Secrets and Lies (7 page)

Thomas had no intention of leaving Boston so he would just have to learn to deal with Phoebe and the others at the precinct the best he could. He mumbled a curse under his breath as he made his way over to her desk. “McNamara,” he kept his voice professional and detached from the abundance of dislike he had for her. “I need to speak with you about one of your cases.” She smiled up at him. That smile sent a shiver down his spine. That smile told him she was assessing him, sizing him up once again, to decide just what she wanted from him in return for her assistance.

“I’d be happy to discuss any of my cases with you over dinner,” her Bostonian accent and deep, raspy voice, was about as pleasant as a bomb going off. It wasn’t the tone, not even the accent, it was her words, her insinuation that her badge gave her the right to do whatever she wanted, legal or not.

“My client, Thena Davis, you should know her, you all lost her mother’s body.” He saw the color drain from Phoebe’s face.

“I can’t discuss an ongoing case with you.” She shuffled papers on her desk, hurriedly pushing lose papers into files and standing to leave.

“So you are looking into who took the body? Since you haven’t alerted my client to the disappearance yet I assumed maybe you weren’t doing anything about it.” He watched her lips clamp tight. He could tell from the rigidity of her shoulders that she knew something more than what she wanted to tell him, and that something most likely was what happened to the body and why standard procedures had been avoided in this case.

“Look, I could get in trouble for telling you this, but…well, it’s not our fault. I’ve done some research that suggests Neenah Davis was into some illegal stuff at the hospital.”

“What kind of stuff?” His investigation, thus far, hadn’t turned up anything more than a straight-laced doctor who attended the University of Massachusetts, Boston Campus, on full scholarship, graduated with honors and was highly respected at the time of her disappearance.

“Well,” she sat a file folder on the desk. “I don’t have all the facts yet, but drugs,” she said simply, the color coming back into her face just a little.

“She was on drugs?” He didn’t believe a word she was saying to him. She was lying and he knew that. He also knew what she wasn’t saying—they were ready to taint Neenah Davis’ reputation to close their case.

“No, not using, selling. She was stealing drugs from the hospital and selling them. Anyway, like I said it’s an ongoing investigation so I can’t really discuss it with you. But whoever killed her probably came to get her body. It’s not like it hasn’t been in the papers lately.”

He refrained from pointing out yet another inconsistency with her story. Why let her know where her plot was full of holes when it would only give her time to fill them in. The news had only reported that a body was found. There was no mention of whose body, or how old the case had been. Everything was hush, hush, and thanks to the current political upheaval, the story hadn’t made the front page. It was buried so deep that only a person who read the paper from front to back would have seen it. The article was so short that nobody could have distinguished anything from it. He saw it himself, and the only thing it mentioned was that a body had been found in a quiet Boston neighborhood and that police were investigating. It hadn’t even mentioned the neighborhood, or the precinct that was investigating. There was nothing of substance. In fact, he wondered why the reporter had even bothered to write the two lines, and why the paper had felt obligated to print it.

“So you think a killer, from twenty years ago, decided to risk being caught to come get a body—from your precinct?”

She nodded. “That makes sense,” she seemed to be asking him, testing to see if her story carried any weight.

“So where’s the body? You must have some idea.”

She shrugged. “We heard mention that she may have been working with the O’Shea family. It’s possible you know, they are Irish Mob and they would have been into that stuff back then.”

Thomas nearly laughed. The O’Shea family were Irish, but they sure as hell weren’t into drugs. They made their money on illegal imports and exports of things of greater value to rich collectors of antiquities. Drugs were never something the O’Shea’s dealt in. He knew this, half the Boston PD knew this, the FBI knew this, Customs and Boarder Patrol knew this; but she didn’t? What were they letting stay on the force these days?

“Okay, so it’s the O’Shea family. Why don’t you go down to the docks and ask for the body back?” He heard the terseness of his own tone. She clearly had too, because she tensed up again.

“You might not be a cop anymore, but even you should know we can’t just go in there without probable cause…”

“But you just said you had probable cause.” He bit his jaw to keep from laughing. Watching the liar squirm was giving him a little too much satisfaction.

“Well, we just can’t,” she snapped. “And that’s all I have to say to you.” She huffed. “And you can forget about dinner. I won’t be talking to you about this case again.”

“I had no plans of ever having dinner with you, McNamara.” He said honestly, without a hint of subtlety. “I told you the last time we saw each other, you’re damaged goods, and I don’t do damaged goods. A man would have to be out of his mind to willingly give you a chance to destroy his life.” He turned, before she could try to think of another lie to tell him and he walked away.

Now he was intrigued, more than he was before. Something was going on inside that building, something sinister, something he planned to figure out. He wanted Neenah Davis’ body back, and he wanted answers to his questions. He also wanted to know just how far up the command the rotten apples were, because his gut was telling him, the cops were involved in things now, and maybe even back twenty years ago. What he planned to do now, was find the detective who had started working the case, the one who was pulled off the case and later dismissed on trumped up charges of evidence tampering. He knew the guy lived in the western part of the state now, and he planned to drive out to see him and get some answers—at least he hoped he would get answers.

His first course of action would be to check out some things. He needed to tell Thena about the direction the police were going. It would be wrong to let her hear it on the news, or read it in the paper. After he had a chance to talk to her he wanted to go down to the docks, do a little legwork of his own on the O’Shea’s. Of course nobody, not even a military vet, would just walk up to the O’Shea family and demand answers. He would have to do some covert work. After he had a chance to talk to Thena he would scope the area out under the cover of night. He could look around and see what he turned up. He thought about driving by there tonight just to get a feel for the level of security he was sure was there…maybe a quick pass wouldn’t hurt, he thought. He didn’t for one minute believe the O’Shea’s had taken Neenah Davis’ body, but there was a possibility that somebody had paid them, either in cash or in favors, to dispose of it.

