He stood up, plucked the phone from its cradle and laid it on the table. No more incoming calls for tonight. He could hear sirens in the distance as he took another swig of whiskey. Just a normal night in the city. Crime didn’t rest in this town. It never would.
Ethan pressed the chilled glass against his forehead and closed his eyes. The coolness helped ease some of the tension in his head. The next several days would take a lot out of him in more ways than just dealing with the emotional loss of what had happened. Tobias didn’t have any other family, so that left Ethan to handle the funeral arrangements and estate settlement. It was going to be a nightmare.
He brought the glass to his mouth and threw back the drink, grimacing at the liquid burn, but loving the feel of it hitting his stomach. The warmth that spread signaled the beginning of temporary relief.
05
The Boss Man Always Rings Twice
The harsh jangle of the bedroom phone jerked Ethan awake with a start. The empty glass sitting on the bedside table next to the set of keys with the Steelers emblem brought yesterday’s events into sharp focus. It wasn’t a dream — and why is that damn thing ringing?
He let the thought go; he’d gotten pretty drunk last night and must have put the living room phone back on its hook at some point before crashing out. The answering machine could get it. He didn’t feel like talking right now anyway. The ringing shrillness died down only to sound up again. Whoever was on the other end would keep at it until he picked up. Groaning, Ethan fumbled for the receiver.
“Yeah,” he managed, barely getting his raspy throat to work.
“Ethan.” The gruff voice belonged to his boss, Fredericks.
“Hey,” he mumbled.
“First off, my condolences for your loss,” Fredericks said with uncharacteristic softness. “I know it’s tough, but I wanted to tell you everyone at the station is working hard to get this taken care of. So just take it easy and don’t worry about a thing — I’ve already put you on bereavement, until you say otherwise.”
“No, I’m okay. I’ll be heading in soon.” Ethan’s voice was starting to come around. He also noticed he was still in his work clothes.
“Jesus, are you serious? If I were you, I’d have drowned myself in the Devil’s juice last night!”
“What makes you think I didn’t?” Ethan snapped.
“No offense intended, Ethan,” Fredericks’ gravelly voice deepened. “I’m just saying — I figured you wouldn’t be up to working on this. You know what the evidence supports. For us, it’s an open and shut case, so it’s not like we need you here for moral support, if you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean, Captain.” Ethan picked up Uncle Tobias’s keychain, rubbing a thumb gently across the emblem. “I just want to be kept in the loop — on everything.” It wasn’t until after he said the words that he realized they sounded more like a demand than a request, but Ethan didn’t care.
“I’m not liking your newfound tone with me, detective,” Fredericks said, as though Ethan’s title could be stripped from him at any moment. “Everybody’s lost someone along the way; just because you think you live in a wake of death doesn’t mean you’ve cornered the market on sorrow.”
“I’ll send a card with an apology, or we can hold hands and go to therapy later.” Ethan dropped the keys back on the bedside table. They clanked against the empty glass.
“Watch it Ethan — or so help me, your bereavement could become a suspension. It won’t look good on my record or in your file, but I’ll do what it takes to keep my department under control.”
“Well, it looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed at the old folk’s home this morning.”
Fredericks’ breathing grew heavy. The man was near seventy years and possessed a deadly combination of quick temper and high blood pressure. Ethan knew his own short fuse this morning was only making matters worse. This was not the time to make an old folks jibe. He decided to switch gears — maybe it was the headache or the latest episode of Donahue he’d seen — and went with appeasement.
“Look, Cap — I’m just asking to be kept informed. I’m not sure why that’s a problem.”
“I don’t have a problem keeping you apprised of information, Tannor,” Fredericks said. “But I do have a problem with an armed detective who may or may not be of sound and stable mind hitting the streets.” His voice escalated as he spoke. “So it would be in your best interest if you took a few days to let things simmer down.”
“Sounds like a threat, Captain.”
“What the fuck makes you think it wasn’t? Take two days!” Fredericks bellowed.
The line buzzed in Ethan’s ear. So much for appeasement.
“That went well,” Ethan grumbled as he slid his feet out of bed. He sat for a moment with his hands pressed deep into his eye sockets trying to push the migraine away. “Take two days,” Fredericks had said. He’d take two Tylenol instead.
He stood up, stretching to his full height of six feet three inches, and blew out a long-awaited exhalation. Maybe if he’d had a chance to do that before Fredericks called, the discussion would have gone better. He scratched his head, raked his fingers through his hair, and then shuffled to the bathroom like his joints were filled with setting cement. He set about ending the horrible account of morning breath that last night’s whiskey had caused and then stripped for a shower.
Later, he downed three cups of coffee while skimming through the paper and catching a few snippets of news on TV. Top coverage consisted of another bill under debate in Congress and some miracle pill getting ready to hit the market. He switched off the television when coverage of his uncle’s death came up.
This was no time for idle hands. He would take these two days to start looking into his uncle’s death. Why would Tobias do that to himself? He always seemed so capable in life, and health-wise, he’d generally taken care of himself.
The image of Tobias’s pale, emaciated body surfaced in Ethan’s mind. He’d never remembered his uncle looking so ill. Yeah, Tobias was dead at the time, but that wasn’t it. Not only had there been an unusual pallor to the skin, but the body’s muscle mass and density was near nothing, the eye sockets abnormally sunken in above dark circles of flesh. Tobias’s hair had thinned dramatically since Ethan had seen him last, and his scraggily beard was … well, more unkempt than usual. It seemed Tobias had eliminated all normal grooming routines from his day. What had happened to cause the sudden degradation in health?
Ethan walked over to the large window that displayed the cityscape in all its glory — the sun gleaming against thousands of skyscraper windows. The vista was breathtaking from this height, but once you got down to street level it was a different. Every speck of grime and trash was evident, the gang symbols spray painted against any flat surface made it known that unruly people were running the place, and around every corner predators waited for an opportunity to pounce.
Someday, Ethan hoped, this city would be different; he prayed it would happen in his lifetime. Turning from the window, he looked at the phone and answering machine in the corner. The light was still blinking, reminding him of the two messages that had yet to be played.
Just play and delete. No sense putting it off any longer. He moved to the machine and pressed the button with the triangle emblem. The tape rewound itself with a high-pitched whine and stopped as it came to the last message that was left. There was silence for a couple of dragging seconds, and then Art’s voice came through: