“Not from me. He didn’t care about her. She was just pussy for him. He loved me. He told me that all the time.”
Carson’s face crinkled in disgust, at both Rachel’s language and her ideas. “So you have no idea who would want to kill Ben?”
Rachel looked at Carson in surprise. “I kind of thought it was an accident, or something? You mean someone…murdered him?”
“We have our suspicions,” Carson said.
“But—” Rachel began, but fell silent. “I bet it was Miriam. She was pissed off when she found out about me. Stupid bitch.”
Carson felt only contempt for Rachel, but he forced himself to remain blank-faced and professional. “So, did you know that Ben put Miriam in the hospital? He beat her nearly to death.”
To her credit, Rachel cringed a little. “No, I didn’t know that. I mean, I know Ben has a temper, but he’s never hit me. He’s gotten angry, and maybe screamed at me a few times, but…god, that’s terrible.” She seemed genuinely shocked.
* * *
As he drove back to the office, Carson had the feeling he’d just followed up on a lead that went nowhere. As much as he personally disliked Rachel, he didn’t get the sense that she had had anything to do with Ben’s death.
Carson sat at his desk late into the evening, facts and theories doing their endless tumble in his head.
Wade’s death could still be the result of jealousy on Miriam’s part. Maybe she found out that Ben had another girlfriend. That, combined with his penchant for abusing her, might equal a breakdown bad enough that she would kill him. But crimes of jealousy usually took the form of gunshots or stab wounds or poison, not murder by arson. A woman would have had to be pretty damn pissed off, not mention clever, to douse a man like Ben with fire propellant and torch him. Besides, if Miriam had poured accelerant on him, there would be other evidence at the crime scene, but there wasn’t a thing to go on.
None of this made any sense.
* * *
The next day Carson got a break that came in the form of an abandoned vehicle report. A motorcycle licensed to Jack Byrne was found abandoned on the side of Eleven Mile Road near Crooks, scratched and dented as if it had been in a crash. A canvass of the houses in the immediate area produced one witness, Betsy Willis, a seventy-four-year-old widow living alone in the second-floor apartment across the street from where the motorcycle was found.
“Oh, my, that was quite a show!” Betsy exclaimed with unabashed excitement. “I was watching my shows—this was quite late, you know. I can’t sleep much these days. And anyways, I saw this…oh, how would you describe it…it was like a glow, like something was on fire outside. So I went to look and see what it was, because if it was a fire I would have to find Mister Wiggles, my cat. He’s old, too, you know, and he doesn’t move around so good anymore.” Pausing for breath, she continued, “Well, I’m sure you don’t want to know about Mister Wiggles. I went to the window, this one right here, and would you believe what I saw? It was a girl, Detective. I swear I’m telling you the truth. I may be old, but I know what I saw. It was a girl, and she was on fire. Or no, that came later. When I first saw her, she was just…glowing. Her skin, I mean. And, my goodness, it was so bright, it lit up the whole street. It was raining something fierce that night, and I was worried about her. But she wasn’t walking on the sidewalk, she was just strolling down the middle of the road, and cars were going around her, honking their horns and such.
“Of course, no one stopped to see if the poor girl was all right, and you know I would have gone out there, but at my age, I would have caught pneumonia, wouldn’t you know? That’s just my luck. Well, as I was watching, a motorcycle comes zipping down the street and almost hits her, but he swerved at the last second, and that wasn’t the smartest thing to do, what with the pouring rain. His back tire went out from under him, and he lost control, and I was sure he was going to die, and I think he would have, if it wasn’t for that girl.
“Now, this is where things get exciting, Detective, and I’m sure you won’t believe me, but I saw what I saw, and it’s all God’s truth, so help me. She must have known the boy on the motorcycle, because she ran up to him and took him in her arms, and I could see her shaking her head. I think she loved that boy, that’s my feeling, but you wouldn’t be interested in that. He was hurt badly, and I wouldn’t have believed what happened next if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. She bent over him, and the glowing of her skin got brighter, so bright I had to look away, like…oh, like she had the sun inside her, as odd as that sounds. And wouldn’t you know, that strange glow moved from her into him and spread out, and I think it must have healed him. And then a fancy red sports car comes squealing to a stop and this big guy with dark hair gets out and starts yelling.
