Aurora smiled at him. “You have already met this man, Captain. I believe he was a suspect in one of Ronan’s recent cases. What most people would consider a tragedy is about to befall this man, however, it will be what sets him free and will allow your life together to begin. Oh, and you’ll want to hang on to the clothes that Bertha and Stephanie outgrow. Toodles!” Aurora waved and was out the door before anyone thought to walk her out.
“Holy shit!” Ronan’s mouth fell open. “I know who she’s talking about.”
Kevin scowled at him. “Shut up! No, you don’t!”
“Oh, yes I do!” Ronan turned to Tennyson who looked like he was trying to figure Aurora’s riddle out too.
“Oh, come on, you two. His name starts with a J! He’s so far in the closet he can see Narnia!” Ronan couldn’t believe the cap and Tennyson were really this dense. “Rich, Boston philanthropist. Father won’t allow him to come out…”
“Holy shit!” Kevin’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. “No, it can’t be him.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Carson half-screeched. “Who! Just tell us before I burst!”
“Uh, Carson? Swear jar!” Kevin laughed. “Jace Lincoln. The guy who runs the Tremont Street Mission. Ronan did interview him for a case we worked on a while back.”
“How do you know it’s him? Aside from the fact that his name starts with a J?” Truman asked.
“The part of the riddle where Aurora said a tragedy was about to befall him. We found out during the course of the investigation that Jace’s father is dying. The old man doesn’t want Jace’s being gay to taint his real estate legacy. So long as he agrees to stay in the closet, his father gives five million dollars a year to Jace’s homeless shelter. I suppose that becomes moot once the old homophobic bastard dies.” Fitzgibbon shrugged.
“How do you feel about all of this?” Ten asked.
“Is it true, Ten? Is she right?” Kevin stared at him with amazement in his eyes. “Shit, I’m nearly fifty, been married to my career for thirty years, and am raising a teenage son. Is my happily ever after really starting now?”
“The name Aurora has a nice ring to it. Don’t you think so, Uncle Ronan?” Ten winked at him.
“As a matter of face it does, Uncle Tennyson.” Ronan had no doubt that Kevin Fitzgibbon was going to be one amazing father to a daughter. He pitied any boy or girl who showed up to take Aurora Fitzgibbon-Lincoln out on a date.
33
Tennyson
Tennyson was nervous. Carson had dropped him off at the Magick store so he could pick up his car and drive it home. Ronan had said he’d meet him back at his apartment a bit later. He had an errand or two to run before he came back for the night.
They hadn’t really finished making up at Carson’s house before Fitzgibbon had burst in and ruined his apology to Ronan. He knew things between them were going to be okay, but he wanted Ronan to be here so they could tell that to each other.
He was pacing around the living room when Ronan’s key turned in the lock. “Ronan?”
“Oh, good! Your gift really is working.” Ronan’s laugh floated into the living room.
“Asshole!” Ten called out.
“Well, this asshole brought you dinner and a surprise.” Ronan strolled into the kitchen carrying a takeout bag and a bouquet of flowers.
“You grabbed dinner from Lobster Charlies?” That was Ten’s favorite place down by the harbor.
“I had a whole day planned out for us before it got blown to hell by that Reiki bitch. I hope you leave her a strongly worded review on Yelp!” Ronan set the bags down on the counter. “I was going to take you to lunch at Lobster Charlies and then out for ice cream.” He pulled out a pint of ice cream from a different bag. “Then I thought we’d come back here for a nap and some television.”
“What about the flowers?” Ten was eyeballing the two dozen blue Gerbera daisies sitting in their cellophane wrap.
“Ah, well,” Ronan picked up the flowers and held them out toward Tennyson. “The color of these flowers reminded me of the color of the ocean at Sand Dollar Shoal. Since we’re leaving for the hotel in a few days, I thought I’d pick these up as a start to our official vacation countdown.”
Ten took the gorgeous blue blooms from Ronan. They reminded him more of the color of the Caribbean Sea. Some were almost aqua, while others were a were a darker blue. “They’re gorgeous, Ronan. With everything that’s been going on, I almost forgot about going back to the Cape.”
“Do you still want to go?” Ronan nibbled his bottom lip as if he expected Tennyson to say no.
“Of course I do. I can’t wait to have some free time for just the two of us. Plus, I’m looking forward to seeing all of our friends again.”
Ronan let out a big breath. “I got an email from Presley today with a list of Fourth of July events. There’s a sandcastle building contest which I guess is pretty popular and they have a sea glass contest too, and of course fireworks that you can see right from the beach along with a clambake.”
“A sea glass contest?”
“We found some nice chunks of sea glass on their beach and they have a contest for the best piece that’s found on the Fourth of July.”
“All of those things sound like a lot of fun.” Ten grinned.
“Why don’t you put the flowers in a vase and I’ll set the table?” Ronan moved away to grab the bag from Lobster Charlies.
Ten still felt like he had his apology to make even though Ronan was full steam ahead with their night. He loved that Ronan did everything in his power to recreate the day he’d had planned for both of them.
While Ronan was getting dinner on the table, Ten filled a blue vase and set the gorgeous flowers inside. He had no idea daisies even came in this color. “These are gorgeous. Thank you so much for doing all of this for me.”
Ten set the flowers on the table and saw that Ronan had gotten them each a bowl of the seafood chowder. A giant lobster claw garnished the top of the bowl. He’d also gotten them the large New England lobster roll where the lobster was smothered in melted butter, rather than mayonnaise and placed in a toasted roll with a side of French fries.
Ronan was holding out his chair. “I did this for us, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Ten’s temple as he slid his chair in. “These last few weeks have been tough on both of us. We both have things to apologize for and I want to be the first to say I was a real dick at times. I’m sorry for not being as understanding as I could have been.”
Well, damn. “That was pretty amazing. I wanted to say almost the exact same thing to you, Ronan. The only thing that was different was that I don’t want you to beat yourself up over what happened last night with the spirits in my dream. There was nothing you could have done to stop what happened or to have protected me any better than you did.”
Ronan frowned. “Aurora never did answer my question. Could that angry spirit mob have hurt you worse than what they did?”
“She answered me in our private little session. When she held my hand, she was sending her thoughts to me, like we were speaking to each other’s minds.”
“I had a feeling something like that was going on.”
“It is possible for the spirits to have hurt me worse than what they did. I’ll leave it at that.” Ten struggled not to shiver over what Madam Aurora had told him. “I know how to open and close the door to my gift now. While you were gone I was practicing that and how to use the ‘ready to work’ sign as well.”
“It’s really back, Ten? Your whole gift?” Ronan held out his right hand.
Ten linked their fingers together. “It’s back. Bertha and your Mom rode back over with me in the car. Not being able to speak with them was the worst part. Bertha has been like a mentor to me and well, your Mom has become the mother I never had, but always wanted.”
“How is she?” Ronan grinned.
“Same old. She spent a few minutes giving me hell for scaring her so badly last night. Then spent a few more minutes telling me how much she loved me and was glad I was safe.”
“Let me guess, then she gave you more hell for fighting with me?” Ronan laughed.
Ten frowned. “She hates it when we fight, but, yeah, she did put this one on my shoulders, saying that there was no way I could push you away and you’d actually stay away. Said you’re stubborn like that.”
“Where do you think I learned it from? She was a single mother who had to fight for everything we had. I’m not ashamed to say I fight like a girl. My mother was the strongest person I’ve ever known, until I met you.”
“You’re pretty strong too, you know. I know this relationship isn’t easy for you either after what happened between you and Josh.” Tennyson knew there were times when Ronan still struggled with the confession Josh had made to Ronan at the end of the Michael Frye case.
Ronan studied his dinner for a minute. He reached for the ketchup and poured some out next to his fries. “I hate to contradict you, Nostradamus, but that’s where you’re wrong. I know that we are meant to be together. I also know that every day isn’t going to be a cake walk.”
“You know that we’re meant to be together? I thought I was the psychic in this relationship?” Ten loved it when Ronan was all full of himself and cocky like this.
“We’ve been through some bad shit in the last six months, Ten. All it’s done is make us stronger. Undefeatable. We hit a little bump in the road today and you said some things maybe you didn’t mean. I walked away, which stopped the fight in its tracks, but it was the wrong thing to do. I walked away from you when you needed me the most.”
“I didn’t mean any of them, Ronan. It wasn’t your fault my gift was gone. You didn’t ruin my perfect life. The truth is, my life was lonely before I met you. I had Carson and Cole, but they were both married and starting families. I was always a third wheel with them until I met you. Thanks to you I have a new career and new friends like Fitzgibbon and the Abruzzis. I’m helping people in a way I never thought possible.”
Ronan nodded. “But you’re exposed to things like guns and violence that you were never exposed to before. Things that could damage you in the long run. Hell, those things have already damaged me.”
“I think I can help with that.” Ten grinned.
“I’m listening.” Ronan took a bite of his lobster roll.
“One of the things Aurora talked about was using meditation and yoga as a way of washing away the things I do and see when I’m on the job with you. It might be something we could practice together as a way of clearing our minds.” Tennyson didn’t need to be psychic to know Ronan was never going to go for this idea. The thought of them doing downward dog together was too ridiculous to even contemplate.
“In a class with other people or here, just the two of us?” Ronan popped a French fry into his mouth.
Okay, Ten wasn’t expecting that response. “Just the two of us. There’s this whole OnDemand channel that shows different yoga practitioners. We would just do the moves with him. Some of them even have guided meditations at the end.”
Ronan was nodding and chewing. “What about that visualization stuff the masseuse taught you? Could I learn that too? I like the idea of sitting in a hammock at the beach.”
“Okay, first of all, who are you and what have you done with my grumpy cat? Secondly, we’re going to get to do that very thing at Sand Dollar Shoal for two whole weeks. They have gorgeous hammocks set up for reading or sleeping. They also have couples’ massages. You’d like the stone massage. It’s very relaxing.”
“If these things help you find a balance between our work and our home life and they can help me cope with the things that we see, then I say let’s do it.”
“You’re really willing to do this? It’s not a thing you’re saying now because we’re making up?” Ten raised an eyebrow.
“You know what they say? Happy wife, happy life, right?” Ronan laughed. “I want that happy life, Ten. If it takes me bending my body into a pretzel and taking deep breaths while picturing myself on a beach, then I’m in. I’m in this relationship come hell or high water, babe. I’m in it with you. I love you, Tennyson.”
Ten couldn’t ask for more than that. “I’m in this relationship with you too, Ronan. I promise that the next time we hit a brick wall in our relationship, we’ll scale it together. I love you too.”
Ronan winked at him from across the table. “Damn straight you do. Now eat up, so we can get to the ice cream. We’re gonna spend the rest of the night in front of the television relaxing. I hate to say this, but we’ve got to get back to work in the morning.”
