A Tin Full of Gold – Chapter 30

The Grumpy Gourmet

Expectation and anticipation meet reality at The White Hart. The Grumpy Gourmet has something to be grumpy about.  At least he thinks so. Check out the latest post on the Salisbury, CT landmark. Click on the G.G. header.

Chapter 30

            Should I go or not? My coat swung from the tips of my fingers. Indecision cemented my feet to the kitchen floor. For the first time in twenty years I felt ambivalence about attending our annual ham and bean supper. The event marked the closing of tourist season, a time for the locals to gather to take back and enjoy their town. For business folks the evening became a time to celebrate another successful summer. For the elders, a time to determine who still remained among the living. This meal evolved, over the years, into a social obligation. All the ranks of Granite Cove society attended.  Lobstermen ate with lawyers, tee-shirt merchants with teachers. Simple baked beans the improbable leveler. Oblivious to the ritual, Owens never attended. Hated to admit it, but I enjoyed my role as “Pseudo-chief” in her absence. Of course, the presence of Dennet and the other selectmen put a bit of damper on my ego trip.

Hadn’t missed one of these events in forever. Now hunger and a dull ache ebbed and flowed as my stomach and shoulder vied for attention. My busy day had about done me in. Not the recommended recuperation. Should pop one of those magic pills they gave me.  No, need a clear head if I’m going out. Doc Danforth would be up there, wondering why I wasn’t home resting up.  Good enough reason not to go. Come on, Snodgrass, make up your mind.

 I threw the decision to fate. If had enough free cash, I’d go. Otherwise I’d spend a night at home with a frozen pizza.  One five and three one dollar bills—eight dollars. What did I need?  Seven.   Price hadn’t changed in years. My pocket change would cover me.  The thought rolled in like a thunder clap in a clear sky. Seven dollars, shit. Beanie asked Mary for that exact amount. The damned fool intended to go to the supper. I had to get up there.

Keys in hand, I ran to the garage. My phone rang as I slid behind the wheel.  Joe Burns. 

“You at the church?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Beanie’s there, right?”

“Come on, Al. How the hell did you know ?”

“Explanation later. Any chance of getting him out quick?”

“Not without makin’ a scene.”

“Anybody make the call yet?”

“What call?”

“To Headquarters to report his presence.”

“Jeez, I don’t think so. It’s like a time warp or somethin’ here. Everybody’s frozen in place.”

“Any of the cops around?”

“Don’t see any. Betty’s here, got her phone out but kinda huggin’ it, not talkin’.”

“Make sure Betty calls this in.  She’s part of the department and needs to report to protect herself.”

“You want us to turn him in?”

“He’s made his bed, and none of us should climb in with him.  We’ve done all we can. High time to think of ourselves. Mort Shaw isn’t there, is he?”

“Yeah, he and Dennet are standing over against a wall, mouths wide open.  The whole town is cleared up against the walls.  Beanie’s chowing down like he’s never seen beans before. Doesn’t even seem aware everybody has moved away. The only things moving in here are his fork and my jaw.”

“Alright, go get to Betty. Then tell Mort I’ll be there in five minutes and I must talk to him.”

As the keys slid into the ignition, I realized I was unarmed.  Shouldn’t need a weapon tonight, but after getting shot, I carried more places than usual. For all the good the gun did at the junkyard might be better to leave it home. But who knew what I could run into if our head of detectives decided to show up.

A full clip clicked into the butt of my Glock.  Wriggling into the shoulder holster so it didn’t bother my wound became a torturous game of trial and error. Why was I bothering? Sweat slicked my brow and agony rippled down my arm as I gripped the door to my gun safe to keep from collapsing to the floor. Couldn’t hang here all night, had to move.

My little thirty eight snub-nosed revolver lay on the bottom shelf.  Did this mess require a backup piece? Yes, the situation could turn ugly and if one firearm made me feel safer, why not two? I grabbed the pistol, strapped it to my ankle and pulled the sock over it. Snodgrass you’re getting paranoid in your old age.

My phone rang again, I assumed Joe called back, but the display showed Mark Renfrew’s cell.  “Mark, good timing.  Beanie’s surfaced and he’s at the Unitarian Church hall.”

Silence on the other end of the line for several seconds.  “What?  Why?”

“Who the hell knows why. Can’t expect logic from him. Wanted some beans, I suppose. They’re one of his favorite foods. This will be the break our friendly head of detectives has been waiting for.  I’m headed up there now, but I could use some help if you’re in the area.”

“That’s why I’m calling. Mahoney received new evidence in DeFranchesco’s case. She issued an arrest warrant for him.  I’m assembling a team now and heading in your direction.  Figured I’d give you a heads up. Should we go to the church?”

“How long before you can be here?”

“At least thirty minutes.”

“By then he will be grilling Beanie in the box at headquarters.  I’m going to convince Attorney Shaw to be at the questioning, to prevent things from getting all twisted up.  We will try to stall until you make it.”

“Al, one more thing, we’ve been given the go-ahead to take over the murder investigation. Owens will be sidelined.”

“Good. Now something will happen.  I’ve got to get up there. See you in a half an hour.”

“Al, wait.  The lab came up with an additional piece of data on your shooting.  You man, Jenkins, found the slug that hit you.”

“Thought they couldn’t find it.”

“Couldn’t on the first pass. Damn thing went through an old screw hole in the face of the door.  Must’ve been a sign or something tacked up there.  Hardly noticeable, but Carl kept hunting and found what was left of the slug inside the door. Rattled around in there quite a bit.”

“I’ve told you, Carl’s a good cop.  If he sticks with it, he’ll go places. So we’ve got ballistics?”

