The Throwbacks (4 page)

“Of course I’m thrilled. You know I love a good homicide investigation. A nice high-profile homicide involving the mayor’s family—perfect inauguration for the Scotland Yard Exchange Program with the BPD.”

“Yes, it does seem like the perfect showcase for the exchange program.” Dan smiled at him.

“Do you need to check with the mayor first?” David asked.

“Are you kidding? The program is official now. The mayor will love having the fricking Detective Chief Superintendent of Scotland Yard’s Flying Squad on the case. It’s about time you jumped in after all the bureaucratic bull of setting up the program.”

“I agree. He’ll never suspect the real reason I’ve been exiled to the States…at least not until the Commission’s internal affairs report comes out.” David spoke in his driest British voice and added, “It’s a lucky thing I’m independently wealthy.” He gave his friend the single-arched brow of sarcasm. He stepped around to the passenger side of the chief’s unmarked police car.

“You will be—as soon as the estate is out of escrow.”

That made David wince out loud. The chief walked around to the driver’s side and stopped.

“I know this is a sore topic. But it’ll get through court soon and you have to get over the guilt, close out the estate and move on,” the chief said in a guarded voice.

Even an entire year filled with limousine loads of women hadn’t rid David of the grief over his professional exile and marital baggage. He only shook his head.

“That’s what I thought. Now for business,” the chief said as they both swung their respective doors open and slid into the car.

“You’re really enjoying being the wheel man, I see,” David noted.

“My regular driver may never get his job back. Luckily you acquired a taste for being chauffeured or we’d have to fight for the keys.” Dan turned the key, flipped the switch to the blue flashing lights and stepped on the gas. David felt the flashback to the image of Dan playing the role of “Dick Tracy” in their boyhood games.

They looked at each other like those two boys of old in perfect sync. David felt the rush of adrenaline and looked ahead. This he could deal with. He was glad to be back in his element here—crime fighting in the States where no one knew the details of his sordid past. Yet.

“T
HE dead man is important enough to rate special handling,” Dan said. “That means you’ll be lead detective.” They swerved around a tight corner on the narrow Beacon Hill street, tires not exactly squealing, but with enough acceleration to keep David’s heart pumping and glad to be back. It made his homecoming complete.

“Yes. The mayor’s daughter’s fiancé’s brother. The flags will be at half mast, I’m sure,” David said. He received a quelling look from his good friend. “Important in a very relative way. Tell me about the details,” he amended.

The chief smirked and said, “Did I mention the mayor’s daughter’s fiancé is also the Lieutenant Governor?”

“Ah.”

“Politicians are no joke in this town.”

“Although they seem to be very incestuous,” David observed out loud because he knew he could say anything to his friend.

“The mayor is well-liked, respected, and very good for the city. Not to mention the fact that he’s my boss—your boss too, now that Scotland Yard finally convinced him to let the BPD take you off their hands,” Dan reminded him.

“I assure you, the mayor is now at number one on my all time top-ten list of people to pay attention to. About the case …”

Dan finally got to the details. “The body was found in an alley behind a restaurant on Newbury Street.”

“How long had he been missing?”

“About thirty minutes. He got up from the wedding rehearsal dinner, presumably to go to the john. It’s a big affair with the families and wedding party. He was gone a while, and the mayor was due to leave so he could get to our party, so Rick, the deceased’s brother, went looking for him and checked out back.”

“Hmmmm.” This was the tough part. The more he got to know about the dead person, the more difficult it was to be detached. It was time he disengaged himself and put on his mental suit of armor.

“That’s it? ‘Hmmm.’ That’s all you got? Coming from the flipping Scotland Yard Flying Squad? Hmmm? Geez,” Dan joked.

David knew it was the man’s nerves. “Would you like a cigar?” David asked and lit one up for himself. Dan nodded, so he prepared a second and handed it to him. “I generally do my best work after I take a look at the scene, read the files worked up by the detectives, evaluate the evidence, etc.” He puffed. He knew his friend well. Ever since their boyhood days running amok in the north end of Boston, he’d had the same tendency to joke to relieve his anxiety. It never worked. Dan was too tense to be really amused. On the other hand, David had no trouble feeling amused. One couldn’t lighten up a murder investigation too much for his preference.

They took another sharp turn into a quick stop in front of a boutique-style restaurant on Newbury Street—Dan was in Dick Tracy mode now and loved to show off. There was no yellow tape and no blue-and-whites, but neon flashes of the trendy restaurant lights exposed about thirty people forming a chic crowd outside the place.

“Time for the show.” Dick Tracy opened his door and half his oversized frame was out of the car when his phone rang. “Shit.”

“I’ll go on without you.” David looked around to make sure there was no press. Luckily the coast was still clear. “Looks like the mayor’s been successful at keeping a lid on things so far.”

“Yeah. I told him I’d handle it myself with a handpicked crew—you included. I’ll be along in a second.”

“It was a very important murder,” Sophia-the-Pixie said. “He had no choice about leaving.”