Tennyson didn’t mind at all. He was looking forward to getting back to the Owens case. When he flipped his “Open for Business” sign around in the morning, he hoped his first customer was going to be Harold Owens.
34
Ronan
Tennyson was in the best mood Ronan had seen in nearly a month. When they got to the station house, he’d gone around to the other detectives shaking hands and asking about their families. Ronan thought he looked like a man gearing up to make a run for public office. Mayor Grimm, at your service.
Once they were settled in at his desk, Ronan dove into his email, catching up on what he’d missed yesterday. He could see Tennyson working on his deep breathing and opening himself up to work. He said a silent prayer that Harold Owens would make an appearance. If Ten could speak with the murdered man’s spirit they could wrap up the case in time for their upcoming trip to Cape Cod.
Ten opened his eyes. “There are several spirits here today, but none of them are Harold Owens. Shit!”
Ronan started to laugh. It wasn’t like Tennyson to use that kind of language unless the situation really called for it. Knowing that Ten had an easier time connecting with specific spirits when he had an object that belonged to them, Ronan got an idea. “Why don’t we grab all of the case evidence and spread it out in one of the conference rooms?”
“Are you thinking that maybe I’ll have a better chance of connecting with Harold Owens that way?” Ten was grinning from ear to ear.
“Yeah, that was one of my thoughts, but it will also give us both a chance to really look at all of the physical evidence the techs collected. You never really know what will jump out at you, especially now that we know a bit more about all of the suspects.” It would also give Ronan a chance to see if there were any details the techs missed.
“And I’ve never had a chance to handle the evidence at all with my gift working. I might be able to get some impressions that way too.”
Ronan could see relief in Tennyson’s eyes that he would be able to contribute again. He could also hear the confidence growing in Ten’s voice. “It’s a date.” Ronan drained his coffee cup and spun out of his seat.
After checking the boxes out of the evidence room, they brought them up to a conference room just down the hall from Ronan’s desk. Ronan started unpacking the box that contained the murder weapon, a two-by-four, which was still crusted with Harold Owens blood and brains. He had a feeling Tennyson wasn’t going to want to touch this, but it might be the most useful item here. There were other personal items in this box as well.
He looked over at Ten who had the box of Harold’s personal items. Ten was laying out the clothes Harold was wearing that awful night. A bloodstained New England Patriots sweatshirt in a sealed plastic evidence bag was set down on the table, followed by similarly stained, faded blue jeans. Harold’s underwear, tee-shirt and socks were also in the box.
“Okay, this is everything.” Ronan stood back from the table. He grabbed four latex gloves from a nearby box and handed two of them to Tennyson. “Glove up before you touch anything.”
Ten nodded and did as Ronan asked. He walked back and forth down the table examining each of the items before he reached out to touch anything. The first item he picked up was Harold’s wallet.
Ronan remembered handing this to Tennyson at the start of the investigation, back before he’d known Tennyson had lost his gift. He hoped Ten would be more successful touching it this time.
“It’s heavy, like his whole life was in here. I can feel that there’s old business cards and cancelled checks in here.” Ten looked puzzled.
“Why would a man carry around cancelled checks?” Ronan had never heard of such a thing before.
“Can I pull out the wallet?” Ten asked.
“Yeah, that’s why you’re wearing the gloves.” Ronan was just as curious as Ten seemed to be to find out what Harold Owens kept in his wallet.
Ten grabbed the plastic bag with the wallet inside. He sat down next to Ronan and slipped the worn black leather out to land in his hands.
Ronan was filled with nervous energy. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Tennyson if Harold was here with them, but he knew if that was the case, Ten would speak out loud to the spirit. Since that wasn’t happening, Harold wasn’t here.
Ten unfolded the wallet and opened the billfold. “Looks like there’s some cash in here.”
“That’s odd it wasn’t catalogued and given back to Maxine.” Ronan shook his head. There was item number one that the techs had missed. No investigation was perfect, but this wasn’t off to a good start if they were finding oversights on the first item. Ronan grabbed his legal pad and jotted down notes.
“Here are the checks.” Tennyson pulled them out. “This one is made out to Hope for five thousand dollars. The memo line says ‘tuition.’” Ten handed Ronan the check.
Ronan flipped the check over to see the bank stamp and found so much more than that. “Holy shit! It’s his account log of her paying him back.”
“What?” Ten leaned over to see what Ronan was reading.
“Look at his tiny printing.” Ronan turned the check around for Ten to see what he’d already read. The bank stamp was there, but there was also line after line of dates and amounts of money that Hope had paid back, along with a notation of how much she still owed him.
“The last line said she paid this loan off in full back in 1992. Why on earth would he still have this check in his wallet five years later?” Tennyson looked stunned.
“To hold over her head,” Ronan said simply. It was the only answer that made sense.
“Here’s another one.” Ten held up another blue check. “It’s made out to Shawn for seventy-five hundred dollars. The memo says ‘plumbing school.’” Ten flipped the check over. “Huh, he never finished paying this off. Says here that he still owed his father five thousand dollars. You think that’s enough reason to kill him?”
“I’ve seen people kill each other for a lot less.” It added one more scratch in the column for why Shawn should be their lead suspect, that was for sure. “What’s the last one you’re holding for?”
“Last one is made out to Maxine, but it doesn’t make any sense.” Ten shot Ronan a confused look.
“What do you mean?”
“The front of the check is voided, but on the back is an accounting of something.” Ten handed it over to Ronan.
Ronan flipped it over and started reading the lines. It looked to be dated once a week for nearly the entire year of 1997 and was for varying amounts of money. “Ten, use your phone and tell me what day of the week December 21, 1997 was.” Ronan had a feeling he knew what the entries on this check were for.
“It’s a Sunday. Why? Did you figure it out?” Ten peered over Ronan’s arm to look at the check.
“I think so. All of the dates on this check are Sundays. What do most people shop for on Sundays?” Ronan shook his head.
“Groceries. Are you serious? He was keeping track of what she was spending on food?” Ten wore a shocked look on his face.
“It looks that way. We’re sure as hell gonna ask Maxine the next time we speak to her.”
“She was a retired school teacher. She had a pension. It wasn’t like they lived this 1950’s Leave it to Beaver lifestyle where Harold earned all of the money.” Ten shrugged. “I hate to say this, Ronan, but a thing like this could push a good woman over the edge. I mean, look at the way the total for December 21st is underlined with angry-looking slashes of pen. None of the other totals are marked that way and it’s the highest amount spent in the year.”
“Shawn said that they had a prime rib for dinner the night Harold was killed. That’s an expensive cut of meat. You have to figure Maxine shopped for the week in addition to shopping for the Christmas meal. They usually ate meals for three people, but with Shawn and Debbie there for dinner, they were cooking for five.” Ronan could see the motive pendulum swinging back toward Maxine.
“You’re thinking Maxine could have killed him. I can see it in your eyes. If it was her, why didn’t she take this check out of his wallet?”
“It isn’t proof of anything. I’m betting you that if we ask her what it is, she’ll tell us without hesitation that Harold always kept track of the grocery budget like this. What’s obvious from all three checks combined is that Harold ruled the checkbook with an iron fist and he wasn’t above holding the purse strings over his family’s heads.”
“That kind of treatment can build resentment over time,” Ten said.
“Agreed.” Ronan sighed. This put all three family members squarely in his crosshairs. What he’d never considered before is what if Maxine and Hope were in on it together. “What if it was a tag-team effort?”
“What, you think they killed Harold together?” Ten frowned. He went back to the wallet and started looking at the other things shoved into the pockets. Harold’s driver’s license was in there along with a long-expired Mastercard and a Sears card. Behind the Sears card, Tennyson pulled out a business card. “Matt Bryant, Carpenter. Got an address in Dorchester.”
“There’s another question for Maxine. Why did Harold have a carpenter’s business card in his wallet?”
“There’s the downside to cold cases, not getting to see the fresh crime scene. All we have are pictures. What if there was fresh construction work done in a part of the house not photographed?” Tennyson looked disturbed. “That could explain where the murder weapon came from. Left over lumber from a building project.”
“Or, that Bryant guy was handing out cards at the local Sears and Harold shoved his card into his wallet behind his Sears card. No crime in that.” Ronan picked up the case notes he’d brought with him. He handed Ten the photos. “These are all the crime scene photos we have. Why don’t you go through those? I’ll read the case notes.” Not bothering to wait for an answer, Ronan started reading. He’d been through these notes so many times, he knew them by heart. He didn’t remember reading anything about recent construction, but where else could the murder weapon have come from?”
“I don’t see any pictures of new construction, but the photographs here are only of Harold’s body and the state of the living room.” Ten handed the pictures back to Ronan.
Ronan shrugged. “That makes sense. No other part of the house was disturbed. There was no blood transferred beyond the living room.”
“How is that possible? The killer whacked Harold several times. There must have been blood all over them, right?”
“There would have been cast-off from the murder weapon. It’s possible the killer stripped off their clothes and wiped themselves down with them before leaving the crime scene.” Ronan had wondered the same thing. There had been no other traces of blood in the house. This was another reason he’d wondered if mother and daughter were in it together. If the killer had been streaked with blood, the accomplice could have helped wipe it off to prevent transfer through the rest of the house.
“Okay, but what about when the cops got to the house? How would they have missed finding bloody clothes when Maxine and Hope were the only people in the house?”
“Maybe there weren’t any bloody clothes to find.” Ronan scrubbed his hands through his hair.
Ten’s eyes widened. “Okay, so you’re saying either Harold’s murderer was naked or there were no bloody clothes in the house because the killer wore them out with him?”
Ronan clapped his hands in front of him. “This case is making me crazy. No wonder the original detectives never made an arrest.”
“And they were only dealing with two suspects. They didn’t even consider Shawn.”
“Exactly,” Ronan agreed. “And with Debbie and Ophelia at the hospital until 6am the next morning, he would have had plenty of time to drive from Dorchester back to Portsmouth, shower and dispose of his bloody clothes.”
“We’re no closer to solving this case now than before.” Tennyson sighed heavily.
“What about the murder weapon?” Ronan tugged the bag containing the two-by-four closer to him.
“What about it?’ Ten eyed him warily, as if he knew what was coming.
“If you held it, could you possibly get any impressions?” Ronan pushed the wood in front of Tennyson.
“Okay. I’ll give it a try.” Ten took a deep breath and seemed to be studying the piece of wood. He held his hands out in front of him, letting them hover over the lumber before finally setting them down on top of it. His eyes slid shut for a moment or two before they popped back open again. “I’m sorry, Ronan. I’m not getting anything with my gift.”
