by Rick Murcer
“Okay, but what about the other end, the source calls?” asked Sophie.
Max shook his head. “The source phone probably has a quad band capacity so it covers four continents. It would be impossible to do the leg work on that end, but we do know that certain frequencies are assigned to certain countries. The lab is working that angle. However, there are so many factors to consider, like for instance, Italy and France having the same cell phone frequency that . . . well, it’s not looking good, but they’ll keep trying.”
Manny ran his hand through his hair. “Well, as a self-confessed technophobe, I’m clueless, except for the lesson Buzzy Dancer gave us on the triangulation stuff last year.”
“You got that right. Damn. It took me three years to get the boy to do a text, and that was a two-word obscenity to me,” said Sophie.
“I noticed you didn’t get the message,” said Alex.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re still hanging around.”
“Good thing too. I’ve saved your Dough-Boy ass a time or two.”
“You’re delusional.”
“I’ve got your delusional,” snapped Sophie.
Josh grinned. “The circus continues.”
“And we don’t have to pay for tickets,” said Chloe.
“What about the other call, the local one?” asked Manny.
“Good news, bad news,” answered Max.
“Good news first,” said Manny.
“Two of the field agents found the phone in a dumpster, about a mile south of here. The GPS was intact, so they got within twenty feet or so, and we were lucky to find it.”
“Bad news?”
“It was a pay-as-you-go job with no call history because it was erased and the memory card was removed. No fingerprints, etcetera, either. Anyone in Miami could have used it.” Max sighed. “Hell, it could have been a wrong number to Hayes’s phone, and the phone in the dumpster was used for some gangbanger thing.”
“So unless the lab gets lucky with some overseas research or we can figure out who was somewhere near that dumpster at the right time, we’re SOL?” Manny asked.
“Looks like it,” said Josh, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
“Maybe not,” said Sophie. “Are there any street or security cameras near the dumpster? Maybe they caught something that could help.”
The proverbial “Shit. Why didn’t I think of that?” look jumped to each of the other five cops. Manny wondered why no one had thought of that sooner, and then realized it didn’t matter—Sophie had.
Manny shot Sophie that grateful kind of look that people do when someone just saved the day, or at least part of it. “Great thinking, partner.”
Sophie stepped over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Well, I learned from the best. And that really could be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, other than how much you like my new boobs.”
“Wait. I never said I liked your—oh, you got me.”
“I figure your slick brain is tired, so I’m taking advantage when I can.”
“We’ll have the Miami PD get to work on that angle. Who knows? Maybe something will pop up,” said Josh. The special agent stood, rubbed his stubble, and then clapped his hands. “Okay. I guess the locals and our field office can follow up on those leads. We’ll be here for them if they need us, but I think Swifton and the others can handle it. Meanwhile, I’m going to let you know what else is going on, then you can get some sleep.”
“And get ready for that cruise,” said Sophie, fist in the air. She winked at Josh. “You know, that big ol’ suite is going to get lonely so—”
“Thanks, China Doll, but I’m going to go see my family . . . then get my ass chewed, or whatever Internal Affairs has in mind.”
Sophie sighed. “Yeah well, I suppose you do have a few things on your plate, but I’m just saying.”
“What else is going on?” asked Max.
“Chloe’s flying home later this morning and will be gone for a couple of weeks. We’re going to miss the heck out of her, but family issues dictate she not wait for three days.”
Sensing Chloe’s quick glance his way, Manny decided to stare at the ground and say nothing, not sure why he was avoiding her.
“I’ve asked Manny to join the FBI when he gets back from the cruise, temporarily, until Chloe returns. Since he’s still on leave from the Lansing Police Department, he won’t have any issues there.”
“Wow! Are you going to be a Fed?” asked Sophie, her eyes alive with excitement. “And work close with Josh?”
“Wait. I just told Josh an hour ago that I would accept the temporary thing. Nothing permanent, and besides, who could replace Chloe?”
“Good answer, Detective,” said Max. “I’m looking forward to working with you, but Chloe’s a ton better looking.”
“That was another good answer, partner,” said Chloe.
“So, what’s that mean, long-term?” asked Alex.
“Nothing. Listen. The three of us can talk about this more on the ship. We’re all tired and could use a little shut-eye. Besides, I want to be there when Jen wakes up and gets ready to embark.”
“That sounds good,” said Sophie.
Alex nodded.
“We’ll be leaving on the Gulfstream at around 10 a.m., but Chloe leaves a little later. So with that, we’re out of here.”
Josh turned to Sophie. “Just leave the keys for the other SUV at the hotel desk, and one of the local agents will pick it up.”
Then Manny witnessed something he would never forget. He doubted Sophie would either.
Josh grabbed Sophie, dipped her to within two feet of the ground, and kissed her square on the lips. It was over in a few seconds, but the look on Sophie’s face was priceless—more than priceless; it was eternal.
“Just wanted to say thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Sophie, the surprise still frozen on her face.
Josh shook Alex’s and Manny’s hands and climbed into the front seat of the SUV. Max followed suit, then Chloe shook Alex’s hand and gave Sophie a hug.
