Chapter 36

 

 

            Five days after Lauren's funeral the Simon brothers were summoned to Town's office.  When Rick arrived alone at two o'clock that Wednesday afternoon, Town, Pellman Creek, and Jerry Reiner were waiting for him.  Town hesitated a long moment after Rick entered.  He looked into his outer office, and then glanced back at Rick. 

 

            Rick answered the black man's question before it was ever spoken.  "A.J. isn't with me.  He told me to come without him.  He...he wanted to get a start on a new case we took yesterday."

 

            Jerry and Town exchanged a look that Rick easily interpreted. 

 

            "I know, I know.  It's not like A.J. to not wanna hear first-hand what the three of you have uncovered.  But a lot of things A.J.'s been doing in recent days aren't like him.  He...he's barely hanging on, guys, and I'm not sure how to help him anymore."

 

            Town made no reply as he closed the door behind Rick.  He indicated to the grouping of chairs he had pulled up around his desk.  Pellman and Jerry sat in two of them. The two that were empty had been intended for Rick and A.J.   Rick claimed one of them while Town pulled the other over to the far corner where it normally sat.

 

            Captain Brown walked around his desk and seated himself in his high-backed green leather chair.  He nodded to Jerry while looking at Rick.  "I'm going to have Jerry start by telling you what his end of the investigation has wrought so he can get out of here and pick his kids up from day-care."

 

            As hard as it was to believe, the free-spirited Jerry Reiner was now a family man.  In the spring of 1991 he'd married a forensic pathologist he worked with.  He was the father of a four-year-old daughter named Kara, and a six-month-old son named Collin.  But marriage, fatherhood, and the responsibilities of a demanding job hadn't taken away from Jerry's quirky nature.  Rick still thought of him as one of the funniest men he knew, and Jerry remained a close friend of both Simon brothers.

 

            Today Jerry had left his sense of humor at the office.  This case had been as hard on him as it was on everyone else who called A.J. Simon friend.  The medical examiner got right down to business.

 

            "Lauren was deceased before the fire started, Rick. She was shot in the middle of her forehead by a Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum.  I'm quite certain death was instantaneous."

 

            Rick hated himself for thinking, Thank God for small favors, but he couldn't help it.  The last thing he'd wanted to find out this afternoon was that Lauren had suffered.  That she'd been conscious when the fire started and had died trying to escape the smoke and the flames.

 

            "The carbon monoxide levels in her body were almost nonexistent," Jerry said,  "which would again indicate she was dead prior to the start of the fire.  However," Jerry paused there, giving the impression he dreaded telling Rick the rest of what the autopsy had revealed.

 

            "However what, Jer?"

            "Mind you Lauren was already dead when this was done to her, but--"

 

            "But what?"

 

            "Her body was doused with sulfuric acid.  Within minutes it would have eaten away her skin and a good portion of her bones.  That's why...why there wasn't much left of her to find."

 

            Rick swallowed hard and wondered how much of this A.J. had been witness to when he'd entered that burning building.  Had he seen how the acid had destroyed his wife's body?  

 

            After a brief pause Rick asked,  "And the baby?" 

 

            "I found no remains I can conclusively say belonged to an infant.  But you have to remember the bones would have been so small, and with the acid and heat of the fire it's possible nothing...nothing was left of the baby but ashes."

 

            Rick blinked away the moisture that filled his eyes.  When he was able to speak he looked from Town to Pellman. 

 

"I've been in this business long enough to know that when a body is doused with acid there's only two reasons behind such an action.  Either the perpetrator has so much hate for his victim that he wants to disfigure the corpse, or he's trying to hide something.  Trying to cover up a portion of the crime that he knows will give the investigators a clue to his identity.  So which is it here?"

 

            "At this point Pellman and I are inclined to lean toward your first scenario," Town said.  "Though I doubt it was Lauren the perp actually hated."

 

            "I doubt that, too," Rick replied.  "I suspect that person hated me.  Or both me and A.J.   And this was their way of gettin' back at us."

 

            Pellman Creek spoke for the first time since Rick had entered the room.  "You sound as if you know who this person is, Rick."

 

            "I suspect I do."

 

            "Would you care to fill me in?"

            "Tom Bidwell.  Cord's right-hand man."

 

            "And what brings you to that conclusion?"