“It’s okay, Ten. It was worth a shot.” The murder had taken place twenty years ago. He wasn’t an expert here on psychic residue, if that was even a thing, but that was an awfully long time for anything of a psychic nature to be left from the killer clinging to the item.
“Ronan, what is this blue stain on the wood?” Ten was holding the murder weapon up closer to his face.
“What blue stain?” Ronan moved closer to examine the wood. He could see what Tennyson was talking about. “Hmm, let me see if a sample of it was taken and examined by the lab back in ’97.” He grabbed the casefile already knowing the answer to the question. There was no mysterious blue stain mentioned in lab report.
When it came to the murder weapon, the only testing that had been done on the piece of lumber was on the blood and brain matter at the other end of it. DNA testing confirmed that it belonged to Harold Owens. Well, duh…
“We need to get this back to trace,” Ronan said. “We’ll ask them to test this blue stain and also swab the other end for DNA evidence.”
“Hold on,” Ten sounded shocked. “Are you saying the original detectives never asked to have the other end tested for the murderer’s DNA? How is that possible?”
“We know the touch DNA technology available now wasn’t available twenty years ago. Plus, the fact that wood is very porous, there might be better technology now for testing on that kind of surface for DNA and fingerprints.” Ronan could only pray that advances in technology could provide a break in the case. Right now, they were no closer to solving this case than the original detectives were twenty years ago.
35
Tennyson
In the six months that Ten had been consulting with the Boston Police Department, he’d never made it down to the Trace Evidence Lab. He was expecting it to be dark and gloomy like it was on CSI, but was pleasantly surprised to see it was actually a bright and airy space. He’d never understood how Grissom and the gang got any work done in the near-dark anyway.
Ronan led them to the back corner of the lab where a petite young woman with aqua hair was perched at a lab bench typing so quickly on a laptop that her fingers were a blur of color. Ronan stopped in front of her and seemed to be patiently waiting for her to finish.
“Hey, Ronan!” she said when she looked up.
“Lyric Vaughn, just the lady I was coming to see.” Ronan was all smiles. “Lyric, this is my partner, Tennyson Grimm. Ten, this is Lyric, the BPD’s DNA guru.”
“He must have something really hot he needs my help with if he’s kissing my ass like this.” She held out her hand to shake with Tennyson. Her perfectly manicured fingernails were the exact shade of blue as her hair. “It’s awesome to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you through the department grapevine.”
Ten laughed. “I’m getting an earful now from your Mimi!” He’d never before met such an effervescent spirit. “Let me guess, you got your penchant for brightly colored hair from your grandmother?”
Lyric laughed. Ten could hear she had been aptly named. He couldn’t help wondering if an astrologer had suggested her name. It fit her to a T.
“Mimi’s hair was always some wild color or another. She passed when I was in my early twenties. She lived long enough to see me graduate from Northeastern. It was the proudest damn day of her life.” Lyric sniffled. “I realized then, life was too short to be a brunette. Once I got my job here at the crime lab and read that there were no rules in the employee handbook about hair color, I went to the salon and went for broke. My hair is a different color every eight weeks. You’d know that if you stopped by more often.” Lyric shot Ronan a wicked smile.
“Life’s too short to be a brunette. Hmm…” Ten touched his own dark locks and looked up at Ronan.
Ronan barked out a surprised laugh. “What color would you go for, Ten? Pink? Lavender?”
Ten laughed along with him. “Christ, I’m barely brave enough to pull it back into a man-bun when it’s windy out. I can’t imagine dying it tangerine.”
“Something to think about when we’re on vacation.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows.
“Ah ha! So those rumors are true!” Lyric looked back and forth between the two of them. “Being down here in the lab we only get second-hand gossip. Unless of course one of your colleagues happens to put your exploits on Facebook Live…”
“Oh Christ, is it O’Dwyer?” Ronan rolled his eyes. “I hate that social media shit.”
“Get with the times, Pops. Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat are already instrumental in solving crimes. The more you know about them, the more they’re going to be able to help you down the road.”
“Well, thankfully in the Owens case the technology I’m dealing with is a little more old-school.” Ronan set the two-by-four on the lab bench.
“I’d say that’s for sure old-school.” Lyric got up from her seat and snapped on a pair of gloves. She grabbed the bagged evidence and brought it over to a large magnifier with a light. Flipping the switch, she began to examine the wood. “Looks like we’ve got blood and brain matter on this end. Blood looks like it’s been here a while, possibly decades.”
Ten was impressed. Lyric was right on the money.
Ronan grinned. “Exactly. Harold Owens was murdered on Christmas night, 1997. We know that the blood and brain matter belong to him. That evidence was tested back in the day. What we’re hoping you can help us out with is the rest of the wood.”
“Wood isn’t exactly my thing, Ro.” Lyric winked at him over the magnifier. “I’ll tell Katie you said hey, though!” She went back to looking at the murder weapon.
Ronan rolled his eyes at Tennyson. “How’s she doing being home with the baby full-time?”
“Some days it’s heaven on earth, other days she’s wishing she was back on the beat carrying a gun.” Lyric shrugged. “For me, everyday is heaven on earth. Astrid is the best thing that ever happened to us. Being a mother changed my life in ways I could never have imagined and it got Katie off her beat. She’s home safe with our daughter and that’s all that matters.”
Ronan looked like he was about to disagree about Katie being off the police force, but Tennyson was quick to jump in. “Your grandmother is over the moon that you named your daughter after her.”
“I had a feeling she would be.” Lyric wore a wistful smile. “She was the first person I ever came out to. She loved Katie as much as she loved me. I just wish she could have met Astrid too.” Lyric’s eyes started tearing up and she looked away from Tennyson.
“Lyric, your grandmother did meet your daughter. She held your baby’s spirit before it came into this world. She was also in the delivery room when Katie gave birth. Mimi says she guided the doctor’s hand when the cord got tangled around little Astrid’s neck.”
“In the name of the goddess! We never told anyone about that. It was the most terrifying moment of our lives. The doctor and all of the nurses went dead silent for a few minutes.” She shook her head. “A few minutes later when the baby was born, she had a bluish tint to her skin. We didn’t know if she would live.”
“Mimi was with her the whole time.” Tennyson smiled. “She says there was no way that baby was going back to heaven with her.”
Lyric laughed. “That’s Mimi all right! Goddess, that woman was more stubborn than ten packs of mules. Or Ronan.”
Tennyson burst out laughing. “But you always want both of them pulling for your side. Am I right?”
“Gee, thanks.” Ronan rolled his eyes.
“So, let me guess, you want me to look for foreign DNA along the rest of the murder weapon?” Lyric went back to studying the wood under the magnifier.
“Yes. We have three possible suspects and have DNA on file for all of them in case you find something.”
“What are the chances there will be something there after twenty years?” Tennyson asked.
“It’s not necessarily the years we have to worry about, but the other people who touched the opposite end of the weapon. We could find DNA from other people not related to the case at all.”
“Oh, cross-contamination.” Ten nodded.
“I’m impressed.” Lyric laughed.
“Don’t be. He watches a lot of Law and Order.” Ronan elbowed Ten.
“Hater,” Tennyson muttered. “There’s also a blue stain at the other end. We’re hoping to figure out what that is too.”
“I was just looking at that. It was never analyzed the first time around, Ronan?”
“No. Harold Owens was murdered in his living room with only his wife and daughter at home. I’m assuming the detectives working the homicide at the time figured the case was a slam-dunk and they didn’t really do a lot of groundwork, figuring one of the women would either confess or point the finger at the real killer.”
“I’ll take samples and get the results back to you ASAP.” She snapped off the light and looked up at Tennyson. “Can Mimi hear me when I speak to her?”
“Yes, she can. She says she loves the chats the two of you still have.”
Lyric nodded. “I find pink dogwood petals all the time, even in the dead of winter. She loved those trees so much when they would flower in the spring. Is that Mimi leaving me little love notes?”
Tennyson laughed. “It sure is. She says she’s surprised it took you so long to figure it out. The butterflies are her too.”
Lyric gasped. “The monarchs? We always see them when we go to the cemetery to put flowers on her grave.”
“Mimi says those were your favorite when you were a little girl.”
“They were. There was this field by Mimi’s house where milkweed grew and there were hundreds of butterflies there in the summer. It was so magical. Speaking with you is magical too, Tennyson. I can’t thank you enough for letting me hear Mimi’s voice again today.” She walked around the lab bench and hugged Tennyson.
He held on tight. Ten needed the hug as much as Lyric did. “She’s always with you, Lyric. Never forget that.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “This is my card. Come see us at the shop sometime. I know my partners would love to meet you, Katie, and Astrid. Any stories that you can share about this one,” Ten hooked his thumb at Ronan, “are especially welcome.”
“Okay, Nostradamus. Playtime is over.” Ronan grabbed Ten’s elbow and gave it a tug. “Thanks for your help, Lyric. Don’t forget snitches get stitches.” Ronan laughed.
“The two of you are so much more adorable together than the rumors say you are.” Lyric giggled. “I’ll text you as soon as I have results on the wood.”
“It was nice meeting you and Mimi, Lyric!” Ten called as Ronan dragged him toward the door. He had a feeling the wood was going to be the key to finding out who killed Harold Owens at long last.
36
Ronan
Three days later, Ronan was sitting at his desk going through emails when a bedraggled-looking Fitzgibbon threw himself into the chair across from Ronan’s desk. “You look like shit, Cap!” Ronan said cheerfully. “You finally getting some?”
Fitzgibbon raised an eyebrow at Ronan. “No, asshole, Greeley discovered Harry Potter. That little wizarding bastard is keeping us both up all night.” The captain was grinning.
Ronan couldn’t help laughing at his boss. “Are you reading the books or watching the movies?”
“Both. We watch the movie after we finish the book. Now that Greeley’s finished with the detoxing part of his rehab, we’re taking turns reading to each other after his GED homework is done for the night.”
“How’s that going?” Ronan continued to be impressed with Greeley’s progress. The teenager had nearly been killed twice and was almost finished with his ninety-day stint in rehab. He was also taking GED classes while he kept up with all of his group and individual therapy sessions. Ronan remembered just how tough it was keeping up with his own therapy from the time he’d spent in a Florida rehab for his own drinking problem last summer.
“He’s got straight A’s in all of his classes. I’m the one who’s struggling a bit with the situation.”
“What do you mean?” Ronan leaned forward, as if to hear Fitzgibbon better.
“Greeley’s a brilliant kid. He should have had all the advantages in life, but instead, look at all he’s been through. He’s still got a long road ahead of him too, and I can’t help but think what a different life he would have lived if he’d been born to different parents.”