“That’s the bad news. The slug got so beat up in the door, all we can say is that it is a forty four magnum. The only brass Carl found was yours, and from what you told me the shooter wouldn’t have had time to police the area, so I’m going to assume a refvolver.”

“You mean like an old Colt?”

“Yeah. Not exactly a weapon of choice these days too big and too heavy.”

I had no idea what to do with this new information. It all sounded anticlimactic and unimportant even though we were talking about a bullet that put a hole in me. “Thanks for the update, but I really need to run.  I’ll keep my eyes open for “Dirty Harry”, but I doubt we see that gun again.  See you shortly.”

The only Colts I had never seen were in museums, and of course old Westerns and the Clint Eastwood movies, Easy to spot if the gun surfaced again. I flushed the thought and focused on what lay ahead at the church.

The Mustang sat dead center of the narrow street, blocking passage in both directions. Cars parked all along the road, all with wheels on the sidewalk, a veritable bonanza of potential revenue. No room for me.    Screw it, pseudo-police chief business. I pulled up behind the Mustang, got out and ran for the door.

A wall of people ringed the room.  The place resembled a roman coliseum with the spectators at the edge and the gladiators in the center. Except, I couldn’t see any combatants.  The orderly rank upon rank of butcher paper covered tables was disrupted in the middle of the room. Some were pushed aside. Chairs were overturned. One of the table cloths was pulled half off. Plates, silverware and condiment holders teetered over the brink.  Grunts came from the open hole in the sea of white. “Hold still you stupid bastard.”

I moved around the ring until I reached a gap in the tables. Two bodies struggled on the floor. The one on top wore a hiked up suit coat, showing the butt of a pistol in a holster on his back.  DeFranchesco, and by default the wiggling form on the bottom must be Beanie.  The action took on the appearance of a Three Stooges comedy. The detective would grab one arm.  Beanie would pull the other free as though his bones were made of spaghetti.

The wrestling match reached the awkward moment when neither opponent held an advantage and no one seemed to possess the energy to gain any ground. DeFranchesco scanned the crowd he could see from his vantage point. No one moved. His back was to me, but I doubted he would have asked for my help even if he did notice me.

My eyes met Joe ‘s across the hall.  I shook my head.  No way any of them should get involved. Not sure I wanted to be, but had to.  I pushed between the chairs toward the two writhing bodies.

Red faced, sweating, DeFranchesco sucked wind. How long he could hold out? With a bellow he wrapped Beanies arm behind his back again. “Stay still you fuckin’ retard.” He fumbled in his jacket. Instead of cuffs, he extracted a small black box, a Taser.

 “Wait a minute. Is that necessary?”

“Back the fuck off. This is police business. Stay out of it.”

Beanie snaked an arm free and smacked the detective’s wrist. The black box clattered to the floor. DeFranchesco reached out, stretching to the side.  Beanie grabbed his leg and heaved them both over on their backs.  Beanie now lay on top looking at the ceiling held by a bear hug from below. A collective gasp rolled across the space, but no one moved. 

I leaned over the pile and yelled. “Beanie, lie still before someone gets hurt.  Let him put the cuffs on. I’ll go with you at station.  Let’s get this all sorted out.”

Beanies head whipped back and forth. Spittle sprayed from his mouth. I’d seen this before on the beach. He’d lost control. Couldn’t hear a thing.

A piece of skin  flopped about by his right eye. No, not skin, but a Band-aide, loose but still stuck at one end. Above his eye, a red gash leaked a trickle of blood. Injured in the scuffle? How would he have time for first aid?

My eyes jumped from face to face as DeFranchesco fought for control, and Beanie struggled for freedom.  Two moon faces, flushed with exertion. Sweat beaded and dripped from both, their appearance so similar I had difficulty distinguishing between the two. Except for the cut over Beanie’s eye and different hair styles,  they were identical.  Beanie?  With the head wound? Made no sense.

DeFranchesco let go.   Beanie rolled to his knees, pushing me back into the tables. The detective sprang to his feet, Taser in hand. He caught Beanie staggering upright. A high voltage discharge crackled.  Beanie danced at the end of DeFranchesco’s outstretched arm and then collapsed to the floor. The detective rolled the limp body face down and applied cuffs.

“You have to be so rough?”

 “What the fuck do you think? Did he look like he wanted to discuss it?  He’s off his rocker and I’m using reasonable force. I could have shot him. Back the hell off.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Him? Nothing more than a tickle for someone his size.”  He kicked Beanie over on his back. “Get up you dweeb, I ain’t carrying you outta here.” 

His body a blob of Jello, Beanie’s head lolled to the side. The detective emptied a pitcher of iced water in Beanie’s face.  Sputtering and spitting, Beanie rocked his head side to side, but never opened his eyes.  Alive, but not conscious.

DeFranchesco had gone too far.  “Stop! You’re out of line.”  I reached under my coat and gripped the handle of the Glock.”

He whipped around and pointed the black box at me the metal contacts electric snake fangs ready to strike. “Go ahead, you son of a bitch, give me an excuse. Told you once, this is police business.  Back the hell off before I zapp you.  You ain’t a cop no more.”

Good advice considering the source. I wasn’t all that sure the Taser still held a charge, but I released my grip on the gun and bent down to examine the groove sliced into Beanie’s forehead.  Sure looked like the mark of a shotgun pellet.  The Band-aide was gone.

DeFranchesco still pointed his weapon at me. “What’re you looking at?”

“This cut over his eye.  He get that in the fight?”

“How the hell would I know? We didn’t trade punches or nothing. Think he had it from before.”

