False Move Page 2

  ‘Thomas Becker,’ said Tess, doing the legal bit, ‘I’m arresting you to ensure your attendance at court in Augusta tomorrow morning.’ She also narrated the name and location of the bail bondsman who’d hired her as a skip tracer, so that everything was above board and official. She took out a set of handcuffs and without further complaint Becker extended his wrists: he knew he was done. Tess snapped the cuffs home.

  ‘C’mon, guys, can’t you give us a break?’ the bulldog-shaped guy groaned. ‘What if Moondog promises to come quietly once we’ve played our set?’

  ‘I did give you a break,’ Tess said. ‘My associate here wanted to come in and drag you out of that bar an hour ago, but I let you finish your beers first. Besides, Moondog might find playing a guitar difficult in handcuffs. These aren’t coming off till we’re back at the bondsman’s office.’

  ‘So what are we meant to do now?’ The youth’s translucent lashes flapped wildly. ‘I mean, we can’t rock up as the Moondog Trio missing the main man.’

  ‘See this as your opportunity to step from behind the drums and into the limelight?’ Po suggested. The guy shook his head morosely, and Po shrugged, tossed aside his cigarette. ‘I’m outta ideas.’

  ‘Come on, Becker,’ Tess said, and led her oversized charge towards the Mustang. ‘Let’s get this over and done with without any fuss, shall we?’

  Po opened the back door for him. Gave him a look. ‘There ain’t a mark on that upholstery, see that it stays that way.’

  Becker’s band mates stood round-shouldered and defeated. Momentarily, Tess felt sorry for them: their evening was ruined, and quite possibly their employment prospects for the foreseeable future. Becker was, in his young friend’s words, the main man, and without him the Moondog Trio was a nonentity. Well, she thought sourly, it’s them or me, and I won’t get paid either if I don’t take Becker in. She aimed a nod of finality at Po, and her partner directed their captive to sit.

  ‘Tip for you, buddy,’ Po said, leaning close to conspire with Becker. ‘Next time you think about skipping bail, don’t go advertising your tour dates on the damn social networks.’

  ‘You’re telling me,’ Becker grumbled from the back seat. ‘It was a stupid idea in hindsight.’

  ‘F’sure. You took all the fun outta the hunt for us.’

  THREE

  ‘I prefer it when the bad guys put up a fight,’ Po said as Tess slid in the car alongside him. He was parked outside the bail bondsman’s office in Augusta, having earlier delivered Becker to lock-up pending tomorrow’s court appearance. ‘That way I don’t feel so guilty about handing ’em over to the law.’

  ‘That’s a residual effect of your outlaw days,’ Tess observed with a wry smile. She sniffed, shrugged her shoulders. ‘Becker was a decent enough guy. I felt like a heel turning him in. But that’s the job, Po; we can’t be choosy if we want to earn the bounty.’

  Po pursed his thin lips. He had money; the ten percent of the full bail amount earned by Tess was hers. Since medically retiring from the Cumberland County Sheriff’s department, she’d tried to make ends meet first as a genealogist, and then as a freelance private investigator on the payroll of a specialist inquiry firm, headed by Emma Clancy – her future sister-in-law, if her brother Alex ever agreed a wedding date. For a private eye the downside of living and working in Maine was that the state had one of the lowest crime rates in the USA, so regular work wasn’t exactly rolling in. Taking on skip tracing jobs went somewhat against his grain, but not to a point that’d exclude his involvement. They were partners in every sense, and he’d walk barefoot across hot coals for her.

  ‘I know you’re uncomfortable with this, Po, but … well, I’ve bills to pay and a house to keep.’ As soon as she said it she knew she’d hit a nerve. Po had suggested she move into his sprawling home near Presumpscot Falls, but to date she’d turned down his offer. Her refusal had nothing to do with her commitment to their relationship and everything with her need to retain a sense of independence denied her during her previous serious relationship. Which, she understood, was contradictory, when Po gave his time, money and physical assistance selflessly to allow her to do so. ‘I promise it’s only a stop-gap, only till something better comes in.’

