Page 4 of Dead Drunk (Cold Case Psychic #36)
Ronan
With no further evidence in the Maxwell case, Fitzgibbon had made the call to shelf the investigation for now. While Ronan agreed with the captain’s call, it upset him that this family was going to have to wait even longer for justice to be served.
Before they’d left the office for the day, Fitzgibbon set a meeting for the following morning to discuss which case they wanted to investigate next, which left Ronan to spend a stress-free night at home with his family.
Ten had texted and asked Ronan to pick up dinner for everyone at Greek Life. When he, Jude, and Fitz walked into the house with the food, the kids were sitting around the coffee table coloring pictures.
“Finally, Daddy! We’re all starving.”
Everly rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of Ronan.
“Yeah,”
Wolf chirped.
“I’m about to die!”
He groaned dramatically and hit the floor.
“We wouldn’t want that, Wonder Wolf,”
Jude said.
“Especially since you start swim lessons next week.”
“Hey, babe.”
Ronan set the food on the kitchen counter and pressed a quick kiss to Ten’s cheek. The detectives along with the kids followed behind Ronan like a Conga line.
“How about you kids eat in the living room? You can put on a movie.”
Ten’s hands shook as he opened each of the pizza boxes.
“Itch!”
Ezra said.
Ronan’s eyes moved between Tennyson and his son. He couldn’t decide which crisis to handle first; an obviously upset Ten or his itchy son.
“Where does it itch? I think we’ve got cream in the bathroom.”
Everly, Wolf, and Aurora giggled.
“No, Daddy. They don’t have an itch, they want to watch Stitch.”
“’Itch!”
Lizbet chorused along with Ezzie.
“Sure thing.”
Ronan cut up pieces of pizza for the little ones, while Tennyson served the bigger kids. Everly grabbed juice pouches. He carried the food into the living room and got the kids settled, all the while wondering what Ten could be upset over. So far as Ronan knew, he hadn’t been a dumbass at all lately. Well, not much, anyway.
When the kids were happily munching away, Ronan headed back into the kitchen and pulled Ten to the side.
“Are you okay?”
Ten shook his head.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about. All of you.”
He eyed Jude and Fitz.
Nodding, Ronan took his seat at the table.
“Where’s Cope?”
“Getting a massage. He’s still a bit tight from the fun run.”
Jude waggled his eyebrows.
“Wait, Cope didn’t run. Why the hell would he be tight?”
What was Jude talking about? Throwing colored powder and handing out water didn’t seem that strenuous to Ronan.
“Just because he didn’t get a medal, doesn’t mean Cope didn’t earn one.”
Jude snorted.
“Ew!”
Fitz grimaced, clutching his imaginary pearls.
Ten cleared his throat. The look on his face indicated he’d had enough small talk.
“I got a call from Madam Aurora this afternoon. She asked me to come to the shop to help her with an emergency,”
Ten began.
“Oh, Christ.”
Jude rolled his eyes.
“Did Amazon ship her faulty cauldrons?”
“To be honest, I wondered the same thing.”
Fitz got up from the table to grab another slice of pepperoni.
“The last time she called with an emergency, it was because a customer wanted a refund on a spellbook because he couldn’t actually turn his soon-to-be ex-wife into a salamander.”
“The nerve!”
Jude laughed.
Ronan studied Tennyson as he spoke. He knew whatever was going on with Aurora was more serious than an incorrect Amazon order and was most definitely not amphibian related.
“What is it, Ten? I can feel the anxiety pouring off you.”
“One of Aurora’s friends was arrested for OUI last night,”
Ten began.
Fitzgibbon raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t tell me she wants us to get this clown out of trouble.”
“No,”
Ten said, “nothing like that. Apparently, when he was in his jail cell back at the station, the man heard a voice asking him for help.”
“That’s nothing new.”
Jude shook his head and reached for the red pepper flakes.
“The city jail is a zoo on the best of days.”
“He was alone in the cell, and he was the only prisoner being held, Jude. The voice asking for help was a ghost.”
Relief barreled through Ronan’s entire body. He should have known Aurora’s problem had to do with a spirit. She most likely wasn’t able to make contact and needed Ten’s help.
“Thank Christ, I thought this was something serious.”