Could Beanie have been the one at Joe’s impound, the one who put a bullet in me? A conclusion began forming in my mind and I didn’t like it. Must be some other explanation. Why would he even be at the junk yard? Where would he get a gun? Didn’t make sense. My desire to be involved in this mess ebbed by the second, and I backed away.

Slapping Beanie on the face hard enough for his head to flop back and forth with each blow, DeFranchesco shouted again. “Come on. Wake up you numbskull.” 

Police brutality without question, but the detective didn’t seem to realize sixty witnesses, including a lawyer and head selectman, monitored his actions.

I caught Mort Shaw’s attention and motioned him to come over.

As Shaw threaded his way through the maze of cockeyed tables and scattered chairs, Beanie woke.  DeFranchesco got him to his feet, spun him around, lifted his arms behind his back and shoved him toward the door. Pushing and stumbling, they passed through the wall of people and out of the building.

Mort stepped into the arena.  “Quite a show.  Think he’ll make to headquarters alive?”

“He better. He needs representation. You willing to take the case?”

Mort heaved a big sigh and shrugged. “What the hell, I’ve had a pretty good year, a pro bono or two is no problem.  Suppose I better get up to the station.”

“Beanie’s in real trouble on this one, and he’ll need all the help we can give him. May be able to pay you something this time, he’s got some assets.”

“We can deal with money later.”

“You should know, I believe our head of detectives is more interested in those assets than solving a murder. We need to make sure the questioning stays on topic.”

Mort’s fingers raked through his thick gray hair as his narrowed eyes bored into mine. “Interesting. You can fill me in later. I should be up there, now.” The attorney strode off after his client.  The ring parted to allow him to pass then filled in again.

I stood alone in the makeshift arena, all eyes on me.  I felt like an actor, center stage, who forgot his lines. 

Joe tugged on my arm from behind. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, think so. Did you spot it?”

“Spot what?”

“The gash on Beanie’s forehead. He was at the junkyard. That bastard shot me.”

Joe cocked his head to the side. “Whoa, hold on. He did have something on his head, right above his eye. Didn’t think nothin’ of it.  Too busy trying to figure what to do.”

“The bandage came loose.  The wound we expected on DeFranchesco, I found on Beanie.”

Joe crossed his arms over his chest as he rocked back on his heels studying the mess of flatware and napkins on the floor. “You sure?”

All these years and now he’s questioning my observation skills? “Stared right at his face after he got zapped. No doubt about it.” 

Despite all the crap strewn around, I found the Band-aide under one of the toppled chairs. Scooping it up with a clean napkin, I held it out. “Saw this flopping around on beanies face while they tussled. Got knocked off. Blood on it. Go snag a baggie from the kitchen.”

Joe opened his mouth, but closed it again, lips settling into a drawn white line. I delivered orders without any authority and that never sat well with Joe. “Ah—please? For better or worse, this is evidence.”

A Tin Full of Gold – Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The inky pool of predawn pressed in on the sun room window as I rubbed itchy eyes and stifled yawns. Between my throbbing shoulder and a racing mind, seemed like I slept only minutes. Should have taken some of those magic pills Doc Danforth prescribed. But I wanted a clear head—too much to work out—too much potential change in my life, particularly with Stella.  Our date was months away, but I was a kid again, planning my prom night.

Exhausted, I backed up to a chair and bent to sit. No, stay and watch. My mind prodded me back to the window.  What did I really want? At least I would salvage something out of my lost night by bearing witness to the sunrise. 

Jabbed by pointed barbs in the nether regions of my brain about a call Mark took at the restaurant last night, I couldn’t let go of the case. My tenuous theories on Melissa’s murder and everything else that had occurred here in Granite Cove were blown out of the water. The DNA results on the blood samples from the towel rack and the little towel fragment Carl found were a match to DeFranchesco all right, but a filial match. Not him, but a brother. That slime ball slithered off the hook for Melissa’s murder by a couple of DNA markers.  Not his print on the knife either. No wound on his face—he couldn’t be the one who shot me in the junk yard.

Never believed I would say this, but evidence be damned. I knew DeFranchesco had to be involved. His fingerprint put him in Melissa’s apartment, and he tried to cover up by deep-sixing it. I pressed that point, but Mahoney insisted that evidence tampering would net him a mere slap on the wrist compared to bigger crimes the State had pending. Even though the bastard broke in here, it still only amounted to a minor complaint. We had hard proof of those two things. We could use those to at least leverage DeFanchesco’s firing. Maybe arrange a little jail time for him as well, but not until Mahoney did her thing.

I unclenched my fists and wiggled my fingers to relieve the tension and tried to refocus on the gloom outside. My mind ran right back to the murder. DeFranchesco did have some sort of relationship with Melissa. Did he convince a sibling to do the dirty work of killing her?  If so, he could still be indicted for it. Proving his involvement would be another matter, we had little left connecting him to the crime. The treasure thing appeared to be a prime motive. Jean-Marie confirmed that.

Mahoney told us her investigations turned up no siblings for—what did Stella call him?  Oh, yeah, Greaseball.  A bit unusual, the Italian families in the north end tended to be large. Mark promised to do some further digging into DeFranchesco’s history.  We were missing something.

Damn, I hated when a case fell apart, but this one disintegrated like a sand castle on the incoming tide. What now?  

I shifted my focus to the thin line of gray where the sea met the sky—been a long time since I waited on the sun. A tribute to my late wife or symptoms of a restless mind and little sleep? Felt different from all those times the Helen and I watched. Her so sick at the end, I propped her up in the bed to greet the day. Always ended with her same remark, “At least I got to see another.” How pathetic those words sounded standing here alone. 

