Dead Weight (Cold Case Psychic Book 4) Page 2

  “I’m counting on my mother walking me down the aisle, babe!” Ronan waggled his eyebrows. He yanked Tennyson into his arms. “Now, before I go and return the favor, is that a yes to getting married on November 1st?”

  Ten nodded. He knew if he tried to say the word yes, he’d burst into tears and that was an ugly look on a man about to get his dick sucked.

  3

  Ronan

  After Ronan had returned the favor and showered with Tennyson until the water ran cold, he ended up sitting at Tennyson’s dining room table with a blank grocery list in front of him.

  He supposed the table and six matching chairs were technically theirs now. Everything in the house belonged to both of them. Even Ronan’s old collection of 45’s, if Tennyson was ever in the mood to spin them on the ancient turntable Ronan’s mother, Erin, had given him for his thirteenth birthday.

  He’d been sitting at the table for the last twenty minutes and hadn’t come up with a single item to add to the list. When he lived alone, he practically survived on take-out. Pizza, subs, and Thai food made up most of his diet. When he did run to the grocery store, it was for staples, like bottled water and ketchup.

  It had never been like that when he’d stayed over at Tennyson’s apartment. His fridge had always been full. There was always a fresh loaf of bread and some kind of luncheon meats. Cans of soup and tuna fish were in the cabinet and Ten even had fresh fruit and frozen vegetables. Hell, he even had a real grocery list pad. It had seashells on it and lines for the items they needed to buy. If Ronan ever needed a list, he used an app on his phone.

  “Why do you look confused?” Ten asked as he walked into the kitchen.

  “I’m working on our grocery list.” Ronan sighed.

  “Oh, great! Let me see it.” Ten took the pad.

  “There’s not a lot to see,” Ronan mumbled.

  “You’re telling me.” Ten laughed. He took the seat next to Ronan. “Why are you having such a hard time writing a grocery list?”

  Ronan shrugged. “Planning out meals for the week seems like such a big step.”

  Ten took Ronan’s right hand with his left. His diamond-studded, platinum engagement band sparkled in the morning light. “Ronan, you proposed marriage, we bought a house, and we set a wedding date. Those are the big steps, sweetheart. Choosing ham and cheese over turkey for sandwiches is the easy part. What’s really bothering you?”

  A strangled giggle escaped Ronan’s throat. He stood up, and, in a style, usually reserved for Tennyson, swung his arms out. “Look at all the boxes. The house is loaded with all of these boxes. Thank Christ we unpacked our bed and the bathroom last night or we would have been shit out of luck when it came to brushing our teeth or showering. We have to go back to work tomorrow and I’m not sure where my suits are. There’s no food in the house and even if there was food, I have no fucking idea where a pot is to cook it.”

  Ten got up from the table and rushed to Ronan. “Take a deep breath. It’s going to be fine. I promise.” He cupped Ronan’s face in his hands.

  “Are you talking as my almost-husband or as my always-psychic?” Ronan’s nervous giggle was back.

  “Both. You know that mortgage company wouldn’t have given us the note on the house if we couldn’t pay it back. I know that’s your biggest worry. I know you’re serious about marrying me.”

  Ronan snorted and rested his forehead against Ten’s. “Oh yeah, Nostradamus? How do you know that?”

  “Because you’re the most wonderful man in the world.” Ten batted his eyelashes.

  “Now I know you’re full of shit.” Ronan had more warts than a toad, but he was clean and smelled nice.

  “I wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t the best man on earth. My mama didn’t raise no fool.” Ten wrapped his arms around Ronan and hugged him tightly.

  Ronan rolled his eyes. Tennyson’s mother had barely raised him at all. Ten had been turned out of his boyhood home on the day he graduated from high school, after he’d confessed to his religious parents that he was both gay and psychic. The fact that Tennyson wasn’t a fool was entirely his own doing. “You definitely aren’t a fool, Ten. I just have no idea where to start.”

  “Did you label your boxes with what’s in them? I remember someone suggesting that a time or two.” Ten pointed a finger at himself.

  Ronan laughed out loud. “You suggested it a hundred and twenty-five times, Ten. Yes, I labeled the boxes and hung my pants in the garment bag that Truman lent me.”

