Second Shot, page 10
The reality of working undercover for the police was a reason for his insomnia. It had been months since he’d looked at these badges, just after he’d solved the Forever Haunt case. Thinking it would be the last he’d see of them. He’d never get rid of them but to what end did taking them out achieve peace? Wu-Tin’s emergence as an enemy had changed that, Frisano’s betrayal did, too. It seemed he would never escape the grasp of the one organization which represented the greatest conflict of his life.
He had stopped the Blue Death. But what about this new phase, the Blue Life? How could the pursuit of stopping crime come with such turmoil?
Jimmy put the badges away. This wasn’t an hour to seek answers.
There was a fourth item in the safe. Something he never touched. He owned it, guessed it was part of the job. His gun. He bristled at the sight of it. He hoped to never need to use it. The idea of hearing the blast shooting out of it made him suddenly shove the safe closed. The click of the safe was almost a release. Surely a relief. He wiped sweat from his brow.
Now what?
Nearly four o’clock in the morning, the jukebox at Paddy’s Pub had been silenced and he heard the scrape of metal chairs against hardwood floors. His uncle closing for the night, Jimmy able to visualize the upturned stools on the bar. Like four soldiers apiece, standing at attention. At this hour, it was worthy of a salute. Jimmy considered going downstairs to assist Paddy but then thought maybe it was a tradition of his, part of his routine that enabled him to end the day with the promise of a new one. He’d lost a son this past year, rarely talking about it. Death did that. It never allowed a reboot.
Sleep was not shutting him down. So, he moved over to the computer and fired it up. A bit slow to come to life, maybe it was time for an upgrade. But he was awake and the world was asleep so who was he to argue with a slight delay? His home screen came up and he pressed a button to allow access to the Internet. He had a lot to search, Google his late-night resource.
Where did he start? What was his priority?
Which case?
Given the fact Chaz Portnoy, if that’s indeed who it had been, had paid him a special visit tonight, he’d go with that case. At least this case paid well. He hadn’t even discussed compensation with the NYPD for the Wu-Tin situation. Money wasn’t always the goal. The lay person called it truth. Jimmy called it justice. His mission to ensure it wasn’t denied.
There was little information on the Internet about Chaz Portnoy. No social media, no LinkedIn, which meant he kept both his personal and professional life private. Same when Jimmy attempted to research Baz Portnoy. It was almost like they lived similar, secretive lives, leaving Jimmy wondering: was all this planned? Like when the two boys would change clothes to confuse their mother on school days? Had they spent their entire lives trying to undermine the people who knew them, both realizing that no one really knew them at all. But now, both were reaching seventy and one was in failing health and a huge fortune was riding on the outcome.
Jimmy thought he would try and find out if the two men had separate doctors. As he’d asked of Dr. Morgan, surely the two men had suffered different ailments throughout the course of their lives. If Chaz had fallen and broken a bone, surely Baz wouldn’t do the same just to match his brother’s records That seemed a bit…crazy. But methodical.
Or if they did have the same doctor, did they play the same game of Which Twin with him?
The dinner party on Saturday should prove interesting. Chaz’s suggestion that Jimmy bring himself a date still bothered him. He’d rather go solo, if he was working, but it also might prove helpful to have a representative from the law firm to accompany him. A witness to what Jimmy would witness. Mr. Streb was hardly the arm candy he’d want. Brenden would serve better. But this was mixing business and pleasure in one fell swoop, and it might provide evidence of a conflict of interest if this case went to trial. Moral codes often interfered with a heart’s motivation.
But before he could ask Brenden to accompany him, he needed to know more.
Was the law firm operating out of a sense of the client’s best interests…or theirs?
Jimmy reached for his phone. Opened the text message app. He knew it was late. Brenden he supposed would see it in the morning.
He wrote, going on instinct: doing research. This is more than a law firm case. Tell me your truth.
Should he send it? Did doing so complicate an already complex situation?
