“I’m so sorry,” Ava said. “I don’t know what came over me, but I suddenly didn’t feel so well.”
“Hey, it’s no problem,” Patrick told her. “If you’re not feeling well, you’re not feeling well.”
Ava shivered and pulled up her fur hood to shield her ears from the chill in the air, but there was no denying that she was shaken up from earlier. Something had changed. She was quieter. A somber demeanor. Stuck in her own private dark place.
A few minutes went by and as they walked, he caught himself numerous times from asking about it, knowing full well that he had been the one to set her off. It had been a stupid thing for him to say.
Remy Marco! What was he thinking?
No, you couldn’t have known. Couldn’t have known that the name Remy Marco would mean a thing to her. Just let it go.
Either way, something wasn’t adding up and his stomach churned. His thoughts tingling with paranoia, much like those three sisters that she had mentioned earlier in the café. The ones with the Mystery Club.
Once they had bailed on lunch, he’d suggested that he might want to check in with his landlord to see about the apartment. Much to his surprise, she had decided to come along for the stroll. The waiter was somewhat put off earlier, but he couldn’t care less about him. Ava Blake had taken hold of him.
He found her both mystifying and captivating. He desperately wanted to know more about her. That is, if she’d let him get closer.
Castlereagh Street wasn’t far from where they were at the café. A few blocks south, really. Plenty of the streets in Old Town were within walking distance so it worked out in their favour. It was kind of remarkable really. Even though the area was quite substantial, the bulk of the town—the busiest parts—were a hop, skip, and a jump away from one another.
Patrick put his cell phone back into his pocket and grunted.
“Still no answer?” she asked.
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s up with this guy. What kind of landlord doesn’t pick up his phone, anyway? He obviously has other tenants. What if they needed to get in touch with him? You’re telling me he’s ignoring them, too?”
She bit at her lip and fidgeted with the hood on her coat. “No, you’re right, it’s not very nice. I’d say maybe he’s screening his calls and that you could try from my cell phone, but we’re almost there now.”
Slow to respond, he had been paying more attention to the cracks in the sidewalk, he asked, “Screening his calls? You serious? He’d have to know who I was first to know that he doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Never mind.” She paused. “So… given any more thought to opening your own studio in town? You’d fit right in with all the other artists and galleries around here.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest. Been too distracted.”
“Well, weddings are big here. Lots of people love to have their pictures taken at the small chapel or out in the vineyards. I haven’t seen your stuff or anything, but it could work out really well for you.”
“Right now, I think I’d rather get properly situated first, you know? I need a place to stay. I can’t stay at that bed-and-breakfast forever, now can I?”
“No, I guess not.”
They walked silently the rest of the way, aside from the odd comment about various houses and remarks about architecture, speculating about history. The ghosts of the past.
As they turned onto Castlereagh, Ava told him that, “Most of the houses around here date back to the late 18th and early 19th century. But under a starry night sky in December 1813, that would all change overnight. The volunteers who had joined the fight in the battle for Newark (as it was known back then,) had lost faith in their British officials. They turned on them, deciding to fight for the Americans instead. Burning the town was an act of revenge and spite by men who felt betrayed by their own government.”
“But, why? Why burn your own town?” he asked. “I don’t get it.”
“If the town was destroyed, the British troops would have no shelter from the cold. No protection. So, burn it they did. Reduced to ashes as General George McClure put it to the Governor of New York at the time.”
Patrick put himself there. Bearing witness to the lapping flames, teeming black smoke, and the blaze casting shadows on the snow.
Ava pulled him out of his conjuring images of glowing embers, saying, “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” he said.
“Do you dream about them?”
He abruptly stopped, shifting to look at her. “Dream about who?”
Her face went sullen and she cast her eyes downward. “You know… the dead. I didn’t know if maybe you ever had trouble not thinking about them. I know if I—”
He stood in place, a finger touching his parted lips. “Uh…”
She picked up her pace, moving away from him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.” She shook her head. “It’s just we were talking about the fire and it popped into my head. But no, forget I asked. It’s too personal.”
“No, it’s fine,” he said, catching up to her. He tugged at her elbow. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s only natural to wonder and have questions. You’d be surprised at the amount of questions I get from people and most of them can be pretty out there.”
