Second Shot, page 13
“I’m on another case. In Westchester.”
“Okay. Sorry to interrupt. Um, I’ll handle this part. We’ll regroup and figure out our next step.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Jimmy caught Brenden’s eye. They were as cold as Chaz’s. “Gotta go.”
He replaced his phone to his pocket.
“Well, at least I got a name. Frank.”
“He’s my ex. He’s ex NYPD, too. Well, sort of. An ex-captain. Working a special case that I have a strong personal connection to.”
“That’s a lot of exes.”
“It’s just business.”
“Aren’t we?”
Loaded question. Brutal one, too. Brenden had been the pursuer. Jimmy the damaged party who’d given into desire. Or maybe just a bit of revenge.
Brenden advanced on him. The two of them at the edge of the staircase, probably not unlike Becs and whichever brother she’d been arguing with had been placed. Becs had slapped the man, he’d fallen. Gotten up and then lost his footing. Down he went. Were Becs’ instincts part of the DNA make-up of her son? Jimmy could feel his breath, hot, red wine permeating off his tongue. After nearly a minute of silence, he finally spoke.
“Did you even like me? Or was it a revenge fuck?”
“You came after me.”
“You didn’t answer the question, Jimmy McSwain.”
“What we did, I couldn’t have done if I wasn’t attracted to you.”
“An evasive answer. Ever the private eye. Keep things close to the vest.”
“I kissed you in the limo not because I was mad. Because I was trying to see if I could move on.”
“Boy, this Frank-guy must have done a number on you.”
“Can we not talk about him?”
“Let’s just head back downstairs. Maybe it’s time to say goodnight.”
“We haven’t finished the tour upstairs.”
Brenden’s hand squeezed Jimmy’s, and then he tightened his grip and pulled Jimmy forward. Away from the stairs and toward a room he seemed all too familiar with. Just how much time did he spend with his mother up here in Westchester? What was the real truth behind this night? And why complicate matters with…whatever was about to happen.
“Brenden, I’m not prepared…I don’t think we should do anything…”
“Too bad, Jimmy.”
A nightlight off the accompanying bathroom gave off a soft glow. In the middle of the room was a king-size bed. Deep, plush bedding. Brenden pushed Jimmy down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t kiss Jimmy, he didn’t undo the buttons of Jimmy’s shirt as he’d done previously. Jimmy sensed his client and new lover had just one thing on his mind, a quickie which would make his intentions clear. What did come undone were Jimmy’s jeans, the snap and the zipper. Brenden slid them down Jimmy’s legs, and he unleashed what moments ago had been flaccid, not so much now.
Brenden went down on him. Tasted him, licked him. Teased him and excited him.
Jimmy laid back, closed his eyes and tried to dissociate himself from anything but this. It was not an easy trick to pull off. Conflict continued to rage within him, the two cases, the two men, and it was almost like he was both Chaz and Baz, playing games with the people in his life. But sometimes the physical overtook the emotional, and before long, not too long, Jimmy felt pressure build up within him. Brenden intensified his efforts.
Shit, Jimmy thought. He was gonna blow and the last thing he wanted was to have to clean himself up. But just then Brenden’s hands reached up and started to unbutton Jimmy’s shirt. Pulling it open, all while never missing a beat. In seconds Jimmy released, his stomach freshly splattered. Brenden then showed his excitement and didn’t last long. Jimmy’s chest was drenched. Brenden smiled down at him.
“That’s what you do when your ex calls. That’s how you move forward.”
Jimmy felt vulnerable, exposed, and not just because his jeans were at his ankles. He said, “We shouldn’t keep people waiting. Let me get cleaned up.”
“There’s a bathroom just beyond that door.”
Jimmy got up off the bed, Brenden, too. Brenden buckled up. Jimmy undressed and headed for the shower, but not before he said, “I didn’t get to answer your question.”
“It’s okay, Jimmy, I wasn’t expecting one. You’re the PI. You ask them.”
