by Delynn Royer
Nell looked skeptical as she pulled a cigarette from her purse but said nothing. Mary spoke from where she stood at the kitchen sink, cleaning dirty dishes. “I trust you can find your way, Miss Frank. Take any of the rooms upstairs that are open.”
“Thank you,” Trixie said to Mary, then to Nell sweetly, “Good night.”
Trixie left the kitchen but then paused near the open doorway in the deserted dining room. Finding Sean was her first priority, but now that Nell and Mary were left alone to fashion some sort of conversation between them, she couldn’t resist listening.
She wasn’t disappointed.
The snap of Nell’s cigarette lighter was followed by the soft, trailing aroma of smoldering tobacco. “So...what did you think, Mrs. Patterson? That he was in love with you? That you were the first Jane he ever snuck around with? Did you think you’d be the last?”
There was a long pause during which Trixie imagined Mary must have dried her hands on a towel and then turned, very slowly—”cool as a cucumba,” as Lenore might have put it—to face the widow of her child’s father. “I didn’t think anything of the sort, Mrs. Murphy, and there was no sneaking around about it. At least, not for me. You were the one who left him, remember?”
Ouch. Trixie couldn’t linger any longer to see which of the two drew more blood. She tip-toed through the dining room to the parlor, then scooted into the entrance foyer, all without encountering any other guests. Except for the two women in the kitchen, the place was asleep. She needed to find Sean.
Trixie put on her coat before stepping out onto the breezy front porch. By now, a full moon had risen to cast a ghostly silver glow over the quiet front yard of The Shinnecock Inn. She picked out Sean immediately in the moon’s ambient light, a tall silhouette leaning against her roadster, his head bent, smoking a cigarette beneath the dappled shadows of one of the maple trees. Only a short distance away, the lighthouse beam flashed.
From here, he looked to be deep in thought, and Trixie hesitated. She didn’t want to intrude. Then he looked up and his pensive gaze settled on her.
Sliding her hands into her pockets, she stepped down off the porch. “Didn’t know you smoked,” she said when she reached him.
She caught the flash of his bleak smile in the dark. “Only sometimes. Like when I’ve been framed for murder and I have to figure out why.”
“Have you come to any conclusions?”
He shook his head, tossed down the cigarette, and ground it out. “I think the word was out that Johnny was getting ready to talk to the feds. I think the evidence in the strongbox is what they were looking for that night when they tossed Johnny’s place.”
“And you?” Trixie wanted to touch him, but the uncertainty of what his feelings might be for her kept her hands safely buried in her pockets. “Why frame you?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Because I stepped into a case where I wasn’t supposed to be, because I went my own way, because I’m an easy target to hang this thing on, because—”
“Because he found the boy.” The man who spoke out from the shadows had a deep voice with just a hint of an Irish brogue.
It was a voice Trixie had heard before—a fatherly voice, a resonating tone imbued with irrefutable authority, but before she could place it, its owner emerged from behind the car.
She recognized him in the same instant that she saw the Colt revolver he had trained on them.
It was Chief of Detectives James Keegan.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Before Trixie could react, Sean had already reached for his own weapon, but Keegan stopped him cold with a warning. “It’ll be your girl who suffers for it.”
True enough, the barrel of that revolver had shifted to train squarely on Trixie. She stared at the black muzzle and her heart began to pound.
Another armed man emerged from the shadows, and she recognized him from John Murphy’s wake. He was much younger than Keegan and as tall as Sean, with broad, powerful shoulders and implacable dark features. If there had been any hope of Sean overpowering their adversaries, it was now dashed.
When she looked back at Keegan, it came clear what Sean had meant when he’d spoken earlier about Danny mistaking Johnny’s last words.
Key. Egan. Johnny hadn’t been talking about the key to his strongbox or his brother. He was naming his second killer. Keegan.
