CHAPTER TWELVE: Nick
“How was your weekend?” Jesse asked as he breezed into my office just after eight on Monday morning. Jesse’s hair was nearly white now, though his face didn’t sport a single line or crease, other than those from the battles of his youth. He kept his hair buzzed short, professional looking, he called it. He was dressed in a gray suit and a black collarless shirt. A thick gold cross hung from a gold chain around his neck. He looked nothing like the guy in sweats I’d met in that dive bar ten years ago. Jesse sat down in a chair across from my desk and crossed his legs. He bounced his foot and gave me a smile.
“My weekend was interesting,” I said, turning away from the computer to face him. “I met a woman.”
“Of course, you did,” he said with a chuckle. “What else is new.”
I gave him a smile as Uma, my assistant, came in carrying a tray with two cups of strong black coffee. This was our morning ritual: bullshitting over two black coffees before the day began. As busy as we were, it was about the only alone time Jesse and I got anymore.
Jesse took his coffee from the tray and set it on the desk to cool. He spread out his dark hands. “So, tell me about her.”
“Well, let’s see, she is gorgeous, blond, blue-eyed, nice smile.”
“Tits?” Jesse asked, cupping his hands to his chest. “You know I’m a tit man.”
I grinned at him. “Yes, she has tits. Quite nice ones, in fact.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Is that all you guys think about?” I looked up to see Jenna coming into the room, rolling her eyes at her uncle and me. Jenna was tall and thin, dark-skinned, with hair that was woven into dreadlocks that hung to her collar. She has a toothy smile and eyes that could cut into you like a knife. She had a stack of mail and a cup of coffee of her own. I nodded and she set the mail on the corner of the desk.
“And good morning to you,” I said, leaning back to lace my fingers behind my neck. “Anything in that stack there I need to look at?”
“No, but there was something online I thought you’d want to see,” she said, sitting in the chair next to Jesse. She opened her iPad and flipped through it for a moment, then turned it around and handed it to me. “I think you knew this lady. She was the one who put on the fundraiser you went to Friday night.”
I frowned at the screen. It was a page from the city newspaper’s website. The bold headline read: Entrepreneur & Socialite Ramona Cassidy Dead At 65. I took the iPad and leaned back in my chair. “Son of a bitch…”
“Who is it?” Jesse asked.
“Ramona Cassidy died of a heart attack on Saturday,” I said with a deep frown. “I just saw her Friday night at the benefit and she looked fine. Son of a bitch.”
“Did you know her well?” Jenna asked, sipping her coffee with her eyebrows up.
Jesse answered the question. “Ramona Cassidy and her husband own Cassidy Event Management.”
“Ramona booked our first event in the city ten years ago,” I said, scanning through the first couple of paragraphs of the story. “She was instrumental in helping Jesse and I get Patron Sports off the ground. And now she’s gone.”
“I thought Kyle Cassidy ran that company,” Jenna said.
“He acts like he owns it,” Jesse said, making a sour face. “But it belongs to his father, Edward. Who also has one foot in the grave.”
“Stop,” I said, scolding him. I handed the iPad back to Jenna. “Send flowers to the funeral home. Find out what arrangements have been made.” I nodded to Jesse. “We should attend the funeral.”
“Yes, we should,” Jesse said with a sigh. “Sad. She was a nice lady. And the only one in that family that didn’t crawl around on the ground on their belly like a motherfucking snake.”
“That’s the truth,” I said, leaning back to rub my eyes. “I hate to think what will happen when Edward turns the reins fully over to Kyle. God knows what it will cost us to book events in the city.”
“Oh, one other thing,” Jenna said, back on the iPad. “You asked for a background check on a Fiona Kassidy with a K who works for the Northeast Animal Rescue Fund.”
“Is that the new girl?” Jesse asked.
I arched my eyebrows at Jenna. “And?”
“And there is no such person living in the city that I can find,” Jenna said, sliding through the screens to find the email I’d sent her. “I couldn’t find a Fiona Kassidy with a K, and I talked to the director at the Northeast Animal Rescue Fund and they said their PR rep is a guy named Wallace. However…” She handed the iPad back to me with the news story still displayed.
“I saw this already,” I said.
“You didn’t read it all. Scroll to the end.”
I frowned at the screen and scrolled to the end of the story. I read out loud. “Mrs. Cassidy is survived by her husband, Edward, and one son, Kyle, who is married to…” I looked up at Jenna. “Fiona Cassidy.”
“There are pictures on the next screen,” she said, directing me with a stiff finger in the air. “Scroll to the left.”
“I know how to use a fucking iPad…” When the next screen came up, there were images of the Cassidy clan at various social functions: Ramona and Edward, along with their only son Kyle and his lovely wife, Fiona. Fiona Cassidy.
Fiona Kassidy with a K was really Fiona Cassidy with a C.
Fiona Cassidy was Kyle Cassidy’s wife.