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Finding a place to park on 4th Street in downtown St. Petersburg during business hours was always challenging, and to be fair, Dan was more than a little particular about where he parked his Bentley. Not that the crime rate was that bad in this neighborhood, but, come on—it’s a Bentley.
He’d never been to Great Expectations before. He never had any reason to visit. He had no children. Most of his friends didn’t have children. He was an only child—or so he believed—so there were no nieces or nephews needing outings. So why would he visit a children’s museum? The Dali Museum, sure, he loved that place. Especially the 3D headsets that made you feel as if you’d walked into a world of the paintings. But climbing around in plastic tubes and using ping-pong balls to demonstrate centrifugal force—nah.
He might’ve told them he had an appointment and avoided paying the admission fee, but he preferred to come in quietly and not alert anyone who didn’t need to know that he was here. He refused to give in to paranoia, but he was still shaken by what he’d witnessed in the courtroom. If you they could persuade a deputy with seven years of experience and trust to execute a witness—then the next assassin could be the least suspicious person in the room.
He strolled through the museum, dodging children and trying not to touch anything. He passed the Critter Cave, skittered around Build It, then spotted the woman he sought in what looked like a kitchen.
In a children’s museum? If he’d known there was a kitchen, he might’ve come sooner.
Wait a minute. He took a closer look. No actual food here. In the BellaBrava Pizza kitchen, children explored how to make a pizza...out of Play-Doh, or something like it. Clay sculptures. Some of them lovely. But probably not tasty.
An older woman explained how the kitchen worked to three children, providing a scientific explanation of how yeast made the crust rise. He preferred flatbread when he made pizza—or rather, his Not-Pizza—but still, he found this interesting. He’d used yeast a thousand times, but never once contemplated exactly how it worked.
“Yeast is simply a single-celled fungus,” she explained. “And yet it’s the secret behind the bread you eat every day.”
One of the kids scrunched up her nose. “Fungus? We eat fungus? Eww.”
“Not exactly. The yeast consumes sugar and excretes carbon dioxide and alcohol, which causes fermentation.”
“Double eww! She said ‘excretes.’”
The woman smiled. “Maybe I should just let you make your pizza.” She looked up at him. “Dan Pike, right?”
“I am. Beth Kramer?”
“That’s me.” Red hair, streaks of gray. Peasant shirt. Petite, especially for a former cop. Tiny mole above her lip. Black smudge on her blouse.
“Former Lieutenant Kramer of the SPPD?”
“Yeah. I worked with your dad. He was my partner.” She glanced at her watch. “You’re right on time. Just like your daddy. You could set your watch by that man.” She gestured off to a side corner. “Why don’t we go someplace slightly quieter and have a chinwag?”
“Suits me.” They found a spot next to the wall behind a Segway track. He supposed it probably taught some lesson about energy, but the long line of kids suggested they wanted to take it for a ride, not hear a lecture about thermodynamics.
“You favor him, you know.”
She caught him by surprise. “You mean—my father?”
“No. Joe Pesci. Yes, of course I mean your father. I can see a little of your mother in there too, but mostly your father. You have his mouth.”
He thought about it for a moment. He supposed she was right, but it had been so long since he’d actually seen his father in person, he wasn’t sure. “You knew him well?”
“I was his partner for four years. And that’s no small thing.”
“You spent a lot of time with him.”
“And trusted him with my life. Having a partner is like having a brother, except actually, more. I got a brother I can’t stand to be in the same room with. But your daddy always had my back. And I had his. I never forgot what he did for me. Never will.”
That piqued his interest. “What—he did for you?”
“Yeah.” She fidgeted with her hands. “Remember, this was more than twenty years ago. Women on the force were few and far between. There were more Hispanic men than white women. We had to fight hard for every little crumb we got.”
“I can imagine.”
“You probably can’t. You were a kid back then. And you’re a white male now. The world was made for you. Not for women who...wanted something different. Most of the guys on the force wouldn’t have me for a partner.”
