Molly Brown

by B. A. Morton

  He cocked his head and tagged on a crooked smile that would have worked with Lizzie, no matter what he’d done or said, but obviously wasn’t going to do the business with Marty who merely gave a world weary sigh and looked away.

  Gerry shifted his gaze from one to the other “Give him a break, Marty. Tommy’s had a rough afternoon.”

  “So what’s new?” shrugged Marty, his expression betraying the fact that he’d lost count of the number of rough afternoons Connell had and the number of times he’d been dragged along for the ride.

  “Ah, but this was a doozie, Marty,” Gerry grinned and turned back to Connell. “Catch,” he called, throwing Connell’s wallet across the roof of the car. Connell caught it one-handed. He raised a brow, surprised. Gerry always could pull it out the bag. He sent an apologetic look to Marty, before returning his attention to Gerry.

  “Hey, how did you manage that? I thought this was evidence.”

  “I have influence ...” replied Gerry.

  Oh sure, thought Connell, he had influence when he chose to use it. “Shame you couldn’t have used your influence a little sooner, Gerry. You might have saved me some grief.”

  “Hey, if it wasn’t for your best buddy here, I wouldn’t even have turned up. Be nice, Tommy. Say thank you to Marty, and let’s move on.”

  Connell smiled. “Hey, thanks, Marty. What would I do without you?”

  Marty nodded his acceptance. “So guys, what’s the story?” he asked and Connell turned and shrugged.

  “Ask the big man here. He seems to have all the answers, don’t you, Gerry.” As usual Gerry seemed to know more than he was letting on, and despite Gerry’s attempt at his ‘we’re all in this together’ team talk, his habit of keeping Connell in the dark was starting to grate.

  Gerry cocked his head. “What are you not telling me, Tommy? I realize you weren’t going to say jack shit to Hamilton and his merry crew, but don’t think for one moment you’re going to hold back on me.”

  Connell rolled his eyes, shot a ‘who the hell does he think he is’ kind of look at Marty, and opened the car door. “Geez, Gerry, I think you’ve cornered the market on holding back. Just when were you going to tell me I was being tied to a hook and dangled?”

  “Hey, guys, I’m still here. You going to let me in on this?” Marty tried again.

  Connell looked at him and realized of course he hadn’t been privy to the ridiculous accusations or the gory details, and updated him.

  Marty visibly paled, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. “Tommy, I’m being serious here. Honestly, pal, you need to get a real job. If Lizzie knew what went on today, the shit you’re mixed up in, she’d be on the next plane back to Merry Olde England. You can’t be doing this, not to her or yourself.”

  “Tell that to him. I’m just following orders.”

  “Since when did you follow orders?”

  “It wasn’t exactly like that,” said Gerry.

  “Oh yeah, so you didn’t just wind me up and set me off like some mechanical Robocop?”

  “Hardly, Tommy. You don’t need me to wind you up. You seem to manage pretty well all by yourself.”

  Okay, Connell conceded, so maybe he was right on that score. He glared at him. He didn’t much like conceding anything, particularly today.

  “So, guys,” continued Marty as he pulled himself off the hood, “you going to tell me what’s going on, what the plan is now?”

  “Did you find the kid?” asked Gerry, ignoring Marty and getting straight to the point, as Connell knew he would.

  Connell leaned on the roof of the car, rested his chin on his folded arms and studied Gerry over the top of it. He considered his reply carefully. He trusted Gerry, there was no doubt about that, even if at times they pissed each other off some, and Marty, well, he was like a brother. He couldn’t have two better guys on his side, despite the fact they both currently thought he was a liability. But until he had all the pieces in the right order in his head, he wasn’t sure whether he’d be doing them any favors by revealing what he knew, or what he thought he knew.

  “Maybe.” he replied slowly.

  “And she’s got something to do with this?”

  “Possibly.” He had no real idea, just a feeling. He might have handed in his badge but he’d kept hold of the instincts that went with it.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Connell shrugged. “To be honest, Gerry, I’m not sure.” He tapped at his head and gave a half-smile. “I’ve got maybe ninety percent of a jigsaw puzzle in here, but until I can find all four corners, I can’t begin to put it all together.”

