy of Twilight?” Greeley jumped in. “It would be awesome if we could start reading together tomorrow night after dinner. Maybe we could take turns reading the first chapter out loud?”

“I downloaded it, but are you sure this book isn’t going to scare the pants off me?” Kaye reached over for Greeley’s hand.

“You know how to download books, Kaye?” Ronan turned around from the front seat to look at his mother-in-law.

“Yes, Ronan. You all told me that if you bought me the technology that I had to learn how to use it. Greeley and I have read a few books together since you all left Kansas.”

“I think that’s wonderful, Kaye. What have you read?” Fitzgibbon looked up at her in the rearview mirror.

“We read Jurassic Park and Pride and Prejudice. The dinosaurs scared me, however, Mr. Darcy was delightful.”

“I also enjoyed the witty banter in P&P,” Greeley agreed. “It’s a shame that letter writing is a dying art.”

“You write beautifully, Greeley.” Kaye patted his hand.

“Twilight Zone,” Ten whispered.

“What was that, Tennyson?” Kaye asked sharply.

“I said Twilight, Mom. Ronan and I need to download our copies. We’re joining in the book club too.”

“Me too,” Fitzgibbon chimed in.

“It will be fun discussing the book with everyone, right, Kaye?” Greeley elbowed her.

“Yes, Greeley.”

“Wasn’t there news you had to share about Union Chapel?” the teenager prodded.

“You’re a very tiring young man to spend time with.” Kaye sighed. She patted the left side of her hairdo.

“Uncle Tennyson is going to want to hear this news.” Greeley reached up to squeeze Ten’s shoulder.

“You mean you didn’t tell him?” Kaye sounded shocked.

“It’s not my news to tell.”

“Hmm.” Kaye crossed her arms.

Tennyson prayed for patience. His mother could give stubborn lessons to a pack of mules. Of course, he already knew what the news was. Kaye and Greeley were both broadcasting it like a fifty-thousand-watt radio station, but he’d keep his mouth shut until one of them said it out loud.

“I had a chat with Shelly Brinkman.” Kaye shot Greeley a dirty look that asked if he was satisfied now.

“That’s great, Kaye!” Ronan said.

“Yeah, well someone had to water my tree,” she grumped. “According to the book I downloaded, it wasn’t going to survive without me for a month.”

“You mean the bonsai tree we gave you?” Ten asked. Shelly Brinkman had been Kaye’s best friend back in Union Chapel, but they’d had a falling out over Kaye’s feelings about Tennyson being gay. Kaye reaching out to Shelly was a step in the right direction. A step Ten hoped his mother would be extending in his and Ronan’s direction.

“The bonsai tree my grandson gave me,” Kaye insisted, sounding more stubborn than ever.

Ten set his head on Ronan’s shoulder and prayed Kevin would drive faster.

“Tennyson!” Kaye half-yelled from the backseat.

Ten didn’t have the energy to move. “Yes, mother.”

“I thought you said you and Ronan were working on making me a grandmother too.”

Ten pulled his head off Ronan’s shoulder. They both turned around to look at Kaye. “Are you serious?”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger. I like babies.”

For lunch? Ten couldn’t help but wonder. “We have an appointment at the clinic on December 4th.”

“Good, I’ll come with you,” Kaye announced as if her word decided the matter.

Ronan turned to look at his husband. “Twilight Zone!” they said in unison. 

 

 

31
Ronan

Ronan and Tennyson were still sleeping when their doorbell rang early Thanksgiving morning. Groaning, Ronan rolled over and cracked an eyeball open to read the alarm clock.

“What the hell,” Ten muttered.

“It’s 6:30am. I’ve got one guess who’s ringing the doorbell and it ain’t the Avon Lady.”

“It’s the dragon lady,” Ten giggled, just as the doorbell rang again.

Dixie barked from her dog bed and scampered out of the room.

“Okay, I’m up.” Ten stumbled out of bed and grabbed his tee-shirt from off the edge of the bed.

“I’m right behind you.” Ronan didn’t even bother to comb his fingers through his hair. If his mother-in-law wanted to ring the doorbell at zero-dark-thirty then she deserved to pay the price.

“Mom!” Ten announced when he swung the door wide. Dixie ran between his legs and kept barking at the newcomer. “Dixie, you remember Grandma Kaye. Be nice.”

