SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) (29 page)

“Good luck.” I laughed as he shut the door.

******

Twenty minutes later, two uniformed officers came into the room. “Let’s go,” one of the men said. I stood and they escorted me down the corridor and into a concrete jail cell. As soon as the metal door clanked shut I stretched out on the hard cot, and promptly fell asleep.

Sometime later
, the steel door opened with a groan. Shit. What now? My mentally and physically exhausted body craved sleep. I opened my eyes, and saw Burgess grinning at me.

“What?”
I growled.

“Get up.” He kicked the cot.

I stretched my arms. “One day karma is gonna fuck you up.”

“Looks like your day is
already here. Let’s go. You have a visitor.”

I stood. He handcuffed me and then led
me to another small, gray interrogation room at the end of a long corridor. Burgess pushed open the door, allowing me to enter. Another guard released my handcuffs long enough to recuff them to the table. Burgess nodded to the guard as he opened the door to leave. “If he gives you any trouble, shoot him. Hell, shoot them both.”

I shot my red-haired visitor a grin.

Mickey smiled and leaned back on his steel chair. “Ian, you okay?”

“Couldn’t be better. Why are you here?” I leaned in
, lowering my voice. “Sal’s dead, but you’re still in danger.”

Mickey
’s lips curved into a frown. “Burgess didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Frankie taking the rap for Sal’s murder.” 

I slammed my fist on the table. “WHAT?”

“Yeah, she called Colin last night. He called Jesse to come down.” Jesse was one of the best criminal attorneys in New York. Think Johnnie Cochran in a better suit. A few months ago he’d saved Colin from a murder charge.

My fingers dug into the wooden table.
“What the fuck happened?”

“I’m not sure.
” He shook his head. “Jesse called me at her request. Said Frankie confessed.”

“
What the hell is she thinking?” I whispered in a harsh tone. “We had a plan for fuck sakes. She’d alibi me, and that would be it.”

“I think she’s trying to make up for Chris,” Mickey whispered
back. “She couldn’t stand the thought of you being locked up again.”

“I won’t let her do this.”

Mickey smiled slightly. “Not sure you have a choice.”

“Oh, I have a choice.”
I turned to the guard, rattling my handcuffs. “Get Burgess. Now.”

A few minutes later,
Burgess stood in front of me, a shit-eating grin on his pudgy face. “Well?”

“I killed Sal
.”

Burgess laughed. “Nice try.”

“I mean it. It was me.”

“Too late.
Looks like she came through in the end, huh? Big confession to save your life.” He leaned in. “She’ll have a long time to regret that in the joint.”

“Bas
tard.” I jumped from the chair. The guard wrestled me back down using a long black baton. “You know it was me. Why the game?” I asked, red faced with anger.

Burgess glanced at his manicured nails.
Fucking tool. He probably had his back waxed too. His next words sent a chill down my spine. “She’s a beautiful girl. Girl like that…well, you get the picture. Bad things can happen in the joint. She’ll need protection, and I might be willing to come to her rescue, for a price.”

I lost it and
charged Burgess, crushing him against the concrete wall. Hands cuffed behind me, I used the crook of my neck and shoulder to choke him. Not a great move, but it got the point across. “If you lay one finger on her, I will destroy you,” I whispered in his ear a second before a police baton smashed into the back of my neck. The blow knocked me to my knees, but my gaze remained locked on the red-faced detective. If he touched Frankie, I would end him, consequences be damned.  

Burgess rubbed his throat,
coughing weakly. “Get him out of here,” he ordered the guard in a hoarse voice.

The sky cried, warm, fat raindrops. The crew, or what was left of us, gathered around a muddy six-foot hole. Dressed in a suit that had seen better days, Andy bowed his head in prayer. Mickey cradled Beth in his arms. Drew stood on my right, arm in a sling and pupils larger than normal. I closed my eyes and let the rain wash down my face.

The simple pine casket
reminded me of just how much I’d fucked up, as did Frankie’s absence. After Mickey bailed me out, I’d gone to see her, but she’d refused to speak to me. I caught a glimpse of her in a fading orange jumpsuit and shuddered. I had to find a way to fix this.  

Mou
rners packed Neil’s graveside, people from Neil’s real life. Actors, dancers, and musicians. His safe life. The life where pistols shot blanks and blood consisted of corn syrupy, red food coloring, and washing machine detergent.

“Let us pray,” the priest intoned, and
we bowed their heads. “A reading from Wisdom 1:12-14, Seek not death in the error…”

I tuned out the priest
’s words. They held little comfort. Neil was dead. Reading scriptures wasn’t going to change that. The bottom of a bottle of aged Irish whiskey offered the only solace found today. I missed Neil. Missed his sense of humor. His strength. An ache burned below just below my heart at the thought of never seeing him again.

Goodbye, my friend.

Drew ran a hand through his dark hair, his face devoid of emotion, stone cold, like mine. Somewhere a killer waited, watching us mourn, and enjoying our pain. I held my body ridged, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my grief.

My eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to
see Mike Morrissey among the grief-stricken. For a dead guy he sure as hell got around. My hate for him burned deep, festering like a boil just below the surface. He would pay for Neil’s death, one way, or another. If that meant taking down an innocent or two, so be it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I recognized
Roxanne Morrissey standing about ten yards away. She stood with her arms wrapped around her as if warding off whatever evil surrounded us. She stared at something just over my right shoulder, her face filled with terror. I captured her gaze, and she quickly glanced away.

I
looked to my right. Drew. She was terrified of Drew. I could feel it. Taste it. Drew must have felt it too because he looked up quickly. I raised an eyebrow and he shrugged, mouthing the word ‘later.’ I nodded.