  ‘Hey, you have to diversify if you want to succeed. Who can say: we might grow to enjoy this new venture.’ Po owned a thriving bar–diner and an auto repair shop among other businesses, but was rarely hands-on at those venues anymore: he enjoyed the variety of being Tess’s sidekick when it came to chasing down the bad guys: maybe it was in recompense for his past behaviour or in rebellion against people’s perceptions of ex-cons. For Tess, slapping on handcuffs was a nice nostalgia trip back to the days when she was a sheriff’s deputy; for Po, getting to smack civility and acquiescence into an obstreperous criminal was a bonus. He peeled out from the curb, resisted shooting her a grin. Getting to drive like a street outlaw was a bonus to his job too. He’d have them back in Portland in no time.

  As he negotiated Augusta’s streets, Tess frowned at her cell phone. She’d missed a call from her mother. Also, there were three text messages stacked up from her. Checking them she found the messages curt and ambiguous. All three said: WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU?

  She endured a prickly relationship with her mom. If not for the fact she was often brusque and downright snarky with Tess, the messages would have been cause for concern. She was tempted to ignore them, wait until she was back home and ring back then, but it was unusual that her mom had made the effort four times to contact her. Usually one summons from Barbara Grey was all she’d allow, and if it was not answered then woe betide her daughter next time they met.

  ‘Trouble?’ Po ventured.

  ‘My face says it all?’

  ‘And then some.’

  ‘It’s my mom,’ Tess said, again reading one of the texts. She tried not to apportion a sarcastic tone to the words, though it was difficult. Read in another context, the damn thing sounded like a plea. She might not get on with her mom, and dislike her constant sniping and disapproval, but dammit, she still loved and cared for the old harridan! Immediately, she returned the call. Po cast sidelong glances at her, but said nothing: he knew something was wrong, simply because Tess normally grumbled under her breath before calling Barbara.

  ‘Mom? It’s me, Tess,’ she announced the instant her call was picked up.

  ‘Where are you?’ Barbara was as brusque as ever.

  ‘I’m on my way back from Augusta. I’ve been on a—’

  ‘You need to be more specific, Teresa. When you say “on your way back” that tells me nothing about how soon I can expect you here.’

  ‘What’s wrong, Mom?’

  ‘I prefer to wait until I see you in person, rather than speak on the phone. Where are you?’

  ‘Just leaving Augusta.’

  Barbara snorted in disappointment. ‘I suppose you’re with Nicolas? No need to answer. That’s a given these days. For once, I’d say that’s a good thing. He can drive you here much faster than you can.’

  ‘Mom? What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when you arrive. It’s already getting late, don’t keep me waiting all night.’ With her demand made Barbara ended the call.

  Tess stared at her phone, as if she could convey her outrage to her mother by the power of thought alone. Po said nothing.

  ‘She is infuriating …’

  ‘She give you the royal summons, huh?’

  ‘Sometimes she treats me like I’m still thirteen years old.’

  ‘That’s parents for ya,’ Po said. ‘Don’t matter how old you get, you’re still a baby to them.’

  Now Tess said nothing. Po wasn’t exactly the ideal person to offer advice, considering he’d no experience of an overbearing parent. His dad died before Po grew to adulthood, and his mother was out of the picture. She supposed he could be speaking from observation.

  ‘She didn’t say what she wanted?’

  ‘It’s enough that when she barks she expects me to come to heel.’ Tess exhaled, expelling the bitterness. ‘There’s something wrong, Po. She was even sharper-tongued than usual.’

  ‘I overheard her askin’ about me …’

  ‘Yeah. That’s why I know something’s wrong, she was actually happy to hear I’m with you.’

  ‘Yep.’ Po grinned. ‘Totally out of character for her.’

  Tess laughed without humour. Barbara didn’t dislike Po. She only disliked that he was with Tess. In her mom’s opinion, she’d have been better staying with her ex-fiancé, the ultra-safe and self-conceited Jim Neely, popping out grandchildren and changing dirty diapers, than chasing after criminals. Then again, none of Tess’s life choices suited her mom.

  ‘Wonder what I’ve done wrong now?’ She was fairly confident that there wasn’t anything major to worry about. Barbara would have reached out to her brothers, Michael Jnr and Alex, before asking for Tess, and if she had she was also confident that her brothers would have tried to make contact before now.

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ said Po, as they reached the highway south and he stamped the gas pedal.

