De Profundis (Kate Gardener Mysteries Book 2)

by Gabriella Messina

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gardener.” His voice was soft, yet decidedly masculine, and had that deliciously well-educated RP cadence that was so highly sought-after by thespians and politicians alike.

  “Likewise.”

  Parris smiled, tipping his head to the side with a hint of a question in his eyes, and the move caused his mop of dark brown hair to fall down onto his forehead, making him look even younger than his presumably twenty-something years.

  Kate broke her gaze away from fair Parris and looked back at his older brother. There was a slight resemblance, but the elder Devereux had a longer face, a high forehead, and his eyes, though clear and blue, were smaller. His smiled easily and had a sort of elfish charm to him. And he was smiling now as he returned to his seat.

  “What do you want, Miss Gardener?” Wilkinson, who had been tense and silent the entire time, finally spoke up, the question coming out more sharply than he may have intended. Kate glanced at the frowning barrister. Or… maybe not…

  “Grumpy this evening, aren’t we? You clearly haven’t had enough of that.” Kate gestured to the scotch that remained in his glass. “I need to pump you for information?”

  Warwick giggled, and Devereux smiled charmingly. “Perhaps you could pump all of us for information. The five of us altogether will surely be able to give you everything you need.”

  The sexual overtones were unmistakable, and Kate glanced at Wilkinson to gauge his reaction. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, and perhaps a little unsure what to do about it.

  Kate turned her gaze to Devereux… and smiled seductively. “You know you are absolutely right. I could use all the… information I can get.” She kept her face as still as possible, watching the eyebrows raise and lips part at her reply. Even Wilkinson looked a bit startled, and relieved.

  Kate glanced around, her gaze falling on an empty chair at a nearby table. She quickly grabbed the chair and dragged it over to their grouping. She settled in then, taking her cigarettes and mobile out of her NYU sweatshirt pocket, then proceeding to pull the sweatshirt up over her head. She could feel the eyes of the men on her as she adjusted her fitted “Shenanigans and Malarkey” tee shirt and hopped into the chair. Tucking her legs underneath her, she motioned to the bottles of alcohol on the table. “Is anyone going to offer me a drink?”

  They all froze, then Lusk leaned forward, turning over a fresh glass and reaching for the bottle of Laphroaig. He poured carefully, holding the glass up in the light before standing and handing it to Kate. He held her gaze for a long moment, and Kate wasn’t sure if the chills running up her spine were from the effect of his clothes-removing gaze, or because the breeze had come up and it was actually getting cold.

  “Thank you.” She carefully sipped the whisky, feeling it warm its way down her throat to her stomach, then disperse quickly through her body, beating away the chill that had settled in her bones. She took another sip, then settled back more comfortably in her chair. “I need to know about cigars.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Cigars. I need to know stuff about cigars.”

  “Well, there is the thing called the Internet. You just log on, type in what you want to know about, and it will magically appear.”

  “Yes, thank you, Mister Patronizing Barrister, I have actually used the Internet before. What I need is info from someone experienced with cigars, someone who smokes them.” She waved a hand, taking in the entire group before her. “A whole group of someones, in fact.”

  “You want us to help you?” Warwick’s eyes were wide, and Kate thought she heard a bit of a nervous tremor in his voice. Whether that nervousness was because of the topic, or because of her, Kate wasn’t entirely sure.

  “Of course she does,” Devereux interjected, flashing a charming smile. She tried to keep her face pleasantly neutral as she looked at each of them, the chill returning when her eyes rested Lusk, and stomach butterflies as she looked at Parris. He smiled at Kate as she looked at him, not with his mouth, which remained unmoved, but with his eyes. Smiling eyes…

  “Fine.” Wilkinson sighed, and took a slow puff of his cigar. “What do you want to know?”

  “Okay. So…” Kate shifted in her chair. “What I need to know is how long it takes to smoke one.”

  The men all exchange looks, a mixture of amusement and confusion on their faces. Devereux chuckles slightly. “Well, that would depend on how you smoke it.”

