Forgotten Place

by LS Sygnet

  "But Rick was Danny's blood relative."

  "He gave a damn when Rick died too, Helen. Were you aware that Datello went as far as firing up the private jet before the funeral? He wanted to be there. Something stopped him."

  "Uncle Sully."

  "It's a safe bet. How many of Rick's business associates showed up for the service?"

  "None. It was me in a sea of FBI suits."

  "It would be easy enough to argue that the bureau's presence was enough to scare away any show of solidarity toward their fallen brother in crime, Helen, but no matter how Sully looked at the situation, respect wasn't owed, because Rick wasn't his family. Why go there? Why invite more FBI scrutiny?"

  "David says Sully wouldn't have wanted Rick dead because one of the funds Mark Seleeby didn't manage to find had been cleaned out, embezzled just like Mark said."

  "Then David is naïve. Sully had less reason to kill Antonio Datello than millions of dollars. Laundered money in the wind is next to impossible to find, particularly when the one who specializes in cleaning it is the prime suspect for the theft."

  My appreciation for Johnny's expertise in the subject deepened. "You really have been focused on getting Datello out of here, haven't you?"

  "It might seem stupid to you, but yeah. I have my reasons."

  "They wouldn't have anything to do with what a sensitive Catholic boy witnessed as a child, would they?"

  "The man was bad news, even as a kid. He laughed when Sister Agnes Marie was inconsolable over the loss of that altar. It was a relic, Doc. More than two hundred years old, and a gift from Sister Agnes Marie's convent when she was just a novice. Sister Agnes Marie was special. Even her superiors saw that before she'd taken her final vows."

  I think it was Tony Briscoe who once told me about Johnny's loyalty to those he loved, how unshakable and infinite it was. I thought at the time, that it was exaggerated nonsense spewed by a man with no objectivity. That was before Johnny took matters into his own hands and made sure someone worthy of prosecution far beyond me was implicated in Rick's murder.

  Easy to chalk that act up to his lust. That's what I told myself in October at least. Now I started getting a clearer picture of the man who claimed to know me at least as well as I know myself, maybe even better. It had been decades since he saw someone he loved and respected hurt by a senseless act of vandalism, and the wound was still deep.

  "Do you think that Datello believed Eddie Franchetta could've killed Rick?" I asked.

  "What I think and what I can prove are two different things. History had to make Datello suspicious, since Rick died very much the same way his father did – same weapon, same kill shot. But what I know is that it had to have resonated on a deeper level."

  "How and why do you know that?"

  "I didn't learn until about a month ago, but the person rumored as most likely to have executed Antonio Datello was a very young Eddie Franchetta."

  That was the moment paranoia overrode all common sense for me. There was no way that Johnny randomly pulled Franchetta out of thin air as the likeliest suspect, or that he managed to link the weapon to a business that was guilty of far worse than the random murder of a thug here and there. Franchetta's history... Marcos and a possible link to terrorism…

  Johnny was definitely being led blindly by someone else. And I was pretty sure I knew exactly who the puppet master was. My fight for personal freedom to come and go ended right then. Johnny didn't know it, but he was on the radar of a true mastermind and needed backup.

  Chapter 18

  I watched the golden disks flip into the air above my stove Wednesday morning and wondered at the boundless energy from the hands doing the work. Orion couldn't be getting enough sleep. The good intentions of his Sleepy Time chia concoction the night before had been for naught. I hadn't slept so well either, but not for lack of effort on his part.

  "Hey." I approached with caution. The propensity for lying had Orion's guard up but good, and I had no one to blame but myself.

  "You're up early." He stole a single peek and did a quick double-take. "Uh-oh. What's wrong? You look exhausted again."

  "We need to talk, Johnny." Sudden reversals make me wary without cause. I could only imagine how many red flags would fly in his mind when I spit out my suggestion.

  "All right. Is this conversation going to negatively impact your ability to chew, swallow or digest blueberry pancakes?"

