Do Not Go Gentle (27 page)

“I must admit, my driver probably did not enjoy the weather as much as I did. I love being out and about during a rainstorm. Even more so when there is thunder or high winds. I do so love to witness destruction.”

Jamie sighed silently. “Like I said before, your grand high poobah, why are you calling me at home? Don't give me that crap about expressing your feckin' condolences.” Jamie felt Eileen's arm on his, and he turned to grasp her hand as he sat softly onto one of the dining room chairs. One part of him could see the girls standing in the doorway to the family room, concerned expressions playing about their faces, but his focus was on Sedecla.

“My. Such language, Mister Griffin. Very well—since you insist on being direct, I will accommodate you. I am hoping that the death of your former partner, coupled with your dismissal from the police department, will convince you that it is in your best interests to leave well enough alone.”

“You think I'm going to back down after this?” Jamie asked, anger creeping into his voice despite his resolve. “You really think you can kill my partner and I'll do nothing? Wow. I knew you were delusional, honey, believing all that crap you spew out about being some kind of voodoo queen, but I didn't know you were stupid as well. Woman, you just escalated this into an all-out war.”

“War?” replied Sedecla tautly. “You fool. You have no concept of war, nor the slightest ability to comprehend my true nature. If you insist on pursuing this matter, I promise you—I will show you the true meaning of war. I have crushed many people over my long life. Many people more powerful than you, Séamus Edward Griffin. I know everything about you—where you and all of your family members live; your wife's lovely shop in Uphams Corner; where your daughters go to school, both here and in Indiana. I have resources far beyond my Disciples, resources that extend to many places in the community, even into your precious police department.”

Jamie pounced, feeling like he just goaded Sedecla into revealing something important. “You have someone planted in the department, hunh? Interesting. I'll have to look into that, but you'd do well to leave my family and friends out of this, Sedecla. You've already crossed that line, and now I'm willing to devote every ounce of my energy to seeing you brought to justice, for Cal and for all the others you've murdered.”

“
Ben zonah
,” Sedecla spat. Clearly, Jamie had scored points. “On your head, be it, Jamie Griffin. I have given you the last warning you shall receive. Cease your harassment or suffer the consequences.”

The phone line went dead in Jamie's hand.

He stood looking at the receiver for several seconds, then without comment, he returned the handset to the base unit and gently disconnected the phone jack from the outlet. Jamie turned to see Eileen and the girls watching him with fear and concern.

“I could only hear your end of that conversation,” said Eileen softly, “but I assume that was the woman you spoke of earlier. I don't like what I heard.” She seemed near to tears. “Jamie, is she threatening us?” Caitlin and Riona came to hug their mother and look at their father.

“Aye, she's threatening us, but that only means I'm getting to her—that she's afraid of what I can do to her.”

“Well, I'm afraid of what she can do to us.” Eileen hugged her daughters closely, as if to protect them.

“I understand,” Jamie said, standing and touching his daughters' shoulders as they stood on either side of their mother. “I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure we're all safe. If I thought for a moment that dropping everything would protect us, I would drop everything, my loves, I truly would, but the department isn't about to drop everything, so this only ends when Sedecla is taken down. Sully wants me to give him and Len Hamilton a detailed briefing on the Disciples tomorrow morning. When I'm there, I'll tell him about her call and her threats. Even though I'm not on the force any longer, he'll be concerned enough to give us some protection. If necessary, I'll talk to my father, as unpleasant as that will be. This just makes it even more important that I nail this bitch,” Jamie said grimly.

“Watch your language, Jamie Griffin,” Eileen scolded absently.

“Oh, sugar-plum-fairies, woman,” Jamie said in a mock stern voice, drawing soft giggles from his daughters by using his wife's strongest curse word. “If I can't swear in response to something like that, then when
can
I swear?”

“You can swear somewhere else—that's all I ask. Now if you're quite finished setting such a stellar example of swearing for our children, why don't you and the girls decide what movie we'll watch while I start some popcorn.”