 

            "It's like I told you that day after your raid on the camp.  Bidwell had just fingered me as a nark right before A.J. showed up.  If A.J. hadn't arrived when he did, I sure as hell wouldn't be sittin' here talking to you guys right now, 'cause Cord had a gun against my skull and was ready to pull the trigger."

 

            "But you told me you're one hundred percent certain Bidwell hadn't shared this news with Cord Franklin until that very moment."

 

            "I am sure of that.  Cord was taken aback by the news, there's no doubt about that.  And Bidwell hated my guts from the day I walked into that camp.  It woulda' been just the kinda feather in his cap he was looking for to make the announcement he did in front of the entire camp.  Not only was everyone ready to lynch me, but it made Cord look like a piss-poor leader in front of the other men."

 

            Pellman steepled his fingers in thought.  "If I recall correctly, you said Bidwell made no mention of A.J. when he told Cord you were a P.I."

 

            "No, he didn't.  But it's possible he simply hadn't gotten around to it before Cord erupted, and prior to A.J.'s arrival."

 

            "So exactly what role is it you think Bidwell played in your sister-in-law's murder?"

            "I think he had someone kill her.  I don't know who, but for God’s sake the guy's got friends in the LRP.  I think he had someone kill her, and I think he had that person plant the jacket that was found at the scene so the blame would get pinned on Cord."

 

            Pellman and Town had come to that same conclusion, but until they closed this investigation for good they remained noncommittal. 

 

            "Unfortunately," Town said, "we can't ask Tom Bidwell these questions."

 

            "Why not?  Hasn't he been found?"

 

            "Oh, he was found all right," Pellman stated.  "Two days ago in the mountains outside Camp Cord."

 

            "Well, then, what are you talkin' about when you say you can't ask him any questions?"

            Town looked across his desk at his old friend.  "He was dead, Rick.  He had put his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.  The entire top of his skull was blown off."

 

            The only reaction Rick had was to curse,  "Fucking coward."

 

            In the long silence that followed Jerry stood to leave.  He laid a hand on Rick's shoulder as he passed.  "Tell your brother to return one of my messages.  I've tried calling him all week, but he won't pick up so I end up talking to his answering machine.  I'd like to take him to a Padres game before the season ends, but it's hard to make plans for that if he won't call me back."

 

            "I'll tell him, Jer.  But to be perfectly honest with you, I don't know how much good it will do me."  Rick stood and shook Jerry's hand.  "Thanks for taking the time to come by.  I know you coulda' just had Town hand me a copy of the autopsy report instead of showing up in person.  And thanks...thanks for working on Lauren.  It meant a lot to A.J., that it was you."

 

            Jerry did his best to smile.  After all these years, it was a rare case when he couldn't remove himself from the nature of his job, but autopsying a child was always difficult, and autopsying friends, or the relative of a friend, was pure hell. 

 

            With a final, "Take care of yourself, Rick," Jerry exited the room.

 

            Rick retook his seat as Town resumed their conversation.

 

            "The arson investigators have confirmed the conclusion we all came to a week ago - that the fire was deliberately set.  It was started in Lauren's office using that old favorite, gasoline."

 

            "Was there any evidence found at the scene that will give us clues as to who might have started it?"  Rick asked.

 

            "Other than the camouflage jacket, no.  Nothing.  But, by far, that doesn't mean we're going to stop looking.   A good number of my officers think of you and A.J. as one of our own, Rick.  You know that.  And you know what it means.  Every cop in this city wants to find the person who killed Lauren and torched that building."

 

            "Thanks, Town.  I appreciate everyone's concern."  Rick shifted in his chair.  "What about witnesses?  Did anyone see anything that night that might be of help to us?"

            "No one who's come forward.  All the buildings in that area house offices that hold normal Monday through Friday business hours.  At that time on a Saturday night there would be little reason for anyone to be down there."

 

            "But you started your sentence by saying, ‘No one who's come forward.’  That leads me to believe you suspect a person was in the area who witnessed something."

 

            Town smiled while opening a desk drawer.  He knew Rick Simon was too sharp to miss that seemingly innocent comment. 

 

            The black man placed a small tape recorder on his desktop.  "Since you were present when A.J. gave me his statement regarding the events of that evening, I'm sure you recall him telling me that someone grabbed him by the shirt and guided him out of that burning building."

