Forever Haunt

by Adam Carpenter

  Meaghan, all nine months of pregnancy of her, stepped aside to allow Jimmy space to sidle up next to their sister.

  “She tell you what’s going on?” he asked Meaghan.

  “I guessing it’s man trouble. You know all about that Jimmy.”

  He wrinkled his nose at her. “Can we concentrate on Mallory, that okay with you?”

  “What, I was just saying what’s true…”

  “Do you two mind? I’m trying to drown my sorrows. Uncle Paddy, hit me up.”

  “Maybe with some coffee, dear,” Paddy said, a sympathetic look to his face.

  “You all suck,” Mallory said. “Men all suck.”

  Jimmy eased in next to Mallory, whose refined self was looking a bit disheveled. Her dark hair, usually so stylish, was a bit of a mess. Mascara tears ringed her eyes. She hadn’t bothered to wipe them away.

  “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, then lifted the empty shot glass before her and ran her tongue around the inside in hopes of finding a forgotten drop. “He’s leaving. Moving. Transferred.”

  “Taylor?”

  “No, Jim, the freaking Pope.”

  “I hadn’t realized the Pope had joined your firm. He make partner, or just Divine Justice?”

  Mallory found that hysterical and her laugh filled the bar, drowning out the latest Yankee report. Spring training was nearing. Several heads turned.

  “What do you say we go upstairs to my office? More private there.”

  “Look, Meaghan, you’re wrong, Jimmy does invite women up to his place, after all,” she said, again with a drunken laugh.

  This encounter was quickly veering off course. Jimmy decided he’d have to wait it out and he could do it better without the audience of his other sister. She wasn’t usually much help anyway. “Meaghan, you can go home if you want, I’ll handle her.”

  “Nah, I’m bored at home. This is more fun. The McSwain sibs hanging out. Paddy, could I have a seltzer? And bring Jimmy a beer, he’s going to need it.”

  “Hey, not fair, why’s he allowed to drink…and I…”

  “Oh hush, girly,” Paddy said, as he got their order ready. A seltzer, the beer, and a cup of coffee. “There, have at it. Not like you to drink, much less let some guy drive you to it. You pick yourself up, there’s plenty of men out there wanting to date a pretty lass like you. Now drink that coffee or I’ll be calling Maggie over this way.”

  Mallory straightened up, pushed her hair out of her face, took a sip of the coffee. Was her change due to Paddy’s homespun clichés, or his threat of calling their mother? Probably the latter. Jimmy checked his watch, saw that it was six-forty-five. Maggie would be in the middle of walk-in at the Calloway Theatre. The play Triskaidekaphobia continued its successful run, after opening last fall. Jimmy also knew curtain time was at 7 on Thursday, and tonight happened to be Maggie’s early shift. She could be here in thirty minutes.

  “Mal, want to tell me what happened?”

  Mallory shifted in her seat. Jimmy put a hand over hers. Meaghan joined in, too.

  “Things with Taylor have been rocky since the New Year. I sensed he was unhappy about something, but I was never brave enough to ask if that something was me. Finally, today, he comes into my office, and he’s all smiling, those preppy boy white teeth on display that today I just wanted to smash. God, it was like they were taunting me, taking a bite from my heart.”

  It wasn’t like Mallory to be so dramatic, or poetic. She was the practical one in the family.

  “He announced the firm had approved his transfer, he’s moving to London next month.”

  “I’m guessing he never even mentioned he’d put in for one,” Jimmy said.

  She put a wavering finger to her nose. “Bingo, Jim, fucking bingo.”

  “Sorry.”

  “So why don’t you go with him?” Meaghan asked. “Put in for your own transfer.”

  “Don’t you get it, Meagh, if he’d wanted me to go, he would have told me, maybe even asked me. No, it’s over between us. I thought he was different, that we had a future. Now, shit, I don’t even have a date tomorrow…”

  “What’s tomorrow?” Jimmy asked.

  “The fact you have to ask that means your relationship sucks too,” Mallory said.

  “It’s Valentine’s Day,” Meaghan said.