  “Well… with your mouth, I would suppose?” Kate flashed him a cheeky smile. “Is there another way?”

  “What type of cigar is it?”

  Kate gave an involuntary shiver as Lusk spoke, his Edinburgh accent making the question almost seductive as the “r” in “cigar” was rolled senseless. She took a quick sip of her whisky before replying. “We don’t know. We didn’t find any cigar ends or anything. Just ash.”

  “Ash can tell you a good deal about the cigar it came from. And the smoker.” Parris sipped his whisky, his eyes returning quickly to Kate’s face as he swallowed, then continued. “A good quality cigar, preferably hand-rolled, should burn slowly… evenly… and provided the smoker doesn’t make any abrupt hand movements, it should reach at least an inch in length before it falls on its own.”

  He was talking about cigars, but Kate had the strangest feeling that wasn’t all he was talking about. Parris’ eyes were fixed on her, seeming to take in her entire face and being while he was talking. There was an intensity to that gaze, yet something soft and sensitive as well. Kate nodded slowly, trying to will the squeak out of her voice that she knew would be there if she spoke too quickly. This guy was really getting to her. Down, girl…

  “And it would take a while to smoke it down to that point?”

  Parris shrugged, the slightest of gestures. “Thirty minutes. Perhaps longer, depending...”

  “Depending?” Kate asked, scolding herself internally for the breathy sound her voice was making.

  Parris smiled. “Depending on… how long you want it to last.”

  “This is about the Coyle case, isn’t it?” Wilkinson sat forward in his chair, his body language tense and a little hostile. “Listen, Miss Gardener —”

  “No, you listen.” Kate unfolded from the chair, setting her glass down on the table before she went on. “I realize it’s a whole lot easier for you to just close the book on Peter Hamilton, but the kid doesn’t smoke. Neither does Joe Lucas, or any of the people that were in the church at the time the body was found. And the autopsy proved that Father Coyle didn’t smoke, either. But I know what it is in my pictures, I know what I saw at that seen… I still can see it, right now… and someone was on that property, standing on that property, and watching for a considerable amount of time, at least an hour, judging by the ash pile. Maybe even longer.” She stood up quickly. “Thank you for your help gentlemen.” She paused, picking up her glass of whisky, downing it in one gulp and replacing it on the table. “And for the drink.”

  Kate quickly turned on her heel and made a quick exit. She didn’t see the raised eyebrows and smirks of Wilkinson and the others as the looked at each other. Nor did she see the eyes of Parris Devereux as they followed her out the door, and beyond.

  11

  7 November 2011

  Murder Squad

  Pierce closed up the file in his hands and tosses it on to the desk. He had encamped in Hagen’s office shortly after the older man had left for the day and was going through the C.A.I.C files on Father Mark Coyle… Again. After the first three go-arounds, Pierce had concluded that the abuse connection between Coyle and Peter Hamilton was baseless, leaving young Peter with no discernable motive for brutally beating to death the priest.

  Pierce sighed, rubbing his hands over his face from the scruff of beard on his jaw, up over his eyes and forehead, then into his hair. He ran his fingers through his hair, hand combing his waves, as it were, and leaned back in the chair. The familiar throb in his shoulder become a sharper twinge as his elbow bumped the arm of the chair.
The shoulder would heal quickly now that the swelling was mostly gone, but the ache was still a hovering presence. Over-the-counter pain relievers did provide some respite, which suited Pierce well enough... He actually liked being able to feel the ache, to be aware of the injury and the healing that was occurring.

  He stared at the files on the desk. Round four had yielding nothing, not even a name or a clue that might point them in, well, some direction. If abuse wasn’t the motive, then —

  A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Pierce quickly looked up.

  Kate peeked her head in around the corner. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  Kate pushed the door open more fully and stepped in. “Hagen’s office, huh?” Her eyes scanned around the room, taking in the modern furniture, filled bookshelves and personal accessories that made the room uniquely the Superintendent’s. Her gaze returned to Pierce and she flashed a wide grin, raising her arm… and the three takeaway bags clasped in her hand. “I brought food. Owens is getting napkins or something. He’ll be right in.” She paused for a second, her smile fading slightly. “That’s okay, right? I mean, I didn’t break some kind of cultural Met law by inviting Owens to eat, too, did I?”