“Did they have a say in it? I thought the Chief made those decisions.”
“On cop shows maybe. In reality, pairing someone with a partner they don’t like, or can’t work with, is like signing their death warrant. The Chief wouldn’t force me on anyone. And you wouldn’t believe some of the BS excuses I heard. What if she starts crying during a fight? What if she trips during a chase? What if I need backup and she has PMS? You couldn’t get away with that blatant sexism today, but back then—it happened all the time. Every damn day.”
“But my father didn’t object?”
“He requested the assignment. He knew if I didn’t get a partner I would end up being transferred or turned into the telephone operator or something. He kept me on active duty.”
“And it worked out?”
“Fantastically. He was such a good man. So fair. Such a strong sense of justice. Could be a little self-righteous at times, but I didn’t care. Best partner I ever had. Not to diss the ones who came after. But he was the best.” She paused. “Which is why I’m so unhappy to see all the troubles you’ve been having.”
“Oh...you know...”
“I live in this city, son. You’ve been all over the news, over and over again. I could hardly miss it.” She smiled. “Glad you beat that murder rap. Looked like trumped-up baloney from the get-go. I could smell the stink through the tv set.”
“Thank you for that.”
“Not surprised the bad guys came gunning for you. You’re just like your daddy in that respect.”
He tilted his head. “Can you explain...?”
“Looks to me like you’ve been doing the exact same thing he used to do. ‘Cept he did it on the streets and you do it in the courtroom.”
He hadn’t thought about it like that.
“But you both want the same things. Justice. No one getting railroaded. Looking out for the little guy.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “The apple did not fall far from the tree. It’s good to know there are still some people like you Pikes around.”
“Well, thanks...”
“Why didn’t you bring your kids with you?”
“I...don’t actually have kids.”
“What? A boy your age?” She pulled a face. “Are you—”
“No, I’m not gay. Just...busy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a fool, Dan. Kids are the hardest challenge in the world, but when you get a little older, they’re the only thing you’ll care about. And this world needs more people like you and your daddy. So get with it already. Start cranking out those kids.”
“I’ll...see what I can do.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “But I suspect this is not what you came to talk about. Why did you seek me out after all these years?”
“A friend of mine suggested my dad’s partner would be a good source of information. She helped me score the police files on his case.”
“Find much there?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. Think they gave you everything?”
He shrugged. “I think they gave me everything they had. My friend was in a position to make sure of it. But I think the files had been expurgated. Probably years ago. I’ve filed a lawsuit—”
“Read all about it.”
“Good. That saves a lot of time. Were you...there? The night Jack Fisher got shot?”
“Of course. Your dad drove. I was in the passenger seat.”
“Did you...see it?”
“No. Oddly enough, I was looking at the twenty-two gangsters shooting at me, not the two cops guarding our rear flank. But I heard the shot. And I saw Jack fall.”
“So you don’t know who shot him.”
She craned her neck. “I know what it looked like, son.”
He thought as much. That’s why he didn’t notice her for a deposition. He didn’t want to record any unhelpful testimony that might not otherwise surface. “Tell me what you saw. Or heard. Or experienced.”
“I’m not going to be much help to you. I was otherwise engaged, trying to avoid dying in a painful rapid-fire hail of bullets. I heard a gunshot behind me. Sounded like it came from where your father was. I’m pretty sure ballistics later traced the bullet to his gun, but you might check that.”
“I will.”
“I heard Jack shout. Heard him fall. Assumed one and one made two, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure.” But in his experience, the mathematics of crime could often be deceptive. “Anything else you can contribute?”
“That helps you?”
“Either way. Better to hear it now than be surprised at trial.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but there was some serious bad blood between your papa and Jack Fisher.”
“I’ve been told that my mother...was previously married to Fisher.”
“Right. And now both husbands were working together on the same police force. Talk about oil and water. Your daddy was a crusader. Jack, I’m sorry to say, was a bigot. He didn’t like anyone who didn’t look like him. He didn’t like women, except maybe in bed. He was brutal, cruel, and tended to draw his weapon first and ask questions later.”