  Jimmy paused, taking a sip of her beer, gaining envious looks from both of his sisters. He’d forgotten. Not that he and Frisano had made specific plans, but last week the idea of a quiet dinner somewhere had been in the back of Jimmy’s mind. Now it had flown out of his mind given the silence that had fallen between them this week. The most romantic day of the year was not the time to try and heal a wound he’d caused. It would seem forced, an obligation.

  “You know, if it’s any consolation,” Meaghan said, “I’m the pregnant single mother here.”

  That got them all laughing, and also led to a hug among the three siblings.

  “Until Rocky decides he wants to know his kid,” Mallory suddenly said.

  Meaghan soured. “Rocky and I have an arrangement. He leaves me alone during the pregnancy…”

  “A wise decision from both parties,” Jimmy said.

  Meaghan punched his arm. “After the baby is born, we’ll figure things out.”

  Jimmy rubbed his arm, pretending pain. “Never thought I’d say Rocky was smart.”

  More laughter ensured. The mood brightened, as all three of them realized their personal lives were far from perfect. None had Valentine’s plans, and so with that in mind, Jimmy ordered a second beer, allowed Mallory a drink—telling Paddy he was taking responsibility for her—and Meaghan added cranberry to her fizzy soda. They cheered to romantic disaster, and were like that a short while later when the front door opened and in walked Maggie.

  “Uh-oh,” Mallory said.

  “Ma’s here,” Meaghan said.

  “Paddy must have called her,” Jimmy said.

  “Darn right he did. Look at the three of ya, making a nuisance of yourself in your uncle’s place of business.”

  “It’s better now, Mags,” Paddy said, “Jimmy’s got it under control now. What say I pour you one and you can have a nice family reunion. Just one, then I kick the lot of you out because I got paying customers who want these bar stools.”

  The twinkle in his eye told them he was half-joking.

  Jimmy gave up his seat for his mother, and she settled in while he stood behind the three of them. It had been too long since they had done something beyond the Monday night dinners at the apartment. Jimmy was enjoying the laughs, even if some of them came at his expense. He was glad Mallory had perked up, wondering if her drunkenness had been more of an act, since she appeared sober now. Maybe she just needed to say the words aloud and they sobered her up. And seeing Meaghan without a sneer on her face, that gave Jimmy hope that her baby wouldn’t grow up with a total sour disposition. All that was missing from this picture was a man of the house, and he should have been here.

  Jimmy felt fresh anger well up inside him. He set his pint glass down on the bar and looked around anxiously. He saw his uncle, just going about his work, seemingly not a care in the world. But last winter one of his sons had been murdered. Jimmy knew a permanent ache lived in him. It lived in all of those who lost someone to violence.

  “Jimmy, what’s got you in a mood all of a sudden?” Maggie asked.

  Maybe it was time to talk to her. “When we get home, I’ve got a few questions for you.”

  “About what?”

  “About NYPD police officer Joseph McSwain. And the Dean family.”

  He saw the defeat in her green eyes. The sorrow that harkened back fifteen years, perhaps even longer. Maggie knew something, and Jimmy feared what he could soon uncover. But the time had come. There was no more going back. Not to the past. Because it was the future where long-buried truths would be revealed.

  Chapter Four

  Back inside the McSwain home nearl
y an hour later, Jimmy and Maggie sat across from each other at the kitchen table. A pot of tea settled between them, steaming cups in front of them. As civilized as the scene appeared, there was an underlying tension. A talk long in the making and each seemed to realize its gestation had reached birthing. Maggie’s eyes darted about, like looking for an escape route. Jimmy’s remained focused on his mother.

  Meaghan had been sent to her room to watch television, and Mallory was asleep in Jimmy’s bed. No way was the family letting her go back to her apartment on the east side. She wasn’t to be left alone tonight. Jimmy said he’d sleep at his office tonight, wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. In fact, he’d been on his way out when he heard his mother clearing her throat behind him, standing in the doorframe of the kitchen.

  “Not so fast, Jimmy. You wanna talk, I say it’s now.”

  “Ma, we don’t have to do this…” He’d been having second thoughts.

  “You started this. Putting ideas into my head. Don’t I know, another month will be fifteen years. It’s time to put this to rest. For you to put my Joey to rest.”

