Dead Weight (Cold Case Psychic Book 4) Page 3

  “Hey, wait for me.” Ronan hurried to catch up with him. He linked their hands together. “I get that they’re in love with the idea of love, but I hope they play it cool once we get inside.”

  Ten turned to look up at Ronan. “Look, I don’t mean to be a stick in the mud. I’m in love with love too, Ronan. It’s just that...” Ten trailed off, frowning.

  “What is it, babe? You’ve been a little off all night. I just figured it was the idea of going to a wake and seeing a dead body.” Before he and Tennyson had met, Ten had never seen a dead body before. He’d been channeling Spirit since he was a teenager, but his experience with actual dead bodies had been non-existent. He’d had more experience now but seeing the newly dead put a lot of people on edge.

  Ten rubbed his arms as if he was cold for the second time in the last few minutes. “To be honest, I thought that was it too, but now that I’ve dealt with the spirits here, I know there’s something else that’s wrong. Or off, I guess.”

  “What is it?” Ronan felt a tickle of dread snake around his spine.

  “I’m not sure. Something is just off. I can’t be any more specific than that. I don’t even know if what’s off has something to do with the two of us, or our friends, or what. I’ll circle around with Carson and Cole later and see if they feel it too. Right now they’re too busy acting like Kevin’s wingmen.” He shook his head.

  Ronan nodded, noticing the rest of the group was catching up to them. He was going to keep a close eye on Tennyson tonight. He would let Carson and Cole worry about what was going on with Kevin and Jace. Not that he wasn’t going to want a full report later on, complete with pictures.

  6

  Tennyson

  Before the Justin Wilson case earlier in the summer, Tennyson had never been inside a funeral home. After attending the wakes of five of the serial killer’s fourteen victims, going to wakes had become old hat for him.

  Thanks to Truman and other local leaders in the LGBTQ community in Salem, Tennyson had helped to launch the We Are Family charity. Among other things, the charity helped to pay funeral costs for the killer’s victims whose families could not, or would not, foot the bill to lay victims to rest.

  At least with the kind of money Matthew Lincoln had, laying him to rest wasn’t going to be a problem. Finding people to attend his services might be another matter entirely.

  There had been a huge outpouring of support for the victims of the serial killer. Matthew Lincoln could not boast the same thing. In life, he’d been a huge presence in the Boston real estate scene. He’d bought and sold skyscrapers that defined the Boston skyline.

  When Tennyson stepped through the door, there was a funeral home attendant to greet him and offer him a prayer card for the deceased, which he took. The card felt ice cold in his hand. The well-dressed man directed him to the guest book which aside from Jace’s signature, was blank. The large chamber where the body was laid out was completely empty, with the exception of Jace and the lily-draped coffin.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Ronan whispered. “Where is everyone?”

  “Do you really need me to answer that question out loud?” Ten had a feeling this is what Ebenezer Scrooge’s funeral would have looked like if the visit from the three ghosts hadn’t changed him so profoundly.

  “Talk about a worst fear come to life,” Truman said.

  “What, being dead?” Carson deadpanned.

  “No, no one coming to my funeral.” Truman shot Carson a smirk. “Though I suppose dying is another worst fear come to life.”

  “Wow, this is pretty sad,” Cassie said.

  “Being at a wake?” Cole asked.

  “No, the fact that we’re the only people here. You live a full life and you’d think that people would come to pay their respects when you’re dead.”

  “Unlike all of us who are here to witness the courtship dance between Fitzgibbon and Jace Lincoln.” Ronan sighed. “Let’s go. This is going to be hard enough.”

  Tennyson took a deep breath as he and Ronan approached Jace Lincoln and the black casket. When Jace saw them, his face broke into a relieved smile.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Jace practically ran up to Tennyson and gave him a big hug. “I thought I was gonna be stuck here alone all night with Dad and let’s face it, he wasn’t the life of the party when he was alive.” Jace started to laugh. “Detective O’Mara! So good to see you too! I take it I’m not under investigation in the old man’s death, right?” He hugged Ronan next, practically lifting him off the floor.