 

            "Yeah.  And I also recall that you and I talked about it later.  We both came to the conclusion that after everything he'd been through his thinking was a little muddled.  That somehow he got out on his own, because based on what the arson investigator told you, there was no way someone coulda' got in that building after A.J. did and survived to get them both out.  He said if A.J. hadn't gotten out when he did that he woulda' died right along with Lauren."

 

            "Which is what A.J. told us he planned to do," Town reminded.

 

            "I know," Rick acknowledged softly.  "But so what?"

 

            "The ‘so what’ of it is this.  The more thought I gave to everything A.J. told us the more credence I gave it.  If he'd decided he wanted to die with his wife, if he had already laid by her side as he told us, what would have made him get up and walk out of there?  Let's face it, Rick, with as bad as the fire was he would have had a window of mere seconds in which to get out of that room before he was overcome by smoke."

 

            "So you think someone did pull him outta there?"

            Town shrugged.  "Don't know for sure.  But listen to this 911 call I obtained."

 

            Even Pellman Creek, who had remained silent during this portion of the discussion, sat forward with interest.  

 

            Town pressed the play button and a man's voice filled the room.  His sentences were interspersed by the same chesty cough A.J. had been plagued with for days after the fire.

 

            "There's a fire...a fire on San Clara street.  At 23251 San Clara.  A man's...a man's been injured.  A woman...a dead woman is still inside the building."

 

            The dispatcher's voice came over the tape then, asking the unidentified caller questions.  But before any answers were given to those questions the caller hung up.

 

            Town hit the rewind button and played the tape through a second time.  He waited for Rick to draw his own conclusions.

 

            "That's gotta be the guy who helped A.J. out.  It's obvious he was in that building.  How else would he have known Lauren was dead?"

 

            "My thought exactly,"  Town said. 

 

            "But who is the guy?  I mean, what role did he play in all this?  If he was the one who killed Lauren and started the fire, why the hell would he pull A.J. out of there?  Wouldn't you think he would have let A.J. die too?"

            "Yeah, that's what I would think.  Is there anything about the voice you recognize, Rick?  Could this be someone you and A.J. know?"

            Town played the tape again.  Rick listened harder this time.  With a twitch of a finger he indicated for Town to play the tape one last time.  When it came to an end Rick shook his head. 

 

            "I sure can't identify the voice.  But is it just my imagination, or does it sound like an older guy?"

            "No, it's not just your imagination.  Our techs in the crime lab have pinpointed the man's age at somewhere between sixty-five and eighty-five."

 

            "Now how the hell is an eighty-five year old guy gonna fight through fire to get in a burning building and then somehow manage to get both himself and A.J. out?"            

 

            "We don't know for certain our caller is that old, Rick.  And, as of now, we can only speculate that he's the man who helped A.J.  What we need, above all else, is to find this guy and bring him in for questioning."

            "Any leads in that direction?"

            "No. None.  He called from a pay phone, so you know what that means."

 

            "That there's no way to trace the call to any specific person."

 

            "Correct."

 

            Rick thought a moment.  "Hey, what about fingerprints?  The telephone company can trace what phone the call came from.  There should be some kinda prints on the receiver."

 

            "We already thought of that.  Unfortunately, this came to light after A.J. gave me his statement.  As you well know that was almost two days after the fire.  The phone booth where this call originated had been used several dozen times by then."

 

            A frustrated Rick exhaled a heavy sigh and slumped back in his chair.  For the moment Town had no more to offer on the subject, so turned the discussion over to Agent Creek.        

            Pellman filled Rick in on several other parts of the case that were still baffling its investigators, then dropped the bombshell.  "Logan and Joey Franklin have seemingly disappeared."

 

            "Disappeared?"

            "Yes.  No one's seen a trace of them, or of my agentm since Friday night."

 

            "By your agent, you mean Joey's nurse Casey?"

 

            "Yes.  Though her real name is Spencer St. Pierre."

 

            "So what's all this mean?"

 

            "You told me Logan wasn't at the camp that last weekend because he was ill.  Is that correct?"

            "Yeah.  Or at least Cord told me he was ill.  Said the kid had some kinda stomach upset."  Rick's eyes took in both men.  "So what's goin' on here?  Where's the woman and the kids?"