My chest tightened, and twinges radiated out from my shoulder. My throat constricted and I breathed through my mouth as water collected in the rims of my eyes. I blinked them clear. Could not miss the first burst of sun. I glanced at the little lighthouse clock on the dry sink wanting to shove those stationary hands backwards, regain what I’d lost.  No, that served no more purpose than leaving the little time piece idle, devoid of purpose with its dead batteries. I would change them today. We all must move on.

 A tingly excitement began to run beneath the surface of my pain and grief and I allowed thoughts about the coming days to take form. Hadn’t ever done that before, indeed I resisted it knowing the ultimate end for Helen. I fell into the stupor of routine not caring much what might lie ahead. One of the reasons Mark and I hadn’t set up our agency yet.  I wasn’t ready. 

A new day began right outside my window. A rebirth and I released a long sigh, letting go of the lines binding me to the dock of my old life, my safe harbor against tragedies and life storms. Anxious now to cast off and sail out into uncharted waters, but fearful of cutting the ties, a cold finger of doubt ran up my spine.

A greenish light burst from the slit of dawn, filling the sky far out over the Atlantic for a microsecond, and then it was gone. Couldn’t believe it, all those mornings watching with Helen, we’d never seen the green.  I figured the flash, an artifact of atmospheric light refraction, didn’t occur this far south. Most folks went up to Eastport, Maine to witness the phenomenon.  Today, I saw it right here in Granite Cove. So fast and fleeting I could have missed it. Had to be a sign.

Light rays began to pierce the still murky sky.  Cloud colors melted from purple, to orange, to white. My eyes  burned from their brilliance, and I shifted my gaze toward the Jetty and my town.  White caps whipped across the water. My thermometer read thirty four degrees—clear, cold Canadian air ripping out to sea. Be a great day to sail, except for the damned chill.

This kind of day called for a hot, solid breakfast. Mary’s would be perfect. The stiff breeze on the walk down would flush the fog out of my head, and I needed the exercise.

Leaves and road grit tumbled and twirled in the street on the gusting wind.  I adjusted my wool watch cap over my ears and pulled my collar up—time to dig out my scarf and gloves.

A single car drove away through the business district, made the turn up North Main and disappeared.  Nothing else moved except the gutter trash.   The town had donned its post-season hollow shell and echoed with its emptiness.  The smart merchants, those who sold Tee’s and trinkets,  long since gone to warmer climes, closing shop right after the end of September.   Some of them ran businesses up here during the summer and at other locations down south over the winter.  They chased the almighty tourist dollar up and down the eastern seaboard.       

Off-season, the doorway to Mary’s was a welcome portal to the life pulse of the community.  I stepped through into the steamy interior, a stew pot of sound, spiced with the flat twang of “down east” Yankee. The place teemed with activity in stark contrast to the empty town outside.          

Mary came out of the kitchen, loaded with plates, spotted me, and shrieked, “Al– Al Snodgrass.”  She slung the meals at the customers, mixing up the orders in the process, something that never happened. An indoor sun in a prim yellow uniform, she ran around the counter throwing her arms out wide as she approached. I braced for impact.

“Chief Snodgrass you are a sight for sore eyes.” Her arms started to drop as she stopped short of an embrace.

“Go ahead if you want to.  I’m fine.”

She wrapped me up and squeezed, tender, but tight. “Chief, you scared us real bad. How are you feeling?”

An extra twinge bolted out from my shoulder, but I let the hug on a good friend run over it and hugged her back. “You know what they say darlin’, ‘only the good die young’.  I’ll be around a good long time.”

“Good to hear.  I need to talk to you right away.”

One of the bent backs at the counter straightened and Joe Burns turned around glaring at the two of us still snug in embrace.  “Huh. Guess a guy has to get shot to attract that kind of attention around here.”

She leaned back and laughed. “Joe Burns, at Mary’s if you want something, you muster up the gumption and ask.”

A ripple of snickers ran down the counter and he turned red. 

I nodded toward the dining room. “The office free?”

“Sure is.  Held it open for you.”

“Why thank you ma’am. All right with you if he listens in to what you have to tell me?” 

“Don’t see why not.”

“Good. Come on Grumpy, grab your plate and let’s all go out back where it’s quiet.”

The waves beyond the glass wall, much larger than they appeared from my back window, raced for the harbor mouth. It would be a wet, cold day on the water.  I took my usual seat at my unofficial desk in my offsite office. Bill Jamison moved around on his boat getting ready to go out. He would be the only one in weather like this. A lot of mouths to feed and bills to pay and those things never stopped. 

Joe trundled in juggling his breakfast, coffee and a handful of silverware. 

Mary jammed fists into her hips. “There’s utensils back here you know.  You didn’t need to lug everything from up front.”

“Wanted to save you some extra washing.”

“Appreciate it, but the dish washers running fine today.  That’s what I want to tell you about, Al. Beanie showed up this morning.”

“Where?”

“Here. Bangin’ on the back door as soon as I walked in.  Said he was cold and hungry.  So I fed him. He fixed the dish washer and took out the trash, like a typical day.”

“Jesus. You tell him he’s supposed to stay hidden?”

“Yes, but Al, he kept insisting you were taking care of everything, and it was all right to be here.”

“I’m trying, but he has to keep his side of the bargain.  Mort Shaw is due back today.  All I need is a few more hours.”

“He talked about Mrs. Crosby and all the things he needed to do over there. I think he might be planning to move back to his room sometime soon.”

“Crap. DeFranchesco’s watching the place.”

Joe listened, a slice of bacon hovering over his plate. “Can Mary here be in trouble having him hang around?”

“No, I don’t think so, if Beanie told her it was okay.  Did DeFranchesco ever tell you to turn him in?”