  “I always start with the sky,” offered Marty with a grin.

  “Straight edges for me,” said Gerry.

  Connell smiled and relaxed for the first time since he’d come out of the building. “Okay, you want to help? Let’s go get something to eat first or, to hell with the damn serial killer, my innards are going to jump right out of their own accord.”

  * * *

  “Marty, did you get anywhere with the missing parents?” asked Connell when he’d calmed his gut with a pizza. He’d a feeling he’d pay for it later, pepperoni and revenge didn’t mix well, and he was stoking up a decent belly full of the latter. He just needed to take the time to work out the rightful recipient.

  Shaking his head, Marty swirled the remnants of his coffee in the bottom of the cup and glanced up. “Not much. The husband was released from jail six months ago.”

  “What for?” Connell caught the eye of the waitress, got refills for them all and leaned back in his seat.

  “Huh?”

  “What was he sent down for?” He glanced across at Gerry who was finishing off some rabbit food. What was the guy doing eating healthy at his age? Maybe he was trying to lose a little weight, attract a lady? Connell smiled to himself and stowed that one away for later.

  “Some drunken brawl in a truck stop, fight got outa hand, place got smashed up.”

  Connell nodded absently, still stuck on Gerry, wondering what kind of a woman would put up with his predilection for subterfuge. He swung his attention back to Marty. “How long was he inside?”

  “He served six months of a twelve month stretch.”

  “Okay, so twelve months ago Mr. Brown was kicking off in a truck stop, he serves six months, comes home for four, and then he disappears. What else has been going on in the last twelve months?”

  Marty pondered. “Hey, I got a vasectomy ...”

  Connell and Gerry both looked at him. “Geez, Marty, you did what?”

  “What? Don’t look so shocked. I got six kids already. You think I’m a millionaire? You think my heart can take another round of diapers and two o’clock feedings?”

  “Yeah, but, Marty ...” Connell winced. “That’s gotta hurt …” He thought of Spidey and felt even less inclined now to let the vet do the dirty deed on him.

  “Well, they don’t exactly use two bricks, Tommy. You know we live in a modern world.”

  “What did Charlene say?” Connell was intrigued. Charlene loved kids, lots of kids. He couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been either pregnant or nursing. But yeah, six kids, he could see where Marty was coming from.

  “Boys,” interrupted Gerry, “we’re getting sidetracked.”

  “Sure thing, Gerry.” Connell resisted the urge to reassure his own parts that they were quite safe from the knife for now, and turned his attention back to the matter in hand. “So, just out of interest, Gerry, and with you being the man in the know, when did our zapper guy first make an appearance?”

  “The first murder took place just under three months ago. There’s been one every week since then.”

  Connell was shocked. Despite seeing the board, seeing the photos of the mutilated corpses, he hadn’t quite bought into the horror of it or the audacity of this guy who’d managed, by whatever means, to continue to evade identification and capture. Maybe he’d been a little too busy fighting off accusations of his o
wn, but the fact was, this had been going on for three months, been reported widely in the press and on TV and he really knew shit about it.

  “This is one clever guy, Gerry. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Or maybe the lid’s just finally blown off him. He could be a normal guy in the street, going about his business, who’s just snapped for whatever reason.”

  Connell swept his palms across his jaw line, recognized the need for a shave when he finally found the barber shop, and shook his head slowly. “No, Gerry, I don’t think this guy is your run-of-the-mill nutcase, pissed because he got fired or his girlfriend cheated on him. I think he’s maybe had too many bad days with cops, too many times of being pulled over and hassled, and he’s decided to clean up the police force all by himself, a one man internal affairs division.” He winked broadly at Marty. “Hey, Gerry where were you at eight-thirty last night?”

  “Funny guy.”

  “Well, hey, admit it, he’s saving you some paperwork. You can close the case on Leon Scott for a start.”

  “Did you investigate all the dead guys, Gerry?” asked Marty.

  Gerry shook his head dismissively.