  Jace was dressed in a typical black suit. What wasn’t so typical was the hot pink tie he was wearing. Ten was happy to see a little bit of his rainbow flag flying free at last. Jace was a good-looking guy with his dark hair and blue eyes.

  “It’s nice to see someone putting the ‘fun’ back in funeral!” Carson said, much too loudly for a funeral home.

  Jace’s head snapped up at Carson’s words. He pulled away from Ronan and stepped over to Carson.

  “Get ready to step in between them, just in case Jace loses his shit,” Tennyson cautioned.

  “Jace Lincoln. I like you.” He held out his hand to shake with Carson.

  He took the offered hand. “Carson Craig. Tennyson works with my brother and I at our psychic shop up in Salem. If you’re ever interested in a reading, it’s on the house.”

  “Oh, that’s right, Carson. I remember reading about you when you were shot last year. Hell of a thing, you taking a bullet for the man you love.” Jace shook his head as if he couldn’t imagine such a thing. “And this must be Truman, right? After he nearly died saving your life, can you ever deny him anything?” Jace’s blue eyes were intent on Truman’s answer.

  Truman barked out a surprised laugh. “Not usually.”

  Jace nodded as if he were seriously processing Truman’s answer. “And you are?”

  “Cole Craig. I’m Carson’s younger brother, and this is my wife, Cassie.” Cole held out his hand to shake.

  Tennyson watched in amazement as Jace made small talk with Cole and Cassie. It was like this was a dinner party and Jace’s dead father wasn’t lying twenty feet away.

  “Truman was right. This is the fricken Twilight Zone.” Ronan shook his head.

  “Well, hold on to your hat, Jace is about to meet the cap again.” Tennyson was expecting sparks to fly when Jace and Kevin were reintroduced.

  “I thought the receiving line was supposed to walk past Jace, instead, he’s walking through the entire line.” Ronan peered forward as if to get a better view.

  “This is the weirdest wake I’ve ever been to. Not that I’ve ever been to a lot of them, but honestly, this one is just plain bizarre.” Ten still had that not-quite-right feeling in his gut and that was adding to his feeling uneasy in this situation.

  “Ah, Captain Fitzgibbon. It’s nice to see you again.” Jace offered Kevin a shy smile.

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your father’s passing,” Kevin said. He reached out for Jace’s hand.

  From where he was standing, Tennyson saw both men jolt when their hands connected. Christ, he could practically feel the sparks flying between the two men from where he was standing. He was half-expecting Captain Fitzgibbon to toss the younger man over his shoulder and run off with him.

  “And who is this handsome young man?” Jace asked with a dazzling smile.

  “This is my son, Greeley,” Kevin introduced.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Greeley.” Jace shook his hand.

  “I’m so sorry that you lost your father, Mr. Lincoln.” Greeley’s sympathy was sincere. “I almost lost my Dad a few months back and it was the worst thing ever.”

  “Such nice manners. Please call me Jace, and thank you. I’m sure he’s enjoying his eternal reward as we speak.” Jace raised an eyebrow at Kevin before dropping him a wink. “I’m sure we’re both pleased as punch that your father is still here with us, keeping Boston safe.”

  The captain blushed.

  “Are you kidding me?” Rona
n laughed. “He’s acting like this is a first date.”

  “It is. When do you think the last time was that Kevin went out with someone?” Tennyson was trying hard to keep the smile off his face. Someone needed to keep up the pretext that this was a somber occasion.

  “I have no idea. It can’t be easy trying to get his groove back with Greeley standing there either.” Ronan shook his head and waved to the boy. Greeley looked disappointed, but walked over to Tennyson and Ronan.

  “Oh my God. I’ve never seen Dad look so awkward before,” Greeley whispered.

  “He’s got zero game,” Carson said, joining the group.

  “We should have role-played or something,” Cole added.

  “I think he’s doing just fine.” Truman grinned before turning away from the couple. “Do you think maybe we should pay our respects to Mr. Lincoln?”

  Tennyson shivered. Listening to everyone banter back and forth about Kevin and Jace, it had been easy to forget why they were all standing here. When he turned around, the shiny black coffin, complete with a spray of white calla lilies and Jace’s dead father really brought home the true reason they were all here. “Yeah.” Ten nodded.