  “I bet the garment bag is in your closet, Columbo.” Tennyson waggled his eyebrows.

  “Hey, who’s the detective here?” Ronan felt some of the tension draining out of his body. He knew he was a rigid son-of-bitch sometimes, with a dollop of anxiety thrown in on top like whip cream on a hot fudge sundae, but he usually only got this worked up when he was on a case, this never happened at home.

  “Why don’t we go out and get some breakfast? Then we can run by the supermarket and grab some simple stuff. Maybe a rotisserie chicken for dinner and some potato salad from the deli? Then we’ll come home and work on unpacking our clothes and the kitchen.”

  The rest of the tension in Ronan’s body ebbed out of him, like water through a sieve. A small smile curved Ronan’s lips. His blue eyes twinkled. “You make it all sound so simple.”

  Tennyson grinned up at him. “I’m going to spend the day with you. What could be simpler than that?” Tennyson pressed a kiss to Ronan’s lips before pulling away and grabbing the grocery list pad.

  “Hey, add hot fudge sundae stuff to the list. I’m gonna need a reward after this.”

  4

  Tennyson

  It was back to business as usual on Monday for Tennyson at West Side Magick. He and the Craig brothers were equal partners in the business left to Carson and Cole by their mother, Bertha. At the time of her death, nearly three years ago, neither of her sons had shown any of her psychic abilities, but her dying wish had been for them to keep the store open as her legacy.

  A year after Bertha’s death from breast cancer, both Carson and Cole started to develop psychic powers all at once. They’d known with their mother gone that they’d need someone to help them learn how to use and harness these powers, and that was where Tennyson had come in. Over time, they’d become more like brothers than friends. A few months ago, they’d brought Ten in as a full partner in the business.

  Back in January when Ronan walked into his life, Ten had started dividing his time between the shop and the Boston Police Department. Thankfully at the moment, all of Tennyson’s time belonged to the store.

  Ten enjoyed being able to work with Ronan and the closure it brought the families who’d been suffering for years not knowing what had happened to their family members. For his part though, the work was grueling. He was used to working with the spirits of the dead, but working with Ronan often brought him to gruesome crime scenes and the morgue.

  He was more than content to be here in his Salem, Massachusetts shop, chatting with the spirits of the dearly departed. Now that he and Ronan were shacked up, he didn’t have to worry about when the next time would be that they would see each other. Tennyson knew it would be tonight.

  “Good morning, neighbor!” Carson called when he walked into the store.

  “Hi, Carson.” Ten grinned at his best friend from across the store.

  “Sorry, I’m late. Baby Bertha decided to blow chunks all over me just as I was walking out the door.”

  Tennyson grimaced. “TMI, man.” He was about to expand the list of things Carson was not allowed to talk about at work when his phone rang. “Hold that thought.” He pressed the button. “Hey, babe. Miss me already?”

  “Always!” Ronan answered. “But I have some good, bad news or some bad, good news, depending how you choose to look at it.”

  “You have bad, good news? What the hell is that?” Tennyson wasn’t getting any kind of vibe like there was something wrong, so whatever news Ronan had to share with him couldn�
��t be too bad.

  “Matthew Lincoln died last night,” Ronan said somberly.

  Tennyson didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Matthew Lincoln was one of Boston’s richest real estate developers. He was also a homophobic asshole, especially when it came to his only son, Jace, whom he bribed into staying in the closet for his entire life. “Ding, dong the witch is dead.”

  Ronan snorted. “Yeah, that was about the best thing I could think to say too. But, you know what that means, right? Madam Aurora’s prophecy can come true now.”

  Tennyson shivered at the mere mention of his arch nemesis’ name. Well, his former arch nemesis, to be more precise. When he’d first moved to Salem, Massachusetts twelve years ago, he’d gone to Madam Aurora for a job. The seasoned psychic had turned him down, knowing that his talent was greater than hers.

  A few months back when Tennyson had temporarily lost the use of his gift, it had been Madam Aurora who had brought it back and had shown him how to turn it off and on, so to speak, so that he would have more control over when he worked and when he would have free time to spend with Ronan and their friends.

