by Blake Pierce
Kelly Osman was not nearly as difficult to find as Alice Delgado had been. Kelly worked at a bed and breakfast in Ashton, a business she and her husband owned and operated. It was tucked away in the far end of town where the sparkle of the Hudson River could just barely be seen from the expansive side lawn. When Kate and DeMarco arrived at the Ashton Views Bed and Breakfast, Kelly Osman was outside, tending to the rather gorgeous flower garden. After the slight shock of the sudden appearance of a pair of FBI agents, Kelly led them to a nearby sitting area on the other side of the flower garden. A few butterflies flitted back and forth among several hydrangeas as Kate and DeMarco sat on a bench. Looking quite uncomfortable, Kelly took a seat in a lazy Adirondack chair.
“I spoke with Missy this morning,” Kelly said as she continued to gauge the agents. “And I was at her house yesterday, just being there for her and delivering a casserole. I can’t…God, I can’t even start to figure out how to support her in this. She loved Jack so much…”
“That’s one of the things we wanted to talk to you about,” Kate said. “As her friend, I understand that it might be hard to think of such things, but we need you to think about anything from their past that might have put a crack in what seemed like their perfect marriage.”
“You’re looking for motive for someone to kill him, right?” She trailed off here, looking out in the direction of the Hudson River. “You can look all you want, but I don’t think you’re going to find much of anything. If Jack had any enemies, it might have been from his work. He was an accountant. A big shot. You know that, right? He had some really big-name clients, too. From what I understand, he was like a savant at it. He was that kind of guy. Good at everything he touched. And Missy was always very quick to let everyone know it.”
“She never said a cross word about him?” DeMarco asked.
“Not one that I ever heard. Maybe one time she griped about how he had a bad habit of always leaving his shoes by the coffee table, but that’s about it.”
“Did you know any of Jack’s friends?” Kate asked.
“Well, he had a close-knit little group at the yacht club…”
“Yes, we’ve already spoken to them.”
“You know…while I don’t think I’d call them friends, my husband knew Jack pretty well at one point. A few years back, they’d meet with some of Jack’s accounting associates and play a few rounds of tennis. And they also always attended what my husband called Dude Group—a group of dads that met maybe twice a year to smoke cigars and come up with plans to raise money for the schools. Fundraising and all that. The PTA without being the PTA.”
“Do you think your husband would be willing to speak with us?” Kate asked.
“Sure. He’s right inside, helping the cleaning crew. One second.”
Kelly got up and ran into the two-story bed and breakfast. When she was gone, Kate sighed and rested her head against the back of the bench. “It was like this last time, too. There was never anything out of sorts or messed up about Frank Nobilini or his family. Not a single thing. No shady pasts, no real enemies to speak of. Just kind, everyday people with good lives.”
“Maybe that’s the connection right there,” DeMarco suggested. Clean living, good lives. Success, maybe? Good marriages?”
“I don’t know. Thinking back to that original case, with the Nobilinis…something about the way he was in the fetal position, his brains all over the wall. I always wondered if the killer was trying to tell us something…to almost make fun of them somehow.”
They both dwelled on this as Kelly came back out of the bed and breakfast. Her husband walked behind her, a tall African-American man with plain good looks. He joined them in the sitting area, taking up another Adirondack by his wife.
“Lamont Osman,” he said, extending his hand and shaking Kate’s and then DeMarco’s. “Kelly says you want to ask me some questions about Jack Tucker?”
“Yes. How close were you, exactly?”
“Not very. I mean, it was more than just a nod-and-wave sort of thing as of late, but we hung out here and there several years ago. The most time I ever spent with him was playing tennis a few years back. But when he made that job transition, that sort of dried up.”
“And he never said or did anything that made you think that maybe the perfect life scenario was a ruse?”
“Nothing jumps out at me,” he said. “But then again, it’s different with men. We don’t exactly get together and dish out gossip.” He playfully nudged Kelly as he said this.
“Hey,” she said, though there wasn’t much defensiveness to it.
“Any gossip about the Tuckers you’d care to share?” DeMarco asked, lightly prodding.
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Kelly said. “Whenever Jack’s name came up, it was to compare with someone else’s husband. Honestly, I think a few ladies in the Ashton circles had a little crush on him.”
Just like with Frank Nobilini, Kate thought.
“Would anyone act on such a thing around here?” Kate asked.
“Doubtful. And even if a woman had the audacity to act on something like that, it’s pretty well known that Jack Tucker isn’t that sort of guy.”
“We keep hearing that,” Kate said. “How can you be so sure?”
“I know it sounds mean,” Lamont said, “but Jack wasn’t a very exciting dude. Yes, he was kind and yes, he was the sort to keep a clean nose and stay out of trouble. But because of all of that, he would sort of fade into the background, you know? The type of guy that, if he went to a party, you’d have to think really hard the next day about whether you saw him there or not. A good guy for sure but…well, if I’m being honest, sort of boring.”
Boring, Kate thought. There’s that word again.