  Ronan set his hand in the small of Tennyson’s back and led them both to coffin. Ronan made the sign of the cross and whispered a quick Hail Mary. Tennyson mimicked what Ronan had done, not knowing if Matthew Lincoln had been a religious man in life. From what little he knew about the man, his god had been the almighty dollar and he sure as hell couldn’t take all of that money with him. He might not have left it to his son, but unless he made plans to be buried with his wealth like the Ancient Egyptians, he couldn’t take his money with him to the other side.

  “Oh, I can’t, smartass?” Matthew Lincoln asked.

  Tennyson jumped and let out a shriek.

  “We got company?” Ronan asked in a near-whisper, setting his hand on Tennyson’s hip.

  “Yup.” Ten nodded. It wasn’t very often a spirit was confrontational with him. This was either going to be fun or a total disaster. “Hello, Mr. Lincoln.”

  “Oh, so now it’s Mr. Lincoln, is it? When you know I can hear you? Your thoughts weren’t so charitable a few minutes ago when you thought no one was listening.” The ghost crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

  If Matthew Lincoln wanted to throw down at his own wake, Tennyson had no problem with that. “You forced your son to choose between helping the homeless and being true to himself. Where’s the charity in that? Where was his safe place to fall?”

  “Give me a break, pal. You think I didn’t know about his fairy boys on the side? He was true to himself plenty.” The spirit rolled his eyes.

  “Fairy boys?” Carson’s voice was filled with anger. He took a couple of steps forward, with Truman hot on his heels.

  “What, you travel with a roving pack of psychic fags?” Matthew Lincoln laughed at his own cleverness.

  Cole Craig charged toward Tennyson and the ghost of Mr. Lincoln. “Did you just call my brother the “F” word, asshole?” Cole’s face was red, his hands balled into fists.

  “What’s going on?” Jace asked, pulling himself away from Fitzgibbon, looking embarrassed.

  “Look at him,” Matthew Lincoln sighed heavily. “Trying to pick someone up at my wake in that ridiculous pink tie. God save me.” He looked up at the ceiling, as if God were actually going to put in an appearance.

  “God can’t save you now.” Tennyson grinned. “I think you have an appointment with a different entity.” Ten pointed down at the floor.

  “Shit, is my father here?” Jace asked quietly.

  Ten nodded. “Yeah, he’s not really pleased with all of the gays in the room, or with your tie, apparently.” He couldn’t help laughing.

  Jace’s demeanor brightened. “Dad, this is Kevin Fitzgibbon. He’s the captain of the Boston Police Department’s Cold Case Unit. We’re blowing off your wake to go grab a cup of coffee and after that, I’m going to kiss this beautiful man until my lips go numb or the sun comes up, whichever comes first. Because guess what, you homophobic son-of-a-bitch? I read your will and the money is mine!” Jace laughed. It was a rich and full laugh, filled with so much joy. “I’m getting a late start, but I’m going to enjoy every second of freedom now that you’re gone.” Jace smiled at everyone gathered around him. “Oh, and by the way, I’m starting a new charity for at risk LGBTQ youth. The Matthew Lincoln Foundation. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? From this day forward, your name is going to stand for love and tolerance.” Jace swiped at the happy tears in his eyes. He shook hands with Ten and Ronan, before doing the same with the others. “You ready to grab that coffee, Fitz?” Jace grinned.

  “Ronan? Will you and Ten take Greeley home with you? I’ll pick him up later.” Fitzgibbon was smiling and blushing at the same time.

  “No, you won’t.” Ronan laughed. “We’ll keep Greeley for the night. You two kids have a good time.”

  Jace held his hand out to Kevin who linked their fingers together. “Thank you all for coming to what there was of my father’s wake. It means a lot that you’d all be here for me like this. Bye!” Jace held his free hand up to wave as he yanked Kevin toward the door.

  “Holy shit!” Cole laughed. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”

  “What, someone leaving a wake early?” Cassie asked.

