Page 12 of Dead Drunk (Cold Case Psychic #36)

Ronan

After the meeting with Bradford Hicks and Ashton Dokes wrapped up, everyone had gone home for the night. Ronan helped Ten cook dinner. He played with the kids and put them to bed. All the while feeling like he was unmoored from his life. He had a feeling Jude and Fitz felt the same way. None of them had been angry at Tennyson for consulting with Jude’s former boss. They’d gotten a lot of good intel, unfortunately most of it pointed to Cisco as the killer.

Fitzgibbon had sent a late night text letting Ronan and Jude know that they’d be going to see Fallon Kirkpatrick and Duncan MacBain in the morning. Even with a plan of action in place, Ronan spent the night tossing and turning.

When he met up with Jude and Fitz, both men looked like they hadn’t gotten any sleep either. As it had been the day before, no one spoke while Fitzgibbon drove.

“Ten, have you got anything on this case?”

Fitzgibbon asked.

“I don’t. That’s part of the reason I called Brad. I’m hoping I’ll learn more when we meet with Kirkpatrick. He doesn’t know we’re coming, so hopefully his guard will be down.”

“I was thinking the same thing about Kirkpatrick, but I meant if you had anything about Cisco?”

Fitzgibbon’s voice was ragged.

“It’s just that we’ve known him for years. I like to think that our instincts are finely tuned like your gift. How the hell could we all have missed this?”

Ronan understood exactly what Fitz was getting at. He’d felt the same way himself. Unfortunately, he had no answers either.

“I’ve never seen anything in Cisco that would point to him possibly having been a killer or a criminal mastermind. All I’ve ever read from him was a desire to help his community, to catch criminals who hurt the people of Salem, and miles and miles of frustration dealing with Ronan.”

Ronan snorted and started to laugh.

“But let’s be honest,”

Ten continued, “The same is true for everyone here.”

Fitz chuckled along with Ten, but his laugh didn’t reach his eyes.

“Here’s the thing, Fitz. None of us know if Cisco is involved in any of the things we’ve uncovered over the last few days, but you all have been acting like you’re sitting shiva, waiting for the worst to happen. If this were any other murder case, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of finding the killer. You also wouldn’t mope around like kids who got coal in their Christmas stockings. I hate to say this, but you all need to take your heads out of your asses and buck up. With all of these clues pointing toward Cisco, you three are the only ones who can figure out what really happened to the victims. The only thing worse than our friend being a killer, would be Cisco going to prison for crimes he didn’t commit.”

“Get our heads out of our asses?”

Jude asked, on a snicker.

“Ronan’s is so far up there, he can see Uranus!”

Fitz chirped.

“Agreed! Just make sure you get your own head out before you attempt to help Ronan, you know like when the flight attendant tells you to put on your own oxygen mask before you help the people near you.”

Ronan didn’t mind being the literal butt of Ten’s joke if it meant the team was back to firing on all cylinders. Ten was right, they had spent the last two days being afraid of where the evidence would lead. In all his years in law enforcement, Ronan had never approached a case like that before. He’d be damned if he start now.

Everyone was still laughing when Fitzgibbon pulled into the parking lot of the building that housed the City of Salem’s Public Defender’s Office.

“We’re going to go in there to talk to Kirkpatrick about his dead clients. I want to hear what he has to say before we tell him that these men didn’t die accidentally. Ten, if you get anything from your gift, don’t hesitate to jump in and ask a question.”

“You got it,” Ten said.

The building which housed the law offices was an old shoe factory that had been given new life when it was renovated into office space. Ronan loved the high ceilings and the immaculate brickwork.

Taking the elevator to the second floor, Ronan felt a sense of calm. Ten was right, Cisco hadn’t been found guilty of anything and he needed to fight to find the truth no matter who killed McGrath and the three others.

“We’re here to see Fallon Kirkpatrick,”

Fitz said when he reached the receptionist’s desk.

The older woman, whose nameplate identified her as Doris McGovern, eyed Fitzgibbon up and down.

“You don’t look like Fallon’s usual kind of clients.”

It was on the tip of Ronan’s tongue to ask who Fallon’s usual clients were, but he kept his mouth closed.

“We’re here to consult on a case.”

Fitz flashed his gold badge.

“I’m Captain Kevin Fitzgibbon.”

Doris’s eyes widened.

“Down the hall, second office on the right. If you’re in the mood, Captain, I’ll be at the Black Cauldron for happy hour tonight.”

Fitz grinned broadly.

“Maybe I’ll see you there, Doris.”

He dropped her a sexy wink and followed Jude down the hall.

“The silver fox strikes again. Does Jace know you’ve switched sides?”

Jude asked.

Fitz rolled his eyes.

“Doris is the gatekeeper for the entire public defender’s office. She sees and hears everything. Now that she thinks she has a chance with me, she’ll be much more willing to spill the beans about Kirkpatrick. He’s got attorney/client privilege to protect him, Doris does not.”