“I know.” Riona piped up in an excited voice. “How about
So I Married an Axe Murderer
?” Despite the glares she received, Riona continued. “No? How about
Lethal Weapon
?
Murder on the Orient Express
?
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
?”

“Riona,” warned Eileen in her sternest ‘mom' voice.

Riona sighed, pretending to be dejected. “Okay, okay—
The Sound of Music
, it is.”

“No,” the other three replied emphatically.

Jamie tried to fall into the familiar patterns of family banter, but Sedecla, her threats, and his anger, lingered in the back of his mind, an unwanted and uninvited houseguest.

Jamie wearily scanned the large family room in his parents' house from the comfort of a heavy padded sofa, sitting beside his mother. The weather, which had been cold and dreary for the past week, had at last relented and relinquished a gorgeous autumn New England day for Halloween, which was Jamie's sister Brighid's 35th birthday. The Griffin clan tended to have large get-togethers on holidays, and this one was no exception. While Frank and Nuala's grandchildren were getting too old to go trick-or-treating, the family still held an elaborate combination Halloween/birthday party each year on October 31st. This year, it fell on a Friday, which meant the gathering was a full-blown affair held in the evening after work.

Well,
Jamie thought bitterly,
at least for those who still actually work.

The room was crowded despite its size. Paddy's youngest four children were seated around a game table with Caitlin and Riona. Just a short distance from the couch, Paddy's wife, Shannon, was sitting with Eileen and Jamie's sisters: Jeanne, the eldest sister, Brighid, the middle sister, and Cara, Jamie's youngest sister. While Shannon and Jeanne were both stay-at-home mothers, they had no difficulty holding their own in these sisterly conversations. Brighid was a sixth grade English teacher at Saint Brendan's, but also a moderately successful author of “New Age” books. Cara was a successful entrepreneur—although no one really understood what that meant.

“Cara,” said Jeanne, “can you please just give us a simple explanation of what it is you actually do for a living?”

“Why certainly,” said Cara with a coy smile. At thirty, she was the tallest of the Griffin girls, just over five-feet-nine inches, with a solid body type, and straight, jet-black hair that curved just past her ears to frame her face. “I make money.”

When it became obvious that Cara had no intention of elaborating, Brighid jumped in. “You know, if one of my students gave me a non-answer answer like that, they'd be writing sentences for a week.”

“They don't still do that, do they?” asked Eileen.

Brighid shrugged. “Not often, but in the case of true miscreants—” She looked at her “baby” sister.

Cara sighed, resigning herself to another attempt at explaining her career to her family. Dressed in a pressed blouse and slacks, Cara always managed to carry off being slightly over-dressed for a family gathering. “Essentially, I deal in putting people together to get things done. I help new businesses find funding. I advise businesses on best practices and workflow systems. I work with venture capitalists to find investment opportunities, and just to make things interesting, I manage my own financial portfolio, which I've become very good at increasing at a rate well beyond those of professional fund managers.” She stopped to take a dainty sip of her chardonnay and looked demurely at her sisters.

“Ahhh, I give up,” exclaimed Jeanne.

“I have to admit,” said Eileen, “I still don't quite understand it. Basically, you make money by helping other people make money?”

Cara nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, that's about as good an explanation as any.”

Johnny and Conán, Jamie's younger brothers, sat in padded armchairs flaring out beside Jamie and Nuala, closer to their sisters, and listened to the banter while wisely maintaining their distance. Johnny was dressed in what he considered to be his “civilian clothes”—black casual dress pants with a dark blue shirt, open at the neck. Not wearing his priest's collar made this Johnny's customary casual wear. Conán, the youngest brother and youngest child of the clan, was wearing his usual uniform of a T-shirt with an irreverent logo and worn blue jeans, with his blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.