Yeah, he sent it. You didn’t solve mysteries by not asking the hard questions. But at what cost?
Jimmy realized he didn’t care. He’d endured worse. Frisano’s betrayal was big, Brenden’s come on now seemed amateurish. He’d played the role of the seducer with an obvious agenda. Jimmy had given in because he’d not invested much of his time yet in this case. He’d get his fee. Even as he realized now, he’d gotten a lot more than he bargained for.
He stole a look back at the sofa and envisioned all that had happened last Friday night.
He’d had sex, all while knowing he’d be meeting with his ex-lover two days later.
Shit. Which meant he’d both digressed and moved on, two men teasing him.
He grew tired of all this introspection. It was time for action. When the new day arrived, soon enough at this point, so, too, would a new Jimmy. It was all about the job. Close out these dueling cases. Do his best to avoid the romantic complications from each. Because he knew there was a correlation. Hurt fed revenge. Revenge fed regret.
His phone rang. It sounded loud, just because everything else around Jimmy was silent.
“You’re awake,” Jimmy said.
“As are you. Something else in common.”
“What else do we have?”
“I wanted you to fuck me and you wanted to fuck me and so we did. Not once.”
It was a harsh reality. Jimmy gazed out the window as a Thai restaurant’s red lights went dark. One letter still flickering. It was the letter J. Then it went out, like it had fallen asleep finally. He wished he could do the same.
“Brenden, I’m sorry I sent you that text. I’m in a mood.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Why?”
“Because it means that in the dead of night, you’re thinking of me.”
“I was doing work on the case. Like I said, research.”
“Anything interesting come up?”
“Actually, no, and that’s the clue. Not much information about the brothers.”
There was a protracted silence on the other end. “Which means you need to read between the lines.”
“If only there were lines to guide me.”
“Jimmy McSwain. I think you have more insight than you give yourself credit for.”
The compliment wasn’t working. Jimmy was pissed about having been manipulated, but about what, he couldn’t say? Something was off. Brenden’s motives weren’t just related to his job.
The question hit Jimmy like the rising of the sun. Just how did the Portnoy family come to hire Brenden’s law firm? And why was such a junior member of their staff involved with such money at stake? A revelatory wash hit him, cleansing his mind.
“Shit,” Jimmy said.
“What?”
“What are you doing Saturday night?”
“I, uh, have plans?”
“At the Portnoy house? For the supposed-Chaz’s dinner party?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I got a personal invitation. From Chaz himself. He suggested, albeit with a smirk on his face, that I bring a date to dinner. He already knew about…us.”
“Jimmy, I can explain…”
“Actually, I think I can provide my own answer. Becs is your mother.”
It wasn’t a question.
Silence held the phone. Then came a verbal exhale that maybe even a phone connection wasn’t required. The city heard it, truth echoing through its steel canyons. Jimmy waited. He’d say no other words until he heard confirmation.
“Yes.”
“Which means, if the Portnoy twins die—and so far it appears one of them is on the verge of doing so—Becs stands to inherit a sizable fortune. My question is this, Brenden Hendricks: what’s your cut? Probably better than the billable hours you log at work.”
“Jimmy, it’s more complicated than that.”
“I’m listening.
“Becs is not the natural heir if both twins die.” He paused. “I am. The trust is very specific. She’s not a blood relation.”
And it keeps getting more complicated. Sometimes Jimmy wished he could just sleep through the night. Instead, at four in the morning, he was getting a new lesson in the duplicity of human nature. Something he’d had enough of. But he supposed that was life as a private detective. Your goal was to unmask motives. And Brenden delivered on that, big time.
“See that’s why all this hinges on which brother fell down the stairs and could die. It’s a dangerous situation, there’s too much at stake. One of the Portnoy twins is my father.”
Key phrase: one of them. The Portnoy twins continuing to play their games.