He cursed under his breath. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with Thena. How could he tell her what the cops thought her mother had been doing? How could he taint the memory of that ten year old girl? Because that’s exactly what Thena’s memories of her mother were; she had seen her through the eyes of a ten year old, and that view wouldn’t allow her parents to be anything less than perfect. He didn’t believe what McNamara had tried to spin his way, but that didn’t mean once the case was closed, that the report wouldn’t slap a bad reputation on a woman who wasn’t around to defend herself.

He wouldn’t tell Thena tonight. She deserved to get at least one good night’s sleep. If he told her tonight she would do nothing but worry and he didn’t want that. He dialed her number and waited for her sweet voice on the other end.

“Thena, it’s Thomas. I’m going to pick you up in the morning. I have some new developments on your mother’s case I’d like to discuss with you.”

“You don’t have to pick me up; the Moped’s tire is all fixed and I can come to you.”

“I really don’t want you riding that thing right now. It’s dangerous.”

“No more so than a car.”

“If somebody wants you dead and they run you off the road on that thing you have nothing to shield your body from the impact. Let me come pick you up so we can talk.”

“Um…okay. If you think it’s best. But why don’t we just talk here. I’ll have breakfast ready when you get here.”

“Thena—”

“I have to eat, Thomas. If you don’t want any food that’s fine, but I’m having breakfast. Don’t get your shorts in a wad; I’m not trying to make a pass at you.”

He grunted. Is that what she thought he was thinking? Maybe it was, on some level, but at the same time it wasn’t. He just wanted to have the conversation they needed to have in his office.

“Breakfast,” he agreed. “I could eat,” and he could—provided she knew how to cook. “I’ll see you at eight.”

“Seven,” she corrected him. “I have to be in the office to go over some contracts, and the earlier I start the more likely it will be that I’ll get through the paperwork before somebody calls me for something. Plus, I’m working on a new design. I’m thinking of adding landscape design options to my portfolio.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Anyway, I’m up at three a.m. everyday, so you can come by anytime you’d like…uh, not at three…five would be good. I have to workout and shower first.”

Shower; did she have to say shower? The image that one word provoked had him getting harder by the second. He could
not
want this woman. She deserved more than what he had to give her. He knew it. Going out with her, sleeping with her, it would be selfish on his part—delicious, but selfish. He reminded himself to keep things professional, no matter how hard it was.

“I’ll be there ten to the hour.”

“Which hour?” He heard the shuffle of papers.

“Seven, Thena. You said seven.”

“Yeah, but then I said anytime, including five. How am I supposed to keep up with your thought process?”

He mumbled under his breath again. She was the one whose brain seemed to run a mile a minute, faster than a jack rabbit on speed. “Seven,” he stated again. “I’ll be there ten minutes before seven.”

“Okay,” she said absently. What was she doing? All he could hear were papers shuffling.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m looking over blueprints with a friend.”

He didn’t need to ask if the friend was male or female because not long after her confession he heard the friend reminding her to get back to focusing on the blueprint—that friend was definitely male…either that or a woman with a very masculine voice.

“Kyle, just give me a second. This is the detective I told you about.”

“Oh,” he heard in the background.

“Listen, I have to go, Thomas. So we’ll talk in the morning. Do you like blueberry?”

“Blueberry,” he said absently. Right now he was having a moment of jealousy filled emotions. Was this Kyle guy really just a friend? And why should he care? He had already told himself he and Thena couldn’t be more than client and investigator. He had no right to be jealous, but he was.

“Yeah, muffins. I bake them in the mornings, and tomorrow is a blueberry day.”

“You bake?”

“Yeah. When my mom vanished I had to really learn how to cook more than boiling eggs. My dad would burn water, if that were at all possible, and he would order out instead of cooking. There’s only so much Pizza Hut a girl can eat. Anyway, if you don’t like blueberry I can make something else.”

“Where do you find time to bake in the morning?”

She laughed. “They’re just muffins. It’s not like they take forever to make.” He heard Kyle clearing his throat in the background. “Thomas, I have to go…really. Blueberry or not?”

“It’s fine,” he said with limited enthusiasm. It wasn’t that he had an issue with blueberries, or muffins for that matter, but he did have an issue with this Kyle guy. He wondered just how long he planned to stay tonight. Not that it was any of his business.

She disconnected the call with him leaving him with questions that weren’t soon to be answered, questions that were already threatening to keep him up all night. Maybe he could find out who this Kyle guy was. Maybe he could do some private investigation work on him. The least he could do was make sure Thena was dating a good guy—if she were dating him. She hadn’t said as much. When she asked him to dinner he didn’t mistake the invite for anything other than what it was, a request for a date, so he assumed she was single. Maybe he was wrong…but he didn’t think so. She didn’t strike him as the type of woman to step out on her boyfriend—unless they weren’t exclusive. That thought alone had him shaking his head in disbelief. What kind of man could date a woman like Thena and not demand exclusivity?

He shook the thoughts from his mind. Right now he needed to focus on his case, not the social life of the woman who hired him. Still, a little background on this Kyle guy couldn’t hurt anything.

Chapter Four

“L
ies!” Thena yelled. “They’re all lies. My mother would never, in a million years, have done anything like that.”

“Thena, calm down.”