“Come on, man. You can’t tease me like this. How?” Kate asked.
He flashed his charming smile once more, exposing pearly whites that matched the spark in his eyes. “In exchange for a date next Friday night, I’ve got that evening off.”
“What?”
“Are you also going to ask me ‘who’ and ‘where?’ ” Smitty asked, teasing her.
Kate squinted while trying to process the offer he’d made. “Wha—”
“Listen, it’s your call,” Smitty said. “You have my number. If you’re interested, send me the case numbers, and I’ll work my magic with Sandy.”
He left before Kate could respond.
Chapter Ten
July 5, 2015
Kate Murphy
Kate’s Apartment, Boston
Kate woke up late on Sunday, exhausted from the previous day’s overtime.
She had only two things to do today: visit her uncle and decide if she was going to take up Smitty on his offer—as gross as it seemed.
This date could be the gateway to a lucky break in some old file. Although Smitty was a good cop, he apparently had no morals when it came to women or...
Is there truth to what people say about Italian men?
Who cares? How bad can a date with him really be?
A police officer wouldn’t spike her drink, right? But that one date could lead to nasty rumors at work if anyone saw the two of them together.
She decided to first work her magic with Google and see if she still needed those archives once she was done. No point wasting any more time imagining Smitty hitting on her during an entire evening.
By lunch, she’d successfully eliminated five cases from her list, thanks to the gossip columns and juicy pictures she’d found online. In each situation, the victim and the accused had clearly known each other. But the rest of the items on her list still lacked too much information for Kate to determine if they could be similar to her uncle’s case.
She turned off her computer and grabbed her car keys.
Time to go see my uncle.
The entire drive to jail was done on autopilot. She removed the keys from the ignition but couldn’t remember driving there. She recalled starting the car and turning onto the street but had no memory of the route she’d taken. She didn’t remember parallel parking her car either.
Shit, I have to get my head on straight. Lack of sleep?
No.
She’d been visualizing the possible outcome that Kenny faced if he was convicted. A lifetime in jail for a murder he didn’t commit. He was so frail and weak now. He’d surely become some bigger guy’s bitch. That thought sent a shiver down her spine.
No, she had to remain positive. She’d find something—whatever it was going to be—and it would lead to proving his innocence.
It had to.
After going through the visitor registration process, she sat down and inhaled deeply, hoping to clear her anxiety before seeing Kenny. Less than three breaths later, there he was with a wide smile on his ashen face.
“Kenny! I’m so happy to see you. How are you?”
His grin looked strained, and his eyes echoed a deeper, more tragic story as he swallowed and winced.
This isn’t good.
“I’m okay,” he said, his voice sounding coarser than usual.
“No, you’re not. What’s wrong?” Kate asked.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head before shaking it slightly. His shoulders rose from his strenuous breathing. Then he cleared his throat and looked up at her again.
“No, I’m good. Went to the doctor this morning.” He wiggled his fingers at his throat. “The end of a bad flu. He gave me medicine. I’ll be all right.”
As much as Kate wanted to believe him, a part of her didn’t. His eyes told a different story. But then again, maybe the medicine he was taking clouded his mind, or perhaps he had finally come to terms with the dreadful situation he was in. George Hudson may have told him that his salvation vehicle was running on the world’s thinnest fumes.
“Did you check up on the house?” he asked.
Kate felt guilty. “Oh, I’ve meant to, but other things came up. I promise I’ll go tomorrow. Guaranteed.”
“Okay, that’d be good. Could you bring me my rosary?”
Kate frowned. “Your rosary? I didn’t know you had one.”
Kenny nodded. “It was Lucy’s, really. It’s in her nightstand. Would you be able to retrieve it from the house and bring it to me?”
She didn’t know if the authorities would let her bring anything in here, but that was something for her to worry about later. “Sure thing.”
Kenny wiped the sweat pearling on his forehead, and in doing so, exposed the bruised forearm he’d kept behind his back until now.
“What’s that?” Kate asked.
“Nothing,” he shook his head and backed up on his chair.
Kate wasn’t having any of this. “Is someone beating you up in here?”
“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head really fast. “I fell.”
“What? Don’t give me that bull crap.”
“I’m serious. I’m safe. No one is bothering me.”
Kate stared at him, and for the first time during this conversation, his eyes seemed to agree with the words that were coming out of his mouth.
Kenny’s eyes remained locked on Kate’s. “Listen, I’m grateful you came to visit, but I think I need to go and lie down. The medicine is kicking in and making me very sleepy.”
“Okay, you take care,” she said, still not believing him fully. “I’ll grab the rosary from your house this afternoon, and I’ll arrange for it to be delivered to you, alright? I can’t visit you twice in one day.”
“Thank you.” He called up a guard to help him stand up.
Strange. But then again, he’s as pale as a ghost.
Kate watched him walk away. As he reached the door, he turned around and smiled at her, then he mouthed, “I love you.”