  The whistling of the tea kettle had sent them to their respective corners. Maggie in her seat, and tonight, Jimmy in his father’s. Rarely did he sit here, did anyone. Maggie nodded her approval. The only light came from the stove, a soft glow that allowed shadows to join them, but only theirs. But there may have been a ghost present, too, wanting to be part of the conversation. Jimmy felt a noticeable chill, and not from the February air outside.

  “We don’t talk much, not like this,” Jimmy opened.

  “We haven’t talked yet, and besides, you’re always running here and there. You don’t seem much interested in a real sit down,” Maggie said. “But something’s got your goat these days, I sensed it over the holidays and again at dinner the other night, the way you talked about those new neighbors. Seeing a boy without a father just wakes it all up for you, doesn’t it?”

  “It goes back a bit farther than Carmen and Sonny Ramirez,” Jimmy said. “Back to my last big case, the Guardian Angel.”

  “That society lady, Serena Someone?”

  “Carson, and no, not that aspect. What happened to cousin Kellan, and to Mickey Dean.”

  Maggie grew silent again, almost withdrawn at the sound of that name. Jimmy sensed it.

  “What an awful man. I’m sorry for what Maureen has been through, but that family is better off without his threatening ways. Only knew violence.”

  “And died by it.”

  “As most men of that sort do.”

  “Dad died from violence.”

  “Your father was an NYPD police officer, danger came with the territory. I knew that going in, back when he and I courted and he was in the academy.”

  “Tell me again where you met.”

  “Ah, Jimmy, I’ve told this story a million times if I’ve told it once.”

  “Humor me. Pretend I’m a little boy and you’re telling me a story.”

  “With that growth of whiskers you’re sporting, you are far from a boy, my boy.”

  Jimmy smiled. That was the Maggie he knew and loved, always telling him he was in need of a shave. And in doing so always having a way of putting him in his place, reminding him he needed to take responsibility for his actions. He took a sip of his tea; it was strong, nothing herbal, nothing fancy. The familiar Twinings Earl Grey label hung from the side of the cup. He waited for her to start, prompted her with his eyes.

  “It was a church social. Sure, I knew him, but every girl knew who Joey McSwain was. He was fifteen, and oh my he was the most handsome boy, had that sparkle in his eye. A bit devilish, some said, including your Grandmother Hester, but then again, that old girl wouldn’t have ever approved of any boy for me at that age. They rewrote the definition of strict with Hester. But back to Joey. A Sunday afternoon in the downstairs basement of the church, we were hosting what used to be called a Sadie Hawkins dance…”

  “Where the girls ask the boys,” Jimmy said.

  “Well, all sorts of girls were angling to ask Joey but by the luck of the Irish, I drew first. He was an easy choice. As I laid out sandwiches and soft drinks, he confessed he’d hoped I would be the one to pick him. Oh, he was a charmer, that one. Sometimes at night I wonder if he might have claimed the same to whichever of the girls who might have sat with him. He was good that way. Gift of the gab, as they say. Well, soon enough summer was coming, which meant I’d be spending two months up at Peach Lake, where your grandparents had just bought the cottage where Hester still resides.”

  Jimmy nodded. He’d been there often. Just last summer, during the Crime Wave case.

  “Well, I was devastated, since Joey had said he’d hope to see me over the summer. Go to a movie, grab an egg cream, something.”

  Jimmy loved how old fashioned it was, like a scene out of a movie of the two star-crossed lovers being thwarted by their strident parents. Meeting up for an innocent soda at the corner drug store, perhaps sneaking a kiss down by the west-side piers. All while Manhattan glittered around them. It was good to remember those early blooms of romance, especially on the eve of Valentine’s Day. Her love story was refreshing, especially since his own relationship fell somewhere between complicated and complex.

  “But Dad waited for you,” Jimmy said.

  “He did. Now, mind you, I didn’t ask what he’d been up to all summer, he was then sixteen and had the run of Hell’s Kitchen, a boy with his looks and charm…but yes, I came back for school in the fall, and there he was, on the street corner right near my building…just a few blocks away from here. He was leaning there, that smile on his face. And he said, ‘bout time you showed your face again, lass.’ Oh, he had a way about him. Only one person he couldn’t win over.”