A frown appeared, a stranger on the landscape of Mary’s beaming face.  “Let me think.  He asked if I knew how to find Beanie, and if he worked here.  Oh, and he wanted to know last time I saw him, but I hadn’t seen him for days. I’m sure he didn’t ask to be contacted if Beanie came by. I wouldn’t anyway.”

“You should be fine.  DeFanchesco probably assumed you wouldn’t call, but he screwed up by not asking.”

Joe stared me down. “You’re sure?”

She squeezed Joe’s shoulder. “The man just said so, Joe.”

“I worry about you is all.”

She leaned in and hugged him from behind. “Thank you, my dear. Wish I could stay, but I’ve got to go back up front. Oh, one other point, Al. Beanie wanted to know if I owed him for any back hours. Said he needed seven dollars.” Unwrapping herself, she gave us palms up shrug.  “Gave him a ten and he left happy.  Pretty cheap fee for a repair.”   She slipped through the kitchen door.

The red in Joe’s face ebbed as he started in on the bacon again. What did Beanie want with seven dollars? Something silly, I expected, but troublesome. Whatever he had in mind would bring him out in public. With a little luck, Shaw would be back in town before anything happened.  In the meantime, Joe needed a swift kick. “You ever going to get off your ass and ask that girl out?”

He stopped chewing. “Figure I’d do that about the time you asked Stella.”

“Then you’ve lost your excuse.  I already did.”

“What? When?”

“On my visit down to Mass General last night. Dates set for when she can get out.”

“Snodgrass, you are one sly dog. Guess I ought to get off my butt, huh?”

“Guess? No guesswork here. You both want this to happen.  Jesus, everybody knows, even the lunks up front. So make the move.”

“But we’ve been such good friends all these years. Afraid I’ll lose what we’ve built up.”

“And while you’re stewing over what you might lose, you’re wasting precious time, missing out on something better.”

“You’re right, and you know what, I’m gonna do it.”

“Good. While you chew on how to go about it, how about taking a little ride with me?”

“Ride? Where?”

“Over to School Street to Mrs. Crosby’s. Need to head Beanie off before he gets himself comfortable there. We can check on the furnace and her wood supply.”  I wanted to find out if DeFranchesco  made good on his threat to search the entire property. Mrs. Crosby hadn’t called, but she wasn’t one to bother unless she couldn’t handle the situation herself. Also wanted to take a closer look for more coins.

“And you didn’t bring your car.”

“You read me so well. You should try applying some of that skill to Mary. Might be surprised what you’d learn.”

A Tin Full of Gold – Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Mark and his questions could go to hell. A serious discussion on boundaries loomed on our horizon, but not tonight. Any agency we set up would be far more humane or I wouldn’t be involved.

People in the hospital waiting room skittered out of his way,  much as the cruiser had moved the cars on the highway. Following in his wake, I wrestled with thoughts of Stella and his request. A gong demanded attention. An ethereal voice smothered the hubbub of the emergency room. “Dr. Johnson, code 432.  Dr. Thaddeus Johnson, code 432.” No one seemed to pay any heed to the announcement. Hope Dr. Johnson did.

Pissed me off, him asking me to pump for information. I shot daggers at his broad back. Was he always this way? Couldn’t he see more here than a case, and evidence?  This visit was about her and me—and life.

 

Needed to drop this funk before we got to Stella’s room. She’d spot it right off. Or would she? Would she still the same person, or had the accident changed her?  Mark said nothing about Stella’s condition. Shit. No time now.

Could use a stiff drink about now, but didn’t even have one at dinner. The meds and “mother” Joe’s voice in my head prevented my indulgence. What did Mahoney think about dealing with a teetotaler? Didn’t say anything or even seem to notice. All business right up until the point where I agreed to join the team and we clinked glassed to seal the deal—mine water.

We turned down a corridor long enough to shrink the people at the far end to miniature stick figures. I trotted to keep up. No one stopped us, no one asked our business. Most smiled as we passed. Mark nodded back. Now, I began to understand why he wore his uniform. The staff recognized him, and his dress said this was official.

A nurse called us over the ward station, and inquired if we were to see Stella Burns.  “This is police business, right? Visiting hours are over.”

Mark stepped in before I could complain. “Yes, all part of the investigation.”

“Doctors insist you limit your visit to ten minutes tops. She’s stable now, but she tires easily and needs to remain calm.”

He smiled back at the nurse. “I’ll time him, to make sure.” He glanced at me. “Hey, cheer up grumpy.  Stella doesn’t want to see that face.”

I let my face go neutral. “Sorry.  A little worried.”

“Nothing to worry about. You’re the best medicine she’s had since they brought her in.”

The nurse’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of us. “Thought you said you were here on official business.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled. The pain roared out from my shoulder. Tossing his words back to the nurse, we scurried away from the desk. “We are. All above board.”

Wanted to ask the woman if Stella seemed different. A stupid thought, she didn’t know her from before. And Mark gave me no time as he dragged me off down another long hallway.  Did he mean what he said about my being good medicine?  Or was he telling me to “put on a smiley face. All the better to extract the information with, my dear”.  The “big, bad, gray wolf” led us further into the depths of the hospital.

A uniformed State cop jumped to his feet and went to rigid attention. We came to a halt in front of the trooper. “At ease Sullivan.  Everything OK here?”

The officer leaned against the wall. “All quiet, sir. Except she keeps calling me in asking about—him?”

Mark chuckled. “Al, this is Sergeant Jim Sullivan, one of my best.” Jim, Chief Snodgrass from Granite Cove. 

Sullivan flushed. I stuck out my hand. “Ex-Chief actually, good to meet you.”

Mark held up a finger, “Once a chief always a chief.”