Kate’s eyes filled with tears and she remained seated for a few minutes, trying to make sense of it all. Her uncle wasn’t well. She needed to get him out, and fast.
That meant she needed Smitty’s help. Who cared if she had to suffer through an entire evening of flirting with him, or, more accurately, being hit on. At least he was easy on the eyes. And that date would definitely be easier than begging Fuller to grant her access to the archives.
As soon as she reached her car, she got her phone out of her pocket and texted Smitty:
Friday night works for me if you could get me access to a dozen files.
She started the car, and before she could put it into first gear, her phone vibrated with a reply:
Great
Three little dots indicated he was still typing, so she waited.
Send me the case numbers
I’ll pick you up next Friday at 7
She took her list out of her purse, unfolded the yellow sheets, and sent him what he’d requested.
She let out a long sigh as she drove off.
This had better be worth it.
When she arrived at her uncle’s house, she found the front door unlocked. Closed, but unlocked.
Strange.
She quietly pushed the door open and tiptoed her way into the living room before closing it again. She stood still, listening for any sounds. The TV was still there, turned off.
Not many thieves would bother stealing a thirty-year-old set.
But Kenny had a collection of VCR tapes he liked to watch over and over again, and his TV was already paid for, so he’d never upgraded it. In a way, the digital age had saved him money. He’d canceled his cable subscription when they’d called to force him to buy a new TV, or at least the digital adaptor that would allow his rabbit-eared set to continue working.
A sound brought her back.
A drawer being closed?
It came from the bedroom. She quietly exited the house and walked along the outside wall, hoping to catch
a glimpse of the intruder. As she approached her uncle’s bedroom window, Kate realized she was too short to see above the windowsill. She took a few steps back and spotted a piece of maroon and burgundy flowery fabric. A sleeve. The person moved to the right and walked back toward the dresser, never once turning to face the window, but Kate recognized her large-breasted profile. She looked like Mrs. Potato Head with a triple-D bra attachment.
It was Maude.
Kenny was right. Nosy Maude, indeed!
Kate realized she shouldn’t have discarded Maude so quickly as a possible suspect for framing her uncle.
Kate returned to the front of the house and let herself in again, but this time, she didn’t bother doing it quietly.
“Hello?” Kate called out, moving toward her uncle’s bedroom.
“Hello? Who’s there?” Maude asked.
“It’s Kate.”
“Oh, just a second, dear.”
Kate didn’t bother to wait just a second. She walked into the room and saw Maude closing a drawer in her uncle’s dresser.
“What are you doing here?” Kate asked.
“Well,” she started, fidgeting. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Kate put her hand on her hip. “What is it then, Maude?”
“I know Kenny thinks I’m just a thorn in his side, but I wanted to help.”
“Help how?”
“I know where he hides his house key. The fake rock in the empty flowerpot isn’t the most original idea. And, with him being in jail and all...”
Maude glanced up at Kate, a puppy look on her face, but Kate didn’t cave. She let the silence stretch on uncomfortably until Maude continued.
“I miss him, that’s all. I came in here and thought I’d busy myself by cleaning this place up a bit, you know? I did the dishes and, just now, I was putting away the clothes I cleaned.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s not as if I have many ways to help him.”
Kate shook her head. If the woman wasn’t in love with her uncle, she had no clue what else it could be. But she’d still examine her past, just in case.
“Do they accept cookies in jail?” Maude asked.
“I have no idea,” Kate replied.
“Worth a try, though, right?”
Kate shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“Will you go visit him again soon?”
“Yeah, I have to pick something up for him. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh, perfect. As you know, I don’t have a car, so I can’t go visit him.” Kate, who’d helped Maude deliver the car to the buyer, nodded for Maude to continue. “Could you please wait here a few minutes? I’ll pack some I made this morning.”
“Sure, I’ll wait.”
“Wonderful,” Maude replied, a large smile on her wrinkled, overly tanned face.
Kate walked to her aunt’s side of the bed and opened the nightstand. It contained only a bible and a rosary.
Easy enough to find.
As she held the rosary, she wondered if the item would be allowed in jail.
Could someone deem it to be a dangerous item that could be used as a weapon or as a tool to commit suicide?
She felt the waxy string and plastic beads, realizing the whole thing was cheaply made and would most likely break within a second of being stretched. She could only hope the person in charge would agree with her and let Kenny have it, so she placed it in her pocket and slid the drawer closed.
Out of curiosity, she checked her uncle’s dresser. Not that she knew what he usually kept in there. But Maude hadn’t lied: some of the neatly piled T-shirts were still warm to the touch.
Fresh out of the dryer.
Kate did a quick walk-through, ensuring the house was safe. No leaks. All was good. She realized Maude had cleaned up quite a bit. Even the toilet had lost the usual yellow ring Kate saw whenever she visited Kenny.
Maude’s hurried steps hit the front porch, and Kate went to meet her.
