A Barlow Lens (7 page)

“Well, howdy, Philip,” Archie said.

Philip sighed heavily. “Archie. What do you want?”

“I can't come say hello?” He looked Tom up and down. “So this is the fella you fixed up with Emma's friend?” Archie slid into the booth next to Tom, shoving him over. “But you forget your old buddy?”

Tom put a smile on his face, reached across his chest, and offered his hand. “Tom Manning.”

Archie ignored his hand and said, “I don't ever remember seeing you around here before.”

“My family has a farm down around Mansfield,” Tom explained. “I moved here after college for a job.” It was work being nice to this man, and Tom had only known him three minutes.

“Oooh, fancy college boy,” Archie said. “Movin' up in the world, eh, Philip?”

“Nancy is a sweet girl. Emma too. I'm glad I met them. And Philip.” Tom pretended not to notice that Archie ignored his greeting or the way Philip looked as if he'd like to commit murder.

“I bet you are,” Archie said with a smirk and leaned back in the booth, resting both arms along the back. “How'd you two get to be friends? Don't seem like you two woulda had much in common.”

Philip grumbled, “Not everyone is like you, Archie. We both work in this neighborhood.”

“Got a doll for me?” Archie asked, and to Tom it felt like a taunt. “Maybe some place to go for fun? Get some giggle water.”

“The only thing I got for you is the inside of a jail cell,” Philip snapped. “And in case you haven't noticed, there's a law against serving alcohol. The only juice joints I know about are the ones I've raided.”

Tom had to make an effort to not wince.

Archie didn't seem bothered by Philip's remarks. “Be seeing you both around,” he stood and patted Tom's shoulder. Though the gesture was likely meant to appear friendly to onlookers, it gave Tom a cold feeling.

“I don't think so,” Philip snapped.

Archie slipped his hands in his pockets. “Kind of protective over your friend here, aren't you?”

“I prefer my friends on the same side of the law as me. Nothing more.” Philip glared at Archie. “I have to get to the station soon and want to finish my meal.”

“Be seeing you,” Archie repeated. Before Tom or Philip could say a word, he turned, waved at the counter, and called out, “See ya at home, sis.” He left the diner but stopped on the sidewalk to wave at Philip and Tom one more time before making his way down the street.

“Does everything he says sound like a threat?” Tom asked. He put his hands in his lap for a few seconds to conceal their shaking.

“No, but everything he says makes him sound like a horse's ass. It's been his special talent since he learned to talk. He also carries a shiv. Steer clear of him.”

Tom glanced out the window before meeting Philip's gaze again and nodding. “I will.” Archie scared him, there was no denying that. He didn't—
couldn't
—express how safe he felt with Philip, wrapped in his arms. The words simply didn't exist. Nor was Tom capable of finding a way to communicate how utterly exposed his life seemed when they were apart.

“I will,” Tom repeated softly.

 

 

A
RCHIE
SHOWED
up daily at the diner for a little more than a week before he just seemed to vanish. Tom hoped it was forever.

The heat of that first day he met Archie gave way to milder, more pleasant temperatures. Philip had made plans for a trip to Euclid Beach Park with the girls. Tom had never been there before or anywhere like it, and he was looking forward to the outing.

It was shaping up to be a wonderful summer indeed.

 

 

Cleveland, Ohio—Present Day

 

W
YATT
CLOSED
one of the boxes, setting it to off to the side of the others already stacked up alongside the benches. “I don't think Lily would mind us taking this one box of stuff back to the hotel. We can bring it back in a few days.”

“Don't tell me, let me guess. Next we spend time finding out more about this Archie dude. Then we check out some of the places Tom and Philip might have frequented?”

Wyatt laughed and leaned closer to Val, kissing his nose. “You learn very quickly. Time for you to put your good computer skills to work.”

Val grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Sweet!”

After depositing the box in the car trunk, Val and Wyatt headed back to the hotel. Val still insisted upon driving, even though the little bit of a buzz Wyatt'd had from the whiskey had long since worn off.

