Do Not Go Gentle

by James W. Jorgensen

  Jamie stepped toward his father, with Eileen’s hand on his arm and Sully tightening his grip on his shoulder. Jamie could see the uncomfortable, shocked looks on the girls’ faces—they’d never seen this side of their grandfather before. Frank, like his sons, made it a habit to keep his professional life and demeanor as separate as possible from his personal life. Jamie stared into his father’s eyes, counted to ten, and then replied. “After forty-some years, father, you would think you’d know me better—I don’t respond well to threats.”

  Patrick’s arm whipped out like a striking snake and grabbed Jamie’s other arm. “You could show some respect to our father if nothing else, Jamie.”

  Jamie wrenched free from everyone. “You stay out of this, Patrick.” Jamie’s voice was still soft, but serious. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Bullshit.” Patrick spat back. “You’re making Da and me both look bad.”

  Frank Griffin held out both hands, palms outward, on each of his sons’ chests. “Enough,” he commanded. Both of his sons looked at him and visibly relaxed in response to their father’s order. Frank Griffin turned to cut Patrick away from Jamie, then put his right index finger into his second son’s chest. “Enough. Now you listen to me, boyo—I’ve been where you are. I’ve lost partners and good officers over the years. This is no time for you to be a cowboy. You’ll work with Sully only to the extent that he allows it. Beyond that, you’ll stay out of the way or face the consequences.”

  Jamie snorted softly. “I don’t think you’ve ever been where I am in your entire life.” Jamie turned away from his father, his brother, and his former captain to face his wife and daughters. “Come on, dear ones. It’s time we were leaving. Let’s get home and get everyone dried out.” Jamie walked away from Cal’s gravesite into the pouring rain, leading his family toward their car. What a perfect day for a funeral, he thought, not bothering to hurry through the rain as it soaked through his coat and shoes. Just a perfect feckin’ day all around.

  * * * *

  Later that day, sitting around a blazing fire in their living room, Jamie, Eileen, and the girls sat in awkward silence. Jamie was wrapped up in morose thoughts. Eileen alternated between fear and anger, while Caitlin and Riona were sad and afraid. Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, Eileen turned toward Jamie and took both of his hands in hers. “What are you going to do now, my love?”

  Jamie jerked, as if startled from a deep reverie. “What, dear?”

  “I asked you, what are you going to do now?”

  “Right now? Just spend time here with my lovely family.”

  “Don’t think you can mislead me. Even if I hadn’t witnessed that scene at Cal’s funeral, I know you well enough to know you’re not going to let this go.”

  “Of course not,” snapped Jamie. “How could I? Cal was my partner.”

  “We’re your family,” Eileen retorted.

  Jamie looked at Eileen as if he were surprised. “I love you all dearly, but what does that have to do with Cal’s death?”

  “Everything, Daddy.” Riona was crying. “You’re sick and you’re planning to go off by yourself and do something stupid.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes,” Eileen murmured.

  “Look, my dears,” Jamie said after taking a deep breath. “I can’t let this go. First of all, I made a promise to Cal’s parents—”

  “Which you should not have done,” noted Eileen.

  “Maybe not, but please let me get through my reasons, and then you can tear them down.” Jamie paused, and then continued. “Second, even without that promise to Cal’s parents, I would feel honor bound to bring Cal’s killer to justice. Killing a cop is an unforgiveable sin to other cops. Third, while I know Sully and Hamilton will pursue the matter, they aren’t as close to the case as I am—I’ve started getting a real sense of what’s going on, and I’m going to find a way to put a stop to it. This woman is evil, and she’s murdered at least a dozen people that we know of, probably more. If my career as a cop is over, then I have to close out this one last case. I couldn’t look myself in the mirror every day knowing I’d not done all I could to bring Cal’s killer to justice.”

  No one said anything for several seconds. Then Eileen spoke in a calm and quiet voice. “I know all that, my love, so do the girls. We all love and admire your sense of duty and devotion to us and to friends like Cal, but you’re sick, and if you keep pushing yourself, you’re only going to get worse.”