I opened my mouth to protest when a voice slipped out through the crack in the door propped ajar. “Al? Al Snodgrass is that you out there?” Stella’s voice, I listened to it a thousand times over the years, on the phone, on the radio and best of all in person.  Not as strong as I remembered, but her for sure. 

Mark hiked his thumb at the room. “Close the door all the way for some privacy.  Need to go over some things with Jim, so I’ll be out here.”

 A half-grin he always wore when he wasn’t telling you the complete story, crept over Mark’s face.  Maybe he did drag me down here for reasons other than the case.  Grabbing a breath, I pushed through the door.

She lay on the bed, her face to the door. Some of the original bandages were replaced by smaller versions, a stitched cut slashed across her forehead above one enormous shiner.  Battered to be sure, but her smile could have melted gold. Didn’t consider myself golden in any respect, but I was melting. 

“Well Chief, you gonna stand over there and stare?  Am I that bad looking?”

“Bad?  Oh no–I don’t think I have seen anyone more beautiful.”  I hurried across the room and took her outstretched hand. Once out, I realized my words were far more than meaningless platitudes. They were the truth.  How could anyone want to hurt this person?

My throat began to close off. Didn’t trust my voice so I bent to kiss her cheek. She turned and our lips met, a quick peck, then a longer more sensual meeting. Modesty sent me an urgent jolt to recoil that fizzled before I could react.  I was meant to be here. I kissed her back.

She sank back on her pillow. “They said you’d been shot. Scared to death I wouldn’t see you again. Are you all right?”

“A little sore, but I’m fine. You’re the one who freaked me out.  I—we thought we lost you. The first time I saw you in Southport, about did me in.”

The smile faded and color drained from her face. “I—I don’t remember any details before here. All a blank. Southport General?”

“Yes, they took you there first, but not for long. Moved you in here for the best possible care.”

“This is the only place I remember after going over the cliff. Thought the end had come when I couldn’t stop the car or turn. Right through the barricade, rolled over and over. Guess I passed out. Don’t recall hitting bottom.  What happened Al? What went wrong?”

Clouds gathered over those beautiful eyes. I wanted the sparkle and laughter to return. “Stell, it’s a long story and I promise to tell you everything, but not here and not now. They want you to rest up and not get excited.   How about we go over the details at a nice private dinner somewhere? Just you and me, as soon as they let you out of here.” Jesus, did I just ask her out?  I did, and it felt right.

Life flooded back into her eyes. The ends of her lips turned up at the corners. “Dinner would be wonderful.”

“They treating you okay? Anything you need?”

“Everyone is great and the troopers are pleasant.  Al, the facts please. Why are the State police outside my room twenty four hours a day?  They won’t tell me a thing.”

I scanned the room searching for words as though I could collect them off the sterile walls or the gaudy curtains over the window. They had to be the right ones to answer the question but not upset her. Nothing came, I stalled. “Should have made you my head of detectives back when, instead of hiring Owens.”

“You would still be Chief if you had. Now spill the beans.” A challenge flashed out her eyes. Never allowed myself to acknowledge how expressive they were until this moment. They talked and I listened. 

“You can digest all this stuff later, for now—quiet and calm. Remember?”

“Pussy footing around isn’t going to keep me calm, Al Snodgrass. So talk.”

Right on, as she always was, and I sensed she might not be talking exclusively about information.  “Alright, but try to stay cool. If your blood pressure goes up they will throw me out.  Your brakes and steering were messed with. You didn’t have a chance of making that turn.  I’m not saying anything more, for now.”

Her eyes widened and I saw fear consume the fire that resided there a moment ago. “What?  You can’t leave me hanging.”

“You’re safe here with a permanent guard watching over you.  You need to concentrate on getting better, not this other stuff. Let us finish the investigation. Besides, I don’t know any more than what I told you.”  Needed to change the subject. I nodded at several floral arrangements on the window sill and side table.  “Had many visitors?”

“Those are from the crew at the office.  Only seen my doctors, my nurses and an occasional glimpse of my guard on the doors. They’re screening people, I think. You are my first real visitor. You know more about these restrictions than me, don’t you?”

I shook my head. “Your doctor’s doing, but Renfrew is supplying the muscle. I’ve been out of touch the last few days with my own problems. The blame falls on someone besides me for this one.  Can’t believe I’m the first one they let in.”

I kicked myself. As pissed at Mark as I was for requesting this kind of interrogation, here I slid into cop-mode without a thought. Did seem to reduce the tension in our conversation as we each slipped into accustomed roles. All these years on the job made her able to separate emotion from business. Mu guilt drifted away.

“Buddy showed up, but they blocked him at the door. Heard him yelling. Thought he might shoot his way in.  Poor kid wound up crying. Hope he gets through all this, okay.”

“He’ll be all right, but you need to understand you’re like a mother to these new recruits. Hell, you’re a mother to all of us.”

Her eyes crinkled around the edges. “You think of me as your mother, Al?”

“Me? What? I mean — no of course not. You know what I mean — well …”

A sly smile painted her lower face. “You just asked me on a date, I think. A girl has to know where she stands.”

A boldness, absent since I chased the ladies as a young buck, kicked in. “Damn right it’s a date, a real one. Someplace special. I want to be alone with you.”

Water ringed her eyes. “Waited a long time to hear those words.”

She was waiting?  For me?  Her fingers closed around my hand and squeezed. My true feelings lay strewn across the snowy white bed sheet and now I was unsure where to go with conversation. I pressed on with my questions, my safe spot, and my home base. She would understand, always did. “Anyone else show up?”

“Greaseball.”

“Greaseball?”

“Yeah, DeFranchesco.  Greaseball’s what we girls in the office call him—fits.”