“I’m amazed my mother never mentioned her previous marriage.”
“I’m not surprised. It was a bad mistake and she probably preferred to sweep it under the rug. The marriage to Jack didn’t last long. Word was...”
“He hit her?”
“Yeah. Pretty bad, from what I hear. Slammed her head into the wall. Made her mouth bleed. Sent her to the emergency room twice. We didn’t have Sweeney Shelters back then, and sometimes women with no income of their own didn’t know what to do. But she eventually got away.”
“And divorced him.”
“And eventually married your dad. And was much happier...till...you know.”
“Yeah.”
“But your dad and Jack were constantly at loggerheads. Jack was the type who couldn’t let anything alone. He would made crappy comments. Shoving Ethan around or bumping into him on purpose. Making innuendoes about how he knew what his wife was like in bed, or that she liked him better in bed because he...you get the idea. I always thought they was headed for a showdown.” She looked down at the floor. “But I never suspected it would go down like it did.”
“Do you know...” Dan wasn’t even sure how to phrase it. It all seemed so impossible. “Did my mother have any children? I mean, when she was married to Jack?”
Beth thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. It’s been too long. Why?”
“Oh, I just wondered. Did my parents didn’t have any children other than me? Maybe someone who didn’t survive?”
“Never heard that either. But wouldn’t that be an easy thing to check? Public records and such?”
“Maybe. I have someone working on that. Were you involved in the...aftermath of the shooting?”
“Not much. Your father was suspended. I was reassigned. I was not asked to testify at the trial. They used that turncoat Ellison and kept everyone else on the sidelines.”
“You didn’t believe Ellison?”
“I didn’t know what to believe. But I didn’t think much of one officer testifying against another. We just don’t do that. There’s an unspoken code, you know? And why would he? Hell, even if it was true—if anyone ever asked for it, it was Jack. Just keep your mouth shut and let it be. I think someone got to Ellison. Made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, if you know what I mean.”
He did. And he knew who the most likely suspect was, too.
“I wanted to reach out to you, Dan, especially after I heard about your mom, but I didn’t want to overstep myself. It’s not like I was a family friend or anything.”
“I understand. You shouldn’t feel guilty. I can tell you were a good friend to my dad.”
“You know,” she said, obviously changing the subject, “we could use some volunteers out here on the weekends. Can’t afford more staff, but we get overrun with kids sometimes.”
He blinked. “And you think I’d be a good candidate?”
“Why not? I read that you were some kind of gourmet chef. You could help out in the BellaBlaze kitchen.”
“Sorry. I’ve never worked with clay.”
“All the better. You can tell them about real cooking. Nutrition. Balanced diets. Building good eating habits.”
“I’m more of an outdoors person.”
“Give it a try. You might find you like it. Kids can be amazing.”
“Well...I’ll keep it in mind.”
“You know, Dan, if you’ve learn anything from this whole sorry business, it should be about how precious life really is. And how fleeting.” She looked out into the museum. “That’s why I started working out here. My kids are grown and they moved away, and I missed having young people around. You got to slow down every now and again and sprinkle a little joy into your life.”
“I’m sure that’s true. But—”
He stopped short. He was gazing toward the kitchen...
And saw someone just beyond it suddenly duck out of sight.
He took a closer look. Whoever had been there before was gone.
Was he being watched? Followed?
He passed Beth his card. “If you think of anything else that might help, please let me know.”
“I will. Good to finally meet you. Keep up the good work.”
He made his way out of the museum and back to his car, looking every which way at once.
What was going on here? Had Sweeney decided to engage in some unauthorized discovery by having him followed? Or had the cartel decided they needed to take out the attorney who kept interfering with their operations?
He started the car and blazed down the road as fast as he could manage. Drove all the way home with the top up. He tried to tell himself it was the rumble of the engine making his arms vibrate, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t it at all.