  “You don’t know that,” said Jamie.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” Caitlin chimed in. “We’ve seen what happens to you when you push yourself—your headaches get worse, to the point where you can’t function. You stagger around like a drunk. I’ve seen you nearly fall several times, and you are so exhausted that you forget things, make mistakes, and generally just scare the shit out of me.” Caitlin was crying by the end of her speech.

  Jamie leaned forward and hugged his daughter, then turned to Riona and Eileen and gestured for them to scoot over on the sectional into a family hug. Jamie felt their warmth and love—their concern radiating into him like the heat from the fireplace. After a few seconds, he withdrew and looked at each of them in turn. “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph, but I love you all. I wish Brigid was here, and we’d just lock the doors, disconnect the phone, and just have some family time. Pop some popcorn and watch some movies.”

  “We can still do that, love,” Eileen pointed out.

  Jamie nodded. “Alright then. You get the doors, and I’ll get the phone.” Before he could disconnect the downstairs telephone, it rang.

  “Don’t answer that, Jamie,” said Eileen.

  Jamie had his hand on the connector to the phone jack, but he paused when he saw the name on the Caller ID. “No, I have to take this call.”

  “Daddy,” the girls protested.

  Jamie held up a hand sternly, silencing any more words from his daughters or his wife. The name on the Caller ID said Disciples of Endor. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Detective Griffin,” purred a deep female voice. “Oh, please excuse me—it is Mister Griffin now is it not?” Malice permeated Sedecla’s words like glittering crystals in an obsidian stone.

  “Well, I’m impressed,” Jamie replied evenly. “If it isn’t the high muckety-muck herself. To what do I owe the honor of this call, Sedecla?”

  Now soft laughter came to Jamie from the phone. “I am only calling to convey my condolences,” Sedecla said. “I could tell that you were in great pain today.”

  “You could tell?” Jamie asked incredulously. “How could you tell? You actually had the nerve to attend Cal’s funeral?”

  “I thought it a lovely day for a drive, nothing more. My driver happened to pass by the cemetery, so I thought I would pay my, respects, as it were.” Sedecla said in a mocking tone of voice.

  “You thought the monsoon weather we had today was a lovely day for a drive? C’mon, woman—surely you can do better than that.” Jamie was boiling with rage inside, but he was determined not to let her goad him into angry remarks. He kept his tone as light and mocking as hers.

  “I must admit, my driver probably did not enjoy the weather as much as I did. I love being out and about during a rainstorm. Even more so when there is thunder or high winds. I do so love to witness destruction.”

  Jamie sighed silently. “Like I said before, your grand high poobah, why are you calling me at home? Don’t give me that crap about expressing your feckin’ condolences.” Jamie felt Eileen’s arm on his, and he turned to grasp her hand as he sat softly onto one of the dining room chairs. One part of him could see the girls standing in the doorway to the family room, concerned expressions playing about their faces, but his focus was on Sedecla.

  “My. Such language, Mister Griffin. Very well—since you insist on being direct, I will accommodate you. I am hoping that the death of your former partner, coupled with your dismissal from the police department, will convince you that it is in your best in
terests to leave well enough alone.”

  “You think I’m going to back down after this?” Jamie asked, anger creeping into his voice despite his resolve. “You really think you can kill my partner and I’ll do nothing? Wow. I knew you were delusional, honey, believing all that crap you spew out about being some kind of voodoo queen, but I didn’t know you were stupid as well. Woman, you just escalated this into an all-out war.”

  “War?” replied Sedecla tautly. “You fool. You have no concept of war, nor the slightest ability to comprehend my true nature. If you insist on pursuing this matter, I promise you—I will show you the true meaning of war. I have crushed many people over my long life. Many people more powerful than you, Séamus Edward Griffin. I know everything about you—where you and all of your family members live; your wife’s lovely shop in Uphams Corner; where your daughters go to school, both here and in Indiana. I have resources far beyond my Disciples, resources that extend to many places in the community, even into your precious police department.”