They stood on the cobblestone sidewalk under an old-fashioned brass street lamp in front of Mabel’s townhouse, waiting for their cab. Grace sighed. She loved the feel of Beacon Hill. It was as if two centuries of history seeped inside her from the air. The sense of place infused her with all the brick-and-mortar sturdiness that held up all these years, like the stalwart families who lived here. Every time she came to Mabel’s home, she fantasized about what it must have been like growing up in a family like hers with a genuine family tree. Someday she’d have a family and start her own tree. She sighed again and looked at Sophia, who gazed up at her with expectant eyes.

“You don’t need to console me. He’ll call,” she said.

“He’s a tad old for you, don’t you think?”

Now that was more like the Sophia she knew and loved, pretending to be more cynical than concerned. She chose to treat the question rhetorically.

“So what’s with this interest in Mr. Distinguished? Weren’t you dating someone last week?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, but no more. Although he was a darling little man,” Grace said wistfully. She didn’t mean to sound wistful, because how could she? The last guy she dated wasn’t for her. None of them had been. Except maybe Oscar.

“Oh!” she said out loud. “I know why he fascinates me.”

“I thought you said you ditched him?” Sophia said.

“How could I when I haven’t dated him yet?” Grace said back.

Sophia blew out a breath. “No, I meant the guy from last week.”

“Oh. No. I gave him to Charlene. They were both into glass blowing, so I…”

“Grace, focus.” Sophia had her hands on her hips now.

She held in her laugh. “I loved his strong jaw, the way it was softened by his kind eyes. And his voice: a powerful voice, deep and reverberating …” Grace closed her eyes and let herself remember the feel of the sound of his voice near her ear when they were practically under the table.

“I hear you, but I still don’t see the big attraction,” Sophia said.

“He reminds me of Oscar,” Grace whispered. She felt that flutter again. Oscar was so long ago, but there’d never been another love like him since.

“He looks nothing like Oscar,” Sophia said. “Besides, Oscar was trouble.”

“Not his looks. Something about him. He has that confident king-of-the-world air about him like Oscar. He has elegance and a sense of fun.” She knew she was getting carried away, but she couldn’t stop. “And did I say he has that kind smile?” Grace took a breath and put a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating too fast.

“You got all that from tonight?” Sophia shook her head. “The only thing I saw that he has in common with Oscar is that he’s way too old for you.”

That comment caused a pang, but Grace shook it off. She also noticed he had a sadness underneath the fun, but she shook that notion off too. She wanted to hold onto her excitement. It was so rare, and she longed to feel this way about a man.

She wanted him to be Batman—Oscar’s alter ego.

“You know, Grace, I
haven’t
seen you this interested in anyone since Oscar, now that you mention it, and that had to be eight years ago.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve learned a lot since then.”

“Don’t get crazy here. You do remember that you and Oscar ended disastrously?” Sophia gave her that mother hen look that Grace was mostly fond of.

She patted Sophia on the arm. “I remember a lot about Oscar besides the ending. I wanted to marry him. I might have, too…”

“If it wasn’t for the pesky fact that Oscar—or should I say ‘Antonio’—was in the mob,” Sophia reminded her.

“Don’t exaggerate. That was only a rumor. He was more like an informant.” Grace remembered the ending. She had good reasons, but she was feeling the loss all over again just the same. She pushed a curl off her right eye.

“That man was trouble. You did the right thing to break it off.” This time Sophia patted her on the arm.

Sophia was right, but Grace couldn’t help feeling empty as she stood towering over her friend and leaning on her a little for support under the lamplight. “I’m over it.”

“Yeah, but you’re still searching for your father figure. Maybe what you learned is not to trust any man young enough to have a real relationship.” Sophia tugged on Grace’s arm.

“I would trust the right man if I found him.” She smiled down at her friend to reassure her but ignored the familiar concern about the father figure. Grace thought about her Oscar number two and considered the possibility. “I’m not a youngster anymore. I’m thirty years old. I know what I want.”

“You’ll meet your match.”

“What if I just did?” The taxi pulled up and they both got in.

Pixie looked skeptical. “You are kidding, right? He’s more like grandfather material than father material. You need to aim younger for the family. And I know that’s what you want most of all.”

Grace was not kidding about David. But Sophia was right; she wanted a family most of all. Something she’d never had.

“I have you and Mabel, don’t I?” Grace asked. She looked at her friend in the dark backseat of the cab and needed to hear the obvious answer.

“You’ll always have me—and Mabel too. And someday you will have your own family and a home with the picket fence and all. I know it, Grace. But you have to be careful and realistic. This Batman guy didn’t seem like the picket-fence type. Especially if he’s anything like Oscar. Plus, and I know I’ve said this before—he’s old,” Sophia said, pausing. “And he didn’t ask for your number,” she added softly.

Maybe Grace should be worried that he wouldn’t call, but she wasn’t. Their encounter was brief, but she felt a mutual…something. There was no way he could have been immune to it.