Ronan sighed. He understood where Fitzgibbon was coming from. Greeley’s parents had kicked the teenager out of their house when he’d come out as gay. The boy had fallen into a life of prostitution to keep body and soul together and ended up crossing paths with a serial killer who’d nearly ended his life twice. “Cap, I think everything happens for a reason. Greeley being strong enough to survive his encounter with the killer was what led us to figuring out who the bastard was and to then being able to catch him and stop his spree in its tracks. I know what he suffered was unimaginable, but you were waiting for him at the other end of his ordeal. There is no father better equipped to parent this child than you.”
Fitzgibbon sat back in his seat and seemed to be considering what Ronan was saying. “You really believe that?”
“I do. Look at the progress he’s made in two months. Your relationship gets stronger every day and so does his sobriety. The two of you were meant to find each other.”
“He’s even talking about college. He thinks he’d like to help other kids like him who have a substance abuse issue. Or dealt with life on the streets.”
“God knows there are enough kids like him out there in this world. It would sure be nice to have a good guy out there fighting to save at-risk youth.” Ronan shook his head.
“Where’s your better half?” The captain looked around the squad room.
“He’s down in the crime lab visiting with his new BFF.” Ronan rolled his eyes. Ten and Lyric had been texting each other non-stop since they’d met a few days ago.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Fitzgibbon snorted.
“God, no. I’m glad Ten’s making friends here. I just wish Harold Owens’ spirit would make a damn appearance.” Ronan was still hoping against hope that the stubborn ghost would show up and put an end to this damn investigation.
“I thought Ten’s gift was working again?”
“It is, but that doesn’t mean Harold’s going to show up like a pizza you called out for.” Ronan laughed. Christ, he was starting to sound like Tennyson.
“That’s one way of putting it.” Tennyson laughed from behind Ronan.
“There you are. I was getting ready to call out the National Guard.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen. Lyric called me down to see her because she has results for us. You were invited to come too, you know.” Ten set a manila envelope down in front of Ronan before he grabbed an empty chair from the desk next to Ronan’s.
“I didn’t want to interrupt the lovefest between the two of you and Lyric’s Mimi.” Ronan grinned and opened the envelope. He pulled out the sheet of paper inside and scanned the results. “Well, this is interesting.”
“What’s interesting is that Lyric didn’t email the results.” Fitzgibbon looked perplexed. “In this day and age of technology, why is she printing out lab results?”
“Should you tell him, or should I?” Ten was biting his bottom lip in an obvious attempt not to laugh.
“Tell me what?” Fitzgibbon looked back and forth between the two of them.
“Way to throw me under the bus, asshole.” Ronan shook his head and turned back to his boss. “I may have forgotten my encryption password.” When the lab and other departments sent sensitive documents, the files were encrypted and password protected. Ronan hadn’t been able to remember his password for the last three weeks and wasn’t in the mood to go through the process of filling out the paperwork to request new credentials, which was why he’d asked Lyric to send him a physical copy of the Owens murder weapon lab results.
Fitzgibbon pulled out his phone and started tapping the screen. “Jesus Christ, Ronan. It’s bigdixx69.”
“What?” Tennyson burst out laughing. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish that I were. I’ll never be able to unsee that.” Fitzgibbon shook his head. “Log in and change it, Ronan. To something appropriate. No dicks, cocks, penises, boners, baloney ponies, love hammers, bald avengers, disco sticks, or one-eyed trouser snakes. I fucking mean it. Something. Appropriate. Now!” The captain sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if hoping for divine intervention. “It’s like working with five-year-olds.”
“How many five-year-olds know about baloney ponies?” Ten asked.
“Jesus Christ, don’t you start.” Fitzgibbon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we get to the lab results please so I can go back to my office and forget that I know the two of you.”
“You were just saying the other day how happy you were that I was on your team.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows.
“Yeah, that was before I knew about bigdixx69. Now read the results before I request your transfer back to patrol.” Fitzgibbon smiled broadly as if the thought of Ronan back in patrol was the best news he’d had in weeks.
Ronan picked the single sheet of lab results back up. “Says here that the blue stain Tennyson noticed on the wood is dishwashing soap.”
“You mean Dawn?” Ten asked.
“Sounds like it,” Ronan said.
“There were no discernable prints on the surface of the weapon, but there was DNA found that didn’t belong to the murder victim,” Ronan read with a hint of surprise in his voice.
“Let me guess, it was Maxine Owens?” Fitzgibbon leaned forward in his seat.
Ronan shook his head. “Nope! Good guess though. The DNA belongs to Shawn Owens.”
“Okay, explain that to me.” Ten wore a baffled look. “There’s dishwashing soap from Maxine on the wood, but Shawn’s DNA? How does that happen?”
Ronan exchanged a silent look with the captain. “It can happen a lot of ways. That piece of lumber could have been in the house for years as part of basement building project between father and son.”
“It could have been leftover scrap,” Fitzgibbon added. “Maxine could have picked it up wearing her dish gloves and that’s when the soap transfer took place.”
“But, while both pieces of evidence are provocative by themselves, it still leaves a hole of reasonable doubt big enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler through for either suspect.” Ronan shook his head.
“So, we’re back to square one,” Ten said. “If we arrest Maxine, her attorney will point to Shawn’s DNA on the wood and if we arrest Shawn, his attorney will point to the dish soap.”
“That’s about the size of it.” Fitzgibbon shook his head. “There’s really only one way we’re going to solve this crime.” He and Ronan both looked at Tennyson.
“I’ve got to talk to Harold Owens.” Tennyson’s shoulders dropped.
“We don’t mean to put pressure on you, Ten, but that’s the only way. Whoever the killer is has kept their secret for twenty years. They’re in no hurry to give it up now.”
“Plus, whoever it is has to know that the waters are further muddied with Shawn being added in as a third possible suspect, which makes the reasonable doubt hole, as Ronan put it, double in size because the attorney of whomever we arrest now has two other very viable suspects to pin this murder on,” Fitzgibbon said.
“Not to mention the fact that lawyers will be able to point to the BPD in this and say that we weren’t able to provide enough evidence to clearly identify which one of the three was the real killer.” Ronan sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders.
“And that it took twenty years to even get this far,” Ten added.
“Where do you think is the best place to connect with Harold’s spirit?” Ronan hoped he wasn’t being too pushy by just coming out and asking Tennyson, but time was of the essence here. They’d gotten all of the evidence off of the murder weapon that there was to get. What evidence they’d found in Harold’s wallet only made the motive for murder stronger against all three suspects, while not singling any one of them out.
Ten frowned. He rested his chin in the cup of his hands and closed his eyes. A moment later he opened them and looked at Ronan. “I think I need to pull Carson and Cole in on this one. I’m not getting any information at all. Stubborn bastard.”
Ronan nodded his agreement. “After that, we’ll bring Shawn Owens in for a little sit down and to find out what his DNA is doing on the murder weapon.”
“I’ll say one thing for this case, it’s lived up to your promise of being boring, Ronan. So far, there hasn’t been one gunshot fired, no one’s been kidnapped, and the only drop of blood that’s been spilled has been between the suspects.” Fitzgibbon patted Ronan’s shoulder as he got up.
“Shit, Cap, you realize you just jinxed us, right?” Ronan face-palmed dramatically. He said a silent prayer that wouldn’t be the case at all.
37
Tennyson
“Who’s the most difficult spirit you’ve ever channeled?” Ten asked the Craig brothers when they were all settled in at Carson and Truman’s dining room table. Truman had planned on inviting everyone over for burgers and dogs on the grill, but a pop-up thunderstorm had forced the party to be held inside rather than outside.
Carson and Cole looked at each other and shrugged. “I can’t really think of anyone,” Carson said. “Every reading I’ve ever done for a client went smoothly, in that the person they were hoping to connect with showed up.”
Cole nodded along. “Same here. The spirit didn’t always say what the client was hoping to hear, but they’ve always shown up. Are you still having trouble with Harold Owens?”
“Yeah, I haven’t been able to channel him yet. From what Ronan and I have learned about him, the thing that mattered most to him was his money. I’ve tried channeling him by holding his wallet and the I.O.U.s he kept in there and he never showed up.”
“He kept I.O.U.s in his wallet?” Carson asked incredulously.
“Our victim doesn’t exactly tug at your heartstrings. He loaned his kids tuition money and kept track, to the penny, of how much they’d paid him on the back of the cancelled check.” Ronan reached across Ten for the ketchup.
“When my gift was gone, I kept thinking all I had to do was talk to this guy and the mystery would be solved. Now that my gift is back, he’s nowhere to be found.” Ten shook his head and took a bite of his hot dog. Mustard dripped from the back end of it to land on his plate.
Truman handed him a napkin. “You’re hoping Carson and Cole can help you locate his spirit?”
Ten, still chewing, nodded.
“He seems like an asshole. I don’t think I want him in my house with my babies.” Truman’s green eyes narrowed in on Ronan.
“Swear jar, husband!” Carson said with glee.
“Hey, don’t look at me. This wasn’t my idea.” Ronan pointed to Tennyson with his free hand.
“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, snookums.” Ten rolled his eyes. “Me channeling Harold was your idea, remember?”
“Yes, and I also remember you throwing me under the bus with my missing password,” Ronan grumped.
“Okay, bigdixx69!” Tennyson still couldn’t believe that had been Ronan’s work password.
“What?” Carson howled with laughter.
Ronan’s face turned red like a lobster coming out of a pot. “You think up a password on the spot. It’s not as easy as you think. At least I spelled dixx phonetically…” Ronan trailed off.
“Well, now there’s a saving grace,” Cassie chimed in. “Can I have the relish Ronan?”
Ronan passed it over to her. “So, how are we going to lure this spirit in to talk with us? None of his family is here and we don’t have any of his objects.”
“I don’t think we’re going to be luring anything, are we, Mom?” Carson asked.
Tennyson waved to Bertha Craig who was standing behind Ronan with her arms crossed over her chest.
“I should be earning a consulting fee, boys.” Bertha cackled.
Cole and Carson laughed along with their mother.
“Is Bertha making fun of my bigdixx too?” Ronan rolled his eyes.
“No, she’s demanding a consulting fee for all the work we’re throwing her way.” Ten whacked Ronan’s shoulder. “And enough with the bigdixx crap. It’s not as big as you think,” Ten whispered.
Ronan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “That’s not what you said last night.”
“Sweet Jesus, Tennyson.” Bertha covered her ears. “It’s not bad enough that I’m dead and have to serve at your pleasure, but now I have to listen to this big dick bullshit?”
“Ho! Swear jar, Mom!” Carson laughed.
“Sorry, Bertha! My bad.” Ten turned back to Ronan. “You’re right, Ronan. It’s the biggest dick on planet Earth. Happy?”