“Yeah, I like you.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“But, if we’re gonna continue to be, uh, involved, I’m gonna need some truths.”
“Like what?”
“I figured out Becs is your mother, you said one of the Portnoy twins is your father.”
“Established. What else you got?” Brenden asked.
“I’m guessing our cool Dr. Amanda Morgan is your sister, more probably your half-sister, because even your mother doesn’t know which brother she slept with. More probably both of them, given their history of role-playing. This case is really about which child inherits the fortune.”
“All this can wait. Go shower before your chest hair gets crusted.”
“Lovely image.”
“For me, yeah.”
Jimmy showered, dried off, got dressed again. All the while wondering why he’d allowed this interlude to happen. Couldn’t they have waited until returning to the city? It was almost like Jimmy wasn’t making any decisions in this newfound relationship. Brenden knew just how to elevate the moment.
Back in the bedroom, Brenden was waiting for him on the bed, casual, relaxed.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Clean and dirty all at the same time.”
He got up and kissed Jimmy. “My job is done.”
A response formed on Jimmy’s lips but was never spoken. Because from downstairs came a dreadful scream. Like the sound ran up the staircase which had led to the Portnoy brother’s fall, swirling toward the room where Jimmy and Brenden had just shared their moment. It sure was over, because Brenden went running out of the room and down the stairs, barely holding onto the railing. Jimmy chased him. Still hearing that piercing scream. It was Amanda Morgan, standing in the middle of the dining room. Hands clasped against her pale face, eyes staring down at the body lying on the carpet. It was stained red, and earlier it might have been from spilled red wine. But this was brighter, redder, and too fresh.
It was blood. The knife in the center of her chest the culprit.
Rebecca Portnoy wasn’t only dead, she was really most sincerely dead.
Part 2: Justice Served
Chapter 9
They caught the light, if not the eye. Shiny, majestic in their way and in what they represented. Even with the florescent lighting beaming down from the diner’s ceiling, there was a glow cast upon them.
The two men were seated in a corner booth. So far, only served a glass of water. That was okay, neither was in a hurry to order, much less to leave. There was a reason for their visit, more than catch up, what was on display between them on the Formica table was emblematic.
Two badges. Silver in color, with a sheen coating them from being un-used. Recently they had been polished.
9701
1023
Jimmy McSwain.
Joseph McSwain.
Everyone possessed an identity within the blue ranks of the NYPD, and these two badges were bonded by family, by history, and by a legacy, and yeah, maybe a tinge of regret. What father and son were denied because fate had grabbed hold of a different outcome.
“Can I add to this?”
Jimmy said nothing, a mere nod said it all. He watched as Jonathan Tolliver pulled out his old badge from within his blazer’s pocket. Count Jimmy among the unsurprised that Jonathan still carried his honor on him. Once a cop, always a cop. Retirement meant pension kicked in. It didn’t change the justice that still lived within you.
Staring at the three NYPD badges, Jimmy felt overwhelmed by their impact. What he said next wasn’t about them. But it kind of was.
“Everything’s changing.”
“Given your mood, maybe we should have met at Paddy’s.”
“Nah. I’m swearing off beer and other shit for a bit. Two cases, lots of complications. I’m happy with the Cosmic Diner. It’s old world.” He paused. “Thank you for coming all the way up to Fifty-third Street. I know it was an effort.”
“Not to mention a couple avenues,” Jonathan said. He smiled. He didn’t mind the effort.
Still, Jonathan Tolliver put a fist around the top of his cane that lay next to him in the booth. As though both loving its aid and loathing its necessity. He suffered from ALS, he had his good days and bad days. That was the progression of the disease. Ultimately the bad days would win out until there were no days. But right now, sharpness won out, and Jimmy was glad to see his father’s former co-worker alert, confident, and steady. Of course he missed Ralphie, his voice of reason for the past several years. But Jonathan offered a fresh point of view. Ralphie had been reactionary. Jonathan was persuasive.
“I don’t know how my world spiraled out of control so fast,” Jimmy said.