“Here,” Maude said, handing her two Tupperware containers and a stack of mail. “I didn’t want to open these just yet, but maybe you should. There are a couple of overdue bills from the power company.”
“Why two containers?”
“One for him, and one for you. You need to put some meat on your bones if you want to find yourself a new husband before it’s too late.”
Is this an insult or a compliment?
Kate wasn’t that old. She was athletic, fit, and comfortable in her skin.
Whatever.
She smiled, thanked Maude as the nosy neighbor stepped out of the house, and then locked the door on her way out.
Kate got in her car and dropped her new cargo on the passenger seat. Before starting the engine, she opened up one of the containers, grabbed a cookie—which she had to admit was pretty darn moist and tasty—and then headed to jail for the second time today.
She wouldn’t be allowed to see her uncle, but being a police officer had to count for something, right?
Somehow, she knew she’d find a way to talk the supervisor into delivering the goods to Kenny.
After entrusting the cookies and rosary with the guard in charge of evening rounds, Kate returned home at 5:45 p.m.
While her phone was on “do not disturb,” she’d gotten two missed calls from Luke. No voicemail.
Good thing he didn’t bother leaving me a message.
She hit the pavement to clear her head, listening to Bon Jovi’s greatest hits as a way to, at least momentarily, forget about her problems and zone out. Music had always helped her think out of the box, especially when paired with a good run. It also acted as an excellent catalyst for problem-solving, but, unfortunately, it didn’t spark any new ideas on how to save her uncle.
Sweaty but glad to have gotten her weekly long run out of the way, she rewarded herself by making an energizing smoothie. She turned the TV on to the local news channel and grabbed protein powder along with ice and blueberries from the freezer.
“Coming up, the results of the latest poll for the mayoral election,” the anchor said.
Kate normally enjoyed watching the news and staying up-to-date with whatever was happening in and around Boston, but with her uncle’s case weighing heavily on her shoulders, she had become sick and tired of hearing about this election. She grabbed the remote and switched to CNN, hoping that some nationally trending news would help her connect her uncle’s unfortunate situation to the other cases she’d found.
CNN, too, was currently covering the upcoming Boston election.
Seriously?
She made her smoothie then returned her attention to the television and saw video footage of the homeless. She turned up the volume.
“This brings the total of non-drug-related homeless deaths on the East Coast to two hundred and fifty-three so far this year. This number isn’t unusual, but what is odd is the timing of the deaths. Based on the historical morgue records for the past ten years, homeless deaths normally occur on days with extreme temperatures, whether they’d be frigid winter nights or unbearable heat waves. So far this year, only two deaths occurred when the weather could have played a part. Of course, this number is nothing compared to the number of homeless deaths caused by drug overdoses. These overdoses remain by far the leading cause of homeless deaths in urban America.”
For a second, Kate wondered how many homeless people died every year in America. And how many in the world? Could these deaths be prevented?
But her uncle wasn’t homeless, and she couldn’t think of a way this news could help her solve his case.
She turned off the TV then took a sip. Her smoothie was refreshing, but not as much as her upcoming shower would be.
Chapter Eleven
July 6, 2015
Kate Murphy
Roxbury Police Station, Boston
On Monday, glad to be done with her shift, Kate closed her locker door and was taken by surprise when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
“Got your files, Blondi
e,” Smitty said.
“Great! That was fast.”
“I worked my magic, as always.” His thick black eyebrows bounced up and down rapidly, reminding her of a character from Sesame Street. “They’re in my car out back. Four boxes’ worth.”
“Whoa, that’s going to be fun.”
“I can think of a lot of other things that would be more fun if you’re up for it.”
He paused, probably waiting for Kate’s reaction, but she didn’t know how else to make it clear she wasn’t interested. He was helping her out, and she was grateful for that. She didn’t want to alienate him, but she didn’t want to encourage him either.
“Could I grab them now?” she asked.
“Sure, although I’m technically on duty. But I guess it’ll only take a few minutes. I told Mansbridge I was coming in here to use the washroom, and I’d be right back.”
He headed out to the parking lot, Kate in tow.
“So, what kind of food do you like?” he asked.
“Pretty much everything.”
“Is pizza good for Friday?”
She nodded, anxious to get to the files. “Of course.”
“Want to try my homemade pizza?” he asked, holding the building door open for her.
Kate racked her brain, once again not sure how to deal with his question—going to his apartment for a “date” would send the wrong signal—then she remembered seeing a new pizzeria last week.
“Maybe one day, but there’s this new place I saw that I want to try. Up on Salem Street. You know it?”
“I think I know which place you’re talking about. Never tried it either. Sounds good. Although, I’m sure it won’t be as good as mine.”
“Should we meet there at seven then?” Kate asked.
“Don’t you want me to pick you up?”
“I like to drive.”
Kate was happy they’d reached his car.
A Mustang?
That didn’t surprise her in the least. He opened his trunk, and Kate walked past two more vehicles before reaching her Subaru and doing the same.
The Last Hope Page 8