Chapter 7
The McSwain family dinner happened, on a rare Wednesday, and it came up quickly. There was a tech issue at the show, so that night’s preview had been canceled. Jimmy had gotten the call around four o’clock. That was fine, after a day and a half of trying to learn more about both cases, looking at Wu-Tin’s business website, then the Portnoy family, it would be refreshing to be around people who didn’t play games, or kill people. No, the McSwains were straight-shooters, honest to a fault.
“Dinner’s at six. Don’t be late,” said Maggie.
“See you soon, Ma.”
Jimmy returned home, not exactly with a spring in his step but he did need a burst of energy to negotiate the five flights of stairs to the uppermost floor that laid claim to the only home he’d ever known. How he, his parents, his sisters, had survived, perhaps thrived, in this small apartment he couldn’t say; except it was all they knew. You learn, you adapt, you live.
Just outside the door, he paused to get his key. The apartment seemed quiet. He checked his watch. He was early, five-thirty. Still, he should be hearing the sounds of pots and pans, perhaps the aroma of a roasting chicken. It was like life had lost its flavor. What was going on? Something felt off. With so much going on, two cases, complicated by sexual, well, complications, had Jimmy’s world shifted off its axis? Maybe the show had not canceled its performance after all. He opened the door and was met by silence.
“Hello, Ma?”
“Shh, Joey’s sleeping. So is Meaghan,” came a voice from the living room.
Jimmy made his way there, where he found his mother staring out of the front window, Her expression one of Irish consternation. She wasn’t one for big words but she’d probably accept that one. Jimmy wondered what was on her mind and assumed he was about to find out. Maggie McSwain was not known for keeping thoughts in her mind. They lived on her tongue.
“Ma, hi. You okay?”
“Previews restart tomorrow. We only got two shows in so far.”
“I know. You’ve been through this dozens of times. There are always issues during previews. Shows come, they go. You don’t.”
“Thinking maybe I should.”
“Come on, Ma. They’ll carry you out.”
“On a stretcher.”
“Many years from now. The Calloway isn’t just a theatre. It’s your second home.”
She grew silent again, her gaze focused out the window once more. Jimmy said nothing, but he looked at his mother. She was in her late sixties, but she was vibrant and saucy and nobody got the best of her. Hell’s Kitchen had a way of indoctrinating the ladies of the neighborhood. Yes, the men ruled the docks, the backstage of every Broadway theatre, the bars and the streets. But if truth be known, when they came home, the women told them what for. Do what you want on the streets, but do what I tell you at home.
With words at a minimum, Maggie put a hand to Jimmy’s cheek. Comforting.
Then she asked, “When does this beard disappear?”
“It’s a look, Ma. You’re going through something. So am I. We each have a way of dealing with it.”
“Mine’s internal. Yours is on your face.”
He laughed. Maggie McSwain was honest, and she was insightful.
“So, it’s almost six. Anything I can do to help with dinner?”
She didn’t answer directly. Instead she continued to stare forward. “I hate that building.”
“That’s the world today. Progress. Some think it’s a positive word.”
“I find it destroys all that you’ve known in your life.”
Maggie grew silent again, as though she had more to say but wasn’t quite sure what. Jimmy stayed quiet. He knew these moments and respected his mother’s role as the matriarch, the voice, of their family. So, instead he looked out the window, too, at the construction site. It was growing late in the day, but because the sun still hung in the sky, the workers remained at their posts. He guessed earning a bit of overtime. A man rode down an outside elevator. Another was drilling screws into a metal beam. One screw at a time, but it all meant that the view the McSwain family had enjoyed—the West Side, the river, even Jersey—was jeopardized by the construction destined to block their view. It was almost like it was erasing the past.
Beyond the building, in the sky, he saw a helicopter pass over. The NYPD shield evident on its skin. He envied the view of the pilot and passengers. High above the city, seeing both the old streets and the new skyscrapers. The sky knew everything, saw everything. The helicopters blades swirled, pushed them uptown, forward. Jimmy watched it disappear, saw his mother still trying to follow it, too. He decided it was best to bring them both back to today. Yesterday was gone and as for tomorrow, it hadn’t yet taken flight. Jimmy liked to think his father had just done a flyover, just as was needed.