“Awww!” Kaye practically squealed and scooped up the tiny dog. “Hello, love muffin. I missed you. Why do the two of you look like you were still sleeping.” Kaye walked past them into the house carrying Dixie.

“We were sleeping, Mom.” Tennyson raked his fingers through his hair.

“Whatever for? There’s work to do!”

“We’re only making side dishes, Kaye. Everyone else is making turkeys.” Ronan scratched his stomach and headed toward the kitchen. He was going to need coffee, and a lot of it. He’d never seen his mother-in-law first thing in the morning. If she was one of those bright-eyed and bushy-tailed nut-jobs then he was going to need some octane.

“I’ll make the coffee, babe.” Ten patted Ronan’s shoulder. “Mom, if you open the sliding door, Dixie can go out and do her morning duty.”

Kaye raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Her morning duty? Are you a soldier, cutie pie?”

Ronan snorted. “Kaye, if you open the sliding door, Dixie can go out and take a piss and a shit. How’s that?”

Kaye’s nose wrinkled. “Okay, Dixie. Time for your morning duty. I think Grandma will come too so your Daddy can wash his mouth out with soap.”

When the glass door slid shut behind Kaye, Ronan burst out laughing.

“You’re awful. You know that, right?” Ten giggled.

“Did you see the look on her face when I said shit? It looked like she had a mouthful of it.” Ronan slapped a hand on the table, making the salt shaker jump.

“Ronan…” Ten warned.

“I know, babe. She’s here. That means she’s trying to get along with us. It means we need to try to get along with her.” Ronan pulled his husband into his arms. “It’s a day for giving thanks. I, for one, am thankful for you and this family we’ve built from the ground up.”

“Me too,” Ronan agreed. “I’m still stunned that she wants to come to our baby appointment in two weeks. Greeley must be weaving some kind of magic.”

“I certainly hope there is no magic going on in this house!” Kaye said as she led Dixie back into the house.

Tennyson started to laugh. “The only kind of magic going on here, Mom, is the metaphorical kind. Can I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, thank you. Dixie was a good girl out in the yard.”

“I’ll get her breakfast while Ten gets the coffee started. Kaye, what kind of Thanksgiving meals did you make when Tennyson was little?” Ronan grabbed Dixie’s water dish and brought it to the sink to wash out and refill.

“Thanksgiving was always a day of service for us. We’d drive out to one of the larger churches over in Severance that had a food pantry and we’d help prepare the meal. Tennyson was usually on potato peeling duty and then I would cut them up and man the boiling pots of water. David was one of the turkey carvers. We’d both help out in the serving lines too.”

“Ten didn’t help serve the meals?” Ronan shot his husband a questioning glance.

Ten shook his head. “No, they always kept the kid helpers in the kitchens so that we wouldn’t recognize any of our classmates. It was bad enough for the adults to know who among the congregation needed a hand up, but it would have been hell on the kids…” He trailed off.

“Bullies suck!” Ronan set Dixie’s food and water dishes in their usual spot. “Breakfast is served, Dixie, my little pixie.”

“While I don’t agree with your language, I do agree with the sentiment, Ronan,” Kaye agreed. “After the meal was over, we’d all pitch in to clean up and our treat was to have Chinese food at the Coral Dragon.”

“You didn’t eat any of the Thanksgiving fixings at the food pantry?” Ronan asked curiously.

“Oh, heavens no!” Kaye shook her head. “The hardest luck cases knew that if they stuck around or came late, that not only would they get their Thanksgiving meal, but we’d box up the leftovers for them in those Styrofoam take-out containers too. That food was for the needy. We would get a turkey breast and make a Thanksgiving dinner the week after. We’d have mashed potatoes and gravy and cornbread. I think that was Shelly’s recipe, Tennyson.”

Ten nodded. He set mugs of coffee down in front of his mother and husband before returning to grab the cream and sugar. “I love that recipe. Shelly sent it home with us. Ronan can eat the entire pan by himself. We’re making it today.”

“Ten says I have to share.” Ronan was not happy about that development, but he figured there would be plenty of food to fill up his belly.

“Why are you here with us, Mom. Why aren’t you chilling with Greeley?” Ten set a boxed coffee cake on the table and passed out plates.

“Boy wonder is working this morning. Cassie opened her bakery until 10am for last minute Lucys who need a pie or cupcakes to bring to their gathering. It looks like a nice place from all of the pictures that Greeley’s sent me.”