Neil’s mom,
Mrs. Patrick, slowly rose to her feet. She was a slip of a woman, fragile and delicate in features, but, man, could she scream. Neil had called her the original drama queen. She spoke in a crisp, clear voice, “Neil loved two things. The stage and all of you here today…”

For another hour, between the dripping clouds and crackles of thunder, the funeral continued. F
riends and relatives paid their last respects, and even Mickey said a few words. The last mourner filed past, and slowly the casket sunk beneath the earth. One by one, the grieving vanished, but I remained until the first clumps of dirt covered the casket.

I threw back another shot of Jameson. The burn of whiskey warmed me for a few seconds before numbness set in again. Mickey poured another round. We sat around the poker table in the backroom of O’Malley’s, drinking away our grief. Whether it worked was debatable, but I felt better than I had two hours ago. Drew grinned. “Remember the time he convinced Sister Mary the statue of Jesus in the rectory was crying.”

“She spent days watching that thing.” Andy laughed. “I’ve never heard a nun swear like that…”
For the last hour, we’d swapped stories of Neil’s life, but avoided the topic of his death. Eventually the stories ran out and silence reigned.

“So what now?”
Drew rubbed his chin.

I shrugged. “We
find Morrissey, and we get Frankie out of the slammer.”

“Those are givens.
But what happens to the money? Do we split Neil’s share?”

Mickey and Andy winced. Leave it to
Drew to boil everything down to cold hard cash. “Haven’t given it much thought.” I swallowed another shot, disgusted by the question. “Guess we split it?” I looked at Mickey and Andy for conformation. Both winced as they gave me a slow nod, as if the question left a bad taste in their mouths.

Drew
must have realized how cold he sounded. “Sorry, I need the cash; otherwise, I might end up in a body bag too.”

I waved him off.
“Mickey, have you talked to Jesse lately?”

“Yeah, I called him before the funeral.
” Mickey threw back another shot of amber colored whiskey. “Nothing’s changed. Frankie refuses to recant the confession. Jesse has a plan though.”

“What kind of plan?”

He grinned, a real smile that lit up his face. “He wants to have her committed.”

I laughed. She would be livid, but if it kept her from a life sentence
, I was all for it. I pictured Frankie’s face when the dude in white jackets came to take her away.

Andy suddenly stood.
“I’ve gotta go. I’m meeting Roxanne for dinner.”

Did Andy know what was between
Drew and Roxanne? I looked at Drew, a guy I’d known for most of my life, and wondered just how deep he was in. After Andy left, I faced Drew. “So tell me about it.”

“About what?” he hedged.

I took a long drink of beer. “Don’t play games, Drew. What the hell is going on between you and Roxanne?”

“Women.
” Drew slammed a shot. “You know how it is.”

“Did I miss something?”
Mickey glanced between us.

I ignored him, my gaze narrowing on
Drew. “It was you. The scars…”

His face paled, eyes dancing like a ferrets.
“I was doing the job. Billy told me to—”

I threw back my chair and
grabbed his lapel. “Don’t try and pin this on Billy.”

Drew
pushed me, hard, but I didn’t let go. My anger intensified when he said, “Like you know. He told me to collect, and I did. Simple as that.” I saw the real Drew for the first time. A selfish, cold-blooded animal. Had the past six years changed him that much?

Mickey stepped between us. “Enough.”

I released Drew’s shirt and turned away. “Her debts paid off.”

“Come on, Ian. It was business. C
an’t blame a guy for that.”

I could
, and did. That kind of brutality rubbed me raw. A line that even I never crossed. But Drew had always been there for me. Hell, a couple of days ago, he’d taken a bullet for me. I ran my hand over my jaw. Things just kept piling on. Nobody was who I believed them to be. I reached for my leather jacket. “I’m going out.” I turned to Drew. “It’s not a good idea if you are here when I get back.”

Drew
’s face turned red. “So that’s how it is, huh?”

“Calm do
wn.” Mickey threw an arm across Drew’s chest.

He brushed
Mickey off. “Fuck that.” His fingers locked onto my jacket. “Don’t fucking judge me. You don’t know what it’s like. Shit comes easy to you. People respect you.”

“This isn’t about me.” I knocked
his hand away and took a breath, trying to calm my rapid beating heart. A part of me wanted to inflict as much pain on Drew as he had Roxanne. “Drew, she has a kid for fuck sakes.”

“
I’m not proud of what I did, but I had to collect. It was her or me. Billy doesn’t fuck around. You know that as well as I do.”

“I need some air.” I walked
away, leaving Mickey and Drew staring after me. Drew spoke the truth. Billy was a bastard, but he’d never have done what Drew had to Roxanne. I guess you never do know the people closest to you. Which brought up another interesting point, if I didn’t know Drew, who else didn’t I know?

“Thanks for seeing me.” I sat in a wooden chair across from Frankie in a room no bigger than a closet. The gray walls and stained concrete reminded me of many similar visits when I was in lockup. It was odd sitting on the other side of the prison system. Frankie looked tired, dark circles around her eyes gave her a bruised, needy look I wasn’t used to seeing.

“I co
uldn’t avoid you forever.” Laughing, she gestured to the drab surroundings. “It’s not like you couldn’t find me either.”

I smiled and leaned in. “I miss you.”

Her eyes widened as a look of shock crossed her face. “Where’s that coming from?” Suspicion replaced shock. “Oh, I get it.”

My brow furrowed with fake puzzlement.
“Get what?”

“
Make me think you can’t live without me, and bingo, I’ll recant so we can live happily ever after.” She brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Not going to work, Prince Charming.”