“Suppose. What did he want and how did he slip by the security?”

“Police business. Wanted to interview me about the crash. Didn’t talk much about it.  Seemed more focused on Beanie and pumped me on where he should be looking for him. Sure didn’t mention anything about cut brake lines.”

“Suspect he wasn’t aware of the tampering, or might have wanted it to look that way.”

The fingers clamped tighter, Stella was strong woman. “What do you mean?”

She wasn’t letting the subject go, but her pulse rate remained steady. I bent down again, close to her ear and lowered my voice. “Told you, details later. Understand this though. DeFranchesco is a person of interest in everything going on—your accident, Melissa’s murder.  Not sure what his role is, but be very careful around him.”

She turned and our faces touched. “Have been since the day he set foot in the department. Took him less than forty eight hours before he put a hit on me.”  She shuttered. “Thinking about him gives me the creeps.”

“Good, stay spooked.  I should go. They told me only ten minutes and I’ve been in here fifteen already.”

“Oh, screw them.  But you could use some rest.  You’re a ghost, too pale.”

“Yes, mother.”

She squeezed again. We kissed fully on the lips this time, a drawn out kiss, as long as our two broken bodies would allow.  Stella responded.

“I swear Chief Snodgrass if I wasn’t wrapped up in all this plaster and gauze, I would be tempted to show my appreciation right here on this bed.”

A burning flush raced up my neck into my cheeks and a growing tension mounted between my legs. I pulled back. No question, I would be a willing recipient.  The bravado of a few minutes ago gone, I struggled for words. Damn, shouldn’t be so difficult.  “Ahem, well –Hmmm. Expect that would bring more than a nurse to check up on us. Maybe when we’re both in a little better shape?”

She laughed, her real laugh, the one I heard around the office. She was back. I didn’t lose her after all.

Mark dropped the question over his shoulder as he rounded the front of the cruiser. “You learn anything?”

I glared across the roof. “Learned Stella is going to be OK.”

He shook his head. “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to be insensitive. I’m too case oriented—hazard of the job.”

I nodded, and wrestled myself into the front seat. “Makes three of us.”

A Tin Full of Gold – Chapter 26

Check out the Grumpy Gourmet page for a little “Sicilian Nirvana” in Milford, MA.- A review of Trattoria 89 Central

 

Chapter 26

“Sold!  Let me grab my coat.”

We ran south and picked up Route 128. Mark gunned the big engine and plowed down the roadway. Cars skittered to the right lane as soon as they spotted the flashing Christmas tree on the roof. Neither of us spoke since leaving the house. Both intent on the rear view mirrors monitoring DiFranchesco as he followed along. He disappeared at the town line. Took a pile of stupidity or a real set of balls to shadow the State police. My opinion as to which motivated my tail sure didn’t include bravery. 

Expected some kind of lecture from Mark, but he hadn’t said anything at all about my sticking my nose into this mess.  The dull throb coursing down my left arm scolded me enough. We would discuss it at some point. Figured I might as well throw the subject out now.

“Going to say it?”

He shot me a quick glance then refocused on the traffic.  “Say what?”

“I told you so.”

“Not necessary. Besides, you were right.  There is more here than Melissa’s murder. Your activity may shake some additional stuff loose.”

“How did you land on that conclusion?  Thought I’m the maverick here, stepping over my bounds.”

“You did overstep. But DeFranchesco is getting desperate. His tailing you and the break-in prove it.  He will make a major mistake.”

What could be more major than murder or attempted murder?  I would have shouted it at him but Mark kept his eyes glued to the road as we zipped past cars and trucks. I didn’t want to talk to the side of his head, when I was ranking him out.  Needed to see his eyes for reactions and with the needle approaching ninety, I wanted his eyes on the road. I kept it conversational.   “And?”

“And nothing. Pieces are falling into place and my own gut tells me you’re onto something bigger and more connected then we thought at first.”

“So you have a gut now?”

“Always had one. Not as good as yours, but mine helps out once in a while. By the way the DNA on the sample you took from your bathroom came back as his.”

“What? We got him dead to rights for breaking and entering and your DA still won’t let us use the information to lock him up? “

“Told you to stay calm.  The DA’s case is much bigger than a simple B&E or evidence tampering. This extends back to his activities in Boston. With the whole package, he’ll be going away for a long time, but we don’t want to move prematurely.  The more he screws up, the deeper the hole he digs himself. Patience is required for now.”

“How about murder? No, wait a minute. With Mitch, Stella and me, how about two murders and two attempted murders. The Mahoney forget about those?”

“No, not at all. There isn’t enough to put him at the scene of any of those. Motive is unclear in most of those cases, except yours. We need time to clarify and connect all the dots.”

An image of DeFranchesco’s unblemished face flashed by.  He wasn’t the one at the junk yard, or was he? I was sure, but couldn’t prove it.  Mark was right to be cautious. One miscue could screw up their entire prosecution. Even if he set up someone else to destroy the car evidence, we couldn’t make the connection to him. The Granite Cove cases needed more work, and I wasn’t about to  drop them. Mahoney and Mark weren’t getting off the hook so easily   “So your DA is willing to ignore murder for convenience.  Nice.”

Mark shook his head.  “Not exactly. I convinced her Melissa’s killing is linked to him, and the investigation should go forward. There is a problem. He’ll know if any of us, her office or mine, picks up any thread of this case.  His contacts are that good.  She borrowed investigators from other districts to do the probing thus far. Even her own team is in the dark except for key players.  For the mess in Granite Cove, she agreed you would be the best one to handle it.”

Took a second before his words registered—chalk it up to the meds. I snapped around to face him so fast I felt my stitches pull.  “What did you say?  She wants me on the case?  A private investigator? You’ve got to be kidding. How did she come to include a PI?”