  My stomach rumbled loudly, amplified when I opened my mouth to reply.

  He grinned. "Good. Talk away, Doc."

  I perched on the stool and waited for a too-tall stack to slide in my direction. "That's a lot of pancakes."

  "Do the best you can. What's on your mind?" He offered pancake syrup.

  "I'm ashamed somewhat to preface what I'm about to say this way, but Johnny, this is not a lie. You have every reason to suspect me of being manipulative and –"

  "Spit it out, Doc. I'll reserve judgment for after I hear it."

  Breathe, Helen. Say the words. Accept it when he shoots you down. "I want my freedom back – conditionally."

  His muscles bulged against the t-shirt he wore when he crossed his arms. "And the conditions?"

  "I'm inviting you to stay, for essentially everything to continue as it has since Monday night with the exception to access to the telephone, my car and the locks on the doors."

  His jaw ticked. "Can I ask what brought about this change of heart?"

  "It has occurred to me, after our conversation last night, that the effort you're making to keep me healthy or whatever, might slow down this investigation."

  "And that's the only reason you propose this truce of sorts?"

  Not the only reason, but close enough. I nodded.

  "I'm flexible on the phones and the doors."

  "But not my car?"

  "I promise you, making sure you're recovery improves toward a positive outcome isn't hindering a damn thing, Helen. If I let you have free rein of the world, I'm afraid you'd burn off the food faster than I can cook it. Don't forget how well I know you."

  "All right, then let me make another suggestion in lieu of getting custody of the Expedition. I'd even be willing to forego the unlocked doors in exchange."

  "Let's hear it." He leaned against the counter.

  "You don't leave me locked up in here alone anymore. If you go somewhere, I go with you."

  Johnny's lips twitched. "And you could live with my company twenty-four-seven?"

  It was the time he was out of my presence that was precisely the cause for concern. Somebody found a way to use Johnny without him realizing it, and I was determined to make sure that he didn't suffer any consequences for his ignorance. "This isn't an indefinite arrangement, Orion, so yes. Until I get a little stronger, put on a couple more pounds, I can live with it. My apologies in advance if this cramps your style, socially speaking of course."

  He chuckled softly. "Oh Helen, you're not cramping my social life. Not even a little bit. Terms accepted. God, how I've missed negotiating with you."

  The fond gaze didn't set wings flapping in my belly. Instead, it communicated rather clearly that Johnny's patience wasn't boundless, that the condition of never being able to walk away after a certain point in our personal relationship didn't mean what I thought it had at the time. I was safely inside the box of friendship forever, and I didn't really know how I felt about it.

  Maybe disappointed.

  I shrugged off the confusing feelings and reminded myself that none of this was permanent anyway. Catching Datello had to be priority one. When that was over, there would be no reason to stay in Darkwater. I'd be free to leave, and in doing so, remove Johnny from the focus of he whom I wished didn't know he existed.

  Buttery confection melted on my tongue. The man knew how to cook, despite his statements to the contrary. "Did you guys find anything interesting in Ireland's notes?"

  "He favored shorthand that makes no sense to me. Some sort of legal mumbo-jumbo," Johnny said. "Ned thought
he'd go blind if he had to read another page of it, so he crawled off to one of your guest rooms around three. Hope you don't mind."

  "Of course not. The house is big enough for more than you and Ned camping out."

  Johnny slid onto one of the stools beside me and dug into breakfast. "So after therapy this morning, I thought maybe you'd like to help go through some of the notes Ireland left. If there's a clue in there to what made him look at Datello, I'm not seeing it. I found a couple of newspaper clippings about the family, but nothing more."

  "I'd like to talk to Maya about the exhumation first. And follow up with David about our conversation yesterday afternoon."

  "Don't worry about him," Johnny said. "I can't imagine how the bureau could possibly relate what happened to you in October to Marcos' activities selling fertilizer to nut-jobs."