  Pierce chuckled. “Not that I’ve ever heard.”

  “Good.” Kate sighed with relief. “Because the poor guy practically drooled when I showed him the beef and broccoli. Does he ever leave his desk to eat or anything?”

  Pierce shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. I think he usually goes to the Canteen during the day.”

  Kate frowned, puzzled. Then realization dawned. “Oh, you mean the cafeteria! Okay. I thought you were talking about the bathroom or something.” She looked down at the cluttered desk. “Should we try to eat here, or could that be too risky for the paperwork?”

  Pierce motioned to a low table pushed up against the wall by the windows. “We could use that. I’ll pull it out.”

  Kate quickly held up a hand. “No, you won’t. Your shoulder is still tender, I’m sure.” She bent over, grabbing the edge of the table and pulled it out away from the wall, leaving plenty of room to sit around it comfortably. “See? I’m a big girl… I can do all sorts of things, even lifty ones.”

  She set about unpacking the three bags and spreading the food containers out on the table. “I wasn’t sure what everyone liked, so I just got a variety. I figured we can share, or not. Whatever.” She lifted out three packages of egg rolls and Pierce quickly snatched one, pulling out one and taking a bite.

  “Thank you.” Pierce’s eyes quickly scanned the food containers as he chewed. In addition to the beef and broccoli, he saw there was sweet and sour chicken, vegetable-fried rice, Chinese ribs and dumplings. “This is a lot of food.”

  Kate shrugged. “Yeah, I know. But Chinese leftovers are always good. There may be enough for everybody to take some home… If we don’t eat it all now. Where the hell is Owens with those damn napkins?”

  At that moment, Owens entered the room. “Damn napkins,” he said with a smile. He raised the other hand, displaying three bottles of water. “And something to wash it down with.”

  “Well, it’s about time,” Kate said, taking the napkins and laying them on the table. “I was going to call out the guard.” She sat down on the floor, her back leaning against the wall, and started popping open food containers. “C’mon, hurry up, before it all gets cold.”

  Owens left the door ajar a few inches, then joined the other two around the table. Pierce and Kate threw him questioning looks and Owens shrugged.

  “I need to hear the phone, in case…” He trailed off and shrugged again, smiling this time.

  The men joined Kate around the table and the next few minutes were spent helping themselves to the food, filling up the cheap paper plates that came from the restaurant and settling into their chosen eating spot. Pierce sat along the wall with Kate, while Owens took a seat across from them, his plate fitting neatly into an empty space between food containers.

  “Did you find anything in there?” Kate gestured toward the file boxes and piles on Hagen’s desk.

  Pierce swallowed the egg roll in his mouth before answering. “Nothing. Nothing useful. Nothing… nothing.” He swiped his egg roll through a patch of sweet-and-sour sauce on his dish, smearing it with a generous portion before taking another bite.

  “That sucks.” Kate took another mouthful of beef and broccoli, chewing thoughtfully. “Did the abuse even really happen to this kid? Or was it totally made up?”

  “Oh, he was abused.” Pierce replied, grabbing another packet of sauce and tearing it open. “Unless, of course, he enjoyed burning himself with cigars when he was twelve.”

  “Cigars? He was burned with cigars?” Kate’s fork hovered in mid-air, a generous scoop of fried rice dangling precariously above her plate.

  “Yeah, why?”

  Kate set her fork down and grabbed an egg roll out of the package. “Well, I got pictures of some piles of ash on the property. Some near the sacristy window… Out at the cemetery… Around some trees near the rectory. Judging by the volume of ash, I figured it was from cigars. Jimi and I are going out to Holy Innocents in the morning to see if we can find any wrappers or ends or anything. If I can find something, anything, I may be able to identify the kind and even figure out where it was bought in the city. At least, that’s what that Mr. Devereux said.” She lowered her eyes quickly, focusing on the egg roll she was biting.