“Oh, it made me so angry to watch how he treated that poor girl. My Frank, God rest his soul, would have gone out there and given that boy a piece of his mind, I’ll tell you, but Frank has been gone these past ten years. Well. He grabbed that girl by the arm and yanked her away so that boy who was hurt hit his head on the street, and the girl, oh, she didn’t like that one bit, I’ll tell you. She was acting like she’d had just about enough of that guy with the fancy car, that’s what it looked like to me, at any rate. She shoved him away, and they were arguing. She must have said something that made the boy with the dark hair upset, because he started after her like he was going to hit her, and then, if you’ll believe it, the girl burst into flames. I swear, Detective, I swear on my very soul. She just went poof, and her whole body was on fire. But she wasn’t burning, like someone had put a match to her, it was like…oh, goodness, like the fire was part of her, if that makes any sense.
“Well, that seemed to scare the angry one, because he got into his car and drove away. The other boy, the one who crashed his motorcycle, he was just fine, which shouldn’t have been possible, because I’ve seen wrecks like that before, and people die from injuries like he must’ve had. Well, he and the girl were standing together in the rain and they kissed, and oh my, was that ever romantic.
“This is the weirdest part, though, because then the fire that was coming from the girl got really bright and then they both just vanished, just like that handsome magician, what’s his name from the book…David Copperfield. Only, they were really gone. It was no trick, I swear. I watched out the window for a long time, but nothing else happened. They were just gone, and that motorcycle stayed there by the side of the road for a while until someone came and took it away.”
Carson felt exhausted just listening to the old woman talk, because she never seemed to pause to breathe. But her story, however unbelievable it may have sounded, struck Carson as making a very strange kind of sense.
Another piece of the puzzle rattled around in his brain, and something told him the pieces were going to fall into place before long. He was so close; he just needed a few more facts, a few more witnesses. And, of course, he had to find Miriam and get her side of the story.
Chapter 12
Miriam
Five days earlier
Miriam tugged at the hem of her dress, wishing it were a little longer. She wasn’t used to wearing dresses, especially not ones this…skimpy. She was most comfortable wearing her waitress uniform—a pair of black jeans and a bar T-shirt.
“Stop fidgeting, Miriam. You look amazing,” Jack whispered in her ear.
“I look like a skank,” she whispered back. The dress barely came to mid-thigh, and the filmy coral-colored material was cut low between her breasts, showing a strip of skin nearly to her navel, and was cut the same in the back. She had bought it for the wedding because Jack had really liked it. Modeling it for him in the dressing room and in her apartment was one thing. His hungry, admiring gaze had made her feel sexy and beautiful, and he’d spent half the drive to the church telling her how amazing she looked. But that hadn’t prepared her for the looks she’d gotten from Jack’s family when they’d walked in to take their seats on the hard wooden pews of the church.
“You do not look like a skank,” Jack said, a little too loudly. “My cousin Shannon, now, she looks likes a skank, but then, she is one.”
Miriam slapped his arm, shocked that he’d talk about his own cousin like that. She tried to spot who he was talking about, and he nodded behind them, at a short, voluptuous girl with elaborately coiffured black hair. She was wearing a red dress even shorter than Miriam’s, her large, pale breasts pushed up to nearly overflowing. Miriam’s eyes widened a little, and Jack sputtered, trying to contain his laughter.
“She’s a skank, Miriam. She’s my cousin, and I love her, but that guy she’s dragging with her is the third boyfriend she’s had in the last two months. She goes through men faster than outfits.” Miriam was giving him a disapproving glare, so he lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. “I tell her she’s a skank to her face and she calls me a fancy-nancy bastard, and we laugh. It’s how we are.”
“You insult each other?”