Ronan knocked on Fitzpatrick’s door and was surprised by what he saw. The office was neat as a pin without even a single sheet of paper out of place. Every other office looked like a tornado had torn through them.

“Mr. Fitzpatrick?”

The man sitting behind the desk, however, was exactly what Ronan had expected. Kirkpatrick was short with mousey brown hair and a full beard starting to go grey.

“How can I help you?”

Ronan flashed his badge, keeping his eyes glued to Fitzpatrick. Unfortunately, the attorney didn’t so much as blink.

“We’re here to talk to you about some of your clients.”

“Please come in, but I’m bound by attorney/client privilege, there’s not much I’ll be able to tell you, Detective O’Mara.”

Kirkpatrick paused.

“Ah, I see you’ve brought friends. “Detective Byrne, Captain Fitzgibbon, please come in. As I was telling Ronan, I’m not sure what I can do to help the Salem Police Department.”

When Tennyson entered the office, Kirkpatrick sat up straighter, as if he were bracing for battle.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Mr. Grimm, or do you go by Grimm-O’Mara?”

“Tennyson is just fine.”

Ronan wasn’t surprised Kirkpatrick knew their names or that he and Ten were married. It was always wise to know your enemy, the question was why would Fallon need to? “We’re here to talk to you about Jefferson McGrath, Anthony Charles, Craig Ott, and Lewis Prado.”

Kirkpatrick’s eyes narrowed, but he showed no other emotion.

“Old cases. Off the top of my head, I seem to remember they were OUI arrests. Most of my clients are frequent fliers, if you catch my drift.”

“Were the clients we named of the frequent flier variety?”

Fitz asked, sounding casual, but his eyes were focused on Kirkpatrick.

“I’ll check.”

Kirkpatrick hunted and pecked across the keyboard.

“I’d defended all four men multiple times in the past.”

He paused, seeming to size up Fitzgibbon.

“Since we’re at the end of what I can tell you about my clients, why don’t you tell me why you’re here and save everybody some time.”

Ronan’s heart kicked up a notch, this was the kind of moment he lived for.

“Would it surprise you to know all four men are dead?”

Kirkpatrick shot Ronan an incredulous look.

“Of course I know they’re dead, detective. Doris reads the obits and updates our client records accordingly.”

“There’s nothing like great bookkeeping.”

Ronan offered Kirkpatrick a bland smile.

“Since you know all four men have met their makers, I suppose you know all four were murdered?”

“What? That’s awful!”

Kirkpatrick gasped.

The attorney’s reaction was almost comical. If this case weren’t so damn serious, he would have advised Kirkpatrick against quitting his day job in favor of the bright lights of Hollywood.

“You’re right,”

Ronan continued, “it is awful. Even more so because all four died in the Salem Jail awaiting transport to county lockup.”

“In that case I’d say you have an in-house problem.”

Kirkpatrick smirked.

“You know what? You’re absolutely right, it is an in-house problem.”

Ronan returned Kirkpatrick’s smirk with one of his own.

“Where things get a little dicey is that you are frequently in our station house.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Detective O’Mara. Why on earth would I kill my clients? They keep me in kibble and fancy sports cars. Killing them defeats my purpose.”

“You know, that’s very interesting,”

Fitz said, breaking his silence, “you and I are both public employees, which means our salaries are also public. Please explain to me how you can afford your million dollar home on your salary.”

“It’s called smart money management, Captain Fitzgibbon!”

Kirkpatrick snapped.

“Yeah, but here’s the thing. As a seasoned public defender you make about eight-five thousand dollars per year, meaning, after taxes, you’re left with about sixty thousand. You’ve got that fancy sports car, utility bills, and your mortgage is approximately five thousand per month and five times twelve is sixty thousand. Now, I’m no genius, but even I can see that the math doesn’t math. Your ends don’t meet. Which makes me wonder just what kind of racket you’re running on the side? Drugs? Underground poker games? Sex trafficking? Murder for hire?”

“Be very careful, captain,”

Kirkpatrick sneered, his eyes darkened.

“I’ve done my best to accommodate your ridiculous questions, but you’ve stepped over the line. All it would take is one phone call to Chief Cisco Jackson and the three of you will be on highway detail picking up trash.”

“It’s interesting you mention Cisco Jackson,”

Ten said.

“Considering the man hates you.”

Kirkpatrick’s mouth dropped open.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t he once threaten to have you disbarred?”

Ten asked, not backing down one inch.

“Which disbarment hearing was that? The first or the second?”

“Get the fuck out of my office and take your sideshow freak with you!”

Kirkpatrick thundered.

“The next time you set foot in this building, you’d better have a warrant!”

“Count on it!”

Ronan found his first real smile in what felt like days. Feeling a touch of optimism, he did what Kirkpatrick asked and left the office. He would bet the house that at this very moment, Kirkpatrick was on the phone with his cohorts, letting them know members of the Salem Police were sniffing around.

Ronan couldn’t help thinking that would make their meeting with Duncan MacBain all the more interesting. Unfortunately, if Cisco were involved with the jail murders, he would also know his own cold case team was coming for him.