Harry kept the motor running and opened the window. He didn’t look armed but Harry had been caught off guard by a concealed weapon before.
“You come to pick up where we left off last night?” Harry shouted from the car.
Frank stood up and put his hands in his pockets like a kid being scolded by his dad. “No.”
“Could I by any chance see those hands?”
Frank tilted his head and gave the investigator a look that said: “Really?” then took his hands out and showed them on both sides.
Harry turned off the engine and got out of the car. Still he kept the vehicle between him and the oldest Thomson brother, just in case things went south.
“What can I do for you, Frank?”
Frank put his hands back in his pockets and shuffled from side to side. “I came to apologize for last night.”
“You OK?”
“I hurt all over but I think that’s the hangover. Hurts when I breathe deep.”
“Yeah, that would be my doing – should go away in a day or two. Sorry about that.”
“Na, no need to apologize. I was outta line. I should thank you, really. You stopped me before I trashed the joint and got barred from the Hillside for life. I did get barred for a month.”
“They’d never bar you for life, Frank – they’d lose too much revenue.”
Frank smirked at that and said: “There’s a bit too much truth in that statement for it to be funny.”
Having surmised that Frank would be no threat, Harry relaxed and invited him in for a coffee. “You can use your key if you like,” Harry said.
“I don’t have one anymore. MK and my ex kicked my door in this morning at like six and gave me hell for being an asshole. MK took my keys to this place so I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
Harry opened the door, then reluctantly invited Frank inside.
“You getting tight with MK?”
Harry lit the fire under his kettle but didn’t answer.
“Sorry, not my business but if I was you I’d keep clear of those Keller girls, they’re… difficult.”
“The voice of experience?”
“And then some. You wouldn’t happen to have a beer, wouldja?”
“I don’t think I’m ready to be a drinking buddy with you just yet.”
“Fair enough – tea?”
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a tea drinker.”
“Can’t us brother murderers drink tea?”
“I never called you a murderer, Frank.”
“But I’m a suspect.”
“You’re a… person of interest.”
“Am I the number one person of interest?”
“Not in my book, but you do have a motive.”
“You think I’d kill my baby brother for two million bucks?”
“No, Frank, I honestly don’t.”
Frank took his tea and piled three heaping sugars into it.
“Feather told me something. I was wondering if you knew any—”
“Feather is a lying piece of human filth. I wouldn’t be surprised if he shot Billy.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “He speaks highly of you too. Feather said that Billy bought an ounce of marijuana from him a couple of weeks ago.”
“So is that it? Was Billy dealing again? I’ll fucking kill Featherbrain—”
“No, hold on. Feather said Billy was clean but bought the ounce to pay a lawyer. You know any dope-smoking lawyers?”
Frank blew away the steam from his mug and took a sip. “Sweens.”
“Sweens?”
“Yeah, he was a kid that grew up around here. He was a real fuck up but, apparently, after he went to college he got his act together. He’s got a practice in Jim Thorpe. I haven’t seen him since he was a kid, but Billy kept in touch. If Billy wanted a lawyer – he’s the guy he would see.”
“Got a real name?”
“Kevin Sweeney.”
“You know what Bill would need a lawyer for?”
“Maybe he wanted to talk about this land deal.”
“Anything else you can think of? Was Bill in any kind of trouble?”
“No, he was in a good place. All the work he did for me was good and on time. He was getting out of bed in the morning and had a spring in his step. He did say, though, when we were arguing about Granddad’s land, that he probably wasn’t going to be working for me much longer. I told him he was a pussy for letting this land deal make him quit but he said that it had nothing to do with the deal. I thought he was just blowing smoke, ya know? But now I wonder.”
They sat for a while looking at the lake through the big picture window until Harry broke the silence. “You still gonna sell the land?”
“I don’t know. Two million is a lot a money but what the fuck would I do with it, other than pickle my liver? If I had two million the only thing I’d want to do with it is go on a fishing trip to Alaska… with my brothers.”
* * *
MK ran into the house without knocking and scared the crap out of Harry. “What’s Frank’s truck doing here?” she said then stopped when she saw Frank asleep on the sofa. “What did you do to him?”
“Other than putting that little blanket over him after he fell asleep – nothing. He was tired. Apparently, someone woke him up early this morning.”
MK relaxed and said: “Yeah, the Keller girls are tough when riled.”
“I’ve heard. How was work?”
“Busy. The college fraternity houses had their first weekend mixer and there was a brawl. It’s amazing how much damage drunks can do to themselves. Say, you wouldn’t have a beer in that refrigerator, would you?”