“I don’t know what the heck the two of you were just talking about.” Ronan pointed back and forth between Tennyson and the empty spot just behind him, “But I don’t want to be in the middle of it anymore. Bertha, my dearest love, it would be wonderful if you could make contact with Harold Owens. He’s an uncooperative bastard who’s making our lives hell at the moment.”
“I love it when Handsome’s charming like this.” Bertha set a hand on Ronan’s shoulder.
“She’s loving on me, isn’t she?” Ronan was all smiles.
Ten nodded.
“Oh, Bertha. If we’d only known each other in person. We could have run away together to the Bahamas.”
Bertha laughed. “You’d have made one hell of a cabana boy, kiddo.”
Cole choked on his drink. Cassie whacked his back. Carson started to laugh too.
“What did she say?” Ronan turned to Tennyson.
“She’s talking about alternative career choices for you, Ronan. Let’s just say you’re doing just fine as a cop.” Ten cleared his throat. “You’ll be on the lookout for Harold, Bertha?”
“You know I’d do anything for the two of you.” She pressed a kiss to the back of Ronan’s head. “Tell your friend Fitzgibbon that Greeley is in the clear. That boy is one in a million. I’ve been sitting with him at night when the big man goes home. He’s a fighter, that one.”
“I’ll let him know,” Ten agreed. “Cap will be happy to hear that. Ronan too.”
“Well, if those are the only marching orders you boys have for me, I’m off to spend some time with my grandbabies.”
“Bye, Bertha!” Ten waved. Cole and Carson joined in.
“Ronan too, what?” Ronan got up and served himself another cheeseburger.
“Bertha said Greeley is in the clear and that he’s a fighter,” Ten repeated. He had seen the same outcome for the boy himself, but was wary of telling Fitzgibbon, not wanting to get his hopes up, just in case. The future was fluid and could change at any time.
“He’s a good kid,” Ronan agreed. “Cap was just saying this morning how much he’s into Harry Potter.”
“It’s nice to see him getting back to the business of being a teenager,” Truman said.
“Here, here!” Carson raised his water bottle. “What’s the next step in the investigation now that Sherlock Bertha’s tracking down Harold Owen’s spirit?”
Ronan grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “A squad car is going to pick up Shawn Owens first thing in the morning and bring him in for an interview.”
“That should be interesting now that you have your gift back,” Cole said.
“As reprehensible a human being as he is, I just don’t see him driving all the way back from Portsmouth, New Hampshire to Dorchester in a snowstorm.” Ten shrugged. “The only motive we have for him is the five thousand dollars that Shawn still owed his father for the plumbing school tuition. Even if the old man was harping on him to pay it back, at least he was out of the house and didn’t have to hear about it every day.”
“Families are complicated,” Truman said. “The money is the only outstanding motive you can name. I’ll bet Shawn had twenty years of stacked up offenses he could tick off to the two of you about his father if you ask him the right way.”
Ronan slapped a hand down on the table. “You’re in the wrong line of work, Tru, managing the bakery. You should have been a cop.”
“I was in human resources for twelve years. It’s not that different from being in law enforcement. The only difference is that I didn’t get to handcuff or frisk people.”
“He’s making up for lost time by doing that to me in private!” Carson crowed.
“Take that, bigdixx!” Truman laughed.
38
Ronan
Ronan felt like a little kid on Christmas morning. His present was waiting for him in the interrogation room in the form of Shawn Owens. According to the officers that brought their number one suspect in from New Hampshire, Owens was one pissed off motherfucker.
Good. If Owens was emotional that meant he wouldn’t be as guarded with his words. He’d be more likely to let something slip that a more careful man would keep hidden.
Of course, with Tennyson back in the game, that gave Ronan a second ace in the hole. Ten would be able to read Shawn and formulate questions from there. Ronan would do what he always did and go with his gut.
“You about ready to do this?” Fitzgibbon asked from behind him.
Ronan turned away from the two-way glass separating him from Shawn Owens. He’d been watching the pissed off man pace around the interrogation room for the last ten minutes. “Just about. I was enjoying watching him stew in his own juices for a few minutes.
“Tennyson is ready. He’s waiting for you outside the interrogation room door. He looks pretty jacked for this interview.”
“He’s got his confidence back again, Cap. I can’t tell you how much it means to see him back to his old self again.”
“I bet. Now get in there and kick some ass.” Fitzgibbon clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll be watching from in here.”
“Did Ten tell you what Bertha said about Greeley when we spoke with her last night?”
Fitzgibbon nodded. “She’s quite a lady, watching over my boy like that when I can’t be there for him. I wish I could have known her.”
“Me too, Cap. I can’t help thinking she’s got all our backs.”
“Get this thing wrapped up, huh? Christ, it feels like you’ve been working on this boring case for months.”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch.” Ronan laughed. “There’s too many bullets, he says. Now there’s not enough bullets. Make up your damn mind.” To be honest, Ronan didn’t mind this boring case. Everyone was safe, there were no bullets flying around and no one was in danger of being kidnapped, punched or kicked. Life was good. He headed out of the back room and out to find Ten.
“Oh good, there you are.” Tennyson was pacing in front of the interrogation room door.
“I was talking to Fitzgibbon. He’s watching from behind the two-way glass. You ready to do this?”
“Yeah.” Ten held up his fist.
Ronan bumped it and made an exploding sound. He opened the door to the room. “Good morning, Shawn.”
“What the hell’s so good about it? You dragged me out of my house and into a waiting cruiser in front of my whole neighborhood. What kind of bullshit is that?” Shawn crossed his arms over his chest.
“We couldn’t take the chance of you agreeing to come on your own. So, we sent a car for you.” Ronan sat down across from his suspect with Tennyson taking the seat next to him just like they’d planned.
“Why am I here?” Shawn demanded.
“We want to know more about your father’s relationship with your family.” Tennyson said. “Was he the one in charge of the money?”
Shawn seemed taken aback by the line of questioning. “Yeah, he knew down to the fucking penny what was spent in our house.”
“What about your mother’s money? Did he keep track of that too?” Ten asked, sounding surprised.
“It wasn’t her money. It was his. Even though she earned it, it was his. His house. His family. His money. His decisions. Get it?” Shawn sneered.
Ronan got it all right. “So your mother needed his permission to spend the money she earned?”
“Yeah. He was a total shithead like that. It’s the one thing I swore I would never do to my wife and daughter.”
Well, at least the asshole had a bit of a soul. “Even for necessities like haircuts and feminine supplies?” Ronan shot Tennyson a grossed-out look. “I mean, I can’t imagine anything more humiliating than asking for money to buy tampons and pads.”
“That was his game. It was all about humiliation. Keeping us all in line. Letting us know that he owned us in one way or another. Fucker used to keep cancelled checks in his wallet of money we’d borrowed from him, so he could hold it over our head.”
“Did he hold it over your head, Shawn?” Ronan asked. He had a feeling he knew the answer to that question.
“Of course he did. Old bastard never passed up the opportunity to let me know I owed him money.”
“Did he do that to you on that last day? On Christmas?” Ten asked.
“How the fuck’d you know that?” Shawn’s mouth hung open.
Ronan opened the folder in front of him and pulled out the plumbing tuition check. “We found this in your father’s wallet.
“Of course you did.” Shawn rolled his eyes. “I could have paid him back at any time.”
Ten shot Ronan a confused look. “So why didn’t you?”
“The principal of the damn thing. All he ever did was ask for the money. He never called me to see how I was doing or to ask about Debbie or lord for-fucking-bid to see how his granddaughter was, but he always called to ask for his precious money. I stopped paying him just to piss him the fuck off.”
“That’s an interesting strategy.” Ronan grimaced.
“What was he going to do? Call the cops? Ruin my credit? Repossess my plumbing license?” Shawn’s laugh was bitter.
Ronan had to admit he had a point. Harold Owens could do none of those things. He also had to admit that what Shawn was saying also didn’t give him much motive to kill his father. There was no real consequence for not paying back the money, other than Harold’s constant bitching about it. It all seemed to be a twisted passive-aggressive game with no winners.
Shawn Owens was a total tool, but he wasn’t a murderer. At least not according to Ronan’s gut, but there was the small question of Shawn’s DNA on the murder weapon to clear up. “We have a few more things to talk about.”
“Fine. What?” Shawn asked impatiently.
“You know that your father was killed with a piece of a two-by-four. Where did the piece of wood come from?” Ronan asked casually, as if the question was really of no significance.
“My father was the master of half-assed, half-finished projects. In the basement of that house were at least a half dozen things we’d started working on together that we’d never finished.”
That would certainly explain why Shawn’s DNA would be on the piece of wood used to bash Harold’s brains in. It would also explain how the wood got into the house in the first place. “Your mother and sister knew about those unfinished projects in the basement?”
“Of course they did. It was one of the things my mother used to bitch about.” Shawn started to absently pick at a hangnail on his left thumb.
“Who do you think killed your father?” Ten asked.
“Why does it even matter anymore?” Shawn asked, looking tired. “My family is all blown to hell now. My daughter isn’t speaking to us. I could go to jail for assaulting my mother and my sister. Then there’s the issue of the money I would have gotten if I wasn’t such an asshole.”
“Oh, you know about the double sets of cards?” Ronan had been wondering if Maxine or Hope had let that cat out of the bag. He would have paid to have been a fly on the wall when that news broke.
“My court appointed attorney showed me the evidence when he asked about a plea bargain.” For the first time since Ronan met Shawn Owens, the man actually looked remorseful.
“What was the plea offered?” Tennyson asked.
“Since I have no criminal record, the DA is willing to settle for a two thousand dollar fine. A thousand dollars for each count of simple assault and two hundred hours of community service. I wouldn’t have to go to trial or serve any jail time.”
“Did you take it?” Ronan asked. To be honest, he would have been a fool not to have taken the offer. In his opinion, you jump at any chance to stay out of jail, especially when you actually committed the crime you’re being charged with.
“I did,” Shawn admitted.
“What about Debbie? Was she charged with anything?” Ten asked.
Shawn shook his head. “The DA declined to press charges against my wife, my mother and my sister.”
“I’d say you all got lucky this time around.” Christ Ronan sounded like one of those pompous judges on Law and Order. He was sure Ten would have a good laugh over that later. “What isn’t so lucky is your DNA on the murder weapon.” Ronan opened the manila folder to his right and pulled out the lab results. He slid them across the table to Shawn.
Shawn scanned the paper and looked up at Ronan. “This some kind of fucking joke?”
“No, Shawn. We had our lab run the opposite end of the murder weapon for DNA and yours was found. Your father’s blood and brains are at one end and your DNA is at the other end. The end the killer would have held when the wood was used like a club to bash your father’s skull in.”