 

            "I wish we knew," Town said.  "Pellman assures me Ms. St. Pierre is a decorated agent of outstanding character and reputation.  Right now we're working under the assumption that her disappearance, and the disappearance of the Franklin boys, is a result of foul play."

 

            "Tom Bidwell," Rick stated flatly.

 

            Pellman nodded.  "It very well could be.  If he had discovered who you and A.J. were, it's quite possible he also discovered that Joey Franklin's nurse was really an undercover agent for the bureau.  That would be reason enough for him to have her killed."

 

            "But what about the kids?  I don't understand why he'd harm Logan and Joey."

 

            "As a means of revenge against Cord," Town surmised.  "Tom Bidwell sounds like he was a very angry man, and that his anger was directed at the man he was forced to call General.  What better way to get back at Franklin than to prove his best friend is really a private investigator working for the FBI, as well as having the sons he cherished killed?"

 

            "I don't know."  Doubt was evident in Rick's tone.  "I'm not sure Bidwell had the guts to carry something like that out against Cord."

 

            "He might have if he wasn't the one actually doing the killing.  Which, because he was at that camp all day, we know is improbable."

 

            Rick thought a long time before speaking again.  "So where do we go from here?"

 

            "This case is far from closed," Pellman told the detective.  "We got Cord's strategic plan book the night of the raid.  Law enforcement officials around the country are right now scrambling to put a halt to the devastation planned for December.  And one way or the other I will find out what happened to my agent and the Franklin boys.  At this very moment I have investigators combing our files, looking at every possible suspect we can think of who might have a connection to Cord Franklin or Tom Bidwell.  If Bidwell was behind this, and behind the death of Brendan Nash as I strongly suspect, then I promise you, Rick, I will find the person or persons he hired to do his dirty work."

 

            "For my brother's sake, is that a promise I can take you up on?"

 

            "Yes.  For your brother's sake, that's a promise I more than intend to keep."

 

            Creek rose to make his leave.  "Gentlemen, I need to get going.  I have a lot of work to do before I can sleep again at night."  The man reached into the right front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a check.  He handed it to Rick.  "This is the payment we agreed upon when I hired you and A.J.  I'm sorry...it seems so inadequate now in the face of A.J.'s loss. Perhaps, well perhaps if we prove Lauren's death was tied to Franklin's activities the government will see fit to compensate A.J. in some way."

 

            Rick's private thought of, I wouldn't bet on it, was heavily laced with sarcasm.  But he knew none of the events that had transpired were the fault of Pellman Creek, and could see genuine sorrow reflected in the man's eyes over the fate that had befallen Lauren and her baby.  Therefore, Rick shook the man's hand and said a quiet "Thanks," as he took the check.

 

            After Pellman exited the room Town indicated for Rick to reseat himself once more. 

 

            "I know it's only been a little more than a week since Lauren's death, but how's A.J. really doing, Rick?"

            Rick rubbed a hand over weary eyes.  "I can sum up the answer to that question in a few short sentences for you, Towner.  He works until he collapses.  He rides his bike until he collapses.  He runs until he collapses.  He beats on that damn punching bag of his until he collapses.  And he...he's started drinking.  Drinking until he passes out for the night."

 

            "I know," Town acknowledged quietly.  "I stopped by his house on Monday evening to see if I could take him to dinner.  Needless to say, I immediately scratched that plan.  He was in no condition to go anywhere."

 

            "That seems to be the case with him every night since the funeral.  And during the day at work...well, during the day he's sober, but I'm sure hung over as hell.  You know as well as I do A.J. never has been much of a drinker.  I can think of three times in his entire adult life when I've seen him drunk.  He's always had too much common sense to drink himself into a stupor.  Until now, that is.  Now...well, now he's trying to hide from the pain in any way he can find.  Everything he does, from working, to running, to drinking, he's doing at full speed.  It's like he's been injected with some kind of frantic energy he has to release within a twenty-four hour time period or he'll explode."

 

            "So he wouldn't take any time away from the office like you wanted him to?"

 

            "No.  As a matter of fact, he insisted on going back to work the day after the funeral.  That was a Saturday, and there hasn't been a day since that he hasn't been in that office."

 

            "You're not staying at his house any longer I take it?"

 

            "He won't let me.  Pretty much kicked me out the same day he went back to work."  Once again tears filled Rick Simon's eyes.  "God, Towner, I hate what I see my brother doin' to himself.  I hate it.  But I'll be damned if I know how to stop it."