Taking advantage of the unseasonably nice day, Frank and Patrick stood on the concrete patio in the back yard, grilling steaks, hamburgers, and hot dogs on a stone grill island built into the back of the patio. Normally, Jamie would have been with his father and brother, overseeing the process with a beer in his hand, shooting the shit about police work. Since the scene with Frank and Patrick at Cal's funeral, Jamie had not spoken to his father or his older brother, and today he sat inside with the rest of the family. The conversation had been neutral, but not strained. No one wanted to talk about the “elephant in the room”—Jamie's illness—but it cast a pall over the adult conversations, and Jamie noticed that his daughters, while engaged in an animated board game with their cousins, nonetheless, kept a watchful eye on him.

Jamie found his mind wandering, paying minimal attention to the conversation. In the week since Sedecla's threatening phone call, Jamie had met with Sully and Cal's last partner-to-be, Len Hamilton. When Jamie had told Sully of the call and the threat, Sully had immediately ordered increased patrol around the Griffin family, especially at times when they were vulnerable, such as to and from school and work. Sully had also increased patrols in the neighborhood around Eileen's store. The conversation regarding the case had not been as straightforward. Jamie had been happy to provide Sully and Hamilton with a copy of all of his notes and let them pick his brain about the case. They were less than happy, though, when Jamie told them that he had retained his originals of his notes.

“You're
not
going to keep working this case,” Sully had said authoritatively.

Jamie smiled. “You can't stop me, Sully. As long as I don't impede your investigation or withhold evidence, there's not a damn thing you can do.”

“I can withdraw police protection,” Sully grimly replied.

“True—but you won't. I may no longer be an active cop, but I'm a former cop, who left in good standing. Also, I just happen to be the son of a Deputy Superintendent.”

“You
don't
want to play that card, Jamie. It cuts both ways.”

“Listen, Sully, if the tables were turned and you were in my shoes, are you seriously going to tell me that you wouldn't be doing whatever you could to bring that bitch to justice?”

Sully sighed deeply. “No, you know I can't tell you that, but I've instructed Len to do whatever he believes is necessary to keep you out of our investigation, and I'm going to come down hard on him if you step over the line.”

Len Hamilton looked at Jamie. “I'm not gonna let that happen, Griffin.”

Jamie had held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Like I said, I'm not going to get in your way, and if I find out anything significant, you'll be my first call. Take it or leave it.”

Silence had played out for several seconds before Sully finally spoke. “Okay, Jamie, but it's your head on a platter if this goes south.”

A tap on his elbow brought Jamie out of his reverie . He looked at Johnny, who then pointed to the patio. Frank was gesturing for Jamie to join them, with a look that broached no refusal. “Oh, this oughta be a real treat,” Jamie muttered as he lurched to his feet.

Johnny grabbed Jamie's arm to steady him. “Thanks,” Jamie mumbled.

“Séamus Edward.” Nuala spoke firmly. “You need to remember how this affects your father and your brother.”

Jamie looked down at his mother and shook his head. “No, máthair,
they
need to remember how this affects
me
.” He glanced at Eileen, who watched him closely. Jamie smiled and walked into the lion's den.

The day was still gorgeous, even as dusk was beginning to descend, coming early as it did in a New England autumn. The elder Griffin's back yard was small, but punctuated strategically with well-maintained trees. Jamie walked to the cooler, grabbed and opened a beer, took a long swallow, and then walked to stand beside his father, on the opposite side as his brother. “Yes, Da?”

Frank Griffin did not look at Jamie. He stared at the burgers and hot dogs he was grilling as if they were suspects in an interrogation room. After a moment, Frank said, “Bob Sullivan tells me you're being difficult about the Raisin Killer investigation.”

“Difficult how?” Jamie asked innocently.

“You know damned good and well how,” Frank said, turning toward Jamie with deep anger in his eyes and gesturing emphatically with the tongs he held in his right hand. “Sully told me that he warned you off the case, but you refused to promise to stay out of it.”

“What the hell do you think you're doing, bro?” Patrick demanded. “You're not a cop any more for Christ's sake.”

Jamie struggled to maintain his temper. “I'll ask you two the same question I asked Sully. If you were in my situation, can you truthfully tell me you wouldn't be doing the same?” He held his father and brother's gazes for several seconds, and then Frank turned back to the grill.