“Or the end I would have held when it was run through the table saw.” Shawn cocked an eyebrow at Ronan.
Ronan knew that’s what Shawn’s comeback was going to be even before the words were out of his mouth. He looked up at Tennyson who simply shook his head no. Ronan’s own gut had been telling him all along that Shawn Owens had not killed his father, now Tennyson’s sixth sense was saying the same thing. “If it wasn’t you, Shawn, who killed your father?”
“Jesus Christ, I don’t know. My mother put up with his bullshit for forty years. She had to tell him where she was going, how long she’d be gone for and God fucking help her if she wasn’t back when she said she would be. Not to mention having to ask the asshole for permission to spend her own hard-earned money.” Shawn shrugged. “He was a dick in a different way to my sister. My father put her down constantly. Was always on her ass about her weight and constantly told her that she was never going to find a man to marry her if she had an ass the size of an aircraft carrier.”
“Did he control her money too?” Ronan asked.
Shawn shook his head. “No. I think he loaned her money for her associates degree, but after that, she paid for everything else herself. Her paycheck was her own.”
“That’s all good information to have, but it still doesn’t answer our question. Who do you think did it?” Tennyson prodded.
“If I had to make a guess, I would say it was my mother. She had to put up with his petty bullshit for the longest. At least my sister could have left at any time.”
“Why do you think she didn’t?” Ten asked.
Shawn shrugged, his disinterest obvious. “To protect my mother, I guess. I never asked her. We weren’t close.”
Ronan figured as much when Hope wound up with a broken nose courtesy of Shawn’s right hook. A knock on the two-way glass pulled Ronan out of his own thoughts about the Owens’ family dynamic. He knew that was Fitzgibbon’s way of telling him to wrap the interview up.
“What was your reaction to your father’s cancer diagnosis?” Tennyson asked.
Shawn shook his head. “What cancer diagnosis?” He looked completely blindsided.
Ronan exchanged a wordless look with Tennyson. “We went over the original autopsy with our medical examiner. He told us your father had advanced pancreatic cancer. He only had a few months to live.”
Shawn shrugged. “I never knew anything about that. I can’t imagine my mother or sister did either or whoever killed him would have just sat back and enjoyed the show. Let nature take its course.”
Ronan shook his head. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room with this asshole for another second. “Thank you for coming in to answer our questions, Shawn.”
“We may have more for you in the future,” Tennyson added.
Shawn muttered something under his breath that Ronan didn’t quite catch.
“So?” Fitzgibbon asked a moment later when he joined Ronan and Tennyson in the interrogation room. “Did you get anything from him at all, Ten?”
Ten shrugged, an uneasy look on his face. “I wasn’t picking up any guilt from him at all. I also don’t think he’s hiding anything from us. He really doesn’t know who killed his father. What’s worse though, is that he doesn’t care. He thinks his life and the life of his mother and sister, what little he cares about them, is much better without Harold Owens in it. What’s more, he doesn’t think whichever one of them killed Harold should be punished.”
“A true prince among men,” Fitzgibbon observed. “Who do you think killed him, Ronan?”
Ronan shook his head. It was the million-dollar question. “My gut tells me it was Maxine.”
“Really? Why?” Ten looked puzzled.
“Not only was she dealing with her own years of abuse, she was also dealing with the way Harold had treated her children. Are your Spidey senses telling you it was Hope?”
Ten nodded. “For the same reason. Hope was dealing with her own years of abuse, plus watching the way her mother suffered under his treatment as well.”
“Cap, what do you think?” Ronan turned to his boss.
“I think you’re both making excellent points, but there’s only one person, one spirit, rather, that can tell us for certain who killed him. You boys need to take a trip back to the Cape and pray like hell that Harold Owens is haunting his widow and daughter.”
39
Tennyson
Tennyson had really been hoping that the next time he and Ronan were driving over the Sagamore Bridge it would be because they were on their way back to Sand Dollar Shoal for their two-week vacation on the Cape, but that wasn’t to be. Here they were driving back down to confront Maxine and Hope for what he prayed would be the final time.
“What are you thinking about?” Ronan asked from the driver’s seat of the Mustang.
“I’m hoping that Fitzgibbon is right about Harold haunting his family.” Ten’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t like these people, Ronan. I know Harold didn’t deserve to have his skull caved in by a discarded piece of wood, but I have to admit having that same kind of ‘who cares’ attitude that Shawn has and these people aren’t even my family.”
“Sometimes this happens, where the victim and the family are people you’d cross the street to avoid if you knew them under any other circumstances. Harold Owens still deserves justice. His killer deserves to be punished for what she did.”
“I know.” Tennyson did, he really did. He just couldn’t wait for this case to be over. He was restless and feeling a bit edgy. He’d left his unfinished packing list on his dining room table. What he wanted more than anything was to be back home in Salem finishing it up and doing laundry to get ready for his and Ronan’s trip which started in less than a week.
He knew it was dangerous to take his mind off the case at hand. After all they were driving to visit not one, but two possible murderers, but the draw of soft sand between his toes and two whole weeks of having nothing to do but relax and hang out with Ronan were irresistible.
“Here we are, home, sweet, home.” Ronan parked the car and looked up at the pretty little house.
“For how much longer though?” Ten wondered out loud.
“Let’s do this. The quicker we get in there and get our answers, the quicker we can get home and start packing.” Ronan brushed a quick kiss against Tennyson’s lips. “Look I know the captain and I are putting a lot of pressure on you here, but we both know that if Harold Owens spirit doesn’t show up, he doesn’t show up.”
It meant a lot to hear Ronan say that, but Ten was still going to feel like a failure if he didn’t connect with the dearly departed today. “I hear you, but like you said, let’s get this over with. I’m feeling a bit edgy.”
Ronan nodded and hopped out of the car.
Ten walked behind Ronan on the way up the stairs, taking a deep breath as Ronan rang the bell.
“Ronan! Tennyson! How nice to see you both,” Maxine Owens greeted them. “Come in. You must have news for us.” Maxine ushered them into the bright yellow living room. “I’ll get Hope. She’s lying down. Make yourselves at home.” Maxine hurried out of the room.
Tennyson walked around the great room. His aim was to find anything that belonged to Harold Owens or, failing that, anything the old man could possibly associate with. As with the first time they were here, the first thing Tennyson noticed were the brightly colored Caribbean paintings hung on the walls. “Boy, Harold, it must have frosted your cold, dead ass when Maxine spent your insurance money to go on these tropical cruise vacations with Hope, huh? I bet they went first class all the way booking a big cabin with a balcony and a bathtub.”
“What are you doing?” Ronan whispered. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to piss off Harold’s ghost.” Ronan snickered.
“You got a better way of bringing this guy out to play? Either help me or go sit down and shut up.” Ten’s tone was all business. He turned away from Ronan and moved toward the largest painting in the room which he knew depicted the scene high above Magens Bay in Saint Thomas. “Look at this one, Harold. Its Saint Thomas. Kenny Fucking Chesney has a house there. You know the country singer who’s always got a song out about running away to a tropical paradise? And look, your wife and daughter did just that very thing, with your money, after they killed you! Doesn’t that piss you off? Man, I’d be livid if my family bashed my skull in and was living the high life while I took a dirt nap.”
“Don’t those cruise ships have those all-you-can-eat buffets?” Ronan asked, his blue eyes sparkling.
“Yeah,” Ten agreed, “and the crazy thing about that is you don’t even have to finish what’s on your plate and you can get up for more food.”
Ronan shrugged. “Ten days on the high seas living it up like royalty, with all you can eat crab legs and prime rib, island hopping like pirates. All on Harold’s dime.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re one persistent little fucker, aren’t you?” Harold Owens barked.
“Hello, Harold!” Tennyson grinned from ear to ear. “It’s nice to finally meet you at long last.”
Ronan crossed his arms over his broad chest. He was wearing his own self-satisfied smile.
“You ever think maybe I didn’t want to talk to you? Little piss-ant.” Harold spat back.
“Oh, I know you didn’t want to talk to me. Not only am I a medium, I’m also psychic. So I’ve got you coming and going. I also knew you wouldn’t be far from the people you loved to torment so much in life.” Ten had been right on the money with his original assessment of Harold Owens. He was just as disgusting in death as he had been described as being in life.
“You mean these stupid bitches?” Harold smirked. “They have no idea I’m here. I try to knock shit over and make things go bump in the night and they don’t even notice.”
“God, you really are a piece of work.” Ten turned to Ronan. “He tries to torment them here in their own home, but says neither of them take notice of his parlor tricks.”
Ronan laughed. “Well, I assume that’s because they think their long nightmare died with you, Harold. When you died, they figured they had nothing to be afraid of anymore.”
“You two jokers act like you don’t want my murderer to get caught.” Harold folded his arms over his chest.
Tennyson half expected the ghost to stomp his feet like a two-year-old having a tantrum at naptime. “Harold, Ronan and I have worked for weeks now trying to solve your murder. We’d like nothing more than to know who killed you. Just so we don’t have to deal with this case or your family any longer.”
“Amen to that.” Ronan held his left hand up toward the ceiling.
“He’s got a fucking mouth on him!” Harold said sourly.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened the night you were killed. Maxine is going to be back any second now with Hope and then we won’t be able to speak as freely.”
“My good for nothing son punched my equally good for nothing daughter in the face, huh? Sorry I missed that. I would have enjoyed seeing them all slugging it out.” Harold chuckled.
“You realize your family is in tatters because of you, right?” Tennyson didn’t bother to hide the disdain in his voice. “It’s obvious to us that whoever killed you did it because of the money. We found the cancelled checks in your wallet and we know Maxine wasn’t allowed to have any control over the money she earned herself. Christ, I’d kill you myself if I needed your God-damned permission to buy feminine care products or a friggen ice cream cone. The fight in which your wife, daughter, and daughter-in-law were all injured was witnessed by your granddaughter. Now, I know you’re a son-of-a-bitch, but from everything I’ve heard about you, I know you loved Ophelia.”
Harold’s face softened. “Yeah, I do love that kid. I wish I could have seen her grow up.”
Tennyson had a nasty comeback for him about how he would have charged her interest on her tuition money too, but he let it slide. It wouldn’t do to enrage the spirit any further. All he needed right now was to find out who killed him. “Harold, what happened on Christmas Night, 1997?”
“Shawn and Debbie left early because it was snowing and the baby was sick. Ophelia was always a good baby. She never cried, but she’d been fussy all day. All Shawn did was bitch about the weather all day and how he’d have to drive back to New Hampshire in the snow. Well, no one told him to live up in that fucking no man’s land. Hope and Maxine cleaned up after Christmas dinner and we watched the Holiday Hotel movie they liked. When it ended, Hope went upstairs to read a book she’d gotten for Christmas and Maxine stayed downstairs to read a book of her own. I changed the channel to some fishing show and fell asleep.”