  “That, and the way Matthew Lincoln is screaming.” Cole shook his head, grimacing as if he were in pain.

  Tennyson had never heard a spirit screech like this before either. The sound was filled with anguish, hate, and most of all, fear. He couldn’t help wondering if that was the sound people made when the chariot of the damned came for your soul.

  7

  Ronan

  Ronan was alone in the house when he woke up the next morning. Tennyson had left a note on the kitchen counter letting him know that he’d taken Greeley with him to go food shopping. He promised a huge breakfast with eggs, pancakes, and bacon when they got back.

  His stomach rumbled at the thought of a big breakfast. In the time that he and Tennyson had been together, they’d gotten used to grabbing breakfast on the fly, coffee and muffins at the bakery or breakfast sandwiches or donuts through a fast-food window. This was nice, starting traditions in their own home. Having Greeley with them for the night was just gravy.

  Ronan walked through the living room, loving how Tennyson had seamlessly blended his furniture with what they’d kept from Ronan’s apartment. They were still working on furnishings. At the moment, the only decoration in the living room was over the fireplace mantle.

  It was a giant framed picture of Ronan proposing to Tennyson on the beach at Sand Dollar Shoal. In-house wedding coordinator and photographer, Drake DeMelo had snapped the picture. Truman and Carson had the image blown up and framed as a housewarming gift for them.

  Since the house was still quiet, Ronan figured now would be the perfect time to grab The Boston Globe from the front steps and read the sports section before Ten and Greeley got back with breakfast. When Ronan opened the locked front door, the paper was sitting on the top step. He was surprised to see a large manila envelope beneath the paper with his name written on it in block printing.

  “What the hell is this?” Ronan looked down the block at the other row houses, hoping to see if his neighbors had a similar envelope. Being new to the neighborhood, he had no idea if this was how businesses solicited for new customers. In the last few days, their mailbox had been loaded with delivery menus from local restaurants. Maybe this envelope contained more of the same?

  Scooping up the envelope with the paper, Ronan ducked back into the house, locking the door behind him. He walked back into the kitchen and set the paper down on the table before tearing open the flap on the envelope. He gasped when he dumped the contents onto the table.

  There were candid pictures of Ronan and Tennyson moving into the house. They were carrying the mattress of the spare room bed in one of the photos. In a
nother, they were passing boxes out of the truck to Carson and Truman. In the final picture, they were kissing on the front steps. Ronan shivered. Someone was obviously watching them. He flipped the pictures over but there were no printer markings, nothing to identify the paper brand, and nothing written on the back.

  Ronan was wishing now that he’d been more careful with the envelope. His prints would now be on the pictures as well as on the envelope. He could have destroyed foreign fingerprint or DNA evidence when he ripped the flap open. Sighing, Ronan sat down at the table. He remembered Tennyson mentioning last night at the wake that he felt like something was wrong. Was this what he’d been getting a message about?

  Who the hell was watching him? A better question was why?

  In the time that he’d been working with the Cold Case Unit, he’d solved two major cases. Michael Frye’s killer was behind bars for life, serving out his sentence at MCI Walpole, which was a two-hour drive from Salem.

  The serial killer in the Justin Wilson case, Rod Jacobson, had been killed in the climax of that investigation, so he sure as hell wasn’t the one taking pictures of him and Tennyson.

  The other cases he and Tennyson had solved in the last eight months hadn’t come with the drama or the high-profile media coverage of the Frye or Wilson cases. It was possible this had to do with a case Ronan investigated while he was with Homicide, but he’d been out of that unit for over a year now.

  Hearing Tennyson’s key in the front door, Ronan quickly scooped the pictures back into the envelope. He hid the package in the junk drawer, knowing Ten wouldn’t need anything in there to make breakfast. He would need to show the pictures to his fiancé, but not until later.

  Ronan wanted them to share their first home-cooked breakfast as new homeowners happily together. They could deal with whatever malevolent intent the package came with later.

  8

  Tennyson

  Tennyson knew the minute he walked through the front door that there was something wrong. It was the same feeling he’d had last night at the wake for Matthew Lincoln, only now, it was much stronger.