Harry handed her a can and she knocked back almost half of it in one go.
“You look tired – you don’t have to cook for me tonight. I could whip up some spamburgers for us.”
“No, a deal is a deal.”
“Helen was no trouble at all.”
“More lies. I’ll ask you about it on Monday when you’re in truth mode.”
* * *
They left Frank asleep while MK made spaghetti bolognese at her house. MK had traded her white nurse’s slacks for tracksuit bottoms but kept her pink scrub shirt on.
“Sorry that the dinner is a bit uninspired.”
“You kidding me?” Harry said. “Pasta and beer: I’ve been dreaming about food like this. Well, half the time I dreamt of this, the other half of sleep time was nightmares about Frank coming in and shooting me in my bed.”
“You and Frank are pals then?”
“Pals is a strong word. I understand him, I think. I feel sorry for him.”
“Well, I’m still pissed about what he said about me and my sisters at the bar.”
“And that he attacked me?”
“Oh yeah, that too.”
“Go easy on him, MK, he’s lost both his brothers.”
* * *
Dinner didn’t last long and they moved to the living room, where MK produced a bottle of grappa. She poured a small shot for each of them.
“I’m not familiar with grappa,” Harry said. “What is it?”
“No idea,” MK said, inspecting the bottle. “My father brought it back from a trip to Italy years ago. You’re meant to down it in one after a meal. It’s supposed to aid digestion.”
“Well then, salute.”
It took a while for the two of them to recover. Harry was the first to be able to speak. “Grappa is obviously Italian for furniture polish.”
MK held a finger in front of her face while she swallowed hard. Harry had a horrible moment when he thought she was going to vomit. “I really am sorry about that. I figured Italian food, Italian liqueur, I really thought it was going to be nicer.”
“Don’t worry about it. Hey, could I borrow that bottle? I’ve got a tattoo I want to remove.”
“Ohh,” MK purred, “a tattoo. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“Shit, this is the first time in my life I wished I had a tattoo. Is it too late for me to nip out and get one now? How ’bout if I promise to get one tomorrow?”
“This is starting to sound like truth or dare.”
“I was always more of a spin-the-bottle type.”
“Not a very exciting game with just the two of us.”
“Funny, I was thinking just the opposite.”
“How about we go back to the truth thing? What happened with you and your ex-wife?”
“I’ll take the dare.”
“The dare is to tell me about your ex-wife.”
“OK, she found out that I had been abducted by aliens and replaced with an exact duplicate.”
MK leaned in and said: “Seriously.”
“Seriously,” Harry said and lifted both of his hands to behind his neck, “I think there’s a control panel back here somewhere. I’ll show you.”
MK reached up, pulled his arms down and then held Harry’s hand in hers. “The sun has set on the weekend. You can start telling the truth again.”
Harry sighed, “You don’t want me to.”
She squeezed his hand and said: “I do.”
“No, you really don’t. It’s not a fun story. Wouldn’t you rather another shot of grappa?”
MK shook her head.
“You will if I tell you this story.”
“I’ll risk it.”
Harry let go of her hand and poured himself a half shot of the clear liquid, knocked it back, took a deep breath and began.
“I was a cop. A bit of a wunderkind cop. I received a degree in psychology and then developed a keen interest in interrogation. I even took polygraph lessons at night, in my own time and on my own dime. I made detective early and then the organized crime squad poached me. These were the days when the Argeneto and the Marielo families were in their prime and at each other’s throats. Inter-family violence was spilling out onto the streets, and organized crime became the mayor’s priority. I got chosen to interrogate Mobsters. And since they were Mobsters we got to do it without people looking over our shoulders.”
“What does that mean?” MK asked.
“It means that maybe these guys didn’t get all of their constitutional rights. At the time we rationalized it with the knowledge that none of them were innocent but it’s not something I’m proud of. The ends don’t justify the means. Saying that, the ends were good. We broke the grip on the city’s extortion business and we got a couple of wise guys to turn state’s evidence on both the families. The mayor gave me a medal and week’s paid vacation. So my wife and little boy went to Wildwood on the Jersey Shore.”
“A son? You told me you don’t have any children.”
“Yeah, well… I didn’t lie.”
A look of confusion crossed MK’s face, then her hand came up to her face and covered her mouth as the realization hit her.
“We were in a restaurant in the hotel having dinner and Sharon, my ex, got up and went to the ladies’ room. After she left a waitress said I had a phone call, and it was the mayor. Jamie was happy in a high chair so I went up to the maître d’ stand and answered the phone. A woman’s voice said, ‘Hold for the mayor,’ then after a minute the phone went dead. When I looked back to my table, Jamie was gone.”