  FOUR

  Barbara Grey’s house was set in woodland on the shore of Capisic Pond, a tributary of the Fore River in western Portland. Po steered his Mustang down the short tree-lined driveway towards the house less than fifty minutes after speeding past the outskirts of Augusta. It was fifty minutes too long a wait for Barbara: she stood at her front door, arms crossed, and her mouth set in disapproval. All that was missing was the tapping of a toe.

  The car’s headlights leached her features of all colour. She had the same pale complexion as her daughter, and her blond hair had prematurely gone to ash. Her cardigan and trousers were the shade of roof slates. She literall
y was Mrs Grey, in name and in appearance. Before Tess was out of the car, Barbara approached, arms still tightly crossed over her chest. She glanced once at Po, gave an unsubtle shake of her head, and he got the message.

  ‘Looks as if I’m minding the car,’ he said.

  ‘That’s unfair,’ said Tess.

  ‘I’d let you do it, but it’s you she wants to speak with,’ Po countered.

  ‘I meant it’s unfair you feel so unwelcome you have to sit out here.’

  Po laughed. ‘I know, Tess. I was only tryin’ to lighten the mood. Besides, I want a smoke, and you know how your mom frowns on my “dirty little habit”.’

  Barbara was tired of waiting. She rapped her knuckles on Tess’s window, beckoned for her to follow, and immediately headed for the house.

  ‘I’ll try to keep things short and sweet,’ Tess promised.

  ‘Good luck with the latter.’ Po delved in his shirt pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Tess eyed the cigarette he fed to his lips with envy. She gave up smoking years ago, but was severely tempted to start again and thumb her nose at her mom’s displeasure. She followed Barbara before the temptation grew too strong.

  Her mom disappeared inside, but Tess knew where to find her. She went directly to the kitchen and Barbara was at the breakfast bar, pouring them coffee from a jug she’d kept warm. Tess’s heart sank: the presence of drinks was a sign that their discussion could prove lengthy.

  ‘Sit, sit.’ Barbara indicated a stool, and Tess sat like a well-behaved puppy. For a moment the woman turned her back, and Tess was positive she was trembling, and trying to gather herself.

  ‘Mom … what’s wrong?’

  Barbara sat before answering, turning her upper body so she could regard her daughter. Her eyes were red, and for once it wasn’t through restrained anger. Tess reached towards her, but her fingers fell short of offering any comfort.

  ‘Mom?’ she said again.

  Barbara hitched her eyebrows, and her shoulders, a couple of times apiece, before she cleared her throat. ‘I was always against you having a law enforcement career,’ she began. Nothing new there, Tess had heard it all before. Expect this time, she couldn’t miss the unspoken “but” in Barbara’s tone. ‘This latest venture you’re involved in, this private detective nonsense, I’ve never been comfortable with it either. I think it’s a waste of your talents.’

  Tess had majored in history and cultural anthropology at Husson University. Her mom had never made it a secret that she felt Tess could put her education to better use than as a down-at-heel gumshoe: her daughter chasing after criminals and straying spouses was not the kind of return she’d hoped for against the investment she’d made in university fees. It was a bone of contention often cast during their arguments, except now there was the ‘but’ still went unsaid. Tess sipped coffee, waiting for the denouement.

  ‘The thing is, I don’t know another private detective, and well …’ Barbara was rarely lost for words. The difference here was she wasn’t delivering orders or scathing criticism, and the alternative proved difficult. She got up and walked across the kitchen, tipped some coffee from her cup into the sink. It was a diversion while she ordered her mind. She added more cream.

  ‘Mom, are you asking for my help?’

  ‘I’m asking for nothing.’ Barbara’s gaze was diamond-hard. She visibly trembled again, and it helped release some of the tension she’d built. Even her eyes softened. ‘I’m … well, I’m asking on behalf of … well, let’s say an old friend, shall we?’

  ‘And they need a private eye?’

  Again Barbara was lost for words. She reclaimed her seat, and again faced Tess, but her gaze was lowered. ‘I’m not really sure.’

  ‘Mom,’ said Tess. ‘I know this is difficult for you, asking me to do something you’re normally against, but I don’t know if I can help if you won’t tell me what the problem is. To start with, who is this old friend?’

  ‘Do you remember Estelle Lacey?’