Ten shook his head. “Harold said the women cleaned up after dinner and watched Holiday Inn together. After the movie, Hope went upstairs to read and Maxine stayed downstairs with Harold who watched a fishing show and fell asleep.”
“Where were you sitting when you fell asleep?” Ronan asked.
“Where I always sat, in my recliner.” Harold shot Ronan a dirty look.
“What do you remember happened next?” Tennyson asked. This was it. They were finally going to find out what the hell happened to Harold Owens.
“I felt this flash of pain that startled me awake. My whole fricken head felt like it was on fire. I tried to throw my hands up to protect myself, but I couldn’t move them. When I opened my eyes, I saw…”
“Here we are,” Maxine announced. “Hope was sleeping, so I had to wake her up. What is it that you needed to tell us?”
Ronan’s eyes were bugged out like he was about to have a stroke. He strode across the room and whispered, “Jesus, Tennyson, please tell me you got it.”
Oh, he got it all right. Ten stretched up on his tiptoes and whispered the murderer’s name into Ronan’s ear.
40
Ronan
Ronan felt like laughing. He hadn’t been working on the Owens case for that long, but Jesus H. Christ, it felt like it had been years. From being apart from Tennyson while he’d been finding himself in the wilds of Maine to then discovering that Ten had lost his gift, to then dealing with the members of the Owens family, it had been one long haul to get to this moment in time. Here he stood now at what he hoped was the finish line.
Yes, he knew, finally, who killed Harold Owens, but that wasn’t going to amount to a hill of beans if the killer didn’t say the words out loud. Tennyson couldn’t testify in court that Harold Owens’ spirit told him who the two-by-four wielding murderess had been. It was his job now to make the killer confess her sin.
“Hi, ladies,” Ronan greeted mother and daughter. “Why don’t we all have a seat and we’ll tell you why we’re here.” Ronan loved the buzzy feel of nervous energy flooding his body. As a cop, these were the moments he lived for.
Maxine and Hope sat next to each other on the sofa and turned their attention to Ronan.
“We had the murder weapon re-tested for evidence,” Ronan started.
“For heaven’s sake why?” Hope asked. Her dark eyes narrowed in on Ronan.
Ronan studied Harold’s daughter. Both of her eyes were still blacked from celebrating her brother’s birthday. The woman looked genuinely surprised that the BPD would still be investigating Harold’s murder. “In the twenty years since your father was murdered technology has advanced. We’re able to test smaller samples of DNA than ever before and get a viable result.”
“I assume you have a DNA match, otherwise you wouldn’t be here to tell us in person, detective,” Maxine said. She set a hand on Hope’s right knee which was bouncing up and down like a jackhammer.
Ronan smiled at Tennyson. This is where he started to close the trap. Telling the mother-daughter duo about Shawn’s DNA was going to put their guard at ease. “We found Shawn’s DNA on the murder weapon.”
Hope shot her mother a shocked look, before she managed to school her features. Ronan had caught the look though.
“Well,” Maxine said, shrugging her shoulders, “Shawn never did have a very good relationship with his father. Harold was always demanding he pay back the damn tuition money.”
“I guess being hounded about money can wear a person down over time,” Ronan said.
“It sure can,” Maxine said on a weary sigh.
“Who did the Christmas dinner dishes that night, Maxine?” Tennyson asked casually.
“I always wash. Hope always dries. It’s just a habit we’ve gotten into over the years. Why?” Maxine tucked a stray hank of hair behind her left ear.
“That brings me to the other piece of evidence we found on the murder weapon.” Ronan was having a hard time containing his excitement. He was practically smiling like a groom on his wedding day.
“Was there more DNA?” Hope asked. There was a nervous edge to her voice.
Ronan shook his head no. He scooted forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. “No, there was no other DNA, aside from Shawn’s, but we did find dish soap on the wood.” Ronan looked up at Maxine and let his words hang heavy in the room.
Maxine burst out laughing. “You found soap on the murder weapon? Well, I can tell you, Detective O’Mara, that my son never once did the dishes in the twenty years that he lived in my house.”
“I assumed as much, Maxine. He doesn’t really seem the helpful sort.” Ronan grinned.
“He was more like his father. You know, go sit in the living room and fart before he fell asleep in front of the television.”
Tennyson laughed, but the laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What did you get for Christmas that year, Maxine?”
She seemed surprised by the question. “Oh, I don’t know. It was twenty years ago, Tennyson.”
Hope gasped. “I remember. Dad got you that cookbook from that Italian chef on PBS when what you’d asked for was that diamond tennis bracelet since it was your thirty-year wedding anniversary.”
Maxine’s eyes darkened. Her nostrils flared as she turned a hateful look at her daughter. “Thank you, Hope.” She ground out between clenched teeth. “I’d managed to forget that humiliation.”
“Why was that humiliating, Maxine? I love Italian food.” Tennyson’s voice was gentle.
“I love Italian food too, but that wasn’t why Harold bought the book. He always told me my cooking was awful, so the book was his little way of telling me I needed to improve. We always watched that chef on Saturday afternoons and he’d say how good her dishes looked and much he’d enjoy dinners if we could eat her food. That damn book wasn’t a present. It was another in a long line of put downs.”
“And you were sick of being put down, weren’t you?” Ronan asked. “Thirty years of faithful service to your husband and all you got in return was grief and a plain gold wedding band.”
“I didn’t even have any say on what he spent my money on,” Maxine said, bitterness dripped from her voice. “Every penny of the grocery budget needed to be accounted for, but it was a different matter when he went out and bought another new truck when the old one still had four years left on the loan.”
“Your DNA wasn’t on the murder weapon, Maxine.” Ronan held his breath. Either she was going to take the bait or was just going to hit him with another denial.
“Of course it wasn’t, detective. I wasn’t about to touch that dirty piece of wood with my bare hands.” Maxine made a disgusted face.
“You put on your dish gloves, since the rubber would protect your hands from getting dirty.” Tennyson was nodding along with the story.
Maxine nodded. “Yes, I knew there was wood in the basement.”
“Jesus, Mom, shut up.” Hope’s mouth was hanging open.
“It’s over, Hope. They already know.” Maxine looked like she’d aged ten years since the start of the conversation.
“Why did you use the two-by-four instead of a kitchen knife or a cast iron frying pan or poison?” Ronan asked. He had his confession, but at this point in time, there was no joy in it. He was looking at a broken woman. First her husband had broken her with his cruelty and now, realizing her crime had caught up with her, she was just plain worn to the bone.
Maxine shrugged. “The washer and dryer were in the basement. Before Harold had fallen asleep, he’d reminded me that there was laundry to do. Like a good slave, I went down to do it. I loaded the washing machine and when I turned around I could see the pieces of wood sprinkled around the work bench. More of my money wasted on these projects that Harold started and never finished. I just felt this burning in the pit of my stomach like a fire. I thought of the fucking cookbook under the Christmas tree and the diamond bracelet still sitting in its glass case back at the jewelry store. I told myself that if my footsteps on the stairs woke him up, I’d sit back down and forget the crazy idea in my head, but of course my footsteps didn’t wake him up. So, I grabbed my dish gloves and went back down cellar and grabbed a piece of the discarded lumber. When I got back to the living room, Harold was still asleep. He was snoring. His mouth was hanging open and he was drooling. I thought back to our wedding day when my life was full of so much promise and love, and thought to what that life had turned into and I swung with all my strength. And then I thought about the way he treated my daughter and I swung again. And I thought about the way that bastard raised my son to disrespect and hate me and I swung again.” Maxine shrugged and folded her hands in her lap.
Ronan looked up at Tennyson whose eyes were glittering with unshed tears. “Maxine, I’m going to have to place you under arrest for the murder of your husband. I will say this though, the right attorney will be able to take the extenuating circumstances you’ve told us about and work with them. Do you understand me?”
Maxine nodded and hugged her crying daughter.
Ronan got up from the couch. He needed to call Fitzgibbon and have him send a BPD patrol car down here to take Maxine into custody. They were also going to need an official statement from Hope and determine if charges were going to be filed against her as well. She wasn’t complicit in the murder of her father, but she sure as hell was involved in the twenty year cover up, knowing full well her mother had been the one to murder her father. There was also the matter of the insurance fraud to deal with, but that wasn’t his fight to fight.
As far as Cold Case Detective Ronan O’Mara was concerned, the Harold Owens murder investigation was closed.
EPILOGUE
The Fourth of July…
It had been the best four days of Ronan’s life. So far.
Sand Dollar Shoal was even better the second time around. Tennyson had booked the Captain Kidd room for them again and it was like coming home when they were ushered into it by old friends, Head Chef, Gregor Allen and his son, Henry.
They’d walked on the beach, collecting sand dollars and looking for prized pieces of sea glass to enter in the Fourth of July contest. Tennyson had found the best piece on their second day at the hotel. It was a perfect piece of tumbled cobalt glass that happened to be in the shape of a heart. Several of the pieces Ten had found on the beach had been heart-shaped. Ronan couldn’t help thinking the glass was a sign.
In addition to all of the beach walking, they’d done yoga together on the beach every morning. Surprisingly, Ronan had really enjoyed the stretching and the mental calmness of the movements. Not that he’d say this out loud to anyone other than Tennyson, but he wished he’d given yoga a try sooner.
The one thing Ronan had really been looking forward to was getting to know the guys who owned the hotel. He and Ten had been invited to have dinner with Griffin Fox and his husband Leo. They’d been the ones who’d found love letters from the sea captain, who built the house that was to become Sand Dollar Shoal, to his lover, Jeremiah.
Tennyson had loved hearing the story about how the spirit of Ezekiel Benson had visited the hotel two years ago to help tell his story to Henry and in Henry’s eyes had been here to protect the hotel from a late season hurricane. Ten had tried reaching out to Zeke and Jeremiah after dinner, but neither spirit had been around.
“Ronan? How do I look?” Ten bounced out of the bathroom dressed in a black tank with matching black shorts.
Ronan snorted. “We’re going to the sandcastle building contest. You look fantastic. Why does it matter how you look?”
Ten narrowed his eyes. “I would think you would always want me looking scrumptious, but there’s something up today.” Ten tilted his head as if he were trying to get a better read on what he thought was going on.
Ronan rolled his eyes. He stalked over to Ten and pulled his lover into his arms. “You always look amazing, babe. I would think you would know that after all of the bone-melting sex we’ve had in the last four days.” Ronan kissed him hard. “Of course there’s something up today! It’s the Fourth. We’re going to the sandcastle contest, which we’re totally going to win and then the big clambake and then the fireworks on the beach. I can’t wait to lie back on the sand and watch them with you.”