“Circumstances and your reputation.  First, DeFranchesco’s all over the place. He’s got so much going on, we can’t cover everything. Most of our work is centered on his city activities up to now. On the second point, you’re known in the State DA’s office. Unusual for a PI to be brought in, I agree, but an easy sell with you.”

“I want that slippery bastard off my ass, out of my town and behind bars. Don’t care who or how. When did all this happen?”

A smile crept across Marks face, a rare event. “Oh, a little short of a day ago. I had a meeting with the DA.”

My watch said five forty five.  A few hours less than twenty four meant seven or eight the prior evening. “Working over time?”

His smile broadened to a grin. “Might say so.”

“You sly dog. You and Mahoney?”

Mark nodded. “Can’t be all about work. We had dinner last night.”

“Congratulations.  About time. Is she the mystery person we are going to see?”

“Yes. She wanted to meet you. Will you join us? Could be our agency’s first official case.”

 “Yes, of course.” The pain in my shoulder subsided.

The cruiserslowed for the  merge onto Route 93 southbound. “Where are we going?”

Mark grinned. “Well for dinner, I thought Union—”

“Oyster House?  In Boston?”

“Yeah, unless you got someplace else you want to go.”

Union Oyster House was one of my favorites in New England. “No, great choice.” I gave myself a once over. Would have changed into something a little better, but not too shabby. “Didn’t expect to be in the city tonight. Another surprise.”

“Should be there in few minutes. Traffic is always light when you’re driving one of these, and the other person I want you to see is in town.”

Other person? I thought for a minute. “Stella?” Be like Mark to think of her and me.

He nodded.

“Not sure I can handle seeing her right now.”

“I’m sure you can.  She’s been asking for you every time someone new comes into her room.”

“She’s awake?”

“Very much so. She learned about you being shot and she’s bugged everyone for updates ever since.  Won’t let up. Figured getting you two together would be good for both of you.  Doctors weren’t too happy about her knowing about the shooting. Something about controlling blood pressure spikes.”

Stella on steroids. Wrapped in gauze, out of a coma only a few hours, but still at the vanguard of new gossip. “Who the hell told her?”

“Your friendly head of detectives.”

“Rat bastard.  If you find his corpse beside the road somewhere, don’t look too far for the killer. I’m volunteering a confession right now.  How did he sneak in?

“Didn’t. Had the law on his side. Told my sergeant on the door he needed a statement on the accident. No legitimate reason to stop him.”

The session with Joe and DeFranchesco replayed.  The shifty prick sat right at my kitchen table and never said a word about Stella.  Everyone played the “hide truth from Al” game. Mark also hid something behind his carefully chosen words, now.

They could have stopped him, but they didn’t. “You didn’t want to keep him from getting to her, did you? All part of this investigation, isn’t it? Anyone in the room with him?”

“No. Insisted on privacy. A little strange, so my guy hung at the door in case anything went wrong. A female undercover, acting as the nurse, checked on her during the interview.  Sorry, Al, the process. We never put her in danger.  “

“How did he find out she woke up? How did you figure when he would be down here?”

“Warned you, he’s still well connected here in the city. We suspect he has someone on staff here watching or worse.  Carl Jenkins is the one who alerted me to his plan to interview her.”

“Carl’s a good man and he’s grown up a year in the last few days. He knew she came out of the coma?”

“Yes, he did.”

“And not a damned one of you thought to tell me?”

“First of all, you were a little preoccupied with problems of your own.”  He pointed to his shoulder. “Second, this all developed down here. Nothing to do with your area. Third, as you like to remind me, you are only another civilian. I couldn’t tell you everything. And fourth, she was my chance at a little surprise for you. Those do not come along often. Don’t be angry with Carl.  I asked him to stay quiet.”

“Thanks, a lot. Surprised me all right. But, these are my friends and the attempt on Stella occurred in my town.  I’d appreciate being kept in the loop.”

“I have been, as much as I can. More than I should. All changed now with you officially on the case.”

“Shouldn’t require my being official for you guys tell me about a good friend.”

“All part of how this went down. From our end, we are aware he was seeing the murdered girl and we expect her roomy as well. Not sure for what purpose. Considering they both were attractive young women, the motive might be simple. We are pretty sure he followed Melissa to Granite Cove and for something more than a romantic thing.”

“You’re right is has to be something else, like those coins. Jean-Marie despises and fears him. Melissa was gay. Neither romance nor sex is involved here.”

“How did you determine that?”

“Interviewed the roommate, twice.”

“I told the Megan you were the man we needed on the job.”

We pulled into the emergency entrance at Mass General and glided into one of the slots near the door marked for critical personnel.  “Another benefit of these things, nobody questions your parking.”

As soon as the cruiser came to a halt, I pushed the door open anxious to get upstairs. Mark stopped me.

“Hold on a sec.  A favor when you see her? We would like to know the specifics of what went down when DiFranchesco talked to her?  My officer couldn’t make out the conversation.”

I slumped back into the seat, blood thumping in my head, throbbing in my shoulder. “So this isn’t a social visit?”

“Not entirely.  Ninety nine percent social, you both need this. The one percent is something I need to do. I’m sorry. You know the drill.”

Prying information out of people close to me was a part of police work I despised. Mark’s face was drawn, a mask of concern.   I would do what he requested, but Stella came first. I nodded and pushed out the door.

“She’s going to tell you everything anyway, ay.  Probing won’t be necessary. Just let me know the details.”

“Mark, give it a rest.  I’ll get your damned information, okay.  But understand this, my main concern here is Stella. Ninety nine point nine, nine percent Stella.”