“No, and you know better than to ask that, but I'm your father, and I'm telling you to stay out of official police business.”

“Or what, Da?” Jamie asked heatedly. “You going to put me in jail?”

“That's what I would do,” growled Patrick.

Frank held up his hand to silence his eldest son. “I'll handle this, Paddy.” He turned back to face Jamie. “I don't want it to come to that, Jamie, but if you force my hand, I
will
order Sully and Len Hamilton to take you into custody if you cross the line.”

“You can't do that without charging me with something,” retorted Jamie, “and I'm going to make damn sure I don't break any laws.”

Frank Griffin sighed and turned back toward the grill, adjusting the meat as necessary. Then he softly replied, “I can always order you into protective custody, son. I can place you under house arrest.”

“You wouldn't dare.” Jamie spat each word with icy fury.

Frank wheeled back to face Jamie. “You keep a civil tongue in your head, boyo.” The scar along the right side of Frank's face flushed bright red, and his voice was clear and loud. “I'm still your father and you'll by God give me the respect I'm due. If this is how you honor your father, I'm ashamed that my own brother gave his life for yours.” Frank's right arm shot out as the tongs dropped to the concrete while Frank backhanded Jamie across the cheek with a loud crack.

Shocked silence descended like an unforeseen winter storm over the back yard. Even Patrick seemed stunned that their father had actually hit Jamie. Physical reprimands had been commonplace when they were boys, but those had stopped years ago. Jamie wasn't sure which hurt him worse—Frank's stinging slap or the invocation of his uncle's murder.

The angry tableaux only held a few seconds before Frank's eyes darted past Jamie toward the house. Jamie and Patrick turned to follow their father's gaze. The rest of the family had been watching the byplay through the sliding glass doors. While they might not have heard the entire argument, the slap to Jamie's face filled in any gaps in the exchange.

Jamie felt himself to turn to brittle ice and knew he had to leave before he shattered into a million shards. Without another word, Jamie spun on his right heel, executing a precision about-face, years of practice coming out without a conscious thought. He walked stiffly to the sliding door and drew it open with enough force to rattle the glass in the frame.

“Eileen, girls,” Jamie said tightly, nodding to his wife and daughters. “We need to go—
now
.” Without waiting to see if they complied, Jamie stalked out of the room and out of his parents' house.

Eileen made apologies to Nuala and Brighid, herding the girls before her. She made no apology to Frank Griffin, who stood in angry silence in the patio doorway. “How
could
you, Frank Griffin? I thought you were a better man than that,” she said angrily. Then Eileen followed her daughters to catch up with her husband, who was already halfway down the street toward home.

* * * *

Eileen Griffin unlocked the door to her music store, hurrying to escape the frigid, rainy Saturday morning that followed the balmy weather on Halloween like a cold-hearted stalker. Eileen shut out the miserable November day and flipped her shop sign to “Open.” She could not, however, shut out the miserable thoughts that had plagued her since last night's debacle at her in-laws' house. Neither she nor the girls had spoken to Jamie on the walk home or for the rest of the evening. The girls did not know what to make of the scene they had witnessed, so they went to their rooms to study or surf the net, coming out at bedtime to kiss their parents goodnight. Caitlin and Riona lingered over their father, hugging him perhaps a little harder than usual, showing their support.

It had not been until they were both in bed that Jamie had finally spoken. Eileen knew her husband too well—he was far too angry for her to attempt to cajole or nudge him out of his funk. He had to make the first move and decide that he had stewed long enough. They changed into pajamas, and Eileen had opened her book to read, a lifelong nighttime habit. Jamie often read before bed, but last night, he had lain there for several minutes before finally turning to her. “Do you think I'm wrong?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Wrong about what, love? Leaving your parents? No, not at all. Your Da was
way
out of line.”

Jamie reached out for her hand, and Eileen set aside her book, took his hand, and turned to face him. “No, although it meant more to me than you'll ever know to hear you berate my father as you left.”