Wyatt spent the time making notes. By the time they arrived at their room, he'd mapped out more of what sort of information they needed in order to fill in the blanks about Archie. It would give Val a good place to start, searching online records and articles. Once in their hotel room, Val booted up his laptop and settled at the table. Wyatt pulled out the files Griff had given him and started going through them, examining some facts he'd skimmed earlier in more detail.

“Archibald—
Archie
—Newman, small time Prohibition Era gangster,” Val began reading aloud after an hour or so of intensely staring at his computer. “He was associated with Egan's Rats in Saint Louis until a war with a rival gang. Egan's Rats won, but not too long after that, some of the leaders were put in prison. That particular gang was around since the late 1800s and could easily account for where Archie was during World War One and why he had scars that looked as if they could have been from gunshot wounds.”

Wyatt nodded. “'Cause those guys often joined up and went to fight on foreign soil.”

“Hmm. After that his name pops up in Chicago in association with Bugs Moran and his gang. According to several articles, Archie is believed to have been killed in a shootout with Cleveland Police in the late 1920s, but there was never confirmation that he was killed; a body was never found. He may have escaped and headed west, and there are a few other speculated scenarios, depending on which article I read. Most of his activities involved bootlegging and murder, and he may have been linked to the killing of a US Marshal during some raid of illegal booze being transported.”

“That's why Griff's office had Archie's file, I bet,” Wyatt said.

“Uh-huh,” Val mumbled and leaned forward, occasionally hitting a button on his keyboard. Wyatt shook his head and smiled; it felt good to see Val so interested in this part of Wyatt's work.

The files and records Griff passed along were spotty at best. Archie wasn't a major player in the world of gangsters. Wyatt presumed he slipped through a great deal of cracks because there had been many more, bigger fish that needed to fry.

Wyatt yawned and finally decided to give up for the night. He made a quick call to Lily to update her on what they'd discovered so far. She answered almost immediately.

“Hi, Wyatt, have you found anything good?” Lily sounded hopeful and a little out breath.

“Catch you at a bad time?” He tried to keep his voice light, but the idea of her and that ass of a husband together made him queasy.

“No, I'm at work and took the stairs up to my office,” Lily said, ending with a little giggle. Apparently she'd read Wyatt's mind. “It's supposed to be clear tomorrow, and the museum will be open late for people to use the telescopes. Why don't you and Val meet me here around six? I'd love to get to know him better.”

“Lily, that would be great. We have found a few things I think you'll like to hear about. I took the liberty of taking a box of goods from the storage locker back to our hotel, I hope that's okay? I know I should have asked first.”

He could hear Lily shuffling some papers around and a door closing softly. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking. “Of course it's fine. I want to apologize again about Kevin, he's… things haven't been very good. He shouldn't have even been there. A few weeks ago, I asked him to move out, but he shows up with the pretense of getting more of his belongings.”

“If you're not safe—”

“That's never been an issue with him,” Lily said. “But thank you for caring. I'm seeing an attorney in a few days and filing for a divorce. I'm not sure he realizes that, but I'm telling him later.”

“I'm sorry, Lily, but, Lily, I've known him a very long time. Kevin can be an absolute ass. If you need any help, with any part of it, call me. Honestly. I'm not leaving the States for a good, long while. I'm only a plane trip away.”

“Thank you, but I'll be fine. You forget I've known Kevin a long time too. Maybe not as long as you have, but long enough.”

Wyatt bit back the vile words he was thinking, about things Kevin had done. “Keep my number handy. We'll see you tomorrow night.” He ended the call and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling for a while.

Val was still engrossed in whatever he'd found. Every few minutes he'd announce another tidbit. Eventually Wyatt drifted off to sleep. He woke up when Val crawled into the bed with him. He wrapped both arms around Val's waist and snuggled close, sighing happily. A minute later Val's breathing evened out and his body relaxed, getting heavier against Wyatt's.