“If I’ve learned anything in this life, we’re not in control.”
Truth. It punctuated his hurt.
“Talk to me, Jimmy. Let’s explore this case you’re pursuing. The one you’re being paid for.”
“The Portnoys.”
It had been two days since he and Brenden had discovered the slain body of Rebecca, and while the police and investigators pursued their questioning, nothing much was known. Other than she was dead, and in being so, out of the running for the Portnoy fortune. Cruel as it was to think about her that way, wasn’t that in fact what had led to her stabbing? Jimmy explained it all, with Jonathan about to respond when the waitress appeared.
“Sorry for the delay, gents. It got busy. What can I getcha?”
They both ordered burgers, cheese and bacon with waffle fries and coffee.
“You can skip the ketchup,” Jimmy said.
He’d seen enough visuals of blood for a while. Jonathan took the message.
“Okay, so the woman who hired the law firm, one which actually employs her son, to prove which of the twins is her husband and which one is lying in a coma, turns up dead.”
“Murdered.”
Jonathan nodded. “How many people attended the dinner party?”
“Six. Including the victim.”
“Highly doubtful a stranger walked in and randomly stabbed her.”
“It’s a narrow field.”
“Tell me again. Where was everyone?”
“Chaz, if it’s in fact him, was on the patio, smoking a cigar. Byron Streb, the partner of the law firm, was with him as far as I know. I went upstairs with Brenden Hendricks, the law firm’s associate and the victim’s son. Then there’s the comatose patient’s doctor, Amanda Morgan, who also turns out to be the victim’s daughter and maybe the patient’s, too.”
“Complicated family. Money does strange things to people.”
“Amanda is the only one who is unaccounted for during the timeframe of Becs’ murder.”
“So does that make her the most likely suspect?”
“Unless Streb, or more so, Chaz, weren’t together the entire time. I can’t account for that.”
“And you’re sure this Brenden fellow—her son, you say—didn’t sneak away?”
Jimmy saw the visual in his mind. No, Brenden hadn’t slipped away. He’d been busy doing an unzip of Jimmy’s jeans. Jimmy decided to come clean. Jonathan was also gay and probably had experienced moments in his investigative career when he’d let personal attraction detract from the case at hand.
“Not to be blunt, but Brenden was busy blowing me in an upstairs room.”
Jonathan tried to avert a smile. “I’m sorry. I know a woman is dead. But this Brenden? Are you two an item?”
“I don’t know what we are. Like I said, it’s gotten complicated. The Portnoy case has the added effect of Brenden. We’ve, uh, been out. But that’s for later, because then there’s the Wu-Tin case.”
“Which stars Francis X. Frisano.”
“I’m sorry to burden you with all this. Especially after, well, Ace.”
Jonathan was spared by answering with the arrival of their food. The subject of his own ex was a sore point, and Jimmy regretted mentioning the man’s name. With Jonathan’s affliction, his literal death sentence with this disease, to realize the love of your life had ditched you because it became too difficult to play the role of caretaker, it wasn’t something Jimmy wanted to imagine. But heartbreak came in too many forms.
Jonathan took a bite of his meal. “Good burger.”
His comment meant he’d moved on from Jimmy’s remark about Ace.
“Ma’s show is opening next week, Sunday night. Wanna come with me to Opening Night?”
“I’d enjoy that, Jimmy, thank you. It’s good to remind us that arts cultivate our lives,” he said. “But are you sure you don’t want to take this Brenden fellow? Or Frisano?”
“First of all, no. You’re coming with me. Second of all…”
There was a delay. Jonathan put down his burger. “Jimmy, it’s okay to be on your own.”
“The Portnoy case, it’s just a job. I’ve had many, I’ve solved most. I get paid no matter its resolution. It’s the Wu-Tin investigation that really has me stymied. And as you know, it’s personal and it’s the one that mostly keeps me up at night. The man is a career criminal and he tried to kill me, he nearly killed Mallory. I can’t rest until he’s behind bars. Or six feet under.”