Ronan chuckled. This was just another instance of Aurora being Aurora.
Jude and Fitz laughed along with Ronan. The tension at the table eased.
“It is serious, Ronan!”
Ten’s fork clattered to the table. He shot Ronan an angry look.
“Do you think I’d waste your time with something I could handle on my own?”
Without bothering to wait for an answer, he continued.
“The spirit told this man he’d been murdered in the jail by a member of the Salem Police Department. His exact words were, ‘Can’t breathe. Killing me.’”
Ten’s words stopped Ronan cold. Looking at Fitz and Jude, he could see Tennyson had their full attention as well.
“Start from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”
“Aurora’s friend is a guy named Rhys James. He’s an accountant over in Peabody. He was at a retirement party last night and had too much to drink. He stupidly refused the offer of a ride and drove drunk. The Salem Police pulled him over and arrested him. Before you ask, he doesn’t have a criminal record.”
“Is it possible this man was still drunk in the holding cell and was hearing things?”
Fitz asked.
“That was my first question as well,”
Ten said, “but Aurora and I were able to rule that out when Rhys told us the ghost’s name was Jefferson McGrath.”
The detectives eyed each other from across the table, each of them shook their heads.
“That name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Aurora Googled him and he’d been arrested for drunk driving back in 2015 and had been found dead in his cell the next morning. The news article we read said McGrath had fingertip bruising on his neck, but the autopsy was pending toxicology results.”
“Is that all you know?”
Fitzgibbon asked.
Ten nodded.
“Aurora only showed me that one article, but there’s one more thing you need to know.”
Ronan had a very bad feeling he wasn’t going to like what Ten was about to say.
“What is it?”
“One of the arresting officers was a guy named Robert Oliveri.”
Ronan exchanged a look with Fitzgibbon, who shook his head.
“We don’t know who that is. If this death happened fifteen years ago, it’s possible he’s retired by now.”
“You said Oliveri was one of the arresting officers, who was the other?”
Jude asked, sounding curious.
Ten took a deep breath. His eyes stayed on Ronan.
“Oliveri’s partner was Cisco Jackson.”
“There’s no way Cisco had anything to do with a death in the jail,”
Ronan said.
“We’ve known him for eight years and there’s no cleaner cop on the force. Hell, it’s why he was made chief.”
“I’m with Ronan,”
Jude said.
“There’s no fucking way Cisco killed this guy.”
“What were the final autopsy findings?”
Fitzgibbon asked, sounding calm.
“What?”
Ronan half-shouted.
“You can’t actually think our boss had anything to do with this man’s death.”
“What we actually need, Ronan, are all the facts.”
Fitzgibbon was all business. He turned his attention back to Ten.
“What was the man’s cause of death?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, Aurora only showed me the one article from the Salem News.”
“Don’t you think you should have done a little bit of research before you accused the decorated chief of the Salem Police, and our friend, of murder?”
Ronan felt his anger growing. What the hell was wrong with his husband? Cisco might be a pain in the ass, but he was one of the best cops Ronan had ever worked with, not to mention the fact that Cisco was a part of their family.
“Take a breath.”
Jude set a hand on Ronan’s arm.
“Ten isn’t accusing anyone of anything. He’s just telling us what he knows. Why did Aurora call you and not us, or Ronan at the very least?”
“Aurora knows how sensitive this information is. She’s hoping Ronan can get me into the jail to see if I can connect with this spirit. There was no need to call in the cavalry. To be honest, she’s as scared as I am about this situation.”
Ronan sighed. He’d been able to see how badly scared Ten was from the moment he’d walked into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry I went off on you.”
Ten nodded.
“I don’t even care. You were just being your usual hotheaded self. What I do care about is what happens next.”
“What we need to do is get more information. Ronan, first thing in the morning, pull the police report on Jefferson McGrath. Jude, get a copy of the autopsy report.”
Fitzgibbon shook his head.
“We were looking for a new case to work and it looks like one found us.”
Ronan set his head in his hands. All of this would be cleared up in the morning. The police report along with the autopsy findings would conclude McGrath had been killed by too much booze, or an undiagnosed heart condition. There was no way the arresting officers had anything to do with McGrath’s death. Any other outcome was inconceivable. Cisco Jackson wasn’t a killer.
Right?