  At my pause, he frowned.

  "Don't do that. I'm not holding anything back that you don't already know," I said. "I will tell you that the FBI has to have a reason beyond morbid curiosity that a homegrown terrorist shot me while Marcos had a building blown to kingdom come. Their interest isn't motivated by concern for my personal safety either. I'm sure plenty of agents who agreed with Seleeby would've considered it Karma at work if I had died."

  "Helen, you don't seriously think Marcos was involved in Jackson's scheme to poison the third world, do you?"

  "Honestly, no. I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out why the bureau would reach that conclusion. The only possible link I could make between the two events happens to be that Datello is the nephew and lives in the city where Jackson based his operation. Although Kim Jackson intimated to me that this wasn't the only lab he had in existence."

  "We found zero evidence of that, Doc. I'm not sure if you've talked to Forsythe about any of that or not."

  "I haven't talked to anybody about a whole lot since I came home from the hospital. You already know that."

  "They finally cracked Denton's computer. The search of Kim Jackson's home turned up more evidence that while he was a brilliant meth manufacturer, capable of genetically engineering lethal plants and an extreme bigot, he didn't have an organization capable of the massive scale he suggested when you confronted him."

  "Then it could've been coincidental. Either that or the FBI is watching what I'm doing because they understand why Darkwater Bay appealed to me in the first place."

  Johnny laid down his fork and swiveled toward me. "You wanted Datello's hide, didn't you?"

  "He ruined my life, Johnny. I had to try."

  "I thought you said they didn't know about your ex-husband's other connection to Datello."

  "As far as I know, they don't. At minimum, they don't realize I know about it. It wasn't uncovered when I was vetted for employment, so I don't know why they'd bother to dig in that direction now. What they had hard evidence of, was that my ex came onto Marcos' payroll because Danny arranged the whole thing. Prior to that, Rick looked like your average, smug investor."

  "How did Danny escape the net if he brought Rick into the organization?"

  I snorted and stuffed another bite of blueberry pancake into my mouth. "Easy. Uncle Sully needed a good investor. A relative made a referral. Nothing criminal in that. The bureau could suggest 'til the stars fell that Datello was aware of the type of investment service needed. Without proof, it would sound like the ranting of an organization bent on vendetta, not justice, especially if Danny's businesses are clean."

  "Is that why you want to talk to David?"

  "They need to give me a better reason for trying to drag my case into theirs beyond because we have suspicion. I'm not getting sucked into round three of Mark Seleeby all over again, Johnny. As far as I'm concerned, the matter of Rick's murder ended when they found their suspicious weapon."

  "You sure about that?"

  A bone was tossed. "I thought it was a grave mistake at the time, but you were right. It gave me peace that I never thought I'd feel again."

  "Unusual way of saying thank you, Doc."

  I stared down at my empty plate and wondered at how I'd packed all that food away. Orion was a conundrum, a mystery, the unseen force coming who would not be stopped or deterred by my ingrained tactics. "It was reckless and dangerous and sucked you into something that could've ruined your life. Do you really want me to say thank you for that?"

  "What I'd like is for you to tell me how you feel, without anything else influencing it."

  "Thank you," I whispered.

  "You're very welcome, Doc. Want another pancake?"

  "Maybe," I cast a sidelong glance. He looked inordinately pleased, from the thank you or the agreement to eating more, I wasn't sure. "I thought you said veal parmigiana was the only thing you knew how to cook."

  "Pancakes aren't cooking."

  "You'll have to let me make my version of them for you sometime. I think you'd have a new appreciation for your cooking skills if I did."

  "I might hold you to that offer." He paused briefly before delving back into more serious and pressing issues. "Maya's going to call when the exhumation is done. Crevan promised to notify Mrs. McNamara first thing this morning. Zack sent me a text last night. The order on McNamara was issued by one of our judges that used to golf with the guy, so there were no objections."

