Deal Breaker
Page 30
Roy shook his head. “His younger brother. Frank. He’s out of control. I don’t know what the psycho will do next.”
Frank Ache. It made sense. Herman Ache was one of New York’s leading mobsters, responsible for countless misery. But next to his younger brother Frank, Herman was an Alan Alda clone. Aaron would enjoy working for someone like Frank.
This was not good news. Myron toyed with the idea of dropping the snicker altogether. “Anything else you can tell me?”
“No. I just don’t want anyone hurt.”
“You’re some guy, Roy. So selfless.”
O’Connor stood. “I got nothing more to say.”
“I thought we were going to have lunch.”
“Have it by yourself,” O’Connor said. “It’s on my tab.”
“Won’t be the same without your company.”
“Yet somehow you’ll muddle through.”
Myron picked up the menu. “I’ll try.”
Chapter 17
Who else to call?
The answer, Jessica realized, was obvious.
Nancy Serat. Kathy’s roommate and closest friend.
Jessica sat at her father’s desk. The lights were turned off, the shades were pulled down, but the sunlight was still strong enough to sneak through and cast shadows.
Adam Culver had done everything he could to make his home office radically different from the cement, institutional, macabre feel of the county morgue. The results were mixed. The converted bedroom had bright yellow walls, plenty of windows, silk flowers, white Formica desk. Teddy bears encircled the room. William Shakesbear. Rhett Beartler with Scarlett O’Beara. Bear Ruth. Bearlock Holmes. Humphrey Beargart with Lauren Bearcall. The whole atmosphere was cheerful, albeit a forced cheerful, like a clown you laugh at but find a little scary.
She took her phone book from her purse. Nancy had sent the family a card a few weeks ago. She had won some fellowship and was staying on campus to work in admissions. Jessica looked up her number and dialed.
On the third ring the answering machine picked up. Jessica left a message and hung up. She was about to start going through the drawers when a voice stopped her.
“Jessica.”
She looked up. Her mother stood in the doorway. Her eyes were sunken, her face a skeletal death mask. Her body swayed as though she were about to topple over.
“What are you doing in here?” Carol asked.
“Just looking around,” she said.
Carol nodded, her head bobbing on the string that was her neck. “Find anything?”
“Not yet.”
Carol sat down. She stared straight ahead, her eyes unfocused. “She was always such a happy child,” she said slowly. Her fingers fiddled with prayer beads, her gaze still far off. “Kathy never stopped smiling. She had such a wonderful, happy smile. It lit up any room she entered. You and Edward, well, you were both more brooding. But Kathy—she had a smile for everyone and everything. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” Jessica said. “I remember.”
“Your father used to joke that she had the personality of a born-again cheerleader,” Carol added, chuckling at the memory. “Nothing ever brought her down.” She stopped, the chuckle fading away. “Except, I guess, me.”
“Kathy loved you, Mom.”
She sighed deeply, her chest heaving as though even a sigh took great effort. “I was a strict mother with you girls. Too strict, I guess. I was old-fashioned.”
Jessica did not reply.
“I just didn’t want you or your sister to …” She lowered her head.
“To what?”
She shook her head. Her fingers moved across the beads at a more fervid pace. For a long time neither of them spoke. Then Carol said, “You were right before, Jessica. Kathy changed.”
“When?”
“Her senior year.”
“What happened?”
Tears sprang to Carol’s eyes. Her mouth tried to form words, her hands moving in gestures of helplessness. “The smile,” she replied with something like a shrug. “One day it was gone.”
“Why?”
Her mother wiped her eyes. Her lower lip quivered. Jessica’s heart reached out to her, but for some reason the rest of her couldn’t. She sat and watched her suffering, strangely uninvolved, as if she were watching a late-night tearjerker on cable.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Jessica said. “I just want to find Kathy.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I think,” Jessica continued, “that whatever changed Kathy is connected to her disappearance.”
Her mother’s shoulders sagged. “Merciful God.”
“I know it hurts,” Jessica said. “But if we can find Kathy, if we can find who killed Dad—”
Carol’s head shot up. “Your father was killed in a robbery.”
“I don’t think so. I think it’s all connected. Kathy’s disappearance, Dad’s murder, everything.”
“But—how?”
“I don’t know yet. Myron is helping me find out.”
The doorbell rang.
“That’ll be Uncle Paul,” her mother said, heading for the door.
“Mom?”
Carol stopped but did not turn around.
“What’s going on? What are you afraid to tell me?”
The doorbell rang again.
“I better get that,” Carol said. She hurried down the stairs.
“So,” Win began, “Frank Ache wants to kill you.”
Myron nodded. “Seems so.”
“A shame.”
“If he’d only get to know me. The real me.”
They sat in the front row at Titans Stadium. Out of the goodness of his heart, Otto had agreed to let Christian practice. That, and the fact that veteran quarterback Neil Decker was beyond horrendous.
The morning session had been a lot of wind sprints and walking through plays. The afternoon session, however, was a bit of a surprise. The players were in full gear, almost unheard of this early on in the year.
“Frank Ache is not a kind fellow,” Win said.
“He likes torturing animals.”
“Excuse me?”
“A friend of mine knew him growing up,” Myron explained. “Frank Ache’s favorite hobby was to chase down cats and dogs and bash in their heads with a baseball bat.”
“I bet that impressed the girls,” Win said.
