Dead Man's Chest (Cold Case Psychic Book 25), page 1
DEAD MAN’S CHEST
by
Pandora Pine
Dead Man’s Chest
Copyright © Pandora Pine 2024
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Digital Edition: January 2024
PROLOGUE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
Tennyson
Union Chapel, Kansas, July 2004…
Sixteen-year-old Tennyson Grimm was sweating his balls off, literally and metaphorically. The temperature outside was in the low nineties, but inside the cramped, windowless Sunday school classroom, Ten would guess it was at least fifteen degrees hotter. The other kids sitting around him fanned themselves with the handouts David and Kaye Grimm had passed out at the start of their celibacy class.
Hence, the metaphorical ball sweat.
It wasn’t bad enough that his mother volunteered all her free time cleaning the church, proofing the pastor’s weekly sermons, and ministering to the sick members of the parish, but now she was standing at the front of the class, talking about how fornication was the devil’s own path.
Not to be outdone, Ten’s father, David, spoke about the joys of celibacy and how much it meant to him to come into his own marriage pure. Kaye made doe eyes at her husband as he spoke about resisting temptation in all of its forms, including not shaking hands with the bishop or, in layman’s terms, jacking off. David Grimm would never use that vulgar euphemism, but Tennyson had no trouble whatsoever thinking it in his mind.
Ten had already punched his one-way ticket to hell. Twice. What with his being gay and psychic, he had no chance in hell, pun intended, of making it to the Pearly Gates. He wouldn’t have been much good at playing the harp anyway. At least, that’s what he told himself. Just like Jimmy Wellson’s sixteenth birthday party at the local roller-skating rink, which he was not invited to attend. He hadn’t wanted to go anyway. How on earth his parents could find any fault in a day at the rink was beyond him. It wasn’t like the kids were fornicating on the concrete floor. Or were they?
“Tennyson!” David’s sharp tone broke Ten out of his daydream of an orgy at Holy Falls Rink.
“What?” Ten barked, sounding startled. His heart pounded like a jackhammer in his chest. Christ, was David reading his mind?
“Would you like to share what you think is funny about the topic of coming to your marriage bed a virgin?” David snapped a ruler against the palm of his hand, all the while looking at Ten like he was the biggest disappointment since the Ford Edsel.
The class snickered while Ten sank lower in his chair. Any second now, he’d flop onto the floor like a suffocating fish out of water, which, funnily enough, was exactly how being in this classroom made him feel on a weekly basis. “There’s nothing funny about being a virgin, Dad. Uh, sir.”
“We’ll revisit this at home, after you revisit Corinthians and write a five-hundred-word essay on the virtues of purity.” David shot him a scathing look, broadcasting his displeasure to the entire class, who’d pick up his father’s gauntlet at school on Monday.
Fuck a duck… Ten resigned himself to his fate. There was nothing he could do to escape his penalty or the wages of sin. He’d learned a long time ago that he wasn’t going to be struck with a bolt of lightning for getting his rocks off. If that were actually the case, his neighborhood would have looked like a light show.
Ten knew for a fact some of the people in this very room weren’t virgins. He could name half a dozen, if the graffiti on school desks and bathroom walls was true. Ditto for the things he heard in the gym locker room when they were changing for class. So far as he knew, there had been no punishment, worldly or of a heavenly nature, doled out to the fornicators in question.
Besides, it wasn’t like Ten would ever find someone to fornicate with. Maybe there were other gay kids in Union Chapel but, like himself, were so far in the closet they could see Narnia. He couldn’t imagine a day when he would be allowed to come out. There would be no hugs or reassuring platitudes. All Ten would get for his trouble was a one-way ticket out of his family. Throw in the fact he could see and speak to dead people and knew the future, and it made for a devilish trifecta he could never overcome. Not in Union Chapel anyway.
“Kaye, would you like to tell the class our story?” David’s blue eyes twinkled at his wife.
Ten felt his blueberry pancakes roil in his gut. The only thing worse than writing an essay on the virtues of virginity was listening to his parents tell their love story. Again. If he thought he was going to get his ass kicked at school tomorrow before, that was nothing compared to the mountain of shit he was likely to get after his parents spilled this little gem.
“I was a sophomore at Union Chapel High School,” Kaye began on a wistful sigh. “I had just moved to town from Olathe, Kansas, and had never been inside the school before. My first class of the day was typing, and I couldn’t find the classroom. I was hopelessly lost.” She fluttered her eyelashes at David as if it were still the 1980s.
“I saw the distressed look on Kaye’s face, and I strode up to her, determined to be her knight in shining armor.” David puffed out his chest. His mid-forties paunch puffed along with it.
“All of a sudden, I hear this deep voice say, ‘May I be of some assistance, little lady?’” Kaye giggled. “I spun around, and there was David in his creased dress pants and perfectly ironed short-sleeved button-down shirt.”
Apparently, his father was a dork back then too. He’d thought maybe his dad had been cool enough to wear jeans at the very least, but it seemed he was wrong. Jesus probably didn’t like denim anyway.