Ten grinned up at him. “You’re really settled in to this vacation lifestyle, huh?”
“I never want to leave and that’s the God’s honest truth.” Ronan never wanted to go back to Boston. He never wanted to go back to work. He wanted to stay here on Cape Cod forever.
“I’m so glad we’re here together, but I miss our friends.” Ten rested his face against Ronan’s heart.
“I miss them too.” Ronan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. What Tennyson didn’t know was that Ronan had invited the whole gang down here to spend part of their vacation with them. “Hey, you know what? Now that I’ve gotten a good look at you, I’m not really feeling the all black outfit. Plus, it’s like eighty-five degrees out there. Why don’t you change into something a bit cooler since we’re gonna be out in the sunshine building our sandcastle?” Ronan kissed him again, tugging on Ten’s bottom lip with his teeth.
“Hmm,” Ten ran back into the bathroom. “I guess you’re right. This outfit is a bit too hot. I’ll wear the tank with the flag on it.”
“While you’re changing, I’ll run downstairs and grab us some bottles of water and get a good spot on the beach. Okay?”
“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute,” Ten called from the bathroom.
“Bye, babe! Love you!” Ronan called.
“Love you too!” Ten shouted back.
That was easier than he thought it would be. Ronan hated asking Ten to change his clothes, but he needed to get out of the room ahead of Ten to make sure the surprise he’d planned was all set up. Ten was going to lose his mind when he saw what Ronan had done for him.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Drake DeMelo, the hotel’s social media guru and photographer was waiting for him. “Hey, Ronan. Your friends are all here and are waiting for you outside. Do you have the thing?”
Ronan grinned. “I’ve got the thing.” Ronan had done a little bit of shopping after the Owens case wrapped up. Drake was asking if Ronan had that purchase with him now.
Once the full the story of the Owens’ marriage and home life came out, the Suffolk County DA had been willing to make a deal with Maxine, who was charged with involuntary manslaughter and was sentenced to ten years’ probation, five of those years to be served under home confinement.
There had been no charges filed against Hope. She was not a witness in any way to her father’s murder and could not testify to what she did not see or hear.
Ronan had no qualms with Maxine’s sentence and with the DA’s decision not to charge Hope. Sometimes cases just worked out like this where the guilty parties paid for their sins prior to the crime being committed.
Walking out into the bright July sunshine, Ronan was greeted by Carson who was walking around the deck of the hotel rocking a sleeping Bertha. “Hey, there you are. I was about to text you to see if you needed help getting out of the hotel room.”
“Ten was having wardrobe issues, so that was a good excuse to get me out the door without him.” Ronan pressed a kiss to Bertha’s downy head. “Is everything all set?”
Carson nodded. “The sandcastle is built and the message is written. Do you have the thing?”
Ronan laughed. “I’ve got the thing. Is everyone here?”
“Yup! Truman, Stephanie and Brian are down by the castle with Cassie, Cole and Laurel. Man, that little girl loves dipping her toes in the water. Lyric, Katie, and Astrid are looking for shells. The gaggle of Abruzzis are over by the sand castle and Fitzgibbon and Greeley are here too. I’m so glad they could arrange to spring him from rehab so he could be here for this vacation.”
“Me too.”
“Bertha and Erin are here too, Ronan. Do you want to talk to your Mom before Tennyson gets down here?”
Ronan felt his breath catch in his throat. “My mom is here?”
“Of course she is. This is a big day.” Carson patted his shoulder.
“Hey, Mom. Here I am. Bet you didn’t think this day would ever get here.”
Carson laughed. “She says she knew this day was coming the minute you met Tennyson.”
Ronan shook his head. “Oh, you mean when I accused him of being a fraud to his face?”
“It was love at first sight, Ronan. We all could see that.” Carson grinned at him. “Be true, be loyal, be loving, be his everything,” Carson whispered. “Boy, your Mom packs a wallop. I’m gonna go make sure Leo and Presley have the video equipment all set and ready to roll.”
“Okay.” Ronan took a deep breath. He was about to go over his speech one last time when his phone rang. He slipped it out of his pocket, figuring it was Tennyson wanting to know if his new outfit was perfect, but it wasn’t.
Ronan frowned when he saw the 617area code of the unknown number on the caller ID. He knew that was Boston’s area code. Unable to help himself he pressed the green button. “O’Mara,” he answered. The line clicked twice and went dead. “Asshole wrong number,” he muttered and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
The wrong number didn’t matter. What mattered now was getting ready for the surprise. He took a deep breath and turned toward the beach where everyone was gathered. He was about to head down to the sand when Henry came sprinting toward him.
“Hi, Ronan!” he called out, waving frantically.
“Hi, Henry.”
“I’m so excited for your big day. I made a special dessert with Daddy to celebrate.” Henry’s gap-toothed smile was on full display, as was his Spiderman shirt.
“Ten’s gonna love that shirt.” Ronan grinned at the boy.
“I know. You should get him one. I can tell you where the best comic book store in Hyannis is if you want.”
Ronan nodded. He’d have to take Henry up on that offer. “Here comes Tennyson now. Better go take your place.”
“Good luck, Ronan!” Henry called before he sprinted down the stairs to join his fathers.
Ronan turned back to the French doors leading out of the hotel. He wasn’t going to need luck. He had Tennyson on his side. Oddly enough, Ronan had made up his mind to do this during the ride home from Hyannis after Maxine Owens’ arrest. Some people just weren’t meant to live happily ever after, but Ronan firmly believed that he and Tennyson were not two of those people.
“Hey there, handsome!” Ten greeted. “I thought you were going to get a place for us on the sand.”
Ronan laughed. “I was going to babe, but some other people beat us to the best spot. Come on.” Ronan led him down the deck steps and onto the sand. He stopped in front of a bunch of people standing with their backs to them. “This was the spot I had picked out for us, babe, but these people were already here!”
With that, everyone turned around and started applauding.
Tennyson’s mouth dropped open when he realized it was all of their friends standing there on the beach. “Carson! Truman! I can’t believe you’re here with the babies. Cole and Cassie? You’re here too! Lyric and Katie and Kevin and Greeley? Tony and Carlie? Oh, my God! Ronan, what’s going on?” Ten looked dazed.
“Today is the sandcastle building competition, so I had all of our friends build one for us.” Ronan grinned at Tennyson, who so far looked like he had no idea what was about to happen. Ronan had been worried when Ten said that he knew something was up. After all, how did you keep a secret this big from a psychic?
“You all built us a sandcastle?” Ten’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets.
Everyone stepped back out of the way to reveal a perfect castle. There were towers and a moat. It was decorated with shells and sand dollars. “Guys, this is absolutely amazing! I can’t believe you all got together to make this for me and Ronan.” Ten looked absolutely thrilled. “Oh, and look, there are words written over there in the sand. What do the word say? I can’t read them from here.”
“Why don’t you get a little closer and read them out loud.” Ronan stood back and got ready for his big moment.
“Be my forever, Tennyson?” He read out loud. Gasping, Ten spun around to see Ronan down on one knee in the sand. “Oh, Ronan! Oh my God!”
Ten’s reaction blew Ronan away. He could see tears forming in his fiancée-to-be’s eyes and only hoped he could get through this next little bit before he ended up crying too. “Ten, I never imagined the day we met that our journey together would lead to me being down on one knee asking you to be my husband. Here we are and I am the happiest man alive. The only thing that could possibly make me even happier is if you said yes and agreed to be my husband.” Ronan opened the ring box which he’d been clutching in his sweaty palm.
Ten gasped at the diamond studded platinum band.
“There was no way in hell I was going to propose with a plain gold band, Ten. You deserve diamonds from day one because you are my diamond. My shining light in the darkness guiding me home.” Ronan felt the tears coming on and he knew if he didn’t wrap this up soon, he wasn’t going to get out the most important words of all. “I love you to the moon and back. Make me the happiest man alive and be husband. Will you marry me, Tennyson?”
Ten was holding his right hand over his mouth. He looked stunned. Actually, he looked frozen in time. A single tear cascaded down his cheek which seemed to break him out of his spell. “Oh, Ronan.” Ten batted at the tears which were now falling faster. “This is so amazing with all of our friends here and Bertha and your mother. I just don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes!” Carson shouted.
Ten started laughing and turned to find Carson in the crowd. “A speech like that deserves more than just a yes.”
“I’d take a yes, my knee is killing me.” Ronan groaned.
Ten pulled Ronan to his feet. “You are the peanut butter to my jelly. The Spock to my Kirk. I couldn’t possibly love you more than I already do, but every single day, you give another reason to love you even more.” Ten shook his head. “I can’t believe you pulled off a surprise like this without me knowing about it.”
“I can’t believe you still haven’t said yes, Ten. I love you, so much. Marry me, babe. We’re stronger together than we could ever be alone.”
Ten snorted. “Of course I’ll marry you, Ronan. This is the best moment of my life with all of our friends here. I didn’t want it to end.”
Ronan took out the ring and slid it onto Ten’s finger. It was a perfect fit. “It never has to end. I promise you that I’ll make you feel this special every day for the rest of our lives.”
“Right back at you, Ronan.” Tennyson wrapped his arms around Ronan’s neck.
“He said yes!” Ronan shouted. He wrapped his arms around Tennyson and held his fiancée tight. He knew not every day was going to be filled with love and promise like this one, but he knew the foundation that they’d laid together was strong enough to weather any storm to come.
Dead Weight, Book Four of the Cold Case Psychic series will be available on April 10, 2018.
Cold Case Detective Ronan O'Mara is looking forward to starting a new life in his new home, but when a strange house warming gift appears on his doorstep, Ronan has no idea that it marks the start of a series of events that will put his life, and the lives of everyone close to him in danger. When murders similar to those committed by dead serial killer Rod Jacobson start occurring around Boston, Ronan is certain he has a copycat killer on his hands.
Psychic Tennyson Grimm is approached by friends for help dealing with issues surrounding their son. He quickly realizes there is more going with the boy than teenaged angst. Though he doesn't want to believe it, his psychic abilities and series of strange paranormal occurrences point to a link between the troubled teen and the murder victims that are turning up all over Boston.
When Ronan is attacked during the investigation, it's up to Tennyson and Captain Fitzgibbon to find the killer without him. Will they be able to stop the murderer before the evil that surrounds him destroys them all?
The preorder is available at my Amazon page.
Ronan and Tennyson visited the boys of Sand Dollar Shoal. If you’re interested in reading the Sand Dollar Shoal series, here is the link to Book One, Undercurrent:
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