Duplicity, page 9
“Indeed. Although he wasn’t upset since Kelly said yes, provided he gets his missing tooth replaced.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, but speaking of weekends, I thought you’d still be in Chicago.”
“So did I.”
“Sounds like things didn’t go so well.”
“You’re right but not for the reason you’re probably thinking.” Brick filled Eamonn in on why he cut his trip short.
“Aw, Jaysus. I saw something about that on the news, but I didn’t make the connection to your former partner. His wife and babies missing … life can be so feckin’ unfair. Weren’t you just at the baptism?”
“Yes.” Brick wondered if Eamonn’s comment about life being unfair was referring to more than Ron’s situation. Eamonn cared about his employees and the horrific murder of Jose Delgado had affected everyone who had known him but especially Eamonn. And it occurred to Brick that for all the years he had known Eamonn, he really knew little about him before he came to the States and settled in D.C. Had something unfair in his life been the motivation for him to start over in a new place?
“How’s he doing?” Eamonn asked.
“What … oh, Ron? Not good. He’s staying with me right now because being in the house was more than he could handle.”
“Understandable.” Eamonn placed a coaster on the bar in front of Brick. “He shouldn’t be alone, not at a time like this. I’ll go place your order.” After doing so, Eamonn returned to Brick’s end of the bar and set a large tomato juice in front of him. “I shouldn’t ask, but—”
“Ron has an alibi.”
“Thank God for that. He seems like a decent guy, but I watch the news and too many of those true crime shows. I’ll never understand why those eejits do what they do when they could just get a divorce. They all think they’re so feckin’ smart.” Eamonn reached under the counter. He retrieved a place mat and silverware wrapped up in a napkin. He set them in front of Brick. “I hope this doesn’t turn into one of those media shit shows.”
“That makes two of us.” Brick felt his cell phone vibrate. Unlike the serious texts from Nora inquiring about Jasmine and the twins, this one made him smile. She sent a photo of the lamb stew dinner she was having at Gaffney’s. When Eamonn returned with a plate full of eggs, sausages, baked beans, tomatoes, and mushrooms, Brick followed suit by taking a picture and sending it to Nora.
“Good news?” Eamonn asked with a hint of optimism in his voice.
“What?”
“The way you’re smiling, I’m hoping you got some good news.”
“Just catching up with Nora … the woman in Chicago.”
“Well, at least I don’t need to ask how things went before you had to leave. Good on you.” Eamonn poured himself a cup of tea. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Brick returned home and juggled the bag he was carrying as he unlocked his door. Once inside, he could hear Ron talking on his cell phone. From the exasperation in his voice, Brick wasn’t surprised to hear Tanisha’s name mentioned.
In the kitchen, Brick started unpacking the containers of food Eamonn insisted on providing for Ron. He claimed it was the least he could do then quickly corrected himself by adding he’d pray for a quick and safe return for Jasmine and the twins. Brick knew Eamonn well enough to know he was a devout Catholic who attended Mass several times a week. He also knew Ron believed in the power of prayer. When Ron walked into the kitchen, Brick conveyed the message from Eamonn and pointed out the comfort food.
Ron grabbed a plate from a cabinet over the sink and unwrapped a corned beef sandwich before sitting down at the table. Brick put the potato soup and shepherd’s pie in the fridge and reached for a couple of cans of Coke. He handed one to Ron and sat down across from him. For a few minutes, neither spoke. Brick simply watched as Ron inhaled half of the sandwich. During the year they worked together, they had shared many meals but never had Brick noticed Ron wolfing down his food. The ten-year age difference between the two men was never an issue while they were partners but now it seemed like a generation gap. Brick had never felt more like a parent.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Brick asked.
Ron shrugged his shoulders as he picked up the other half of the sandwich. “Don’t know.” Before continuing, he took a bite and chewed more slowly. “I got a couple of calls while you were out. Helps to know my coworkers, at least some of them, have my back and the other was from one of Jasmine’s Bible study friends. They want to have a prayer vigil at the church.”