  Jamie pounced, feeling like he just goaded Sedecla into revealing something important. “You have someone planted in the department, hunh? Interesting. I’ll have to look into that, but you’d do well to leave my family and friends out of this, Sedecla. You’ve already crossed that line, and now I’m willing to devote every ounce of my energy to seeing you brought to justice, for Cal and for all the others you’ve murdered.”

  “Ben zonah,” Sedecla spat. Clearly, Jamie had scored points. “On your head, be it, Jamie Griffin. I have given you the last warning you shall receive. Cease your harassment or suffer the consequences.”

  The phone line went dead in Jamie’s hand.

  He stood looking at the receiver for several seconds, then without comment, he returned the handset to the base unit and gently disconnected the phone jack from the outlet. Jamie turned to see Eileen and the girls watching him with fear and concern.

  “I could only hear your end of that conversation,” said Eileen softly, “but I assume that was the woman you spoke of earlier. I don’t like what I heard.” She seemed near to tears. “Jamie, is she threatening us?” Caitlin and Riona came to hug their mother and look at their father.

  “Aye, she’s threatening us, but that only means I’m getting to her—that she’s afraid of what I can do to her.”

  “Well, I’m afraid of what she can do to us.” Eileen hugged her daughters closely, as if to protect them.

  “I understand,” Jamie said, standing and touching his daughters’ shoulders as they stood on either side of their mother. “I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure we’re all safe. If I thought for a moment that dropping everything would protect us, I would drop everything, my loves, I truly would, but the department isn’t about to drop everything, so this only ends when Sedecla is taken down. Sully wants me to give him and Len Hamilton a detailed briefing on the Disciples tomorrow morning. When I’m there, I’ll tell him about her call and her threats. Even though I’m not on the force any longer, he’ll be concerned enough to give us some protection. If necessary, I’ll talk to my father, as unpleasant as that will be. This just makes it even more important that I nail this bitch,” Jamie said grimly.

  “Watch your language, Jamie Griffin,” Eileen scolded absently.

  “Oh, sugar-plum-fairies, woman,” Jamie said in a mock stern voice, drawing soft giggles from his daughters by using his wife’s strongest curse word. “If I can’t swear in response to something like that, then when can I swear?”

  “You can swear somewhere else—that’s all I ask. Now if you’re quite finished setting such a stellar example of swearing for our children, why don’t you and the girls decide what movie we’ll watch while I start some popcorn.”

  “I know.” Riona piped up in an excited voice. “How about So I Married an Axe Murderer?” Despite the glares she received, Riona continued. “No? How about Lethal Weapon? Murder on the Orient Express? Texas Chainsaw Massacre?”

  “Riona,” warned Eileen in her sternest ‘mom’ voice.

  Riona sighed, pretending to be dejected. “Okay, okay—The Sound of Music, it is.”

  “No,” the other three replied emphatically.

  Jamie tried to fall into the familiar patterns of family banter, but Sedecla, her threats, and his anger, lingered in the back of his mind, an unwanted and uninvited houseguest.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jamie wearily scanned the large family room in his parents’ house from the comfort of a heavy padded sofa, sitting beside his mother. The weather, which had been cold and dreary for the past week, had at last relented and relinquished a gorgeous autumn New England day for Halloween, which was Jamie’s sister Brighid’s 35th birthday. The Griffin clan tended to have large get-togethers on holidays, and this one was no exception. While Frank and Nuala’s grandchildren were getting too old to go trick-or-treating, the family still held an elaborate combination Halloween/birthday party each year on October 31st. This year, it fell on a Friday, which meant the gathering was a full-blown affair held in the evening after work.

  Well, Jamie thought bitterly, at least for those who still actually work.

  The room was crowded despite its size. Paddy’s youngest four children were seated around a game table with Caitlin and Riona. Just a short distance from the couch, Paddy’s wife, Shannon, was sitting with Eileen and Jamie’s sisters: Jeanne, the eldest sister, Brighid, the middle sister, and Cara, Jamie’s youngest sister. While Shannon and Jeanne were both stay-at-home mothers, they had no difficulty holding their own in these sisterly conversations. Brighid was a sixth grade English teacher at Saint Brendan’s, but also a moderately successful author of “New Age” books. Cara was a successful entrepreneur—although no one really understood what that meant.