“Well, yeah. We tease each other. It’s how we show love in our family.” Jack shrugged. “I guess it’s weird, now that I explain it out loud, but it’s just the way we are. No one means any harm by it, and we all know it.”
“I don’t get it. Will they tease me?” They were whispering now, because the priest was rising from his seat and approaching the lectern. The organist played the “Wedding March,” and everyone stood to watch Jack’s younger sister Mary stride with slow, measured steps down the aisle.
Jack answered without taking his eyes off his sister. “Not right away, no. But the more time you spend with us, yeah, someone will probably tease you about something, just to see how you take it. It’ll probably be either Gramps or my cousin Joe. Just remember they don’t mean nothin’ by it, and they expect you to rib ’em back. The better you can tease and be teased in our family, the better you fit in.”
Mary was a beautiful girl, resplendent in a simple but stunning A-line dress and long veil covering her shimmering auburn hair. She took her place beside her fiancé, clasped his hands in hers, and fixed her eyes on him. Miriam, only a few rows back, could see the bride swallowing, fighting back tears already. Miriam wondered what it would be like to stand there like that, in a white dress, facing the man she loved, promising to stay with him forever. She just couldn’t picture it. She stole a glance at Jack, who was watching his soon-to-be brother-in-law with an odd expression on his face. Jack turned to look at Miriam at the same moment, and their eyes met; Miriam couldn’t help picturing Jack in a tuxedo, watching her walk down the aisle to him—
Miriam clamped down on that image with a ruthless ferocity.
He’d showed up unannounced at her door the previous day and had taken her to breakfast, where he informed her that his sister was getting married the next day, and he wanted Miriam to come with him as his date. She objected, saying that she didn’t really have any wedding-appropriate clothes, and Jack had just shot her that knowing smirk of his that both irritated her and made her heart beat like a drum.
Ben had been mysteriously absent, and while Miriam knew things weren’t over between them, she was acting on hope that she could attend this wedding with Jack and not have any drama ruin it. It was a vain hope, probably, but she clung to it tenaciously.
“I thought we could go shopping,” he’d said. “I don’t really have a suit, either, so we could make a day of it.”
He wanted to take her shopping? What guy voluntarily did that? Of course she’d agreed, and then Jack had taken her to the Somerset shopping mall, following her into a dozen stores and watching her try on a thousand dresses, telling her he liked them all. Eventually she’d tried a dress on at Forever 21, and when she’d come out to show him, his jaw had loosened, and he’d approached her with adventurous hands.
“Get this one,” he’d whispered in her ear, kissing the bare skin of her shoulder. She’d chosen that one, just because of his reaction. Then, just because guys could be so irritating, he’d browsed through the racks at the first men’s store they’d entered, tried on one suit, and bought it. Of course, it fit perfectly, making him look like a model, with his messy hair and liquid blue eyes.
Now that they were actually at the wedding, she was wishing she’d worn a dress that wasn’t quite so…revealing. She loved Jack’s reaction to it, but she also felt the eyes of other men on her, and that was uncomfortable. A grab here and there by drunk customers at the bar was one thing, but to draw the attention of every guy within a twenty-foot radius was something different, especially when they were all Jack’s family.
Jack seemed to sense her discomfort, for he told her, halfway through the long, unfamiliar Catholic service, “It’s not just the dress that’s making everyone look, Miriam. It’s you. You’re absolutely stunning. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of my cousins hit on you.” He seemed to have an endless supply of cousins. “Don’t worry, I’ll fight ’em off.”
“No! No fighting, Jack.” Apart from everything else, she was worried that her magic—or whatever it was—would erupt if there was a fight.
He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Not literally fight them. Just keep them from stealing you. That thing with Jimmy, that was…an old argument a long time in the making.” He didn’t seem to want to tell her about it, and she didn’t pry, although she was curious, having gleaned the basics from the argument itself.
The service finally ended, and Miriam gladly followed Jack out into the sunlight, stretching her legs after the long ceremony. She offered her congratulations to the bride and groom, and, holding Jack’s arm, she shook hands with an endless bevy of cousins and aunts and uncles, most of who referred to him as “Jackie.”