Jonathan nodded. “Just make sure you’re the one who puts him behind bars.”
“Meaning what?”
“Don’t be the one who puts him six feet under.”
It was a chilling thought, and it gave pause to Jimmy and his motivation with Wu-Tin. Did he want the man dead? Didn’t that give the satisfaction to the criminal? They no longer needed to suffer through the weight of the justice system. For the victims, they would live with the knowledge that he had enjoyed the easy way out. How did you absorb that? Especially if you were the one who was responsible.
Plates cleared, coffee running low, Jonathan returned his attention to the badges still on the table.
“You brought these for a reason. What’s on your mind, and more importantly, how are they influencing your two current cases?”
“I dream about them. Not always. But lately.”
“Solving your father’s murder must have awakened a lot inside you.”
“It’s almost like I’m searching for a new purpose, and I’m using the Wu-Tin case as…I don’t even know.”
“A surrogate case?”
“I just want justice for Mallory. He destroyed her life.”
“How is she?”
“Still upstate with Hester. She’s got a service dog, a black lab named Shade. But she’s doing well and is anxious to get back home. Back to work.”
“You seem opposed to that.”
“Is it too soon? Will she hinder her recovery?”
“Sometimes returning to normalcy helps recovery.” He paused. “Look at me.”
It was a telling statement from a man who knew recovery wasn’t even an option. Jimmy was glad to provide him an outlet, a voice, a chance to relive his life as a cop. ALS hit the body, hard, but it left the mind intact. Jimmy accepted his friend’s perspective.
“You’re a wise man, Jonathan.”
“And if that’s the case, so to speak, understand your own instincts. On each case, and with each man.”
Their meal was interrupted by the ringing of Jimmy’s cell phone. He looked at it, didn’t recognize the number. He knew the area code. Westchester. Jonathan told him to answer it, and so he did, because so far everything his old friend had told him today had been truth and pushed him forward. To not answer would only leave him with more questions.
“McSwain,” he said.
“Ah, good. Glad I caught you. Detective Aaron Selfridge. Harrison Police Department.”
“Hello, Detective.”
“I wonder if you have a few moments to provide additional information on the Rebecca Portney situation.”
Situation was a passive word for murder. But truth be told, Jimmy had been expecting this.
“Tell me when.”
“Tomorrow morning work for you? Come to our office, we’d prefer to do this in person.”
“I’ll be there. Ten o’clock work?”
“I’ll get the coffee ready.”
“I’ll bring doughnuts.”
There was a slight chuckle from the detective. “Yeah, I heard you were almost NYPD.”
Jimmy ended the call and stared down at the badges. He hated the word almost. It was by definition incomplete. Like you should have tried harder. He scooped up two of them, his and his father’s, put them in his pocket. Stared at Jonathan’s and acknowledged what it meant to this man and his career.
Jonathan removed his badge, and also he took possession of the check the waitress had left. Jimmy knew not to protest.
Then things got serious. Jonathan’s eyes darkened, they focused directly on Jimmy. “Okay, so you showed me the badges. Anything else you want to talk about?”
Damn, he was good. There was one last item Jimmy had in his possession. Tucked into the space between the small of his back and his jacket. It had eaten at him all during lunch. In truth, it had been eating at him even since he’d taken on the Wu-Tin case. Being used as bait to trap a killer, back-up might not always be there. Sizing up their surroundings, the diner had grown quiet, guests having paid and departed.
“I have a confession,” Jimmy said.
“The gun?”
“How’d you know?”
“I’m still a cop, Jimmy, even retired. I saw it the moment you entered the diner, the slight bump above your butt.”
“Can’t put anything past you.”
“Actually, you can. I knew it was there, I just don’t know why it’s there. You told me guns had no place in your business. That you would never use one.”
“Life grew difficult. I have to protect myself.”
“A bullet never solved anything. Death doesn’t end a life. Its effect lingers.” Jonathan grew quiet and then stared into Jimmy’s eyes. “You of all people know that.”