No one had put so much trust in him and made him feel so loved since he'd lost Jack. It felt good, having Val, being able to share his life with someone again. He kissed Val's temple softly and gave another squeeze with both arms. Wyatt had missed Jack so much, had grieved so desperately, long and hard, that finding Val had been an absolute miracle. One Wyatt intended to preserve at all costs.

The next morning while Wyatt was shaving, Val announced, “The Cleveland Police Department has a museum.”

Wyatt stopped and stuck his head out of the bathroom door. “They do?”

“Yeah. They're open Monday through Friday ten to four.” Val looked at his watch. “We can be there when they open. You like museums. I found a few articles written over the years about the school fire.”

“The place is worth checking out. What do the articles say?” Wyatt finished his task and wandered out to look over Val's shoulder.

“Lots of speculation. However, there is this one.” Val pointed to the monitor. “It was written in 1965 by a lady who was one of the children who survived the fire. She was questioned by police after the fire and told them what she knew.” Val glanced at the computer before continuing. “Mr. Manning and Officer Hall were friends; she'd seen them at a local diner. She also told them that Archie Newman ate with them sometimes. She saw Tom and Archie in a hallway but couldn't hear what they were saying. The article states she thought they seemed angry and were arguing with one another. I don't think she ever said anything about Tom and Philip being together in the school, just that she had seen Archie in the diner with them.”

“Which probably made everyone jump to the conclusion that Tom was involved.”

“According to other articles, that speculation was fueled by the fact that Tom, Philip, and Archie all
disappeared
during the fire,” Val said.

Wyatt shrugged. “It's a reasonable assumption.”

“I'm still foggy on how no one would look through the rubble for bodies or suspect people could be trapped there.” Val stood up and closed the laptop.

“Why no one looked, I guess we'll never know. However, I think before we head downtown to that museum, we should go back to the storage locker. I did see a book in with Tom's belongings from his apartment. It was something about the school, but it looked like it was done by the staff and teachers. Maybe we can find a bit more about the building layout.” Wyatt put one arm around Val and began steering him at the door. “We can do that, then spend the day hunting through that museum.”

When they arrived at the storage facility, they found they had the place to themselves. It was the middle of the week, and early in the day, Wyatt doubted many people came through. They parked off to the side as they'd done before and opened the bay door to let in light and air. They had moved quite a bit of the items around, so it took a few minutes of shuffling boxes and other things around to find a good starting point.

“Let's start on these boxes here. They look old,” Val said. He pointed to a few stained cardboard boxes.

Wyatt snorted. “They all look old.”

Val sat on the floor and pulled a box open. He held up a few weathered pieces of paper. “Kids' drawings.”

Wyatt's phone announced an incoming call. Val looked up and mouthed “who” when Wyatt just stared at the screen.

“Kevin,” Wyatt said in a low voice. At the same time, he put the phone to his ear and answered. “Hello.”

“What the
fuck
did you tell my wife, you
cocksucker
!” Kevin shouted in Wyatt's ear. Val froze and raised his eyebrows. Wyatt shook his head and leaned against a chair, and Val went back to digging through the box.

“Little early to start drinking, even for you, Kevin,” Wyatt said calmly.

“She told me this morning she's filing for divorce, and I know damn well you've been talking to her,” Kevin snapped.

“Kevin, if your wife wants to divorce you—and I can think of a dozen reasons why she'd want to do that—it's not my fault. I have nothing to do with it,” Wyatt said, voice as hard as he could make it. “She's probably fed up worrying about you giving her the clap. Or worse.”

Val winced and sat straighter. He held a book against his knees but barely glanced at it. His attention was riveted to Wyatt again.

Something outside banged to the ground, drawing both their attention. When Val stood up and started toward the door, Wyatt grabbed his arm and stopped him, shaking his head and whispering, “Whatever it is, ignore it for now.”

“You know I've thought about killing you plenty of times over the years. I even planned it out, but never went through with it. I had enough chances, and I should have taken them. I won't make that mistake again,” Kevin growled in a low, strange tone of voice. Wyatt's blood ran cold.