 

            "You can't stop it, Rick," Town stated.  "I'm sorry to say this, but only A.J. has the power to do that."

 

            "I know, but I can't help but wonder if he ever will."

 

            Having no more wisdom to offer, Town changed the subject.  "Although Pellman and Jerry know what I'm going to discuss with you next, I asked them to allow me to talk to you in private about this particular matter."

 

            Rick didn't try to hide the confusion Town's words evoked.

 

            "Bear with me a moment and allow me to start from the beginning," the black man said.  "As you well know, I talked to A.J. about the note Lauren left him the night she was killed when I collected it for evidence."

 

            "Yeah?  So?"

 

            "At that time A.J. told me he couldn't imagine Lauren agreeing to meet with someone she didn't know - a new client - alone on a Saturday night.  Especially not on a night when they had previously scheduled plans.  I've also talked at length with Lauren's secretary, Sue Havenbrow.  She confirms what A.J. said almost word for word."

 

            "Which means whoever called Lauren was someone she knew."

 

            "Yes, someone she knew.  Or a person posing as someone Lauren knew.  Not knew well, mind you, but someone Lauren was acquainted with to the extent that she thought she recognized the voice on the other end of the line."

 

            "What are you gettin' at here, Town?"

 

            "That this client who wanted to see Lauren was someone she was familiar with, but maybe not so familiar with that a voice couldn't have been disguised in a way that would have fooled Lauren into thinking she was talking to her client."

 

            "I see what you mean.  Yeah, it would make sense.  I agree wholeheartedly with A.J.  Lauren wasn't a foolish woman, or lacking when it came to common sense.  She never would have agreed to meet someone she didn't know alone at night in a deserted building."

 

            "My thoughts exactly.  So my first conclusion, as of late last week, was to assume that someone who was a hell of a pro at this sort of thing disguised his or her voice, convinced Lauren they were someone she didn't feel she could refuse to meet with, and thus lured her to the office."

 

            Rick raised a questioning eyebrow.  "I don't like the you said ‘my first conclusion as of late last week.’  I've known you too long not to known that tone of voice. 

Something has come up since you came to that first conclusion, hasn't it?"

 

            "Yes, it has.  And you're not going to like hearing it anymore than I'm going to like telling you about it."

 

            "There's nothing about this situation I've liked so far, Towner, so you might as well lay it on me."

 

            Town hesitated before continuing the conversation.  "Another body was found at the scene, Rick.  Unlike Lauren, it was smoke inhalation and the fire itself that killed this person.  But despite the fact that the body was badly charred it was recognizable.  At least to me it was."

 

            "Whatta ya' talkin' about, it was recognizable to you?"  Rick sat forward in his chair.  "Who was it?"

 

             Town's eyes never left Rick's.  "Allison Baker, Rick.  The body was Allison Baker."

 

            "Oh shit."  For a brief moment Rick squeezed his eyes shut.  "You're kiddin' me right?  You gotta be kiddin' me."

 

            "No, I'm not kidding you.  Jerry got a positive ID from some old records that were still on file with the dentist Allison used when she lived in San Diego."

 

            "It's her, Town.  It had to have been her," Rick declared with all the conviction in his soul.  "Somehow she had to have been in kahootz with Bidwell."

 

            "We don't know that for certain."

 

            "Well I know it for certain!  The fire alone proves she's the guilty one.  And somehow she got trapped in her own web.  That had to be it.  'Cause if it wasn't, why wasn't she shot, too, like Lauren was?  Was she found bound, or gagged, or locked in a closet?"

 

            "No."

 

            "See.  She lured Lauren there, killed her or had her killed, then set the fire, and for whatever reason couldn't get out.  Maybe she wasn't even workin' with Bidwell.  Maybe we're all off-base on this Bidwell idea.  For all we know the woman could have plotted this all by herself.  She hated A.J. for what he did to her.  You know that!  Twelve years ago she was obsessed with him, Town.  Obsessed with him to the point that she was going to kill him, rather than allow him to break off the relationship she perceived them to have in that twisted mind of hers."

 

            "I know all that, Rick.  And I'm not discounting what you're saying.  I sure as hell don't have an explanation as to why Allison Baker was in that building that night.  I will, however, say that my gut instinct tells me she wasn't acting alone."