  While Madam Aurora had been helping Tennyson, she’d offered Captain Fitzgibbon a glimpse into his future. It turned out Jace Lincoln was Captain Fitzgibbon’s forever love. Papa Lincoln’s death, according to Madam Aurora, would be the spark that lit the kindling, so to speak. She had said that a tragedy that wasn’t a tragedy would bring them together.

  According to what Jace had told Ronan, Matthew Lincoln had signed a contract with his son, agreeing to fund the Tremont Street Mission, Jace’s homeless shelter, if he remained in the closet. Five million dollars a year was a powerful incentive for keeping his personal life on the shelf. Now that the old man had passed on to his greater reward or had taken the express elevator down to warmer climes, Jace was free to live his authentic life.

  “When is the wake? I’d like to go and pay my respects to Jace.” Tennyson had a feeling Captain Fitzgibbon was going to want to go too and would want them to be there for moral support.

  “Tomorrow night from 6pm-9pm,” Ronan said.

  “You tell the captain. I’ll let the guys here know. Not that they’ll want to come…” Ten trailed off. No one wanted to go to wakes or funerals. It was something grownups did out of respect for the dead. No one knew more about that than Tennyson and his partners at West Side Magick.

  “Okay, well, I’ll talk to you later, gator. What are you making me for supper?” Ronan laughed.

  “Whatever you’re picking up for take-out.” Ten laughed. They’d only picked up a rotisserie chicken and the fixings for ice cream sundaes yesterday.

  “So, it’s going to be like that, is it?” Ronan laughed.

  “All we have in the house is bottled water and a few slices of leftover pizza from Saturday. After all of the unpacking we did, we ate the entire chicken and the entire pound of potato salad too.” Tennyson had a feeling the only leftover pizza was from the mushroom pie. Ronan hated mushroom pizza.

  “Chinese?” Came Ronan’s cheery suggestion.

  “How about Thai?” Tennyson liked the Thai noodle dishes better than the deep-fried Chinese food.

  “Sold!” Ronan agreed on a laugh. “I can’t wait to see you at home later. Buying the house is the best thing we’ve ever done.”

  “Well, aside from you asking me to marry you! Love you. Bye.” Tennyson twirled the diamond-studded platinum band around his finger. He still couldn’t believe he and Ronan were engaged to be married and had actually set the wedding date. When he’d found his kitchen calendar in a box yesterday he’d put a big red heart around November 1st.

  “Love you too. Bye.”

  “Sigh!” Cole and Carson said together. They were leaning on the counter behind Tennyson fluttering their eyelashes at him.

  Ten rolled his eyes at them. “Oh, please. Like I haven’t listened to a million calls like that between you and your spouses.”

  “It’s nice to hear you so happy, Ten.” Cole slapped Ten’s shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, we’re coming.”

  “Coming where?” What the hell was Cole talking about?

  “To the wake tomorrow night,” Carson said.

  “The date you mean,” Cole laughed.

  “Guys, neither of you know Jace Lincoln, or his miserable father.” Tennyson shook his head. Had Cole just called the wake a date? “What date? Have you lost your mind, Cole?”

  “No of course not.” Cole grinned. “We all heard what Madam Aurora said about Kevin and the man with the “J” name who was about to have a tragedy, that wasn’t actually a tragedy, befall him.”

  “We both know Kevin. He’s a member of the family now and we’re coming to the wake,” Carson insisted.

  “Date!” Cole laughed.

  “Fine.” Tennyson sighed. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop his insane friends or fate. Hell, it might actually be fun.

  5

  Ronan

  There was so much tension in Ronan’s Mustang that he was starting to feel edgy himself. Tennyson was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window at what was going to be an amazing sunset. Ronan knew the psychic was dealing with the spirits who were hanging around the Brookline funeral home.

  Captain Fitzgibbon, who was sitting in the back seat of the car, was dealing with tension of a different sort all together. “Are you sure I should be here?” he asked nervously. “I mean Jace’s father just died. This is a time to mourn, not a time to knock boots or whatever it is the kids say today.”