Myron nodded.
“I assume, then, that you will be in need of my unique services.”
Frank Ache. It made sense. Herman Ache was one of New York’s leading mobsters, responsible for countless misery. But next to his younger brother Frank, Herman was an Alan Alda clone. Aaron would enjoy working for someone like Frank.
This was not good news. Myron toyed with the idea of dropping the snicker altogether. “Anything else you can tell me?”
“No. I just don’t want anyone hurt.”
“You’re some guy, Roy. So selfless.”
O’Connor stood. “I got nothing more to say.”
“I thought we were going to have lunch.”
“Have it by yourself,” O’Connor said. “It’s on my tab.”
“Won’t be the same without your company.”
“Yet somehow you’ll muddle through.”
Myron picked up the menu. “I’ll try.”
Chapter 17
Who else to call?
The answer, Jessica realized, was obvious.
Nancy Serat. Kathy’s roommate and closest friend.
Jessica sat at her father’s desk. The lights were turned off, the shades were pulled down, but the sunlight was still strong enough to sneak through and cast shadows.
Adam Culver had done everything he could to make his home office radically different from the cement, institutional, macabre feel of the county morgue. The results were mixed. The converted bedroom had bright yellow walls, plenty of windows, silk flowers, white Formica desk. Teddy bears encircled the room. William Shakesbear. Rhett Beartler with Scarlett O’Beara. Bear Ruth. Bearlock Holmes. Humphrey Beargart with Lauren Bearcall. The whole atmosphere was cheerful, albeit a forced cheerful, like a clown you laugh at but find a little scary.
She took her phone book from her purse. Nancy had sent the family a card a few weeks ago. She had won some fellowship and was staying on campus to work in admissions. Jessica looked up her number and dialed.
On the third ring the answering machine picked up. Jessica left a message and hung up. She was about to start going through the drawers when a voice stopped her.
“Jessica.”
She looked up. Her mother stood in the doorway. Her eyes were sunken, her face a skeletal death mask. Her body swayed as though she were about to topple over.
“What are you doing in here?” Carol asked.
“Just looking around,” she said.
Carol nodded, her head bobbing on the string that was her neck. “Find anything?”
“Not yet.”
Carol sat down. She stared straight ahead, her eyes unfocused. “She was always such a happy child,” she said slowly. Her fingers fiddled with prayer beads, her gaze still far off. “Kathy never stopped smiling. She had such a wonderful, happy smile. It lit up any room she entered. You and Edward, well, you were both more brooding. But Kathy—she had a smile for everyone and everything. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” Jessica said. “I remember.”
“Your father used to joke that she had the personality of a born-again cheerleader,” Carol added, chuckling at the memory. “Nothing ever brought her down.” She stopped, the chuckle fading away. “Except, I guess, me.”
“Kathy loved you, Mom.”
She sighed deeply, her chest heaving as though even a sigh took great effort. “I was a strict mother with you girls. Too strict, I guess. I was old-fashioned.”
Jessica did not reply.
“I just didn’t want you or your sister to …” She lowered her head.
“To what?”
She shook her head. Her fingers moved across the beads at a more fervid pace. For a long time neither of them spoke. Then Carol said, “You were right before, Jessica. Kathy changed.”
“When?”
“Her senior year.”
“What happened?”
Tears sprang to Carol’s eyes. Her mouth tried to form words, her hands moving in gestures of helplessness. “The smile,” she replied with something like a shrug. “One day it was gone.”
“Why?”
Her mother wiped her eyes. Her lower lip quivered. Jessica’s heart reached out to her, but for some reason the rest of her couldn’t. She sat and watched her suffering, strangely uninvolved, as if she were watching a late-night tearjerker on cable.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Jessica said. “I just want to find Kathy.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I think,” Jessica continued, “that whatever changed Kathy is connected to her disappearance.”
Her mother’s shoulders sagged. “Merciful God.”
“I know it hurts,” Jessica said. “But if we can find Kathy, if we can find who killed Dad—”
Carol’s head shot up. “Your father was killed in a robbery.”
“I don’t think so. I think it’s all connected. Kathy’s disappearance, Dad’s murder, everything.”
“But—how?”
“I don’t know yet. Myron is helping me find out.”
The doorbell rang.
“That’ll be Uncle Paul,” her mother said, heading for the door.
“Mom?”
Carol stopped but did not turn around.
“What’s going on? What are you afraid to tell me?”
The doorbell rang again.
“I better get that,” Carol said. She hurried down the stairs.
“So,” Win began, “Frank Ache wants to kill you.”
Myron nodded. “Seems so.”
“A shame.”
“If he’d only get to know me. The real me.”
They sat in the front row at Titans Stadium. Out of the goodness of his heart, Otto had agreed to let Christian practice. That, and the fact that veteran quarterback Neil Decker was beyond horrendous.
The morning session had been a lot of wind sprints and walking through plays. The afternoon session, however, was a bit of a surprise. The players were in full gear, almost unheard of this early on in the year.
“Frank Ache is not a kind fellow,” Win said.
“He likes torturing animals.”
“Excuse me?”
“A friend of mine knew him growing up,” Myron explained. “Frank Ache’s favorite hobby was to chase down cats and dogs and bash in their heads with a baseball bat.”
“I bet that impressed the girls,” Win said.
Myron nodded.
“I assume, then, that you will be in need of my unique services.”