 

            "The one thing I don't understand is how she got Lauren there."

 

            "She was the client, Rick," Town confessed.  "She was the important client Lauren mentioned in her note."

 

            "What!  Are you sure about that?"

            "Yes.  Sue Havenbrow confirmed that Allison Baker was a new client of Lauren's.  The first time they met was several weeks ago.  They had another meeting the Monday prior to Lauren's death."

 

            "A client how?  What type of business did Allison claim to be a part of that would involve her wanting to see Lauren?"

 

            "That's the frustrating part of all this. We don't know.  Sue was working on several big projects with Lauren at that time, therefore Lauren didn't turn any of the paperwork over to her regarding Allison Baker.   The woman's in the dark as to what it was Allison and Lauren discussed.  I've talked to Lauren's boss as well.  He'd never even heard of Allison, said Lauren hadn't mentioned her to him."

 

            "Wouldn't that be odd?"

 

            "I thought so, but Mr. Colson claims not.  Considering Lauren had eighteen years experience under her belt he gave her free rein with her clients.  On a bi-monthly basis they discussed what she was currently working on.  But he'd been away on a business trip the first week in July, and then was on vacation the following two weeks.  He said he and Lauren were supposed to get together the Monday after her death.  If she'd lived that long, then it's a safe bet to say he'd be able to tell us just what it was Lauren was supposedly doing for Allison.  Unfortunately, because of the way the fire destroyed every piece of paper in that building, we quite likely will never know."

 

            Rick kneaded his forehead with his fingertips.  "Geez, Town, how am I ever gonna tell A.J. this?  Things are bad enough as it is.  He's already blaming himself for the loss of his wife and baby.  He hasn't said so, but he doesn't have to for me to know those are the hard, cold facts.  When he finds out Allison Baker was somehow involved...well, I'm afraid that just might be the final straw."

 

            "Then maybe right now isn't the time to tell him."

 

            "I'm considering that possibility, believe me.  But if I keep it from him and he finds out later...hell, I don't which will be worse.  For me to tell him now, or run the risk of him turning on the TV someday when he's all by himself and hearing it broadcast over the six o'clock news."

 

            "I understand your plight, Rick, believe me.  And if our places were reversed, I honestly don't know what I'd do either.  But if you want me to talk to him I will.  I'll tell him the same exact things I've just told you."

 

            "No," Rick shook his head.  "No.  I'll do it." 

 

            The lanky man stood and made his way to the door.  "As much as I wish just the opposite were true, this isn't the kinda news A.J. should hear from a friend.  It's the kinda news he needs to hear from his brother."

           

_____________________________

 

            A.J. was nowhere to be found when Rick returned to the office later that afternoon.  He waited around until five, then headed to his boat so he could let Rex out.  If A.J. was true to what had become his current habits, he'd return to the office from whatever case he was doing leg work on, stay there until almost dark, then go home and pulverize his punching bag before retreating to the deck with a bottle of Black Bush Irish whiskey.  Rick hoped to catch up with his brother sometime prior to that last event.

 

            Unfortunately, Rick's timing was off that night.  Darkness had fallen when he arrived at the house on the Grand Canal.  He let himself in the kitchen without knocking.  The house was completely black, as though clothed in mourning for its mistress and her child.  Rick followed the yellow glow of the porch light out to the deck.

 

            A.J. was leaning against the cushioned back of the chaise lounge while Toby slumbering underneath it.  A fine sheen of sweat covered the blond man's bare chest and plastered his hair to his forehead.  Between that and the gray sweatpants he was wearing, Rick concluded his brother had already gone a few rounds with the punching bag.

 

            "A.J.," Rick stated in greeting.  He pulled a chair over from the opposite corner of the deck.  "Don't you think it's a little chilly to be sittin' out here tonight without a shirt on?"

 

            A.J.'s lopsided grin was a reflection of the half empty bottle in his hand.  "You are the bess big brother a guy could have, you know dat, Rick?  Worry, worry, worry.  All you ever do iz worry 'bout me."  A.J. poked two clumsy fingers against his heart.  "It really touches me."

 

            "I'm glad to hear that.  But to tell ya’ the truth, I wish you'd quit givin' me reason to worry."

 

            A.J. shot his brother a dark scowl.  He poured more whiskey into his glass and took a long swallow.  Aside from being slurred, his speech was slow and halting.  "You and Mom are cut from the same cloth."