  “Cara,” said Jeanne, “can you please just give us a simple explanation of what it is you actually do for a living?”

  “Why certainly,” said Cara with a coy smile. At thirty, she was the tallest of the Griffin girls, just over five-feet-nine inches, with a solid body type, and straight, jet-black hair that curved just past her ears to frame her face. “I make money.”

  When it became obvious that Cara had no intention of elaborating, Brighid jumped in. “You know, if one of my students gave me a non-answer answer like that, they’d be writing sentences for a week.”

  “They don’t still do that, do they?” asked Eileen.

  Brighid shrugged. “Not often, but in the case of true miscreants—” She looked at her “baby” sister.

  Cara sighed, resigning herself to another attempt at explaining her career to her family. Dressed in a pressed blouse and slacks, Cara always managed to carry off being slightly over-dressed for a family gathering. “Essentially, I deal in putting people together to get things done. I help new businesses find funding. I advise businesses on best practices and workflow systems. I work with venture capitalists to find investment opportunities, and just to make things interesting, I manage my own financial portfolio, which I’ve become very good at increasing at a rate well beyond those of professional fund managers.” She stopped to take a dainty sip of her chardonnay and looked demurely at her sisters.

  “Ahhh, I give up,” exclaimed Jeanne.

  “I have to admit,” said Eileen, “I still don’t quite understand it. Basically, you make money by helping other people make money?”

  Cara nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, that’s about as good an explanation as any.”

  Johnny and Conán, Jamie’s younger brothers, sat in padded armchairs flaring out beside Jamie and Nuala, closer to their sisters, and listened to the banter while wisely maintaining their distance. Johnny was dressed in what he considered to be his “civilian clothes”—black casual dress pants with a dark blue shirt, open at the neck. Not wearing his priest’s collar made this Johnny’s customary casual wear. Conán, the youngest brother and youngest child of the clan, was wearing his usual uniform of a T-shirt with an irreverent logo and worn blue jeans, with his b
londe hair tied back in a ponytail.

  Taking advantage of the unseasonably nice day, Frank and Patrick stood on the concrete patio in the back yard, grilling steaks, hamburgers, and hot dogs on a stone grill island built into the back of the patio. Normally, Jamie would have been with his father and brother, overseeing the process with a beer in his hand, shooting the shit about police work. Since the scene with Frank and Patrick at Cal’s funeral, Jamie had not spoken to his father or his older brother, and today he sat inside with the rest of the family. The conversation had been neutral, but not strained. No one wanted to talk about the “elephant in the room”—Jamie’s illness—but it cast a pall over the adult conversations, and Jamie noticed that his daughters, while engaged in an animated board game with their cousins, nonetheless, kept a watchful eye on him.

  Jamie found his mind wandering, paying minimal attention to the conversation. In the week since Sedecla’s threatening phone call, Jamie had met with Sully and Cal’s last partner-to-be, Len Hamilton. When Jamie had told Sully of the call and the threat, Sully had immediately ordered increased patrol around the Griffin family, especially at times when they were vulnerable, such as to and from school and work. Sully had also increased patrols in the neighborhood around Eileen’s store. The conversation regarding the case had not been as straightforward. Jamie had been happy to provide Sully and Hamilton with a copy of all of his notes and let them pick his brain about the case. They were less than happy, though, when Jamie told them that he had retained his originals of his notes.

  “You’re not going to keep working this case,” Sully had said authoritatively.

  Jamie smiled. “You can’t stop me, Sully. As long as I don’t impede your investigation or withhold evidence, there’s not a damn thing you can do.”

  “I can withdraw police protection,” Sully grimly replied.

  “True—but you won’t. I may no longer be an active cop, but I’m a former cop, who left in good standing. Also, I just happen to be the son of a Deputy Superintendent.”