Kate wracked her brain, trying to think of what else to ask, but she knew she’d end up coming to the same conclusion. That Jack Tucker was a nice guy, a real sweetheart, but sort of drab and plain.
Boring.
And then it dawned on her that maybe being boring, in and of itself, could potentially be a front for something else. And if a man could become very good at appearing boring, there was no telling what sorts of things he might become capable of hiding.
CHAPTER NINE
The day went by far too quickly as far as Kate was concerned. They’d gone from house to house—from family member to acquaintance and back again—and Kate felt that they had still gotten nowhere. It was the sort of case where she was practically just waiting for another body to show up. And God help her, she almost wanted that. It would at least present them with another opportunity to find evidence or clues.
They even revisited the alleyway where Jack Tucker’s body had been discovered. Of course, they turned up nothing. Kate hadn’t been expecting anything anyway—just hoping that maybe revisiting the scene would help her to view the murder through the eyes of the killer, to find some link between the alley and Ashton, the alley and Jack Tucker himself.
Following that, they huddled up back at the hotel, looking over the Jack Tucker case files. Kate made a meticulous list of things that they could potentially do to find some break in the case, prepared to pull an all-nighter if she had to. The list included: examine shell casing from Ruger, speak to Detective Pritchard about how police handled scene from the start, check guest-logs of hotel Jack Tucker was staying in, and research client Jack was working for, RE: Adler and Johnson.
Looking over the list, Kate knew that all of it was reaching. She could only hope that some useful nugget was buried in there somewhere.
She and DeMarco went their separate ways at 6:30. They agreed to split the list and reach out to bureau resources to get started on compiling the information. The first request Kate made was to find out recent clients and big-name jobs that Adler and Johnson had worked with. She was well aware that such a request could take several days and that she’d likely end up speaking with Daiju Hiroto tomorrow. She figured she could do some basic research online to get news-worthy details that were probably not relevant to their
case but might lead them in the right direction. She planned to order dinner, shower, and do just that but was stopped before she could get into any of it when her cell phone rang.
She was rather confused and a bit hopeful when she saw that it was Duran. Maybe they’d had a break in DC. Maybe she could get out of New York and never have to step foot in Ashton again.
“Hello, Director Duran,” she answered.
“Kate…I just got notified of a request you made for the last two years of clients working with Adler and Johnson. Can you tell me what that’s about?”
“Well, I know for a fact that they are currently working for a client that works in the nuclear decommissioning industry. The world nuclear makes it easy to believe that maybe not everyone is a fan of such a company, no matter what their motives are. I thought it might be worth looking into the business practices and recent contract Adler and Johnson have drawn up. Maybe there was someone Jack Tucker worked with that had it in for him.”
“You know how miserable that task is going to be. An accounting firm as big as Adler and Johnson is going to throw roadblocks at us every step of the way. It would be months—hell, even maybe years—before we got what we wanted. If we got it at all.”
“I’m aware of that, sir. But we’re running out of places to look.”
“I’m starting to see that,” Duran said. “And look, Kate, you understand that with your lack of results on the Nobilini case, it makes me wonder if I made a mistake sending you out there. I think I’m going to call you in. DeMarco, too.”
“Sir, it’s only been two days.”
“You’re right. but word is starting to spread around here that Jack Tucker was at one time working independently with a senator up there in New York, as a private accountant of sorts. He’s worried about his own ass, but won’t tell us why. Use your imagination there. Fraud, maybe. Something else unsavory…who knows? But he’s getting antsy that this hasn’t been wrapped yet and because of that, the bureau is under a spotlight.”
“I’m hoping you’re not going where it sounds like you’re going with this,” Kate said.
“You failed to close the Nobilini case eight years ago. If this story becomes a news item and your name pops up, people are going to make that connection. Yes, it would look bad for the FBI, sending an agent that already failed a similar—probably a linked—case. But it would not reflect well on you, either.”
“So you’re wanting to pull me to protect me?” Kate asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“View it how you want,” Duran said. And the hell of it was, she did think she could hear some sorrow or disappointment in his voice. “But I want you back in DC by tomorrow morning. I’m going to line up someone else for this—someone that can view the case with fresh eyes.”
“Someone younger?”
The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she instantly regretted it.
Duran was silent for a while—for such a lengthy moment that Kate thought he had hung up on her. “View it how you’d like, Agent Wise. But I’m more concerned about your failure to wrap the case eight years ago and how another potential failure could look. Perhaps this is my fault. I should have thought about all of this before assuming you’d be the best fit.”
“Well, you know what they say about assuming, sir.”
“Agent Wise, I understand that the working relationship between you and I—and the bureau, as well, for that matter—is a special and strange one at this juncture. But I’d advise you to keep a civil tongue with me from now on.”
This time, he did end the call. Kate could hear the audible click when he hung up. She tossed her phone on the bed and looked around the room, not sure if she wanted to be angry or saddened.
When she realized that she had to break this sudden news to DeMarco, she was able to finally decide on an emotion. As she slowly made her way out of the room and across the hall to her partner’s room, frustration sank in like a lead weight. And by the time she knocked on DeMarco’s door, it was closer to devastation.