 

            "How so?"

 

            "Lecture...lecture...lecture.  She waz here a while ago.  She said all the same things you're gonna say.  ‘A.J., have you eaten?  A.J., you need to slow down, you're pushing yourself too hard.  A.J., pleeeease, promise me you won't drink tonight.  A.J., come to my house.  Stay with me for a few days.’  Nag, nag, nag.  That's all the two of you do.  As if I'm not forty-nine years old and perf...perf...perf...perfectly," A.J. giggled, "That's a helluva hard word to say when you're drunk.  Perfectly.   Perfectly capable of taking care of myself.  Yep, that's what I wanted to tell you and Mom.  That I'm purrrrfectly capable of takin' care of myself."

 

            "You'd be hard-pressed to prove that by me right now."

 

            "Give me a break, Rick.  Geez, who pissed in your Wheaties this morning?  I don't need your holier-than thou attitude."  A.J. snorted.  "As if you've never been drunk a day in your life."

 

            "I'm not denying that I have been.  But I'm also not gonna tell you that's the way to solve your problems.  You know perfectly well it's not, 'cause in the morning all your problems will still be there."

 

            "Perfectly.  See, you like that word too."  As quickly as A.J.'s goofy smile came, it left him.   "And as far as my problems go, big brother, you bet your skinny-ass they're still with me in the morning.  They're with me morning, noon, and night, as a matter of fact.  They're with me because my wife...my wife and baby are dead.  They're dead, Rick!  Yep, that's my little problem all right.  Lauren was murdered.  My baby was murdered.  And you think I should juz get over it."

 

            "A.J., I didn't say that and you know it."

 

            This time A.J. took his drink straight from the bottle.  The amber colored liquor dribbled down his chin to his bare chest.  "What the hell difference does it make what you say anyway, Ricky.  I told you the day of the funeral you couldn't make this better, so why the hell are you even here?"

 

            "I'm here because I care about you."

 

            A.J. reached out a hand and laid it on Rick's arm.  "I know you do, Ricky.  Thaz why you're such a good big brother."

 

            Rick patted A.J.'s hand.  "And despite the fact you smell like a Milwaukee distillery, you're a good little brother, Andy."

 

            A.J. giggled.  "Ricky and Andy.  We should call each other by those names more often.  That would be purrrrrfect for our undercover roles.  No one would know who we are then."

 

            Oh geez, is he sloshed.  I should video tape him when he's like this.  The brother I used to know would be mortified if he heard himself sounding like such a jackass.  Trouble is, the brother I know now probably won't give a shit.

 

            "A.J., I wanna talk to you about what I found out when I went to see Town today."

 

            In mere seconds sobriety seemed to overcome A.J.  He sat up straight and stared out at the canal.  "If I wanted to know what transpired between you and Town, I would have come with you."

 

            "A.J.--"

 

            "No.  I don't want to talk about.  Lauren was murdered by Cord Franklin, or by one of his friends, or by someone he paid off.  What the hell does it matter now?   Franklin's dead.  The only piece of satisfaction left me would have been if I could have pulled the trigger on the gun that blew the fucker's brains out.  But some damn FBI agent did it for me.  So now it's over.  Done.  Finished.  And according to you and Mom, I'm supposed to live happily ever after."

 

            "A.J., quit being such a pain in the ass here.  Mom and I never said that to you.  We know what you're going through.  We feel your pain, kid, 'cause we've been there.  Don't be so self-centered that you allow yourself to forget that our mother lost her husband when she was only thirty-four-years old.  Don't be so self-centered that you forget that I once loved a woman named Troya, who was killed by her twin brother."

 

            Anger flashed from A.J.'s eyes. "I'm not self-centered, and I do remember those things!  Okay?  I do remember those things!  But I don't want to remember them.  Any of them.  Daddy, Troya, Lauren, my baby - I want to forget them all!  And this," A.J. lifted his liquor bottle, "this helps me forget until you and Mom come around yacking, yacking, yacking.  I get so sick of hearing you two yack that I could puke."

 

            "Well I'm sorry about that, but you're gonna have to put up with my yackin' for a few more minutes tonight because I have something to tell you that I'm not gonna let you hear from anyone else."

 

            A.J. took a healthy belt of whiske