“How do you feel about that?” Brick asked as he took a swig of Coke.
“Okay, I guess. Even though Jasmine and I never wanted to be the center of attention, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
“Did Jasmine’s friend mention when they want to do the vigil?”
“Soon, maybe the day after tomorrow. She’s been talking with Jasmine’s mother and sister to make arrangements.”
“How are things between you and your mother-in-law?”
Ron winced as he set down his can of soda. “As good as it can be with someone who expresses her displeasure with the husband choice her daughter made.”
“Seriously?”
“Not in so many words to my face. But if they gave an Oscar for passive-aggressive behavior, she’d win.” Ron put his plate in the dishwasher. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
Brick reflected on Ron’s movie industry reference and for a split second he recognized the typical behavior of the guy who had constantly challenged him with movie trivia. In most cases, Brick was clueless but occasionally he’d surprise Ron with the right answer. Was that kind of banter a thing of the past? It was impossible for Ron to experience what he was going through without it affecting his personality. The ultimate outcome would, no doubt, determine how everything might change. Brick knew the drill—prepare for the worst but hope for the best.
Brick picked up his jacket and hung it in the hall closet. As he did so, he noticed the box of stuff belonging to Henry Yang. For a moment, he was taken aback. Just a few days ago, that had been his focus. He was all set to go through the contents of the box before he was lured away by an invitation to Chicago. Maybe today it would provide a much-needed distraction as the waiting game continued. He picked up the box and set it down near the dining room table. As cold cases go, three years wasn’t very long, and if luck was on his side, he’d find some contacts who knew Yang. Brick started sorting through the items but didn’t get very far. His cell phone pinged and he glanced at the text from Lieutenant Hughes.
New development. On my way to your place.
CHAPTER TWENTY
BRICK WASN’T SURE if Ron was sleeping, but if he was, there was no reason to wake him until Lieutenant Hughes arrived. As nerve wracking as the wait was for him, it would be that much worse for Ron. Meantime, while waiting, Brick tried to organize the stuff he had received from Henry Yang’s roommate, but he couldn’t concentrate. Instead, he was speculating as to what the lieutenant meant by new development.
Finally, Brick’s cell phone pinged with a text indicating Lieutenant Hughes had arrived. When he opened the door, the expression on her face confirmed what Brick feared. He took a deep breath and braced himself for how bad the news might be. Without saying a word, she stepped inside the apartment just as Ron emerged from the den. With the groggy look of someone waking from a deep sleep, he yawned and rubbed his eyes.
“Lieutenant? What … what’s going on?”
Hughes set her purse on the hall table and pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket. “Ron, I don’t have any specific information on Jasmine or the twins, but some potential evidence was found floating in the harbor in Baltimore.” She hesitated before continuing. “There’s no easy way to show you this, but can you identify the infant car seat?” She handed her cell phone to him.
It only took a second for Ron to respond even though the words seemed to catch in his throat. “It looks like Jamal’s.”
“Are you sure?” Hughes asked.
Ron nodded. His hand shook as he gave the phone back to the lieutenant. He glanced toward Brick and looked as if he was about to say something. Before he did, he bolted toward the bathroom. There was no mistaking the sound of puking reverberating throughout the apartment followed by a toilet flushing, once and then a second time.
Brick exchanged a concerned look with Lieutenant Hughes. “I’ll check on him, but for now he needs a few minutes.”
“Definitely.”
“Can I see the photo?” Brick asked. Hughes handed her phone to him. By enlarging the image, Brick noticed something significant. “That looks like blood splatter.”
“I know. And I don’t have to tell you how horrible that makes me feel. I keep thinking about Sophie’s Choice. I pray to God I’m wrong. Anyway, Baltimore PD is running forensics but since it was in the water, I’m not optimistic they’ll find much.”
“Do you know where it was exactly?”