She looked at him. Smiled. Then spoke. “Maybe tonight we’ll do take-out.”
Yeah, things were changing in the McSwain household. Ever since Jimmy had solved the Forever Haunt case involving his father’s murder, he’d felt almost a tectonic shift, the plates of the earth moving. He’d brought down his father’s killer, he’d lost his lover, he’d spent the summer upstate ensuring his sister’s recovery. How much more was a man supposed to endure, especially when the world was closing in on you, building up an obstacle that blocked your view of your life. That damned building. It’s like every ensuing floor shut down their world that much more. Made Joseph McSwain more part of the past.
“I’ll cook,” Jimmy finally said.
He expected his mother to laugh at him. Jimmy wasn’t known for his culinary expertise. Instead, she said, “If there’s change happening outside, I suppose it’s only appropriate that change occurs here. I’ll go get Meaghen and Joey and we’ll see what you come up with. The pantry is full. I shopped when I heard there was no show tonight.”
But as Maggie spoke, she remained staring out the window. A forlorn look on her face.
“Ma, before I cook…speak truth. What’s in your heart? Don’t think. Just speak.”
She didn’t hesitate. “It’s time to move.”
Jimmy offered no words. None would work right now. Because the truth his mother had spoken required silence. Maybe a tissue, too. She’d been gone all summer and that building across the street had steadily risen. Exemplifying what she could never envision. That her home and her world and her livelihood would ever fade away.
“Where would you go? Leave the city? Or find a new apartment?”
“I haven’t gotten to that part. I need to find my inner strength. Change is my enemy.”
He leaned over and pressed his lips to her cheek. Lingered.
“Me, Mallory, Meaghen, now Joey, we are strong because you are. McSwain Strong.”
She waited, she paused, she wiped a tear. But then she righted herself.
“I learned how to be strong from one man.”
Jimmy swallowed words. He swallowed emotion. This wasn’t how he expected tonight to go. “Years later, he’s influencing our life choices. What happened to him was wrong, but it was the universe in charge that day. Every day, in fact. We live, we learn, and it’s how we process all of it that gets us through the day.”
Maggie pressed her hand to his cheek again. “He would be so proud of you. His legacy, how you preserve it, how you honored him.”
Jimmy felt heartache. But he also felt warmth. Like he was on the right path.
She rubbed his cheek. “I wish you’d shave.”
He laughed. “Ma, some things you can’t control.”
She gave him a soft tap. “I’m hungry.”
It was a tender moment, a funny moment, between a mother and her only son, only to be interrupted by the arrival of the youngest daughter, youngest sister.
“You two done with your weep-fest?”
“Meaghan!” Maggie exclaimed.
“You know, I’m here, too. I’ve got a son to raise.”
Maggie stood up, approached, and hugged her daughter. “Believe it or not, dear, you have given this family its future. Whatever happens tomorrow is all about Joey. But for now, I think we need a Monday McSwain dinner, even on a Wednesday. Jimmy has offered to cook. But you know what, if it’s all about tradition, then let me get to the kitchen and do my stuff. We’ll be busy with a Monday preview next week, too. What do you say, how about a pork roast?”
“Let’s pretend its Monday,” Jimmy said. “I’m here.”
“It’s a Monday,” Meaghan said. “I’m here.”
From the back room, Joey started to wail. They all kind of thought he was saying the same thing.
Jimmy went into the bedroom and he picked up his nephew. His big smile on display, his crying over. From the kitchen, he could hear the hot sear of meat and the boiling of water for the vegetables. Yup, a tradition was back, based in the past, continued in the present, and, as he gave Joey a kiss on the forehead, the gift of the future.
He could take all the cases offered to him. But the best private detection he could offer was this child’s safety. Joseph McSwain. He’d lost one. He’d never lose another. He thought of that helicopter. He added, “Grandpa just said all is going to be fine.”
