Molly Brown (24 page)

“You won’t shoot me, Tommy. You’re one of the good guys, remember.”

Connell exhaled slowly, cocked his head and smiled. “Yeah, well, as I learned today, sometimes good men do bad things.”

The sound of the shot didn’t even cause Connell to flinch. The look on Frankie’s face when the bullet connected with his head didn’t either.

Connell stumbled to where Isaac had fallen. Blood pumped from his chest. The guy was breathing, but only just. He opened his eyes as Connell checked his pulse.

“Good job, Tommy
. 10/10. Now you know how good it feels to do the right thing. Just be careful you don’t get a taste for it.”

Chapter Twenty Three

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten his own birthday, but when Sunday rolled around and Joe woke him with excited shrieks and a high pitched chorus of Happy Birthday, he figured he had more reasons than most to let it slip his mind.

They’d let him sleep late. He’d spent the previous day at the hospital, persuading the good doctors that he was fine, and on the outside he probably was. The bullet l
odged in his shoulder had been removed. He was strapped up tight, he’d been given his orders to take it easy and that’s what he intended to do.

The yard was decked out with handmade streamers and balloons, a table set up with food, and all around him friends and family were enjoying each other’s company, having fun. Marty and Charlene had arrived with their brood. They’d also brought Lydia, and the girls’ grandmother had made the trip all the way from California, not Kansas. Gerry
had shelled out for her ticket which didn’t really surprise him after learning, that, sadly, the divers had also pulled Mrs. Brown from the river. Molly had been overcome at the sight of Grandma Beatrice. She and Lydia were squeezed tight by the old lady whose hurt at losing her son and his wife was muted by the knowledge that she now had two beloved granddaughters to care for. Connell couldn’t help but wonder whether things had actually turned out for the better for Molly Brown.

His mom and dad were attem
pting to supervise all the kids - Will’s, Marty’s and half a dozen of Joe’s buddies from kindergarten. The kids were running amok. He sat on the porch swing and took it all in, counting his blessings, burying the guilt.

The swing dipped and he turned his head as Gerry took a seat.

“So this is where you’re hiding. How are you?”

Connell let the moment hang. “The truth?”

“Of course.”

“Confused
, I guess, but happy to be here.”

“You’re quite the hero. Two killers in one go. You should be proud
, not confused.”

Connell shook his head. “There’s nothing good about killing a man.”

Gerry studied him. “What really happened up there, Tommy?”

“I already told you. Frankie shot your guy and I shot Frankie.”

“Twice?”

He shrugged painfully. “I guess so. It’s all a little fuzzy. Blood loss, it messes with your head.”

Gerry didn’t answer, just looked straight ahead, watching the kids playing catch. He had that look Connell recognized. He was wondering about Connell’s story, about why he’d felt the need to shoot a man a second time when he was unarmed, his gun twenty yards away across the roof top. Gerry thought he’d flipped up there; he could tell by the way he avoided digging deeper. And maybe Gerry was right. He certainly couldn’t explain why he’d done it, though deep down in his gut there was a tiny bit of him that knew he’d done the right thing.

“Hamilton will need to speak with you. He has a case to close, a few unanswered questions, and one or two anomalies to clear up.” Gerry sighed, ran a hand t
hrough his hair and turned with a worried frown. “Just stick to the facts and you’ll be fine.”

“Sure. W
hat else would I do but tell the truth?”

“I told him to give you a day or so, said you were laid up, and looking at you, I guess that’s about right. You need to take a safer job, Tommy.”

“You need to stop asking for favors, Gerry.”

Gerry nodded, “Touché.”

“So, what was the connection with Luther and Brown? Did you find it?” asked Connell in an attempt to avoid further questioning, particularly in relation to Frankie’s execution-style head shot.

“Are you really up for this on your birthday? You should be eatin
g cake, playing party games and getting drunk on homemade beer, not digging into the secret life of a killer.”

“I need to know, Gerry.”

Gerry relaxed, settled back in the seat and rocked it gently with his foot. “Sure, if it makes you feel better. Turns out Isaac, our cop killer, was Luther Pearce’s brother, which explains the likeness. They had a rough time as kids, not that that’s any excuse for going on a killing spree, but they had it hard. Isaac looked out for Luther and they both looked out for their friends. When Luther was ten, his mother’s boyfriend took a flat iron to his face to teach him a lesson. The man disappeared shortly after. He’s never been seen since, but we won’t go there. The two of them were real good buddies with Brown when they were kids, fed at his mom’s table when their own mom was too drunk to see straight, slept in his barn when they were dodging trouble. Good boys gone wrong according to Grandma Beatrice. There was a fourth member of their gang. Delmar Hudson. Well, the boys all grew up and went their separate ways, but they kept in touch now and again, usually with an ad in the newspaper. You know the kind of thing, the occasional reunion. Brown, as you know, was in and out of prison despite his mom’s best efforts. Delmar married and had a daughter. Isaac worked for a time as a ward orderly at the Lakes Sanatorium. When Delmar’s daughter was raped by the local sheriff, Luther decided to take the law into his own hands. Just by chance he bumps into Brown in prison and he listens to a tale of crooked cops and injustice. Luther, being Luther, just itched to set matters right. Enter Isaac stage left. When Brown was released and it became clear that something was amiss, Luther set Isaac to look out for Molly. The rest you know.”