Ronan exchanged a silent look with Tennyson who raised an eyebrow in return. “You know, the bakery is only a five-minute ride from here, Kaye.”

“Kevin had mentioned that. Why are you telling me this, Ronan?” Kaye gave him a suspicious look.

Ten sighed. “If you give us a minute to change and clean up, we could take you over there so you could surprise Greeley.”

“You mean my grandson could wait on me?” Kaye looked enchanted by that idea.

“I think we could arrange that.” It struck Ronan in that moment that Kaye kept referring to Greeley as her grandson. He vividly remembered a conversation from a little over a month ago where Kaye pointed out that neither he, Ten, nor Fitzgibbon were related to Greeley by blood and now here Kaye was considering herself a member of the boy’s family. She’d certainly come a long way.

He could almost say the same thing about her relationship with Ten, if there weren’t that pesky thirteen-year gap in the middle. He supposed what was important now was that Kaye was here and making an effort. “I’m gonna run upstairs and change. Come with me, Nostradamus. We’ll pick out matching shirts.”

“Surely the two of you don’t need to be that cute. Do you?” Kaye called after them.

“What’s your game?” Ten asked when they got to their bedroom.

“Just another step in the process.” Ronan pulled his tee over his head and shucked out of his sleep pants. He walked to the closet and pulled out a faded pair of Levi’s.

“What process is that?” Ten joined him in their walk-in closet and grabbed for pants of his own.

“When Kaye was here for our wedding, she didn’t want to see things that were part of our life and that included the bakery and the shop…” Ronan trailed off hoping Ten would see where he was leading.

“You think she might want to see where I work?” Ten sounded dubious.

“I think if Greeley offers to show it to her then anything is possible. Maybe if she sees that the Magick shop isn’t filled with ghosts and demons and God knows what else she thinks she’s going to find in there, it will be one less thing for her to fear about your life and your gift.”

“What do you mean fear?” Ten narrowed his eyes before slipping into his shirt.

“It’s all about semantics, babe. Think about the word crystal, right. It sounds new age and mystical, but when you see it’s just a rock, that takes some of the magic out of it, doesn’t it? A dream catcher is just feathers and twine. A tarot is really just a deck of cards with pictures. It’s all a matter of perspective and vocabulary.”

“And belief,” Ten said, as if he’d never looked at it from that point of view before.

“Exactly. Maybe that’s all Kaye needs is a different point of view. Greeley has been good at giving her that with other things. Finish changing. I’m gonna call Truman and see if they want us to pick them up coffees or muffins.” Ronan smacked a kiss against the side of Ten’s head.

“Ronan!” Ten called.

“Yeah, babe?” He turned back to see a happy look on his husband’s face.

“If I forget to tell you in the madness of the day, I’m thankful for you.”

“That’s goes double for me, Ten!” Ronan meant it. No matter what the day had in store for them. It was their first Thanksgiving as a married couple.

 

 

32
Tennyson

The line for the bakery was out the door when Ronan drove past it. They ended up having to park around the corner.

“Is the bakery usually this busy?” Kaye asked from the backseat of the Mustang.

“No,” Ten said. “Cole mentioned to Cassie that it would be a good idea to open for a few hours this morning for people who needed things at the last minute. It was Bertha’s idea, actually.”

“Carson and Cole’s dead mother thought opening the bakery would be a good idea?” Kaye asked, one eyebrow was raised so high, it almost escaped into her hairline.

Instead of answering, Ten hopped out of the Mustang and pulled the seat forward to help his mother out.

“Bertha is a brilliant businesswoman,” Ronan said. “She was the one who opened and ran West Side Magick all by herself after she kicked her husband out. She was a single mother raising two small sons and running a fledgling business at the same time.” Ronan offered his mother-in-law his arm.

“Don’t you mean Bertha was a brilliant businesswoman?” Kaye asked.

“No, Mom. Bertha is still very active in everything that goes on in the shop and here at the bakery.” Ten held the door open for his mother and husband when it was their turn.

“Oh, wow!” Kaye sounded impressed when she got her first view inside the bakery.

Ten could smell coffee and pumpkin pie. He could go for a slice right now, barring that, he’d love a pumpkin muffin. Cassie made the best muffins in town and they were the size of a softball. Ten’s attention was focused on his mother who was trying to catch a glimpse of Greeley over the heads of the other customers in the store.