Chloe stood in front of Manny and slowly reached for his hand, her eyes searching his face with a different intensity than he had felt in the truck. She had forgiven his reluctance and wanted him to know she wasn’t going away. The woman was as intriguing as she was beautiful.
He ignored her hand and embraced her. More heat. More sparks.
As he released her, it occurred to him just how crazy she could make him, but he hadn’t thought just how crazy he was making her. Talk about clueless.
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “We’re not good, not yet,” she whispered. Then she got into the SUV, and Josh pulled out.
Alex put his arm around Manny’s neck, and Sophie grasped his arm. They walked to the other SUV.
“Oh yeah, we definitely have to create some time to talk about women, life, and how you don’t seem to get either, Detective,” said Alex, “Even I can see that.”
Chapter-40
Steve Shannon leaned against the old ash tree as a gentle rain fell from the shifting gray clouds, wiping away tears that an eternity would never be able to dry. Each time he tried to look away, the ungodly vision of what had happened to the closest thing he had to family drew him like some powerful, hypnotic magnet.
Finally, Paddie Harris and his wife were covered by impersonal tarps that would keep the quiet drizzle of the Irish day away from them. As if it mattered. Only an hour ago, the sun had been shining, but this was Ireland and who knew, really, what the weather would bring on any given moment. But he was sure the Harrises didn’t give a bloody rat’s ass, and he was equally sure he didn’t. The parallel between the weather and his job was almost inescapable—bright mornings of triumph diluted with horrible, dark acts people perpetrated on others with no hint of compassion. Steve Shannon knew these things went with the job, but not like this, and especially not to those who were a part of his life. Especially not that.
<
br /> At this very moment, he hated everything about being a cop. But he had to get it together, pronto, and do what he could to help find the son of a bitch who did this—for his partner and Paddie’s wife, but for himself too.
With an effort Hercules would have been proud of, he moved from the tree and stepped toward the CSI who led the forensic investigation, Brian McBride.
“What can you tell me about how this happened?” Shannon asked with a much calmer voice than he anticipated.
The short, wiry man pulled his driving hat down a bit more to protect his long, slender nose and pointed jaw from the drizzle. “Well, Detective, it’s pretty much as you think. Harris was struck on the left side of his face by a heavy object or one strong bastard’s fist. His jaw was broken, and I’m sure it knocked him unconscious. His wife was . . . was strangled. It appears the back of her nightshirt was ripped so I’m concluding she tried to get away and the killer caught her before she could. There are footprints, scraped up dirt and leaves, and drag marks about ten meters east of here, so that part makes sense. They appeared to have been surprised, if you ask me at least. Paddie’s gun was found over behind that bush, but it hadn’t been fired.
“Good guess. So why were they out here, in their nightclothes, no less?”
McBride shook his head. “I’m the science guy; that’s your department.”
Shannon nodded. So it was. “What was used to . . . to mutilate them?”
“Not sure. Looks like a fairly sharp knife, but the cutting indicates it was not a large one, maybe ten to thirteen centimeters. Whoever did this has some knowledge, but was incredibly strong. The ouroboros symbol looks like someone used a damned branding iron, but we’ll know more when we get them to the lab.”
“Let me know on that one. If that’s true, then he was prepared and that makes this premeditated.”
“As soon as I know,” squinted McBride.
Looking around, Shannon frowned. This was Mary Wiggins’s shift and he didn’t see her. “Where’s Mary?”
McBride shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t come to work and didn’t call in yet.”
He didn’t like how that felt, but Mary had a bit of a reputation for missing work. He waved a young, tall constable wearing a bright-green rain jacket over to him. “What’s your name?”
“Landon, Sir.”
“Landon, I want you to get the address for CSI Mary Wiggins, go pick her up, and bring her here, understand?”
“Yes sir. I’m on it.”
“See that you are.”
He turned to McBride. “Is your team working the inside of the house?”
“Yes, but they just started. Why?”
“I’m going to have a look around the outside, I’ll be back.”
McBride put his hands on his hips. “Don’t touch anything that you see, we’ll need to analyze it properly.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
“Oh, there is one more thing—”
Just then his boss, Superintendent Arthur Bennett, strolled around the corner with two other detectives and the division’s psychologist. Shannon raised his hand for McBride to stop talking, let out a breath, and waited.
Bennett stopped a meter from Shannon, glanced to the sky, and then back to him. “How are you holding up, Sergeant Detective?”
“I’ve had better days, Sir, but I’m thinking clearly, if that’s what you mean.”
“Good, good. I’ll get right to it. Regulations state that you can’t work this case, unless approved by the division shrink or me. I know you were close to Harris, and I’m concerned you’ll not be objective.”
“Is that why you brought these three with you? One to see if I’m nuts with grief and the detectives to relieve me of my duties, correct?”
“That sums it up.” The superintendent moved closer, his wrinkled face showing all of his sixty-three years. But there was a different light in his eyes, like a father to a son. “My problem is that you’re the best we’ve got, so just tell me you can handle this.”