“Oh God!” MK said.
“I told you that you didn’t want to hear this.” Harry pushed his hair back, away from his forehead, with both hands. “I just figured he got out of his chair. He was a toddler – you know, always getting into stuff. Sharon came back and started to freak. That’s when one of the other diners said they saw a woman with long blonde hair carry him out the service entrance. We found a blonde wig in the dumpster out back. That was all the evidence we ever came up with. The phone call from ‘the mayor’ came from inside the hotel, and there were no working security cameras. All we could do was wait for a ransom demand.”
Harry poured another half shot of grappa and then offered to do the same for MK. She shook her head. There were tears in her eyes. He knocked it back and then took a moment to continue.
“It never came. Three weeks of spinning our wheels; FBI, dragging every suspect I ever spoke to back into the interrogation room, and we got nothing. Finally, I received a postcard at home. I should say my wife received it. It was a postcard of the hotel in Wildwood that Jamie was taken from. It was postmarked Atlantic City and it said, ‘YOU’LL NEVER GET HIM BACK’. It was signed ‘THE MAYOR’.”
MK tried to say something but nothing came out of her mouth.
“I got put on indefinite leave. When I finally did come back I was no good so I resigned. Sharon and I just couldn’t look at each other after a while. Whether she blamed me or I just reminded her of Jamie every time she saw me… I don’t know. I said I was going to leave and she just said, ‘OK’.”
“Did you ever find him?”
“No,” Harry said quickly.
MK stood up, went over to a liquor cabinet and poured herself a large whiskey.
“I told you you’d be drinking by the time I finished this story,” Harry said with a forced smile.
“You want one?”
“No, thanks, I’m actually getting used to this grappa stuff.”
MK came back to the sofa. This time she sat closer and took Harry’s hand. “What did you do?”
“The cliché. What else would a broken psychologist do? I moved to Atlantic City and made a living playing poker.”
“But you went there also to look for your son?”
“I’m always looking for Jamie. I just try these days to make sure I fit some life in-between looking. Anyway, I ran up some bad debts in New Jersey and fled to Vegas. I had a streak of good luck there and came to my senses. I used half of my winnings to get out of debt back East and the other half to buy a polygraph machine. I got work screening prospective casino employees and then branched out into consulting interrogation. One of the companies I worked for had offices in New York and they flew me back for a job. It was February and, believe it or not, I realized then how much I missed winter. I moved to suburban Philadelphia and tried to contact Sharon. She wasn’t in Philly anymore – she was living in some back-to-nature commune in upstate New York. She didn’t want anything to do with me. The last time I spoke to her she said, ‘Don’t call again unless you find him’.”
MK put her arms around Harry. He could feel her warm tears on his neck.
“I’m sorry I made you tell that story.”
Harry smiled to himself. This is what often happened these days when he told his tale. He ended up comforting the listener. He didn’t mind this time. MK felt wonderful in his arms.
“It’s OK, MK, really. Actually, I’d like to thank you. It’s good to tell every once in a while, and it’s not the kind of thing I can bring up casually in a conversation.”
He broke the embrace and wiped the tears from her cheek but he didn’t kiss her. Something similar to this had happened before. He had told his story and ended up getting pity sex. The next day he’d felt as if he had pimped out his dead child for a shag. He didn’t want that to happen here.
“You’re sweet,” he said, standing. “I think I should go now. You think I maybe could take that bottle of grappa with me?”
“Only if you promise not to bring it back.”
“I’ll finish off the bottle then fill it up with lighter fluid. Who’ll know?”
“How can you… ?”
“How can I joke? Is that what you were going to ask me? Or maybe, how can I ever laugh again? The truth is, it took a while. I’m not sure my ex has ever learned. I finally came to the realization that this grief… no, grief is the wrong word because that implies that Jamie is gone… this loss is never going away and that it will always be part of my life. I finally learned to make it just part of my life and not all of it. It’s a big rock that I carry around with me. I always know it’s there but I’ve gotten used to the weight.”
MK hugged him then looped her arm in his as she walked him to the door. “Thanks for coming to dinner, and thank you for telling me about your son.” She kissed him on the cheek.
Harry sighed and said: “Good night.”
* * *
Harry was glad to find Frank gone and no longer camped out on his sofa. He poured a hefty shot of the Italian moonshine and used his cell phone to log onto the FBI’s Lost and Found Children’s Database. He flipped through photos until he couldn’t focus anymore and fell asleep on the sofa.