“It’s time to relieve you of duty,” Keegan said to Sean. “Raise your hands and don’t move. I’m going to take your gun. Try anything and Lou won’t hesitate to kill the girl.”
“Sure, take the gun. It’s not mine.” Sean raised his hands and addressed Grottano. “It was you who switched it, right? When did you do it? That day I was in Carter’s office or the night I brought Nell down to headquarters?”
Grottano’s grin was chilling. “Keep wondering, Costigan. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I can understand your disappointment, Sean.” Keegan reached inside the lapel of Sean’s coat to retrieve his weapon. “That’s Brian’s fault for drumming such noble thoughts into your head. He never did see all the possibilities, and after so many years of fine service, what did he have to show for it? He died a poor man. That’s not good enough for some of us.”
“So you threw in with the likes of John Murphy.”
“John was a good business man.” Keegan tucked Sean’s weapon into his coat pocket and stepped back. “He needed protection for his liquor business, and I could provide the best. We had a good arrangement, not only in the city but out here with the locals until the feds started poking into it. If John hadn’t decided to save his own skin at the expense of ours, no one would have gotten hurt.”
“Johnny’s brother says he had no plans to talk,” Sean said.
“His brother was wrong.” Keegan turned his attention to Trixie. “Take your hands out of your pockets, Miss Frank. Slowly, now, and raise them up where I can see them.”
Trixie swallowed hard and did as he said. She hated that she was trembling, but she couldn’t help it. The one named Grottano stepped forward to pat her coat pockets and she stifled a shudder.
“There now,” Keegan said pleasantly as Grottano stepped back. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Before he could say more, they heard the inn’s front door squeak open. The chief’s calm demeanor vanished. He jerked the barrel of his gun up, its trigger cocked and poised within a hair’s breadth of firing. “Quiet,” he warned. “No need to involve any more innocents, is there?”
“Sean?” Nell called from the porch. “Is that you out there?”
The chief relaxed slightly, but he didn’t shift his aim. “Quiet, now,” he repeated, but Nell was already approaching. Her voice, when she called out again, was closer. “Sean? Who’s that with you?”
Nell opened the front gate, then stopped short as she took in the scene. Instead of running for help, she strode toward them. “James, what are you doing?”
“Nellie, darlin’, you go right back inside and mind your own business. We’ve got this problem under control.”
Darling? Trixie stared, aghast, first at Nell, who stood boldly with her hands on her hips, then to Keegan, who remained unmoved by her interruption. In the span of two seconds, she’d careened from alpha to omega. Any hope that Nell would help them had come and gone.
“I told you I would take care of this,” Nell said. “There was no need for you to—”
“Nellie,” Keegan said again, sharply this time. “Did you get the box?”
“Yes, it’s inside. It’s fine.”
“Good. Go on back and keep it company.”
Nell’s voice hardened. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Keegan’s patience was apparently spent. His tone was cold. “Well, then, darlin’, come along, but don’t get in the way.” He motioned wit
h his gun in the direction of the north shore. “Let’s all take a stroll.”
As Sean and Trixie walked across the grassy knoll ahead of Keegan, Trixie’s legs felt like rubber, trembling and weak. Nell and Grottano brought up the rear. They soon passed an empty automobile parked along the road that Trixie was sure hadn’t been there before. No doubt it was a vehicle hired by the Chief and Grottano—the same one Sean had spotted following them earlier on the Shore Highway.
From behind, Nell spoke tightly. “This is messy, James. Even if you silence these two, there’s still the boy.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point? My point is, the kid’s not here, is he? And he’s not at the inn. They’ve stashed him somewhere. If you kill them both now, how do you propose to find him?”
“We know the lad’s name and we know the neighborhoods he wanders in. We’ll find him. You can bet your beautiful ass on that.” Keegan’s cold words froze Trixie’s blood. She didn’t want to think about what this man was capable of doing to Danny.
“I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you,” Nell replied. “We need to keep these two alive while we think this through.”