“David offered me his arm and led me to my class. I was late, but he explained to the teacher what happened, and I didn’t get in trouble. I knew in that moment, I’d love David forever and a day.” Kaye sighed happily.
“That’s right,” David agreed. “We were together from that moment on. I proposed on Kaye’s graduation day, and we were married soon after. We were both virgins on our wedding night.”
“It was the most amazing night of my life.” Kaye blushed as she spoke.
Ten wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He’d rather be eaten alive by red ants than listen to his parents talk about their wedding night. Movement out of the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. Fuck, it was Benny Miller, who had the biggest mouth in the Midwest.
“Yes, Benny?” David asked.
“If you were both virgins, how did you know what to do?” Benny’s tone was serious, as if he were stymied as to how it was possible to do something neither of them had done before.
Ten knew better. Benny was one of the big talkers in the locker room. To hear him talk, he regularly fucked Emma King after school when her mother was at her quilting circle. Twisting in his chair, Ten caught a look at Emma, who, to her credit, wore a serious, virginal look. If only Ten had the nerve to ask her if Benny’s schlong was as big as he’d said. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. Christ, there would be more hell to pay if he made a peep.
David beamed at Benny. “That’s a very good question. The Lord made our bodies so that we’d know exactly what to do on our wedding night. I guided Kaye in what to do and what to expect and—” David cleared his throat. “—that was that.”
“I was so nervous, but I trusted David to lead me in all things.” Kaye fluttered her eyelashes again.
“Coming to your marriage bed pure is the best gift you can give to your spouse,” David said. “While pure brides are welcome in the kingdom of heaven, fornicators are not.”
Ten couldn’t help thinking hell was probably one giant orgy. He did snort then.
“Tennyson?” David asked, his eyes cold. “Are you having a spasm?”
“No, sir. I was just overcome with joy over the thought of my wedding night.” He smiled at his parents, knowing he needed to give the performance of his life, or he’d be grounded until his wedding night. “I can only hope that my own marriage will be as long and happy as yours. I mean, how could it not with the two of you as my role models?”
“Well said, Tennyson.” Kaye smiled at her son. “If any of you are struggling to remain celibate, our doors are always open to counsel you.”
“Same goes for the urge to shake hands with the bishop,” David added, sounding earnest.
Christ, there would be a line out the door and wrapped around the block if every guy in his class needed counsel to keep from spanking their monkeys. According to Benny, girls did it too, although he wasn’t completely sure of the mechanics involved in that particular act of self-abuse. No one had to tell him touching himself felt good; he’d figured it out on his own. He assumed David was right about God making their bodies with sexual instincts, not that he was going to bring that topic up.
&nbs
Ten was determined to enjoy the feeling while it lasted. He didn’t know when David would be proud of him again.
1
Ronan
February, present day…
Ronan O’Mara hated shoveling snow with a burning passion he usually reserved for lime Jell-O. Eighteen inches had fallen over the last twenty-four hours, making their neighborhood look like a winter wonderland to insane people who loved the snow and snowbirds who’d escaped winter’s chill.
Tennyson had wondered aloud a time or two yesterday if Ronan should go out and shovel as the snow fell, like Fitzgibbon did. This way here, Ronan only had to go out once, while Fitzgibbon had been out several times, with Aurora and Jace snapping pictures of him, with a happy, psychotic look on his face. Fitzgibbon loved the snow, and as far as Ronan was concerned, Kevin could have all of his too.
The City of Salem’s plow trucks had been out in earnest, leaving their street mostly clear of snow but at the same time plowing in all the cars parked on the street, which included his beloved Mustang and Ten’s SUV. Ronan loved their neighborhood but hated the fact that none of the row houses had driveways.
Making matters even worse was the city ordinance against throwing snow onto the sidewalks. You could pile the snow up on the curbs, but the walks had to be clear for pedestrians, the mail carrier, and nutjobs like Fitzgibbon who enjoyed frolicking in the white stuff.
Groaning out loud like a toddler who needed a nap and a juice box, Ronan dug his blade into the snow surrounding the front of the Mustang, careful not to hit the fender. Something cold and wet smacked against the back of his neck, followed by giggles.
“Gotcha, Dad!” Everly crowed, mounding her next frozen missile.
Two more snowballs flew his way from across the street. Jude’s hit him smack in the chest, while Wolf’s fell far short, splatting in the middle of the street.
“Way to give me more to shovel!” Ronan shouted. “Asshole,” he muttered under his breath before making a snowball of his own and lobbing it at Jude, hitting Wolf instead.
“Hey!” Wolf shouted, wiping melting snow from the top of his hat.
“I was aiming for Jude! Sorry, Wolf!” Ronan called across the street.
“A likely story,” Jude said. “You should be ashamed of yourself, throwing snowballs at a defenseless five-year-old.”
Wolf shot Ronan a sad puppy face. The kid should get an Academy Award for the performance he was putting on. It was a snowball, not a rock.
“Fire!” Jude shouted.