  Greeley, who was sitting next to his father, laughed. “By being here tonight you’re showing how supportive you are as a man and how supportive we all are as a family.”

  “Please, what you really are is nosy. You want front row seats like those damn Kardashians.” Kevin sighed before checking his hair in Ronan’s rearview mirror.

  Ronan felt like he owed it to Jace to be here tonight. Several months ago, Jace had been a very viable suspect in a case he and Tennyson had been working. Ronan had gone at him pretty hard. In the end, it had turned out Jace was innocent, but in the heat of an investigation you never have a chance to apologize to those you wrongly accuse of being a serial killer. Not that his father’s wake was the right time to start, but Ronan hoped that by showing up he’d go a long way to mending fences, especially if Jace Lincoln was going to be his captain’s boo.

  “Are we going to sit in the car all night, or are we going in there?” Ten’s voice was testy.

  “I was waiting for you to finish up whatever it was you were doing out here.” Ronan reached out to set a hand on Tennyson’s leg.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like such a jerk. The spirits hanging out here aren’t the friendliest I’ve ever channeled before.” Ten sighed.

  “Is Matthew Lincoln here?” Fitzgibbon asked.

  “He’s not in the parking lot.” Ten rubbed his arms, as if he were warding off the cold.

  “If he’s here, do you think he’ll be ready to rumble?” Fitzgibbon sounded concerned.

  “I doubt it. Spirits usually have other agendas once they have crossed over.” Ten didn’t sound convinced.

  Ronan knew full well from eight months of personal experience that wasn’t always the case. The last thing Jace needed was any kind of disturbance today. Not that Ten would let that happen, but sometimes the agenda spirits had weren’t the warm and fuzzy kind you saw on episodes of Long Island Medium.

  “I’m ready,” Tennyson announced. He hopped out of the car and pulled the seat forward to let Greeley and the captain pile out behind him.

  “Here, Dad.” Greeley pulled his father close and started adjusting his navy-blue tie. “There. You look perfect now.”

  Fitzgibbon rolled his eyes. “Don’t forget this is a wake. Jace’s father is dead. This is a solemn occasion.” He bit his lower lip, looking like he was trying hard not to laugh.

  “If it’s such a solemn occasion, why are you grinning like the cat who ate the canary?” R
onan smirked.

  “I can’t help thinking about Madam Aurora and her prophecy. I’m excited I guess. It’s the worst possible time to feel like that, but, it is what it is.” Kevin shrugged.

  “It’s okay to be excited,” Ten said. “Just don’t act like you’re sixteen years old, okay?”

  Fitzgibbon cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure. I’m fine.”

  “Here comes trouble.” Ten pointed to a dark SUV pulling into the parking lot.

  “I can’t believe they came to support me like that.” The captain sounded stunned.

  “Bullshit,” Ronan half-coughed under his breath. He knew damn well that Carson, Truman, Cole, and Cassie were here for the show. On the surface, they were here to support Fitzgibbon and Greeley, but deep down, they wanted to see the meet-cute. Ronan would bet a year’s salary there were going to be some covert pictures being snapped of Kevin and Jace.

  “Cap, I just want to apologize ahead of time for anything that goes horribly wrong tonight. Please don’t bust me back down to patrol.” Ronan shook his head as their friends joined them in the parking lot.

  “What could possibly go wrong at a wake, Ronan?” Kevin looked truly puzzled.

  Ronan was about to give him several examples when Carson and Cole barreled into Fitzgibbon.

  “Cap! You look fantastic. Let’s get a couple of pics before we head in.” Carson wrapped an arm around the captain’s back.

  “Jesus Christ,” Tennyson muttered.

  “Am I the only one who feels like they’ve just stepped into the Twilight Zone?” Truman asked.

  “Just snap the pic,” Ronan said. “I’ve learned it’s easier to go with the flow rather than getting bulldozed by the Craig brothers.”

  Truman pulled out his phone and took some pictures of his husband and brother-in-law with a shell-shocked-looking Kevin Fitzgibbon.

  “Let’s just get this over with, okay?” Ten asked. He started heading toward the entrance to the funeral home without waiting for anyone else.