Keegan gave an unpleasant chuckle. “Is that right? It sounds to me like you’re going soft, Nellie. Maybe it’s you who needs to think a few things through. If Grottano and I go down, we all go down.”
“You still don’t trust me? I told you I didn’t have Johnny’s books.”
While Keegan was occupied with Nell, Trixie stole a glance at Sean, who walked stoically beside her. She whispered, “Some girlfriend she turned out to be.”
Sean gave her a warning look but didn’t reply.
“Do you have a plan?” she pressed. “Please tell me you have a plan.”
“Don’t lose your head.”
It was a struggle to keep her voice at a whisper. “That’s not a plan.”
The dim light from The Shinnecock Inn was far behind them, and the glow of the lightkeeper’s cottage on the Point ahead was too distant to light the way. The landscape, although clear of brush, was uneven and rutted. The full moon shed enough misty light to see where they were headed, but not enough to assure no missteps. As if on cue, a flashlight switched on from behind, illuminating the ground ahead.
“Just a bit farther,” Keegan said, “then we’ll take a stroll down to the beach.”
The cold breeze coming off the Sound whipped against their faces, and the smell of salt came along with it. Sean chose that moment to speak. “So, since Grottano’s so innocent, was it you who set me up, Nell? Did you switch my gun that night at my apartment?”
Trixie bristled. Night at his apartment? “What night at your apartment?” she asked.
“I didn’t do anything with your gun,” Nell said tersely. “I told you to leave this case alone.”
Keegan tsked. “Sentimental girl. He never would’ve let it go. Not while you were a part of it. That’s why we kept him on it. We had to keep an eye on him.”
“Stupid dame,” Grottano muttered.
“Thick-headed ape,” Nell shot back.
Trixie couldn’t have cared less about their squabbling. She heard the rumbling, rhythmic pounding of the waves as they washed up against the shore somewhere ahead and far below. It sounded like thunder. As they topped the slope of a grassy bluff, Block Island Sound came into view. White reflections of the moon danced over black water. In the far distance, a ship’s lights glided silently across the horizon. Perhaps a Coast Guard cutter on patrol.
“You were always too stubborn for your own good, Sean,” Nell said as they descended the knoll and the water disappeared from view again. “Always.”
“Always,” Sean agreed.
“Enough,” Keegan snapped. “Turn here.”
The flashlight’s harsh beam jerked to their left, illuminating a barely visible rutted dirt path that led into the misty darkness and down to the beach. If anyone had trod here recently, it wasn’t discernible. The area was rocky and overgrown with grass, weeds and shadbushes.
Sean took the lead, sweeping up Trixie’s hand as they began a gradual descent. His grip was firm and sure, and it helped steady more than just her footing. As she was forced to concentrate more on where she stepped, a strange sense of calm settled over her. Was this the beginning of denial of their impending fate or acceptance of it?
As they neared the bottom, Trixie tripped on a rock, tossing her forward. Sean caught her. Heart pounding, she buried her face in his chest, savoring the comfort of his strong arms around her, before she looked up into his eyes. The sound of the unseen surf had grown loud and ominously close. The cold spray of the ocean misted the night air and dampened their skin.
“You’re okay.” He whispered the words so softly she wasn’t sure she really heard them, but she felt them.
“Move.” From behind, the hard muzzle of Keegan’s gun pressed against the back of her head.
Sean abruptly turned her and pushed her away, placing himself in Keegan’s line of fire. “I can understand Grottano. He was always a dirty cop, but when did you go bad, Jim?” His words brimmed with anger. “You were a good man when you worked with my father. After he died, when you came by to look in on my mother and me, were you dirty then? Brian would have trusted you with his life back in those days.”
“Shut up,” Keegan said, matching Sean’s anger. “This is no pleasure for me.”
“It was later, wasn’t it? When you got command of the waterfront precinct? Did the union boys get to you?”