When they got closer to the counter, Kaye pulled her iPhone out of her purse and tapped on the camera.

“Look at you, Kaye. You’re an expert at this.” Ronan laughed.

“Greeley was very persistent in teaching me how to take pictures to send to him. Especially selfers. I don’t know why he needed to see a picture of me every day, but he insisted.”

Ten started to laugh. He knew exactly why Greeley wanted to see a “selfer” of Kaye. It was to make sure she was getting out of bed and taking care of herself after they’d all come back to Massachusetts. He was a clever boy, that was for sure. “It’s a selfie, Mom, and I’m sure Greeley was just missing your face.”

“Grandma Kaye!” Greeley was all smiles when he saw who his next customer was. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to come to see you at work. Ronan was nice enough to drive me. What do you recommend?”

“Everything here is off the hook!” Greeley said loud and proud. “For you though, I’d recommend the carrot cake muffin and a pumpkin spice latte.”

Kaye nodded. “You’ve got yourself a sale, young man.” She snapped a couple of pics of Greeley.

“Morning, guys!” Cassie said. She looked like she was wearing half of the dessert case on her apron.

“Hey, Cass! Looks like Bertha was dead on with her idea to open this morning.” Ronan grinned.

“She sure was. I know you and Ten are gonna be busy making sides for Thanksgiving dinner, but is there any way you could take Laurel home with you so Cole could come down and help with the rush?”

“Of course! You know how much I love spending time with your mini-me.”

“I do. Just don’t teach her any more ‘Ronan words,’ okay?” Cassie grinned. She set two pumpkin lattes and a pastry bag on the counter in front of him.

“What are ‘Ronan words?’” Ten asked. He grabbed his latte and the bag containing their pumpkin muffins.

“Ones that would get beeped and then get you fined by the FCC if you said them on television.”

“Oh, she means George Carlin’s famous Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television!” Ronan broke out into a wide grin. “Let’s see, what were they?”

“I swear to God, Ronan, if Laurel comes home with even one of them…” Cassie trailed off as her next customer stepped up to the counter.

“Even one of what, Ronan?” Kaye asked.

“Leftover Halloween candy, Kaye. We’ve got a ton of it.” Ronan turned and rolled his eyes. “Since we’re here, why don’t we give you a quick tour around the shop?” Ronan grabbed his latte and waved to Cassie.

“I’ll have Cole bring Laurel to you when he comes downstairs,” Cassie called over the din of the crowd.

“She looks happier than a duck with a June bug,” Kaye lifted a hand to wave back.

“You know the story of how she and Truman used to work together in human resources, right?” Ronan asked.

“What story? Kaye asked.

Tennyson knew what Ronan was trying to do. He was trying to engage Kaye in a story so she wouldn’t notice he was leading her right into the store. The overhead lights turned on automatically when they crossed the threshold into the section that housed the books. Oddly enough, this was the part of the store where Tennyson and Ronan met each other back in January.

“They had worked together for years and were best friends,” Ronan started as they passed by the crystals. Ronan absently passed his right hand over the bin of fluorite crystals. “Their company needed to fire one of it’s employees at the beginning of December two years ago and it was up to Truman and Cassie to carry out that process.”

“In December? That doesn’t sound very charitable.” Kaye shook her head.

“It wasn’t,” Ronan agreed as they passed the candles and dreamcatchers. “The man fired wasn’t even offered his Christmas bonus or a severance package. This is where the story gets interesting.” Ronan stopped in front of the reading room door. He flipped on the light and motioned for Kaye to go inside.

“I remember this room from the television show.” Kaye set Bertha’s Tibetan chimes jingling.

“This was the room where Bertha Craig conducted readings with her clients.” Ronan set a hand on her chair. “She’d sit here and her clients would sit across from her. The crystal ball in the center of the table was just there for show.”

“Ronan, is this where you get me to try to believe in the occult?” Kaye wore a sour look on her face.

“No, Kaye.” I’m just telling you a story. Listen, okay?”

Kaye frowned, but kept her mouth closed.

“A few years ago, Bertha got breast cancer. When she was nearing the end of her fight, she begged Carson and Cole to keep the store open even though neither of them had one drop of her talents.”

Kaye’s brow knit together. “Wait! Both of them have the same powers as Tennyson. How could that be?”