CHAPTER TEN
When she walked through the front door of her house in Richmond eleven hours later, Kate could still feel the weight of the case—of the unsolved murders of both Frank Nobilini and Jack Tucker—as if it had been bolted to her shoulders. She carelessly dropped her single packed bag to the floor outside of the kitchen and went to the couch where she collapsed in a heap. She was pissed off but there was also a logical part of her that understood Duran’s decision—and that he also had no damned business assigning her to the case in the first place if he was going to be worried about covering the bureau’s ass.
To get her mind off of it, she stretched out on the couch and texted Melissa. Back home. Dead-end case. How are you and the little one?
She then pulled her personal laptop off of the coffee table and opened up her email. She sent a short and sweet email to Duran, copying in DeMarco, just to let him know that she was back home and officially off of the case. It took a lot of effort not to throw in a little jab of some sort, but she managed.
She wondered if maybe Melissa would be able to come over with Michelle later, maybe for dinner. Or if Melissa was busy (she did, after all, have a family and a life of her own), maybe Allen would want to come over.
She’d be happy with either one, so long as she didn’t have to spend the afternoon alone. If she did that, she knew her mind would stay stuck on the Jack Tucker case, trying to figure it out and dig for any sort of clues until her eyes slapped shut on her later in the night. As she managed to pull herself from the couch to see what she had in the fridge for lunch, her cell phone dinged at her as Melissa responded.
Sorry for the dead end. Michelle and I are good.
She responded with: Want to join me for dinner later?
The response came back quickly, making Kate assume that Melissa was on a break at work. Sorry. No can do. Family dinner tonight. It’s a big deal to the hubs.
She was disappointed, sure. But she understood. Frankly, she was happy and relieved that Melissa had managed to become part of a happy and well-managed family. With a sad smile, she sent her daughter: Maybe tomorrow we can do breakfast?
She received a Probably not within seconds. I have work. And then we’re leaving town for a few days to go see Terry’s parents. Sorry, mom. But I’m glad you’re back home and safe.
She completely understood it all but still, it hurt. She wondered if this was how Melissa had felt all those times she’d needed her mother but her mother was occupied with work. She thought of little Michelle and although she had seen her less than two weeks ago, she couldn’t help but feel as if she were being an absentee grandmother. Even when she was home and not being occupied with her job with bureau, her mind was always there. Wanting to get better, wanting to stay sharp, wanting to make sure her age did not define her.
She set her phone down and then set about making lunch. She did her best to tuck the text conversation with Melissa into the back of her head.
She stood there, staring into the refrigerator, feeling lost. On the hunt for a killer one day and realizing that I badly need to clean out my fridge the next, Kate thought. What the hell kind of a life is this?
As she settled down at the kitchen table with a tuna sandwich, she couldn’t help but wonder if Duran had a point yesterday in his thinly veiled little barbs. After all, she had retired a year and a half ago because she felt that she deserved it—that she had given all she could and that she had left her best years in the bureau behind her. Maybe she should have left it that way. If she had, she wouldn’t currently be eating a cold tuna sandwich by herself, wondering if Duran, DeMarco, Michelle, Allen, and God only knew who else saw her as nothing more than a sad aging lady who just couldn’t let go of her glory years.
Maybe this was her sign. Maybe this was the final indicator she needed to show once and for all that it was over. She should have stayed retired. She should retire. For good. Duran would probably see it as a godsend—an easy way out
of a situation he likely wished he had never created.
She looked to her phone. All it would take was a single call. She didn’t think Duran would put up too much of a fight. If he put one up at all.
She grabbed the phone and thought about it. She saw the body of Jack Tucker in the alley and then the body of Frank Nobilini in a very similar alley. Both shot in the back of the head as if it were nothing.
The shell casings from the Ruger.
Execution style.
Two relatively plain and boring men, discarded as if they were nothing.
Boring…
She had no idea why that word seemed so important to her. It continued to nag at her, seeming to itch along the back of her head.
She pulled up her contacts and instead of calling up Duran to bail out of their little arrangement, she called Allen. He answered right away but he seemed to be lacking his usual good cheer.
“Hey there, Katie.”
She smiled. She’d hated that name as a kid but she loved it when Allen used it. It made her feel young. She assumed it made him feel young as well.
“You got plans tonight?” she asked.
“I thought you were in New York.”
“Yeah, that was fleeting. A dead-end case that, quite frankly, has me feeling a little down. I thought you might like to come over and change that.”
“Yeah…I don’t know, Kate.”
There was caution in his voice, as if he were choosing his words very carefully.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“I’d like to think so, but I don’t know. Kate…I know I mentioned this once before and we just sort of shrugged it off but I’m not a fan of only being called on or needed when it’s convenient for you. When the job comes calling, it’s Kate on Duty. You’re in this whole other world. But then when things are in a lull, you rely on me. Honestly, I don’t really care and if we were twenty-five years younger, I wouldn’t care at all. But…I don’t know.”
“That feels a little unfair.”