She cringed, flinching away from his touch, and shuffled her feet, unable to look at him.
“I guess I do,” he said. “Sometimes. I’d be lying if I said it was easy. There are some that stick with you more than others. Stay with you like a deathly quiet. I have a feeling they’ll always be with me, but shadows make for lonely company, don’t they?”
They stood facing one another, not saying a word. A cool breeze pushed past them, lifting the front of his hair, and driving an aroma toward him. Her perfume? Sweet and flowery, he couldn’t believe that he was only noticing it for the first time. Finally, she looked up at him and his eyes trailed down to her full lips. She curled a finger around one of his own and he began to lean inward, but at the very last second, she pulled away from him.
“What’s Horace doing here?” she asked.
He spun around in a daze. “Huh?”
She stalked over to a police car parked at the curb. How long had that been there? “This is Horace’s car,” she said, leaning in and peeking through its windows with both hands on the glass. “I’m sure of it.”
He looked around, inspecting the street. “Well, maybe there was a domestic or something?”
“A domestic?”
“Yeah, you know…”
She shook her head. “This is sooo weird. What are the chances that he’d be on the same street as your apartment?”
“Heck, I don’t know.”
“What’s the address of your place, anyway? Which building is it?”
Patrick thrust around inside his coat pockets. “I’ve got it here somewhere.” He drew the scrap piece of paper with the number written down on it and unfolded it. “Uh, it says, 361. Why?”
Her gaze swept from one side of the street to the other. “Hate to tell you this, Sully, but this is 361, and it looks like Horace is inside. See for yourself.”
She was right. The detective stood in the foyer of the apartment building, speaking with another man, but the other man’s face was out of view. Could it be his landlord? Was this why he hadn’t heard from him? “Son of a…”
“What do you think’s going on?”
“Well,” he said, “there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
“Hey, maybe this is why you’re having such a hard time getting a hold of your landlord? Maybe something’s happened?”
He lifted an eyebrow and crooked his mouth at her. “You think?”
She wasted no time, jabbing him hard in the shoulder and stomping up the stone walkway. “Come on!”
Patrick rubbed at his shoulder, pausing on the sidewalk. “Ow, that really hurt!”
“You coming or what?”
He reluctantly followed her.
***
Detective Horace MacKay stood roughly two inches shorter than Patrick’s 5’9 lean frame. With coal black hair and deep-set eyes, MacKay looked like he had experienced his fair share of bad luck over the years. Noticeably underdressed, he wore only a navy-blue blazer and a pair of slacks with unpolished shoes that likely should have been replaced years ago.
“Ava, fancy running into you here. How are things?” Detective MacKay asked.
“Can’t complain, Horace.”
“What brings you by?”
“It’s funny that you should say that, Horace. We saw your car parked out front and it turns out my friend here, is supposed to be moving into this building.”
MacKay looked over at Patrick. “Oh? Is that, right?”
“Can you tell me what’s going on, Detective?” Patrick asked. “Has something happened?”
MacKay pursed his lips. “You could say that, yes.”
“Well, what is it?” Patrick asked.
“It’s an open investigation, Sir, I can’t really comment…”
Patrick cast a look down the hall. “Was that the landlord you were talking to earlier? We saw the two of you talking in the foyer.”
MacKay smiled, but also shook his head. Cancelling gestures. “Again, Sir, I can’t really—”
“I’d like to have a word with him. We have some things to discuss. Where is he?”
“I don’t think that’s possible at the moment. You’ve just missed him.”
Patrick let out a long sigh.
“Horace,” Ava cut in. “Patrick, here, has been having some trouble getting a hold of his landlord. He’s not returning his calls and he’d like to find out what’s going on with his apartment. Do you know of any reason why that would be? Is that why you’re here?”
“Ava, as much as I’d like to help your friend here, I really can’t—”
Patrick quickly put two and two together. The stalling tactics, a slight tenseness in MacKay’s facial expressions, it could mean only one thing. “There’s been a murder, hasn’t there? That’s why you’re here.”
Ava gasped.
MacKay answered with a small nod.
“So, let me get this straight,” Patrick said to him. “There’s a dead guy in my apartment and you’re just standing around out here? Where’s the medical examiner? The techs?”
MacKay cleared his throat. “Well, you see… I’m sorry, I don’t remember catching your name?”