Ten tried to hide his smile, but it just wasn’t possible. His mother just admitted, out loud, that he had psychic abilities. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Back then, neither one of them could have picked the winning horse in a two-horse race.” Ronan snorted. “Anyway, after Bertha passed, Carson became a con-man, of sorts, he’d give psychic readings by using the information his clients would voluntarily give him and their own body language.”

Kaye looked stunned but didn’t say a word.

“On the night that Truman and Cassie fired the worker, Carson was closing up the shop after one of those readings. He was in this room talking to Bertha and he touched the crystal ball when the strangest thing happened. He had a vision. A real vision.”

“You expect me to believe that load of malarkey? You just said Carson was a con-artist.”

“He was, until that moment.” Ronan grinned. “Ask me what the vision was about, Kaye.” Ronan nudged her gently.

“What was the vision about, Ronan?” Fake enthusiasm dripped from her voice.

Tennyson couldn’t help laughing.

“Carson saw a Christmas party.”

“A Christmas party?” Kaye sounded dubious.

“Yes, Kaye, a Christmas party. At this party was the handsomest man he’d ever seen in his life with these glittering green eyes.”

“Wait a second. Truman has green eyes.”

“Does he?” Ronan turned to Ten. “I’d never noticed that before. Anyway, the handsome, green-eyed man in the vision was holding his arms up like he was being held at gunpoint.” Ronan demonstrated.

Kaye gasped. “What happened next?”

The man’s body jolted and a ruby-red stain appeared through his white dress shirt before the man crumpled to the floor. A woman appeared over the man and started performing CPR before the vision faded to black.”

Kaye stood there stunned for a moment. “I don’t know what to say, Ronan.”

“Neither did Carson. It was Cole who told him it must have been their mother who sent him the vision and that it was his duty to find and save the green-eyed man.”

“A vision brought Truman and Carson together?” Kaye sounded like she didn’t quite believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. 

Ronan laughed. “There were a few bumps along the way, but yes.”

“You call Carson getting shot a bump along the way?” Ten asked.

“When you’ve been shot four times, I guess one puny bullet could be considered a bump in the road,” Cole said from behind them.

“Ro!” Laurel screeched, toddling toward him.

“Well, hey there, Petunia!” Ronan scooped the two-year-old up and peppered her face with kisses. 

“Thanks for taking her home with you, guys. Mom said opening the bakery this morning would be successful, but she failed to mention there would be a line around the block.”

“We’ll have a great time cooking together, won’t we? You can cut up the potatoes!” Ronan winked at Cole.

“Doggie?” Laurel asked excitedly.

“Oh, you want to see Dixie?”

Laurel nodded her head so hard, she whacked Ronan in the forehead. “Owwie!”

“Do not break my child. Do not teach her any new words. No sugar,” Cole cautioned.

“No problem. I was just going to let her play in traffic and talk to strangers.” Ronan rolled his eyes. 

“Bye, cutie!” Cole smacked a loud kiss to Laurel’s head. 

“Bye, Daddy!” She held her tiny hand up to wave. “Candy, Ro?” Laurel turned her sweetest smile on Ronan.

“Let’s talk about that in the car, okay? You’re gonna sit with Grandma Kaye.”

“Kaye!” Laurel clapped her hands.

“Hello, sugar plum.” Kaye ran her hand through Laurel’s blond hair.

“We’ll meet you outside. I have to strap her seat in.” Ronan whinnied like a horse and galloped out of the room.

Tennyson nodded and waved to Laurel as they left. He was a little nervous to ask Kaye what she thought of the store. It would have been easy enough to just read her, but that was the coward’s way out. He led her back into the main store. “Well, what do you think?”

Kaye walked back out into the main part of the store. “It’s not really what I expected.”

Ten’s eyes narrowed. He was expecting the worst to come out of her mouth any second now. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Kaye shook her head and walked over to the main display case where the cash register stood. Inside the glass were several different crystal balls. “These are just polished rocks.”

“You’re absolutely right. Some people see highly polished, round rocks. Other people see decorations. Other people see tools.”

“Tools?” Kaye’s brows knit together. 

“There are psychics who use crystal balls to channel. It’s a tool for them like a hammer is for a carpenter.”

“Jesus was a carpenter,” Kaye said.