  Tess dug through her memory, dredging up a youthful face she hadn’t thought about in decades. ‘Do you mean Stella? My friend from elementary school?’

  Barbara found the idea of shortened names loathsome, hence Estelle, and also why she’d never term her daughter other than with her full given name. She once slapped a man who’d had the temerity to call her ‘Barbie’. ‘Yes, Teresa, I mean your friend Estelle.’

  ‘You’ve kept in touch with Estelle Lacey all these years?’

  ‘Why the hell would I?’ Why she’d respond with such denial Tess couldn’t say, but apparently her mom felt she had to rebut the notion. ‘She contacted me! Why she didn’t just get in touch with you directly, well, I don’t know …’

  Whichever of them Stella had approached for help didn’t really matter to Tess, but it did matter the way Barbara saw things. Perhaps she disliked being made an intermediary in a business she was fundamentally opposed to. Tess decided to cut to the chase. ‘What does she want?’

  Barbara stared at the floor. ‘Do you remember her father?’

  ‘Vaguely.’ She recalled he’d been her grandfather’s long-time friend and patrol partner with the NYPD, though he’d never been around much when she attended school alongside Stella. She was young when her grandfather was shot dead when he walked in on a convenience store robbery, and could only conjure a fuzzy image of his buddy Aaron Lacey, a dark-haired broad-shouldered young man in NYPD uniform. Fleetingly, she pictured him at her grandfather’s funeral, but was unsure if she was ordering her memories to fit the sad scene, when Lacey had picked her up in his arms and held her while Barbara and her dad, Michael, dropped rose petals into the grave.

  ‘Lace,’ she said, his nickname coming back to her, and it immediately earned her a curl of Barbara’s lip.

  ‘Aaron is missing,’ her mother stated.

  ‘He still lives in New York?’ After her grandfather’s death, her parents had brought her and her two older brothers to Maine, and Tess knew it was her mom’s idea so her dad wouldn’t end up murdered on duty the way his had been before him. Ironically it wasn’t a drugged-up robber that killed Michael Grey, but bowel cancer: sometimes Tess had entertained the notion that – given a choice – her dad would’ve preferred going down in a hail of bullets rather than endure the horrible, lingering death he’d suffered.

  ‘How would I know where he lives after all these years?’ Barbara flapped a hand. ‘You’ll have to check with Estelle. Supposing you agree to look for him, that is. Personally, I’d prefer it if you left well and good alone.’

  Tess shrugged. ‘It’d be best if Estelle hires a detective local to her, rather than me traveling to New York.’

  ‘Aaron was last seen in Boston,’ Barbara said, and immediately regretted the admission. Even it were in another state, Boston was only a couple hours’ drive from Portland. ‘But, no good can come from stirring up the past. I promised Estelle I’d inform you about her dad’s missing person status, but not that you’d take on his case. I’ve done my bit, now I suggest you make contact and let her down softly. Suggest she finds a private eye in Boston, I’m sure they’re a dime a dozen down there.’ She plucked a handwritten note from her cardigan pocket and placed it on the breakfast counter. Tess reached for it, and Barbara placed her hand over hers. ‘Teresa,’ she warned ominously, ‘I don’t want you taking this case, but, well, the final decision is yours.’

  It was just like her mom to place the onus of disappointment back on Tess. Hell, if she didn’t want her taking the job, she could have kept quiet about Stella’s call, and allowed things to slide. She eyed her mom, wondering if she was playing a double bluff, while also saving face after her previous attitude towards Tess’s career path. As Barbara released her, Tess drew the note into her palm and slipped it into her jeans pocket. ‘I’m making no promises either,’ she said, and left things at that.

  FIVE

  The following morning found Tess and Po seated at a table outside a hotel on Huntington Avenue in Boston’s Back Bay area. Tess nursed a sixteen-ounce concoction of coffee, froth and flavoured syrups that made Po retch at the thought of drinking it. He’d stuck to a straight-up black Americano, but was yet to touch it; he preferred feeding his nicotine habit first. He was oblivious of the sneers of disgust from passers-by who deemed his habit filthy, and his smoke poison that’d shrivel their lungs if they got too close. One woman wafting a sheaf of papers at him raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled at her expense. ‘Boston tough, my ass,’ he grinned at Tess, ‘when they’re afraid of a little second-hand smoke.’