When they were in his car following the caravan to the reception, he remarked, “God, I hate being called Jackie. They all do it just because they know it drives me nuts.”
“So I shouldn’t call you Jackie, then?” Miriam teased.
“I’d rather you not, but if you really want to….”
She pretended to consider. “Hmmm. I think I like it, though. Jackie. It’s cute.” She pinched his cheek, and he batted her hand away.
“Yeah, you’ll fit in, no problem.” He laughed. “God, I never should’ve said anything.”
The reception was enormous. There were at least five hundred people between the two families, all of them Irish, and they all had drinks in their hands, dancing and drinking straight through from cocktail hour to the dinner itself. Jack escorted her to their table near the wedding party, where they were seated with his brothers Jimmy and William, and the groom’s brother and sister. He sat her down and vanished, reappearing with drinks in a few minutes.
He leaned in and whispered, “How do you want me to introduce you? My friend? Just Miriam?” His blue gaze was unnervingly intent.
She shook her head, her eyes not wavering from his. “I’m your girlfriend, Jack. Introduce me as that.” If only he knew how much trust it took for her to say that.
He grinned, giddy as a schoolboy. “I was hoping you’d say that, but I didn’t want to assume.” He made the rounds of introductions, not quite but almost emphasizing the words “this is my girlfriend.” He seemed proud of the fact that Miriam was with him, and that in itself was disconcerting. Ben had never taken her anywhere important except once, to a Marine Corps unit-reunion dinner, and he had seemed ashamed of her, never introducing her, barely touching her, always wandering away and flirting with other women—enough to piss everyone off and embarrass Miriam to tears.
She pushed away those thoughts, telling herself to stop comparing the two men. Jack was nothing like Ben, not in any way. She had broken up with Ben for good, and things were going to change. She drank freely, keeping up with Jack, who seemed to unwind a bit, getting a little tipsy. She felt her wariness increasing as the night progressed and Jack became looser with the drink. She was waiting for the shift, waiting for Jack to cross the line from pleasantly drunk to obliterated and mean, waiting for him to do or say something to hurt or embarrass her.
&nbs
p; But he didn’t. He stayed at her side, holding her hand all the while, introducing her proudly to his family and including her in all the conversations. He dragged her onto the dance floor, acting ridiculous and dancing with such abandon, if not skill, that she couldn’t help but laugh and join him, letting her own buzz take over.
Halfway through the first slow dance song, Jack’s grandfather tapped him on the shoulder. “Can I steal a dance with your lovely date, Jackie-boy?” Miriam took Séan’s huge, callused, wrinkled hand in hers and allowed herself to be led away from Jack. “So, Miss Miriam, did you take my advice, then?”
“Yes, Mr. Byrne, I did, actually. I’m here as Jack’s girlfriend this time, not just as a friend.”
“Och, no one was fooled by that line, girlie. You may have been foolin’ yourself, but not us. And call me Gramps, please. I’m old-fashioned that way, and I like you.”
“I like you, too…Gramps.” It felt odd but not uncomfortable to call this kind old man Gramps, having never known her own grandparents.
“Did Jackie tell you about my second sight?” Gramps asked.
“He did, yes. He didn’t explain it much, though. What is it?”
Gramps guffawed and shook his head. “Oh, he was being coy, he was. He knows damned well what is. He’s got it himself—he just won’t believe it, damned stubborn boy. Second sight is like prophecy. Gettin’ a glimpse of the future, you could say. Comes from havin’ the Blood of the Niall.” He looked down at Miriam, and his gaze was penetrating and serious. “I look at you, dear, and I see a girl who ain’t what she seems. You don’t know yourself, darlin’, and that’ll get you into trouble. You can’t shy away from what you are, Miriam. I ain’t sayin’ I know, but it’s plain as day that you’re something’ special, and that’s God’s own truth.”
Miriam was strangely shaken by his words. They danced through the end of the song, and she stood still when it ended, still holding his hand. “I’m just me, Gramps,” she whispered.
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