“Sir, I will never forget what I saw this morning. And I’m going to cry again, more than once. Maybe even beat the shit out of someone in a pub brawl that I’ll start, but even if you take me off this case, I’m not going away. I will find who did this, with or without your blessing . . . Sir.”
A smile began to tug at Bennett’s lips, then disappeared. “You’ll need to select a new partner.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Carry on, then.”
He motioned for the others to follow him as he headed for his car.
The psychologist started to speak, and Bennett raised his hand and ended any hope of protest the therapist wanted to express. A moment later, the four men drove away and Shannon felt the tension leave his body, making his knees weak. He wondered if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Probably. Except no one cared more than he, and that translated to no one would work this thing harder or better, except God—and God wasn’t talking.
Rubbing his face, he started toward the house, then stopped, remembering that McBride had started to say something before Bennett had arrived. “What were you going to say before the Boss got here?”
“Oh. I just want to tell you, that based on the size of his footprints near where he attacked Mrs. Harris, he was probably a very tall man, near two meters.”
There were plenty of tall men in Galway, he knew that, but it was hard not to go where his mind went.
He hadn’t cared for the American when he’d met him, and “tall and strong” fit Fredrick Argyle perfectly. In addition to that, none of this pandemonium had begun until Argyle had arrived in Galway.
Shannon hurried to his car. It was time to find out more about their American guest.
Chapter-41
Chloe gazed out the oval window of the 757 and watched the clouds twist and turn in the early afternoon sky, but they were no more twisted than her thoughts or her gut, for that matter.
Life always had a way of working things out, at least that’s what her Mum used to say, and for the most part, that philosophy had held true in her life. She had a great career, the paycheck was more than she’d thought she’d ever make, and she was doing something she loved to do—a professional trifecta most Americans would die for, but that sure as hell didn’t eliminate the rough times.
Kathryn’s murder had to be devastating to Meav and Haley Rose. Her Mum was a tough one, but when Haley Rose had called her two days ago, she sounded almost in shock, not like her at all. On the other hand, how was she supposed to act? She wondered if she’d spent too much time in the blood and mayhem of her job. Was she becoming desensitized to all that violence? Something to think about.
To top it off, Chloe hadn’t been able to reach her mother in more than fifteen hours, even though she’d texted her three times and left two messages to tell her she was on her way to Galway today. She sighed. She supposed there was much to do to prepare for the funeral, and if she knew her Mum, it would be the best damned funeral Galway had ever seen. That was important in Ireland, and Haley Rose was just the woman for the job.
Chloe sipped the five-dollar glass of orange juice, then stared at the ice. Her Mum, Meav, Kathryn, and the quick trip home all weighed on her mind, but none of them seemed to occupy her thoughts like one Manny Williams. The heart has a leg up on every other emotion, for most, and she was no exception, but her heart wasn’t the problem, now, was it?
****************
“Come on, Dad, I gotta see the inside of this room,” urged Jen, unable to mask the excitement in her voice as she rushed up the escalator between the ship and the terminal, taking two steps for his one. Manny supposed she was simply unable to control it.
Her first cruise was going to be aboard the best ship Carousel had to offer, the Ocean Queen, and they had one of the prime suites on the ship. Hey, his heart was beating fast too.
Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Sophie and Alex, grins on their faces as wide as sombreros, hurrying to catch him and his wa
yward daughter.
Manny stopped, reached into his carry on, pulled out his digital camera, and hailed Jen.
“Hey, wait. I need to take a couple of pictures.”
“Okay. Great idea. I can send them to my friends, my jealous friends,” she laughed.
She danced forward about ten feet and began to pose like she was auditioning for some teenage beauty contest. She was a natural—or a complete ham. Either way, he got some great shots.
She was turning into quite the young woman, and that sent him for a loop, only for a moment, but a moment was all it took. He guessed he’d better get used to it. She’d be a senior in the fall, and he knew life was going to change even more for both of them.
After a couple more shots, she came back, took his arm, and kissed him on the cheek. “I know I have to go slow for you old fogies, but after I get you to your rooms, I’m heading for the pool, deal?”
“Well, I don’t . . .” Manny bit his lip. She’d been on house arrest long enough and security assured him the only way Argyle could have ever gotten on the ship was by osmosis. He sighed. “That’ll be fine, just make sure your phone’s with you at all times, got it?”
“Got it, old man.” She kissed him again. “I’m going to wait by the elevators until you three get your ass . . . er . . . butts in motion.” Jen hurried off in that direction.
Alex pulled up and dropped his carry on, bent over, breathing hard, sweat dripping from his chin. “Remind me to kick her ass when I catch her, if I don’t die of a heart attack first.”
“I think she could take you, Dough Boy,” snickered Sophie.
“Maybe, but I’ll put up a hell of a fight. And stop calling me Dough Boy.”
“Okay, Dough Boy.”
“You two are going to get along, right? I know your spouses aren’t here to keep you in check, and I ain’t doing it. So if you end up in the brig, c’est la vie.”
“His wife knows he’s not going to get lucky on this ship, so their marriage is safe. Randy’s still hiding out with Mommy and Daddy, so I’m ready to rock and roll for a week.”