“Your uncle was an idealist, lad. Most of us start out that way, but we learn fast enough. Too bad you didn’t turn out to be smarter than the rest of your family.”
“Move!” Grottano barked. The man might have been built like a gorilla, but unfortunately he was smart enough to recognize when his partner was losing focus.
“Go,” Trixie whispered and urged Sean forward.
Pebbles and sand crunched beneath their feet as they followed the moving beam of the flashlight across the narrow rocky beach toward the shelter of a jagged bluff. The wind coming off the water was brisk, snapping Trixie’s hair across her eyes and making her shiver.
Sean raised his voice over the roar of the surf. “You sure you got this all figured out, Jim? You had me to take the blame for Carter’s murder, but two more bodies? That could leave you with some tall explaining to do.”
“I’ve given that some thought. I doubt you’ll like the answer.”
“Let me guess. Another murder to my credit and Grottano comes out the hero by gunning me down before I can kill again?”
“More like two,” Keegan answered. “Did I neglect to mention that we found the knife that killed John Murphy in your apartment yesterday?”
“That’s absurd.” Trixie was suddenly furious at the sheer audacity of their plan. “Nobody will believe it.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Miss Frank. Sean’s history with John’s wife is no secret. Isn’t that just the sort of scandal that your newspaper thrives on?”
“Yeah? My boss already knows all about Sean being framed and that there’s a witness to Murphy’s murder and about—”
Keegan cut her off. “Sorry, no proof, darlin’. Not without the boy, and you can be sure we’ll get to him first.”
Trixie fumed. Her anger might be useless as a weapon to stop Keegan, but she was glad for an emotion that fueled her determination rather than the fear that had threatened to paralyze her earlier.
“This is it,” Keegan ordered as they reached the shelter of the rocky face. Far above, the Montauk Lighthouse rose like a sentinel atop Turtle Hill, flashing its warning beacons out to sea.
Between the muffling effects of the rock face and the crash of the surf, neither the lighthouse keeper nor any other soul who happened to be out along the Point would hear gunshot
s.
Trapped now, Trixie felt anew the cold bite of fear. She couldn’t tell if the thunder in her ears was the pounding surf or her own pounding heart. She looked to Sean.
“Get ready,” Sean said, not taking his attention from the two men who now stood side by side, facing them, their guns raised.
Ready?
“James, please!” Nell grasped Keegan by the arm.
Keegan’s aim wavered as he shook her off. “Stop it, Nellie! It’s got to be done.”
“Then I’m washing my hands of it. I can’t watch this.”
Trixie registered only peripherally the strange tone in Nell’s voice as she stepped back and away. She sounded less anguished than resigned, and Trixie realized that she had indeed been clinging to a weak thread of hope that Nell might somehow help them. When the other woman finally retreated so that her face disappeared into the shadows, this last thread of hope unraveled and slipped away.
They were out of time.
Keegan cocked the hammer. Trixie tensed as Sean moved next to her. He shouted, “Get down!” And she obeyed.
She dropped just as two gunshots cracked the air.
When she looked up, the flashlight had hit the sand and Sean had rushed Grottano. The two men grappled for Grottano’s gun, which discharged when they both hit the ground. Trixie registered dimly that Keegan had vanished, then turned to see that he was not gone, but down, face down, sprawled and unmoving.
How...?
It didn’t matter. As Sean and Grottano fought, Trixie scrambled to find Keegan’s revolver. It had to be close.
Trixie knew almost nothing about firearms, but it was possible Sean had been shot when Grottano’s gun went off. If so, he stood little chance of overpowering his adversary. She hoped that if she could find Keegan’s gun that she could get off a warning shot that would get Grottano’s attention.
Tears stung Trixie’s eyes as she grasped blindly on the rocky beach for too many precious seconds before finding the gun. The metal was cold, and the fleeting realization that neither of the shots she’d heard earlier could have come from this weapon occurred to her as she raised the barrel.