“From between the Inner Harbor and Fells Point. One of the water taxi drivers spotted it and called the Harbor Patrol.”
Hughes’s phone rang and Brick handed it back to her.
“It’s my contact at Baltimore PD.”
While she took the call, Brick headed toward the bathroom to check on Ron. Even though the door was ajar, he knocked before pushing it open. Ron was sitting on the edge of the tub with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
“Are you okay, partner?” Brick asked. Ron managed a slight nod. Brick opened the medicine cabinet. On the bottom shelf was a bottle of mouthwash. He poured a generous amount into a paper cup and handed it to Ron.
Ron stepped over to the sink and rinsed his mouth. When he finished, he splashed water on his face. “Did you see the photo?”
“Yes.”
“The blood splatter?”
“Yes.”
Ron lowered the lid on the toilet and sat down. “What does it mean, man?”
“I wish I knew.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Brick realized he was just saying something, anything, to fill the void. When he and Ron were working a case, this would be a time for brainstorming. Trying to do that now would only cause Ron more pain and most likely wouldn’t help the situation at all.
“We went there a lot.”
Brick wasn’t sure what Ron meant. “Went where?”
“The Inner Harbor. Jasmine loved it. Even talked about how when we have kids, we’d take them to the Aquarium. And there was a place in Little Italy … a small family-owned restaurant.” His words trailed off, replaced with a sob. After a minute or two, Ron grabbed a wad of toilet paper and blew his nose. “I’ve tried to convince myself that Jasmine wouldn’t harm herself and she’d never hurt the twins, but I gotta tell you, I’m scared. I’ve never been so damned scared in my life.” Ron stood up. “I have to call Tanisha. Awful as it is, they need to hear this from me.” He left the bathroom, went back to the den, and shut the door.
“How’s he doing?” Lieutenant Hughes asked as she slipped her phone back into her pocket.
“I’m guessing he’ll never eat a corned beef sandwich again.” Brick sat down on the La-Z-Boy recliner across from the sofa where the lieutenant sat. “Sounds like he’s now convinced that Jasmine has harmed herself and the babies.”
“Since we don’t know, I can’t reassure him that he’s wrong, so it’s best I say nothing.” Lieutenant Hughes stood and buttoned her jacket. “I need to get back to headquarters. Detectives Taylor and Dixon will let me know if there’s anything else that I should know about.”
“They’re still in Baltimore?”
“Yes. And one other thing, a reporter from Channel 7 was on the scene when the car seat was recovered.”
“Great … that will be all over the news tonight.”
Lieutenant Hughes nodded and headed toward the door. “Do your best to keep him away from the TV.”
“I’ll try, but that might be the toughest assignment I’ve ever had.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RATHER THAN WATCH the news on TV, Brick logged onto his computer and streamed Fox. It wasn’t his normal source for news, but he was curious as to what the host of And Justice for All was saying about Jasmine and the twins.
Stella Owen opened her show holding the picture that had been shown on CNN. In her Southern drawl, she implored viewers to take a good look at the picture. The camera moved in to get a close-up.
“Her name is Jasmine Hayes and she is the mother of six-month-old twins, a boy and a girl. She and the babies are missing.” Owen stared into the camera and raised her voice. “They are missing.” She held up the picture again. “People don’t just disappear. Something happened to this woman and her babies. Her car was found at BWI Airport in the long-term parking lot. Did she and the twins get on a plane and jet off to some tropical island for vacation? Are they soaking up the sun on a sandy beach in the Caribbean? I hope so, but I doubt it. Especially since the very next day, an infant car seat was pulled out of the Inner Harbor in Baltimore.” Owen’s lip quivered as if she were about to cry. “Blood stains were found on the car seat … blood stains.”