“This is Patrick Sullivan,” Ava answered for him. “It’s okay, Horace. Patrick used to be a cop.”
“Well, Mr. Sullivan, we’re still in the early stages of the investigation. I can’t really…”
“You keep saying that, but it looks to me like you haven’t begun to do anything. Why haven’t you processed the scene? Why isn’t there anybody else here? Where is everyone?”
Ava’s face reddened and she quickly took hold of Patrick’s arm. “Patrick, take it easy—”
“Ava’s right, Mr. Sullivan. I think it might be best if you vacate the premises and leave me all alone.”
Patrick shook his head. “Vacate? I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers.”
“Patrick…” Ava again, expressing her disappointment. But what did she expect? A tight-lipped detective. No landlord. No answers. Not much of anything.
“How long?” Patrick asked him.
MacKay titled his head to one side, brows pulling in. “I’m sorry?”
“How long until I can get into the apartment? My apartment.”
Ava placed a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Patrick, maybe we should go.”
MacKay let out a breath, the colour rising in his cheeks. “I think that might be best.”
“What? I’m not leaving until somebody tells me what’s going on.”
“Look,” MacKay said to Patrick, stepping forward and turning his body at an angle. “You used to work for the department? Then you know how this works. You know what’s going to happen here. We’ll process the scene and begin an investigation. We’ll work out timelines, cause of death, the works. But until such time, consider this place off-limits. I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience to you, but someone lost their life today. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
“Unbelievable. I see what you mean, Ava, this guy’s got his head stuck so—”
Ava’s face flushed a glowing maroon colour and her hand quickly covered Patrick’s mouth before he could say anything more. “Patrick!”
MacKay squared his shoulders. “Nice friend you got here, Ava. You’re going to want to watch out for this one. He’s wound way too tight.”
“Sure, Horace,” she said, wincing. “Come on, Patrick, let’s go.”
Leave? Was she crazy?
At this rate, he’d never get into his new place. He’d probably be stuck in that B&B for weeks, maybe months if the investigation stretched on.
“Fine,” Patrick said. “But, you be sure to tell my landlord that if I’m not getting into my apartment any time soon, I’ll expect to have my deposit returned in full. This is ridiculous.”
MacKay stepped in front of him, planting a foot firmly in his path. “Whatever you say, Mr. Sullivan.” He looked over at Ava and nodded.
Ava took the hint, and pulled Patrick along. “Come on, let’s go.”
Once outside, Patrick stormed down the walkway, sloshing through snow, and back to the street. Ava waited for him on the sidewalk. He rubbed at his brow and forehead in an attempt to ward off the looming headache. “The nerve of that guy!”
“What? The nerve of…?” Ava asked, dumbstruck. She pivoted on one foot and spread her hands. “What was that, Patrick?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” She pointed back at the apartment building. “Oh, I don’t know, you practically just Hulk-ed out on poor Horace in there.”
Patrick’s nostrils flared. “Poor Hor— Will you listen to yourself? Poor Horace.”
“What’s gotten into you? Why were you so belligerent to him?”
Patrick laughed. “Belligerent? Ava, I just want to move into my apartment. I can’t help it if Frank Drebin in there doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
“Frank Drebin?” she asked, slightly puzzled. “Look, you’ve clearly got some things going on with you and when you’re ready to talk about it, come find me. ’Til then, I think Horace is right. Just steer clear of me, all right?”
His smile faded. “Ava… I didn’t… I mean.”
She moved back slightly, increasing the space between them. “I mean it, Patrick. I can’t handle this right now. I thought you were a good guy, but maybe I was wrong. I’ve made a bad habit of that lately.” She walked past him and down the sidewalk, eyes glistening and her face flushed red.
“Ava, wait!”
She wouldn’t stop.
“Ava!”
You’ve really done it now, pal.
He couldn’t understand it. What did he do? There was a dead guy in his apartment. It’s not like it was his fault. He hadn’t killed anyone. He wasn’t the bad guy here.
With his hands on his hips, he looked up and down the street, chewing over what to do next. There was no way he’d be moving into his new apartment now. Not unless that detective in there managed to grow a few brain cells and pull off a hail Mary.
Seriously, where was the medical examiner?
Comments (0)
See all