  "People know when things really went to hell in Darkwater Bay, don't they?"

  "I'm afraid so. Fortunately, there are those willing to risk potential consequences for daring to challenge what things have become. Zack conveyed another tidbit of information you might be interested in as well."

  "What was it?"

  "Don Weber scheduled a press conference for nine this morning. I thought you might like to attend."

  "I would," I said. "Although I suspect what it is he's going to announce."

  "An affair?"

  "It's probably a little more complicated than that." I thought again about Crevan Conall, and his struggle as a gay man in denial. It would probably scare the hell out of him to see what happened to Don Weber in the aftermath of a public coming-out party. I don't know how I knew that's what Weber would announce, it simply seemed obvious to me.

  "Well, it's been an open secret for years that Commissioner Hardy has a mistress who lives out on Hennessey Island. I figured it was the dirt someone held over his head when you told me he was being blackmailed. I think both of them will be surprised that the public cares less about that moral turpitude clause than they do the fact that it made both of them vulnerable to coercion."

  "What if Weber's mistress is a mister?"

  Johnny's head rolled forward. "Certain parts of town would cheer. Others wouldn't care to hear it, but the majority would probably demand his resignation. Is that what his big secret is?"

  "Possibly. He never confided it to me specifically, but he seemed distraught at the idea of it becoming public knowledge." I swirled my fork through the puddle of syrup on the plate.

  "I love it that you're still hungry," Johnny chuckled. He sliced a wedge of pancake from his plate and transferred it to mine."

  "How would you feel about him if that's what he says today, Johnny?"

  "I guess it’s none of my business beyond how it affected the way he did his job for all these years. Like you said though, you don't know what he's going to say."

  "His kids know the truth. So does his wife. She filed for divorce."

  "Ouch."

  "It was unfair for him to deceive her for years and years, but what choice does society offer really? You either live in denial, not just of an attraction that is hardwired before birth, but of a part of your existence, or you endure the judgment of society by being true to yourself."

  "You're not trying to tell me something are you?"

  "About me? No. I'm not secretly attracted to women." I thought about my panicked notion of having a sex change at one point and laughed softly. "In fact, if I had a sex change tomorrow, only then would I be gay."

  "If you were a guy, I think a lot of us would be gay if it
meant we had a shot."

  I ate three more bites of pancake and pushed the plate away. "I should get ready for therapy. Can we check in with Devlin before we leave the hospital?"

  "Sure," Johnny agreed. "Are you planning to take another run at our mute witness?"

  "I think the subtlety of Devlin will be far more effective coaxing details out of her than anything I could say. I'm just curious about what he might've learned since last night. It was good that you and Chris recruited him. He's a good cop, a good guy."

  "Yeah." Johnny drifted away to some unknown thought. "You're right. It's getting late, Doc. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

  Chapter 19

  I found myself perched on the stainless steel counter in one of Maya's autopsy bays while she muttered over the leather corpse of what I presumed was Harry McNamara. Johnny deposited me without eliciting a promise that I wouldn't run off and headed down to the crime lab to chat with Forsythe about forensic evidence in David Ireland's murder.

  "If this is a bad time for me to lurk, I can go with Orion downstairs," I announced after five minutes of her barely audible tirade.

  "Don't go. I'll be done bitching in a minute. Just as soon as I figure out how the hell Riley Storm determined this man died of any causes natural or otherwise."

  "Am I missing something?"

  She looked up at me. "Oh. Well, as you can see, I've cut away his clothes in anticipation of popping open the old Y incision, only to discover that there isn't one. Come over here and take a look at this."

  "Must I?" My nose wrinkled.

  "God help me if I do anything to kill your appetite. Stay put. I'll tell you what I see. Riley didn't do an internal examination of this man's body. He wasn't properly prepared for burial. I called Crevan a little while before the two of you showed up, and he's planning to call on the Widow McNamara to find out which funeral home allegedly prepared him for burial."