It was like Kaye read his mind. “I was just thinking the same thing, Mom. To some, he was just a man, others think he was a prophet, others think he is the son of God.”

“I’m struggling with believing in both.” She didn’t meet her son’s eyes. Instead, she kept staring at the crystal balls in the display case. Some were clear quartz, others rose quartz, there was even one made of amethyst. The most stunning crystal in the case was made of obsidian.

Ten knew Kaye was talking about believing in both Jesus and his own gifts. “Jesus believed in psychics too, Mom. If you think about it, a psychic is a prophet. They tell the future. The Bible was against false prophets which over time morphed into including psychics, mystics, and occult practitioners. Anyone or anything that kept people from church or from donating to the church.”

“That’s awfully skeptical.” Kaye finally looked up from the display case to meet Tennyson’s eyes.

“Don’t be naive,” Ten cautioned. “Churches run on money.”

Kaye nodded. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“It means the world to me that you’re thinking about things, Mom.” 

“Do you think Laurel will let me play with her and Dixie?” Kaye asked.

Ten laughed. “I’ll give you a hint. If you put Frozen on, she’ll love you forever. Why do you think she’s nuts for Ronan? He sings with her.”

“Ronan sings?” Kaye laughed.

“Badly, Mom. Very badly.” Ten shivered. Ronan was the worst Elsa ever.

“Hmm, I think this might be a good time to try out the video feature on my phone.”

Ten burst out laughing. Kaye was going to give him blackmail fodder over his husband for decades to come. 

 

 

33
Ronan

Ronan didn’t realize how much work it was to peel root vegetables. He had a dozen potatoes, half a dozen yams, carrots, parsnips and turnips, all freshly washed and sitting in front of him.

“How’s it going, detective?” Jude Byrne asked from behind him.

“Jesus Christ!” Ronan jumped a mile. “Warn a guy, would you, Byrne. You crept up on me like a cat. What are you, a panther or something?” Ronan was interested to see if the P.I. would rise to the bait. 

Jude’s golden eyes glowed. “My grandfather always said I had cat-like reflexes. You probably didn’t hear me come up from behind you because you were too busy cussing out the vegetables. What the hell did they ever do to you?”

Ronan sneered at the annoying man. Not only did he not answer the question about being a panther, he’d overheard his ongoing diatribe against peeling the potatoes. “Who the hell invited you anyway?”

Jude laughed. “Your well-mannered husband. Where is he? I didn’t see him or Dixie on my trip through the house.”

It was strange too that Ronan hadn’t heard their guest knocking on the door. He sure as hell hadn’t rung the bell. “Carson was having some kind of turkey emergency, so he went over there to help. Dixie and Laurel went with him. Kaye too, I think.”

“Turkey emergency? What the hell is that?”

“Knowing my husband, its code for getting him the hell out of here. I might have been a bit grumpy over my assigned role.”

“A bit grumpy? You were telling the spuds to bite you!” Jude snorted. “What role did you want, but didn’t get? Hamilton? The Phantom? Elphaba from Wicked?”

“Funny.” Ronan deadpanned. “I wanted to make the gravy which would have required me to go around and get the turkey drippings from Carson, who’s making his bird the old-fashioned way and from Greeley, who’s spatchcocking his. I could give two fucks about the gravy. I just wanted an excuse to go see how this cutting the turkey in half and unrolling it like the Declaration of Independence works.”

Jude stared at Ronan like he’d lost his mind. “Am I having a stroke? What the fuck are the words ‘Declaration of Independence’ and ‘turkey’ doing in the same sentence?”

Ronan sighed. How did a man like Jude Byrne get this far in life and not know what the hell he was talking about? “Bobby Flay,” Ronan stopped and shot Jude the side eye. “You know who he is, right?”

“Yes, asshole! I’m from the southwest. He’s the king of southwestern cuisine. Plus, that ass in a pair of Wranglers? A-fucking-men!” Jude held his right hand to God.

Finally, something they had in common. Ronan was also nuts for Wrangler butts. “Bobby Flay did something on his show called spatchcocking where you cut a turkey’s backbone out.”

“Ouch!” Jude shivered.

“You do that after the bird is already dead.” Ronan held his hands out and looked up to the ceiling as if he were looking for a little divine intervention. He didn’t get any. This was probably Karma getting him back for all of the times he was a dick to Tennyson. “Anyway, once the backbone is gone, you flatten the turkey out, season it, and throw it on the grill. Greeley thought it looked good, so he’s trying it.”