  “Nah, I’d have to check, but there are names on the list I don’t recognize. I’ll check though to see if there’s any connection between them, but I expect that’s already been covered pretty hard by Hamilton and his team.”

  Connell reached across the table, helped himself to a handful of fries from Marty’s abandoned plate and got a pained look from Gerry. Connell grinned. “How come Musgrave was out and about getting gutted. I thought he was serving time,” said Connell when he’d finished chewing.

  “He was at an appeal hearing, he went to the bathroom and didn’t come out.”

  “No kidding.” Connell was impressed. “The guy takes him out in the bathroom at the courthouse? How come I don’t know all about this?”

  “Because you live in a godforsaken middle of nowhere place, with no cable, and your car radio is probably tuned to some hokey country music station,” said Marty.

  “’You saying I don’t keep up with current affairs?”

  “I’m saying you keep your head in the sand, and Lizzie and Joe wrapped in cotton wool. But you know, Tommy, bad stuff still happens all around, especially here, and just because you don’t choose to hear about it, doesn’t stop it from happening.”

  Connell didn’t really have a response to that. Marty was right: if he could have kept his family locked safely in a bubble, he would, and whether that was the right thing to do was anybody’s guess. He shrugged and let it pass; now wasn’t the time. “Hey, TV’s bad for kids anyway. Joe’s got better things to do than grow up with square eyes.”

  “God help him if he grows up anything like you,” joked, Marty under his breath. “Two Connells in the same state ...”

  “So, Gerry, you’re going to check out the victims?” asked Connell, choosing to ignore Marty. “While you’re doing that, see if any of them knew our missing Mr. Brown.”

  “You don’t think there could be a connection with our missing ex-con, do you, Tommy?” asked Marty, and Connell shrugged.

  “Why would you think Brown was involved?” Gerry shot Connell a look. “What’s the connection.”

  “Probably none, but the zapper guy attacked me in Molly’s apartment. He had to be there for a reason.”

  “You didn’t mention that before.” Marty shook his head.

  “It wasn’t important.”

  “It wasn’t important?” Marty’s frustration was evident as he slammed a hand down on the table and the coffee cups jumped. The diners in the next booth tried hard not to look and Marty lowered his voice. “Tommy, I’m not going to tell you again, you gotta settle down and get a normal job, before Lizzie ...”

  Connell shot out a hand, grabbed Marty by the collar and just held him. He was just about done with having his own irresponsibility shoved at him. He leaned across, pressed his face close and when he answered, his voice was little more than a hiss. “Marty, for once in your life, will you just shut the fuck up. I don’t need you or anybody else to tell me that I don’t deserve Lizzie. I already know I don’t, okay? I don’t need you sitting on my shoulder like some fuckin’ Jiminy Cricket telling me what I’m doing wrong, telling me what I already know.”

  “Whoa, Tommy, I’m not saying that. I’m just concerned about you, that’s all. We’ve been through too much together for me not to get a little jumpy when you start playing with the bad guys. Just chill Tommy. Hey, you and Lizzie are made for each other, I’m not saying anything other than you need to be careful. It’s no good protecting them from monsters, imagined or otherwise, if you can’t protect yourself. Just take a step back, Tommy, that’s all.”

  Connell immediately regretted his outburst. He released his tightly clenched fist, smoothed down Marty’s collar and met his eyes reluctantly. He was dismayed at the concern he saw in them. “I’m sorry, Marty. I’m just a little wound up.” He held out his hand and felt immense relief when Marty took it, pulled him nearer and cuffed him gently.

  “Yeah, well we’ll blame Gerry for that, shall we?”

  Gerry nodded knowingly at Marty. He was a good guy, with his head screwed on. “If you boys are quite finished squabbling, perhaps we can get down to business.”

  Connell fixed his gaze on Gerry and took a couple of calming breaths. He was beginning to wonder if good old Jiminy wasn’t right and he should just call it a day and go home. Much as he hated the hole he seemed to be digging for himself, he couldn’t dodge the fact that he wasn’t a quitter and he couldn’t walk away until the job was done.