  “Grandmother Hester, of course.”

  “You do remember,” Maggie said, with her own devilish grin.

  “No, I just know grandmother.”

  “That we all do,” Maggie said.

  “And what about the McSwains. We don’t talk about them much.”

  “None of ‘em left, except us. You’re the last McSwain male.”

  “Perhaps not,” Jimmy said.

  “Oh, you plan on producing a miracle baby? You and your supposed captain?”

  Jimmy wished now the tea was beer and that the bottle was full. “Uh, no,” he said uneasily, “and let’s not get sidetracked by unnecessary distractions. We were talking about Dad’s parents. Since I really never knew them.”

  “True. For all the talk about the Irish having big families, the McSwains were the opposite. Just Donel and Edith for the longest time. God hadn’t granted them a child yet, and perhaps never would. But then Joseph arrived, and it was like the sun shined harder the day he was born. That’s what Edith always used to tell me. She also told me I was a tart and not good enough for her son. If you had seen the wedding, Jimmy, Hester and Edith going at it.”

  She grew wistful for a moment. “You can’t write the ending, Jimmy, not ever. You only go in eyes wide open and filled with hope. I might have lost my Joey too early but what he left me, Mallory, Meaghan…” and then she paused, extending her hand till it connected with Jimmy’s cheek, “and my precious Jimmy. Oh, when both your grandmothers heard we weren’t giving you the proper name of James, it was like the heavens opened up. Your father, he went back and forth his entire life, he was Joey, Joseph, never Joe, but he wanted you to have just one name. Jimmy.”

  “Sometimes you call me Jim,” he said.

  “Sometimes an old girl gets lazy,” Maggie said with a smile. “Now, what’s this trip down memory lane got to do with that sour mood of yours? Other than your usual moroseness this time of year. I’m guessing something’s happened and it’s got to do with that cop who got killed last week. I read, Jim. I’m guessing you’re trying to connect it all with Mickey Dean. And beyond.”

  Jimmy steeled himself, looking for courage within himself. Where to begin? Ease in to the shallow end, or dive in deeper
? He saw the wary expression on his mother’s face, and for a second he wished he was anywhere but here. This was harder than almost anything he’d ever done, face the fact his father might not have been perfect. How could he present the man’s wife, his mother, with an unfounded accusation, one that might forever alter the way she thought about the man who had charmed her oh so many years ago. He considered his words, and then jumped in.

  “Mickey Dean and I had a fight, a knock down drag down last December, on the piers.”

  “I remember the bruises. Like you were trying to be your own Christmas ornament.”

  “You should have seen the other guy,” Jimmy said, an attempt at levity.

  “The other guy ended up with a bullet in his brain,” she said. “Jimmy, what’s this got to do with my Joey?”

  “What led to the fight, it was something Jimmy said. About Dad. Having to do with the Dean family.”

  Maggie said nothing. She suddenly sat rigid and upright. Jimmy swallowed hard. Was she anticipating the worst, or fearful of having to admit she’d known all along? It was a realization he wasn’t sure he could face. Then she spoke.

  “I know where you’re going with this and let me tell you one thing, Jimmy Joseph Byrne McSwain, your father was a good man, the best kind, an honest one. He helped people. Or at least he tried to. You mentioned you wanted to talk about the Deans, so I’ll lay it on the line for you. What happened to that Dean girl, Cassie—Cassiopeia, an odd name but not unusual for Maureen, who was always into those starry astrology things—was an awful tragedy. I heard the accusation, from Lawrence Sr. himself. Told me so after Cassie’s funeral. I asked Joey about it and I remember how he sat there, on the edge of the bed, shaking his head. I’d never seen such sadness in him, like a light had gone from his soul. He turned to me, Jimmy, and he held my hand. And he told me that in no way did he ever touch that girl.”

  “You believed him?”

  “Of course I did. He was my husband. I knew him better than I knew myself.”

  “So then why would Mr. Dean say such a thing?”

  “That I never asked. Your father told me to let the subject die, right along with Cassie.”