“Okay, so why don’t I help you with your role and when we’re done you can go see Greeley?”

Jude made it sound so simple. Ronan nodded.

“Oh, and by the way, I brought drinks. Eggnog for the sweet tooth’s in the crowd, soda, water, and some of those bottled coffee drinks. I left the cooler in the living room.”

Ronan turned from the sink to study the man. It was curious that he hadn’t brought any booze to Thanksgiving. “No alcohol?”

Jude raised a silent eyebrow as if he were choosing his next words carefully. “With you and Greeley in recovery, I didn’t think that was the wisest move. Plus, fire water isn’t exactly a friend of mine.”

Fire water... Interesting choice of words and the first real clue about Jude Byrne. Ronan would file that tidbit away for later. “Whose idea was it to write to me? Hicks’, Tank’s or yours?”

Jude grinned at Ronan. “You got another peeler? I’ll lend you a hand.”

Ronan shook his head. “We’ve only got the one, but if you grab a knife out of the block, you can start cutting up the potatoes into cubes.” 

“I wondered how long it would take you to ask that question.” Jude grabbed a chef’s knife and walked around to the opposite side of the island, giving both himself and Ronan plenty of room to work. “I’ve only been here in Massachusetts for about three years now. The first thing I did, after I found a cheap place to rent, was marathon read the last year of The Boston Globe and then The Herald. I made a list of all the major crimes, trials, appeals, and fraud cases. You name it, I tracked it. I didn’t think your incident with Manuel Garcia and your subsequent trip to rehab was a big deal until the Michael Frye case.”

Ronan felt his lower jaw tighten. His stomach tossed at the thought of how Jackie and Ross Frye were spending another holiday without their son.

“I don’t know if you realize it, Ronan, but you teaming up with Tennyson is a game-changer.”

“What do you mean, a game-changer?” Ronan looked up from his spud to lock eyes with the P.I.

“Tennyson is an instant lie detector.”

Ronan shook his head. “Not necessarily. There are certain people, yourself included, who can elude his gift. There is one killer in particular who was able to mask the evil inside of him. That little trick almost got me and Ten killed.

“But you knew who hadn’t killed the little boy, right? Sometimes knowing who isn’t guilty is just as important as knowing who is.”

Ronan knew the latter part of Jude’s question was talking about Tank Hutchins, who, at this moment, was sitting in his 6x8 foot cell at MCI-Cedar Junction about to enjoy a meal of turkey loaf and instant mashed potatoes. “I get what you’re saying, but Ten isn’t just a robot who can go down a conga line of cons saying ‘guilty,’ or ‘not guilty.’ This shit takes a lot out of him. He’s a human being with real feelings and emotions. Talking to the dead and their grieving families is gutting.”

Jude was silent. He didn’t respond to Ronan. 

Ronan was beginning to wonder if Jude was just going to ignore that last remark all together.

“It’s not always easy dealing with live bodies who find out a loved one’s been unfaithful. It can be soul-sucking.”

“Why do it then?” Ronan challenged. He had to admit Jude looked almost human in this moment.

“Probably for the same reason Tennyson does. To help people. As hurt as my clients are to find out they’re being cheated on today, they all agree it’s better than finding out tomorrow.”

Ronan understood where Jude was coming from. “How many of your clients actually leave the cheater?”

Jude’s smiled. His amber eyes grew warm. “About 70%. When you’re serious enough to hire a P.I., you’re serious enough to leave ‘em high and dry.”

Ronan burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me that’s your tag line?”

“Well, this looks like trouble!” Ten walked into the kitchen alone.

“Hey, babe. Where’s Laurel and Kaye?”

“They’re watching Frozen with Uncle Tru. Rumor has it he’s a better singer.”

Ronan was about to argue with the rumor, but then he remembered he sounded like a dying albatross when he tried to sing Let It Go. He let the fight pass out of him. It was better not to scar Laurel for life.

“Have you thought about a change in careers?” Ronan asked Jude.

“What like to become a fireman or an astronaut? I think that ship has sailed.” The P.I. laughed.

“You never know when an opportunity is just around the corner.” Ronan shot Tennyson a silent look.

Ten frowned. He shook his head as if he had no clue what kind of possible message Ronan could be trying to convey.