It took a moment for Owen to regain her composure. “We have reached out to Jasmine’s husband, but he has not returned our call. Why am I not surprised?” She paused for dramatic effect. “And guess what her husband does for a living … he’s a cop. A homicide detective. I’m sure he’s learned plenty from investigating lots of murders.” She looked directly at the camera and rolled her eyes. Again, she held up the photo of Jasmine. “One more time, people, look at the photo of this beautiful woman, this young mother. If you know anything about her disappearance, please call our tip line. As always, you can remain anonymous.”
Stella Owen glanced down at a folder on her desk. “And in a suburb of Atlanta, a seven-year-old girl—”
Brick had heard enough. He logged off the computer.
Brick knew it was inevitable. For armchair sleuths, a case where an attractive young mother and her six-month-old twins are missing and the husband and father is a homicide detective has the kind of elements they find tantalizing. Stella Owen made a name for herself turning true crime into a real-life game of Clue. As long as the ratings were high, it didn’t matter if she played fast and loose with the facts. She usually did, and there was no mistaking her reference to Ron being a homicide detective was a deliberate attempt to implicate him without specifically saying as much.
It made Brick angry for several reasons, not the least of which was Owen’s disregard for a family’s anguish and pain while turning their circumstances into entertainment for crime voyeurs. But there was no recourse unless she crossed the line into slander territory. For now, Ron was in her crosshairs and whatever he said or didn’t say would be scrutinized. The upcoming prayer vigil worried Brick … a lot.
For the first time in several hours, Ron emerged from the den. He grabbed a Coke from the fridge and slumped onto the sofa.
“Everything is set for the vigil tomorrow night.” Ron took a swig of soda and belched.
“You know the media will be all over it,” Brick said.
Ron shrugged. “What the hell, I know what they’re saying. They’ve already decided I’m responsible for whatever they think happened.”
Brick hated to see his former partner look so defeated. “Ron, I think it would be in your best interest to talk to a lawyer.”
“Come on, Brick, you know what D.C. lawyers cost. The little savings that Jasmine and I had, we’ve spent since the twins were born.”
Brick wasn’t surprised. He knew babies are expensive, especially when you need to buy two of everything. He couldn’t help but wonder if money issues added to Jasmine’s depression. “I hear you and I’m not saying you need to hire someone at this point. What I am suggesting is getting some advice about how to handle the immediate situation.”
“I don’t know.” Ron got up and headed toward the den.
Brick called after him. “There’s a former Assistant U.S. Attorney who specializes in damage control. She’s been responsible—”
“I told you I can’t afford a lawyer. What part of that don’t you understand?”
Brick ignored Ron’s sarcasm and wasn’t going to give up that easily. “Just hear me out.”
Despite the circumstances, Brick was looking forward to seeing Amy Pennington. Occasionally, he had seen her interviewed on TV, most recently representing one of the Washington Wizards falsely accused of rape, but it had been a number of years since he had seen her in person. Brick and Ron took the elevator to the eighth floor of the newly constructed K Street building where a receptionist invited them to have a seat. A few minutes later, Amy led them back to her well-appointed office.
Brick looked around before taking a seat. “A little fancier than your office at Superior Court.”
“You really think so? You mean the one I shared with Barry what’s-his-name. God, he was obnoxious. Remember the time you told him not to open the evidence bag?” Brick nodded. “Obviously, you knew how bad dried blood smells, but he didn’t listen.”
“Maybe, if I had gone to Harvard …”
“Exactly. Because of Mr. Law Review, we had to close the office for several hours and have it fumigated at taxpayers’ expense. Oh, those were the days.” Amy laughed before offering Brick and Ron something to drink. They both declined.
“Okay then, let’s get started. Ron, just to be clear, I’m not a defense attorney. What I do is advise clients on how best to present themselves during a difficult time and/or help them restore their reputation, if necessary. I’ve seen the news reports and I’m sorry for your situation. I probably don’t need to tell you that every time you walk out your door, you have to navigate a mine field. Even if you aren’t confronted by a reporter, there very well may be someone observing every move you make. From what Brick told me, I understand there’s going to be a vigil. I can give you some guidance—”
