Miles shook his head in agreement. “I’m with you. Why? It’s true we all know Patrick didn’t keep Tommy around for his brains. He fucked up time after time, each train wreck worse than the last, so how is it Tommy stealing money and selling drugs under Patrick’s nose is any bigger of a crime?”
“A life for a life,” I muttered.
“What’d you say?” Miles asked, his ears perking.
“A life for a life. It’s the code on the street.”
Declan shot to his feet. “That’s it. Patrick had to have given up his son as retribution.”
I started to pace. “But for whose death?”
“That’s what we have to find out. If we find out who has Patrick by the balls, who Patrick gave his son up for, we’ll be one step closer to uncovering this entire mess.”
“You think it could be the Priest?” Miles asked.
“I do, except he has to be relatively new in town. I don’t see him having the pull to get Patrick to agree to off his own son.” Glancing out the window at the clouds that had started to take dark form in the sky, I hated to rain on their parade. “Then again, what if Patrick simply ordered the hit on Tommy for the drug deals he was making behind his back? What if that’s all there was to it?”
Miles was shaking his head. “We talked about this. It makes no sense.”
“I agree,” Declan added.
“Okay, I agree too. So what next?”
Miles pointed at me. “You lay low. You’ve caused enough chaos on the streets. Playing off of the life-for-a-life thing, let me ask around and see if anyone of importance was one of the Blue Hill Gang’s victims. Coming from me, no one will question it. Coming from you, it might just get you killed.”
I conceded. He had a point. I had gotten in a little over my head. “What about O’Shea?” I asked.
“Seems clean. Can’t find anything linking him to his wife’s disappearance before her murder.”
“And Tommy? Any solid links to Lizzy or O’Shea?” I asked.
“Well, we know she worked at Lucy’s. As for Tommy’s claim that Lizzy and him were an item, nothing solid to prove that other than the tape where we saw them together at the hotel.”
Declan cleared his throat.
“You got something?” I asked him.
“Not much, but I talked to a few guys who’ve gone to Lucy’s for years. One remembers her from about two years ago. He said, and I quote, she was a chick who really knew how to suck his dick in the backroom. Another dude said he thinks he remembers seeing Tommy with her more than any of the other girls but when he paid her a hundred to blow him under the table, Tommy was cool with it. Anyway, if Tommy was tapping Lizzy, he didn’t mind her blowing others while he was hitting it.”
“Maybe they weren’t together. Maybe he lied,” I noted.
“Either way, he sounds like a real scum bag,” Miles remarked.
“Did either of the guys you talked to know O’Shea?” I asked Declan.
“Not sure; I didn’t ask. What are you thinking?”
“Maybe he had met Lizzy before he represented her on that pro-bono prostitution charge, like at a strip club, and that’s the connection between the three of them. I mean I’m really reaching here.”
“Like maybe at Lucy’s?”
I was leaning against the wall. “Exactly.”
“Let me check into it,” Miles said as he rose to his feet.
Declan was already in the doorway. “Let’s get together Tuesday and go through everything again. See if we can come up with anything new.”
“Sure. Let’s talk to Frank, too. He was around in the Dorchester Heights Gang days. Molly’s, Tuesday at seven?” I suggested.
“It’s a plan,” Declan said.
“Sounds good,” said Miles.
I followed the two of them out to the kitchen. After they left, I stood there for a bit, listening for ghosts.
None.
I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and took the newspaper clipping of Emily’s death I kept there from it. It was time to let that go. I crumpled it and threw it in the trash.
With a deep breath, I thought about whether I should be kicking a possible hornet’s nest. Tommy was gone and nothing around me showed signs of upheaval. Yet, there was something about O’Shea that had nagged me from the moment I laid eyes on him.
My gramps, too.
Blanchet aside, that was reason enough to dig further.
But not today.
Today was a day of celebration. With the threat of Tommy no longer hanging over us, it felt like a fresh start for Elle and me.
Hopping back in my truck, I decided to go to the bank and get that ring my gramps wanted me to have. I didn’t know when I’d give it to Elle, but I wanted to have it cleaned and sized so when the time was right, it would be ready.
I hightailed it back to Elle’s place first to get the key out of the silver box. I’d told Elle about the box but not the key. And like my grandfather, I didn’t go to much trouble to hide the box. It had always worked for him. While I was there, I picked up my shit that was all over her room. Elle had been cool about it, but it was time to get my laundry done. While I was at it, I also packed a few things for the weekend. I didn’t need much since we’d be staying at my apartment.
My apartment.
I needed to figure out what to do with it.
My current financial status dictated that I should sell it, which didn’t bother me. It wasn’t like I was attached to it or anything. It was nice, though. Located in a ritzy, white-glove building directly across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, it was prime real estate. The problem was my grandfather owned the building and he had insisted that I live there, which meant I bought it for next to nothing. I wasn’t sure what he’d think about me selling it.
Then again, he was much cooler with the news of my leave of absence from the Ryan Corporation than I thought he would be. I think he was finally coming to understand I preferred working on my own. I have no idea what brought about his change of heart, but I accepted it at face value and figured it was time to terminate my employment now that I knew I’d be staying in Boston.
Although Elle and I really hadn’t discussed where I’d reside, I knew she wouldn’t leave Clementine, which meant either I moved to Boston or our relationship turned long distance. The thought of not seeing her every day twisted my gut and the answer to where I would live was an easy one—anywhere she was.
After I shoved everything in the back of the Rover, I jumped in and headed for the bank. The dark clouds had multiplied and there was no doubt rain was coming.
For some reason it made me think about the first night I met Elle. It was raining and she was so wet when she walked into Molly’s. Even then I thought she looked beautiful. Exquisite may be a better word. There wasn’t anything about her that didn’t make me want to give her as much of myself as I possibly could.
Just as the rain started to pound the pavement, something in my rearview mirror grabbed my attention. Someone was following me. My mindless driving had me looking around, trying to figure out where the fuck I was.
I hadn’t been paying attention.
Okay, I was on a small side street, just having crossed over Dorchester Avenue. With another glance in my rearview mirror, I saw flashing blue lights. The sound of the siren immediately followed.
Fuck, how fast was I going? I hadn’t been paying attention.
I pulled over and then yanked open the glove box to retrieve my insurance card. As I was reaching for my wallet, I noticed another cop car pull behind the one already parked.
Suspicion started to loom.
The rain was falling, and as one officer got out of the first car in his rain gear, another leaned out, holding a transmitter in his hand. “Get out of the car with your hands up.”
Fuck me. Not this again.
Slowly, I opened the door and heard my sneakers squishing in the water as I stepped away from the car and turned around. It wasn’t Blanchet’s goon squad, though, like I thought it might be. These cops were from Patrick’s neighborhood, which meant more than likely they were on Patrick’s payroll.