  He studied Gerry as the man watched him, and he tried to work out from Gerry’s expression whether he was holding onto to anything he might need to know.

  Gerry broke the deadlock. “Why didn’t you tell Hamilton that?” asked Gerry.

  “What?”

  “That the guy attacked you in the child’s apartment.”

  “Because, as I told you before, Gerry, somebody doesn’t want this little kid found.”

  “Yeah, but Hamilton’s okay, as straight as they come.”

  “And you can say that for everyone who works for him, who’s privy to what he knows?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I have no idea, Gerry,” exclaimed Connell, exasperation getting the better of him. “But this is what I’ve got so far: the disappearance of one kid who thinks she’s Dorothy, and two parents, one of whom is an ex-con trucker; eleven dead bodies all killed in gruesome fashion, one per week by a cop killer, with an aggravated sense of moral outrage; a weird lizard guy who found something worth stealing from the missing kid’s apartment; a clandestine meeting between New York’s less than finest and the undisputed vodka king; some eighteen wheeler tire tracks; oh, and the distinct feeling that most, if not all, of the afore-mentioned are out to see yours truly face down in the dirt or face up in the morgue.”

  “Maybe they’ve all gone off together, to start a new life,” muttered Marty, still smarting a little from Connell’s tantrum.

  “Who?”

  “Molly and her parents,”

  “No, they haven’t,” said Connell, gently, apologetically. God, what was he doing pissing off his best buddy?

  Marty cocked his head, gave a crooked long suffering smile in return.

  “You know that for a fact?” asked Gerry.

  Swinging his gaze back to Gerry, Connell nodded. “I do.”

  “So you know where she is?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You going to get her?” asked Gerry.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s safer where she is. The minute I pick her up, she’s outa my hands and I’m not sure who I’m protecting her from. You want to do me a favor? How about using that influence of yours to get a judge to sign out a guardianship order? That way, when I do pick her up, I don’t have to worry about some well-meaning social worker taking her off and sticking h
er somewhere where I can’t keep the bad guys away.”

  Gerry narrowed his eyes. “Protecting her, sounds like you think she knows something.”

  “Knows something, seen something or heard something. Take your pick.”

  “What’s she saying about it?”

  “I’ve no idea. I haven’t spoken to her.”

  “Where is she?” asked Gerry and Connell just shook his head. Gerry narrowed his eyes, tried and failed to intimidate Connell.

  “I need that order, Gerry.”

  “You said truck twice,” said Marty into the strained silence that followed.

  Connell tore his gaze from Gerry. “Huh?”

  “You said, Molly’s dad was a truck driver and you mentioned eighteen wheelers. A connection maybe?”

  Yeah, maybe there was and Connell had an idea who would know the answer to that. Frankie might have thought he’d gotten rid of the thorn in his side, but Connell was relishing the look on his face when he realized he hadn’t.

  “Maybe,” he answered. “Frankie’s gotta be sweating if he’s heard what happened to good old Scotty. Maybe it’s time for that a visit.”

  “That’s supposing he didn’t have anything to do with it,” said Gerry. Connell caught his look, bit down on the irritation he felt when he knew Gerry was playing games. Also he knew as long as he held back information on Molly, Gerry would continue to play. He wasn’t ready to reveal Molly’s whereabouts just yet, so he just had to leave Gerry holding his cards close to his chest.

  “We gotta go speak to Frankie, and we need to check out the warehouse, maybe stake it out tonight, see if we can’t catch a few rats. You up for that, Marty?”

  “And the serial killer?” asked Marty.

  “Don’t worry about him,” said Connell. “One murder per week. He did for Scotty last night. I’d say I’m safe for the time-being.”

  “How do you do that?” Marty shook his head in disbelief at Connell’s blasé attitude.

  Connell winked. “Just keeping one step ahead, Marty, that’s all. I’m thinking he’s a man who likes discipline and order. He follows the same pattern with every kill - one a week, zap, stab and gut. He’s done this week’s wet work. He’s probably gone home to do his laundry now and wash his hair.” He ran a hand through his own. “Speaking of which, you know any decent barbers?”