  “Who?”

  Kate finished chewing and swallowed before answering. “Well, see, I needed to talk to somebody who knew something about cigars. I’ve always found that research is great, but… well, it’s kind of like cooking. If you want to know the ingredients in a recipe, cooking temp, you consult a recipe. But if you want to know how long it takes to cook something, or the right consistency of a sauce or whatever, you ask somebody who actually cooks. A lot. Reynolds told me Wilkinson smokes cigars on occasion, so I went by the Cavendish Friday night for a chat.”

  Owens looked up quickly, his brown eyes wide. “You went to the Cavendish?”

  “Yeah.” Kate looked between the two men, puzzled. “Why? Is that bad or something? They didn’t seem upset by my being there.”

  Owens glanced at Pierce, whose expression was oddly neutral as he continued eating his food, then turned back to Kate. “So, you actually saw the ‘Goldstone Men’?”

  “Huh?”

  Pierce swallowed his mouthful of food and reached for a bottle of water. “We’d all heard rumors about Wilkinson’s friends, but no one’s actually seen them together.” He took a drink of his water. “Until now, that is.” He took another drink, then put the bottle down. “Did Wilkinson keep you away, or did you actually meet them?”

  Kate snorted. “Dude, I just walked in. Wilkinson didn’t even get out of his chair.”

  Owens choked with laughter, his mouth quickly grabbing a napkin and covering his mouth. Pierce clapped Owens on the back a couple of times, hoping that the young constable was not going to need the Heimlich, because, while his arm felt better, it certainly wasn’t well enough for that.

  Owens caught his breath and gasped, his amusement unabated. “You just walked right in? And they were all there?”

  Kate shrugged. “Yeah. Well, I don’t know how big this club was, but there were only five there besides Wilkinson.”

  Pierce wiped his mouth and leaned back against the wall. “Did he introduce you to them?”

  “No, actually.” Kate chuckled at the recollection. “It was one of the group that stepped in and did that. Oliver Devereux. I guess he’s an—”

  “MP. Yes.” Owens finished for her, his posture eager as he leaned forward. “Who else?”

  “Let’s see…” She closed her eyes, recalling the form and face of each man as she spoke their names. “Ethan Warwick… Antonio Lusk… Laurence Grayson… Oliver Devereux… and his younger brother, Parris.” She tried to calm the butterflies that began to dance in her stomach at the memory of that face,
that voice, that…

  “I knew it.”

  Kate opened her eyes to find Pierce’s expression darker. “Knew what?”

  Owens swallowed his mouthful of food before speaking. “Warwick and Grayson. They, uh…” He trailed off, looking at Pierce questioningly.

  Pierce sighed. “Let’s just say they don’t like me very much… and it frequently shows.” He chuckled. “Along with Wilkinson, Hagen once referred to them as the ‘Axis of Evil’.”

  Kate joined in his wry amusement. “Well, they certainly made an impression last night. Actually, they mostly looked at me like I was a lemur or something. Mister MP was super friendly… Guess you can’t turn off the politicking. Warwick seemed nervous, and Grayson was fidgeting, looking around constantly. Wilkinson had the decency to look a bit embarrassed by the whole thing. And Parris…” She trailed off, trying to keep her voice calm and measured, though saying the younger Devereux brother’s name out loud had conjured the same tingly feeling inside that she’d experienced last night in the cigar bar when he looked at her. The man with the smiling eyes…. She cleared her throat. “He was actually quite helpful. More so than the others.”

  Owens suddenly jumped up and hurried out of the room. Kate frowned and turned to Pierce. “What was that about?”

  “Not you. We’re having trouble with the diocese. They’ve been stonewalling details on all involved parties… the victim, Hamilton, Deacon Lucas… Hagen got in touch with Reynolds and apparently they are coordinating some kind of meeting with… someone.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. But Hagen mentioned that Reynolds or someone from the Chancery Offices might call to set up an appointment.”