A flurry of snowballs flew at Ronan from all angles. From Everly to his left, which slapped against his shoulder, Jude and Wolf from across the street, smacking him upside the head and a new entrant into the field of battle behind him, who hit him dead center in the back. He spun around to see Aurora kneeling in the snow, making another ball. Fitzgibbon stood proudly behind her, a shovel in his left hand.
Ronan was outgunned and outmanned. The only thing to do was try to ally himself with Fitzgibbon. Another snowball smacked into his legs, courtesy of Wolf, who stood in the middle of the street. His arms raised like he’d just thrown a winning touchdown pass.
“Looks like you could use a little help,” Fitzgibbon said, leaning on his shovel.
“You aim for Wolf. I’ll get Jude.” It wasn’t the best plan, but it was solid. Ronan knew Fitz would hit Wolf below the knees while he set his sights on Jude’s smug face.
“I meant with the shoveling.” Fitz raised an eyebrow. “You know you could have been done by now like me if you’d gone out a few times during the storm.”
“You’re right,” Ronan agreed. He was frozen to the bone and just wanted to go inside and thaw out in a hot shower before throwing on his sweatpants and taking a nap in front of the fireplace. He was too old for this shoveling bullshit.
“I’ll work on Ten’s SUV.” Fitzgibbon hooked his thumb toward the black car. “Try thinking of warm places. That might help.
“The only thing that’s going to help is being in a warm place, not thinking of them.” Ronan rolled his eyes. He watched as the snowball fight continued between the kids and moved to his side of the street before slicing his shovel blade into the snow.
“We should go to Florida!” Jude shouted from across the street. “Warm, sandy beaches, tropical breezes, palm trees, hotties wearing banana hammocks.”
Ronan could go for a tropical beach, that was for sure. “What about the Collins case?” He and the others had been working on the cold case murder of a young mother who had a husband and two lovers. The police hadn’t been able to pin the crime on any one man. Ronan had a suspicion they were all in on it together but hadn’t found any evidence to prove his theory.
“It’s been cold for eleven years. What’s another two weeks?” Jude shrugged. “We can’t solve the case if our asses are dragging. February vacation is next week. Let’s just get on a plane. The kids won’t miss any school, and we won’t miss this fucking weather.”
“Bad word!” all three kids shouted at Jude.
“It’s funny how they hear me loud and clear when I curse, but it’s crickets when I ask them to clean up their mess or tell Wolf it’s bedtime.” Jude rolled his eyes and went back to his shovel.
“Seriously,” Ronan muttered to himself. He supposed it was the same thing with Ten when he employed his selective hearing, as his husband liked to call it.
As he kept digging out the car, Ronan couldn’t help but think of the idea of a warm beach. Waking up to the sound of the ocean hitting the shore. Gulls screeching overhead. The kids laughing and playing in the surf. They were going to Florida come hell or high snowdrifts.
“All finished!” Fitzgibbon called from the back of Ten’s SUV. “Less talking, more shoveling.”
“Yeah, Cap. I’ll get right on that.” Ronan laughed at his former boss. Fitz was definitely in captain mode, using the voice he reserved for suspects who lied to him and detectives who didn’t pull their weight.
Ten minutes later, with the help of Fitzgibbon, the Mustang was dug out. The snow was piled high on the curb. Ronan could barely see over the snowbanks, and he was over six feet tall. Ever since the week before Christmas, they’d been pummeled by storm after storm. A foot here, six inches there, eighteen inches last night. It all added up to sloppy mess and one hell of a headache.
“I’m gonna talk to Ten about Florida,” Ronan said when Jude crossed the street. He didn’t think it would take too much convincing to get his husband to agree.
“Cope mentioned getting away last night. I’m sure he’ll be up to go. Any idea where? Just not House of Mouse again.”
“Agreed,” Fitz said on a laugh.
“Not that it wouldn’t be fun to see the girls dressed as princesses again, but it’s exhausting being there. I just want to sit on a beach and let the ocean wash away my stress.”
“I hear that.” Jude scuffed his feet at the ground.
“Daddy?” Everly shouted, sounding sweet as pie.
“Uh-oh. I wonder what she wants?” Ronan had a feeling he already knew.
“I’m guessing sleepover with the way Aurora is smiling.”
“Yes, Everly Erin?” Ronan grinned at his daughter.
“Can me and Woofie and Aurora have a sleepover?” Everly clasped her hands like a nun offering a prayer to God.
“What, here on the sidewalk?” Ronan looked around. “Doesn’t look very comfortable to me.”
“I wouldn’t sleep on the dirty sidewalk for a million, billion dollars,” Aurora said.
“I would!” Wolf chirped. “Then I could buy all the Star Wars LEGO sets I ever wanted.”
“Aurora and Wolfie can sleep over on one condition.” Ronan winked at Jude.
“Dad, I’m not folding your socks again.” Everly crossed her arms over her chest. “I fell for that once.”
Ronan snorted. The last time Everly had asked for something big, Ronan told her she could have it if she helped with the laundry. He hated folding socks, so he dumped them into her lap. Everly had been so outraged she’d mismatched every damn pair.
“Laundry wasn’t my condition,” Ronan backtracked quickly, trying to come up with something new. “You have to help Daddy set the table for dinner.”