“
Isaac told me I was on his list for a while.”

“I think he tested you
, Tommy, placed you where you could protect Molly when he realized he couldn’t. He had Musgrave’s slightly biased version of you from Luther. He wanted to see for himself. You’re a good man, Tommy. I can’t believe you were ever in danger.”

Connell sighed.
”Yeah, well, even good men do bad things, Gerry.”

“But not you
, Tommy,” insisted Gerry. “Not you.”

He rose, steadying the seat with one hand. “I’ll leave you to
it. Enjoy the party. Have fun. Put all this behind you.”

Connell watched him go, unsure whether it was possible to forget what he’d done.

“Daddy!” Joe’s shrill voice drew him back and he smiled as Joe and Molly struggled up the porch steps with a large box. Molly wore clean clothes. Her hair was braided neatly, on her feet were new sneakers, ruby red.

“This isn’t your r
eal present, it’s an extra one because we know just how much you love Spidey.” They laid the box gently at Connell’s feet and Joe opened it with an exaggerated flourish. “Surprise!” he yelled.

Inside the box were six puppies, all wriggling, yapping carbon copies of Spidey.

“Gee thanks, Joey. That’s … just what I wanted.”

“I just knew it was my best idea and Mrs. Hanley at the store agreed. She said it was the best thing I’d ever thought of.”

“I bet she did.”

“I thought maybe, be
cause there’s so many of them and they eat so much and pee so much, you could let Molly take one home, and Uncle Will and Charlene and Marty, because they’ve got kids and kids need dogs, don’t they?”

“Joey, I think that’s a cool idea. Why don’t you go ask them to choose a puppy? Molly you can have first pick and then you can go show your pup to Lydia and Grandma.”

Molly beamed. It was a cute smile and Connell was glad to see it was getting some use. She picked out a rough-haired bundle of mischief which she hugged gently.

“What you
going to call it, Molly?” asked Joe excitedly

“Toto,” Molly replied shyly. Sh
e still wasn’t much of a talker but she was getting there.

Conne
ll smiled. Of course. What else?

Lizzie was
pouring lemonade for the kids. He watched as she made her way around the yard, smiling and chatting. Every so often she raised her head and looked his way. Each time he felt a warm glow inside. He wished the party were over so he could take her to one side and let her know how much he loved her.

He made his way through the guests
, accepting congratulations, avoiding heavy-handed back slapping. He paused to run a hand down Lizzie’s bare arm and steal a kiss. “Later,” he whispered. “I need to find Parker.”

He found the old man down by the barn. He’d donned a suit for the occasion, probably his wedding suit
, judging by the cut.

He regarded Connell shrewdly.
“So you fightin’ fit again, Sonny?”

“Getting there, Parker.”

“Good to hear it. I take it you aren’t going to be running off no more.”

“No more running off, Parker. I’ve got all I want right here.”

“I hear you done good, saved Joey and the little girl. I told you when the time was right you’d come good, didn’t I?”

“You did. But if it hadn’t been for you and your little stroll in the woods, I wouldn’t have
saved anyone. I owe you, Parker, for the second time.” He held out his hand. “Thank you.”

Parker muttered, grasping Connell’s hand in a surprisingly st
rong grip. “I got you something for your birthday. Not that I’m saying I like you, you understand. Just something I had lying around gathering dust and those pesky kids pestered me till I couldn’t stand it no more. So there you go.”

He pulled open the barn door to reveal a motorcycle that looked about the same age as Parker’s suit. It had seen better days, just like the old man, but all the same Connell couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Sure is. 1950 Thunderbird 6T. Had it from new.” Parker winked. “I told you I was a bit of a wild one in my day.”

“And you want me to have it?”

“S
till needs a bit of tinkering. My old eyes aren’t what they were. But I figure it’s a good thing for a man and his boy to work on something together. And let’s face it, Sonny, that boy of yours is a wild one in the making. Got to channel it while he’s young or, heaven forbid, he might just end up like his dad.”

“I can’t take that from you, Parker. It’s probably worth a fortune to a collector.”

“Yes, you can. Do an old man a favor for once in your life.” He patted Connell roughly. “Now get back to your lady. I sense there are things you need to discuss. Don’t leave it too long, not with me in my wedding suit an’ all. I might just sidle in there and snatch her out from under your nose.”

*  *  *

He found her down by the paddock, leaning on the rail, watching the young horses. The sun was warm on his back as he took her hand. “Lizzie …”

“Connell
… You go first,” Lizzie laughed, a little nervously, he thought. He felt his own anxiety rear its head.

“I bought you a present,” he began.

“Oh, I love presents.”

“Yeah, well, I left
it in the car.”

Lizzie reached out gently
, following the line of his latest scar with her finger. “That’s okay, we can go get it.”

“The car that blew up.”

“Oh, I see. Never mind. What was it?”

He took a breath.
“A ring.”

He watched her face and
tried to gauge her reaction. She reddened slightly, her brow furrowed a little more and he got that sinking feeling that maybe he’d misread everything, that he’d left it too late and she was all set to tell him she was leaving.

“And why would you buy me a ring?”

“I guess because I love you, I couldn’t live without you and I kind of hoped you’d marry me.”

Connell likened the pause that followed to a freeze frame where everything else stopped
but him. His heart pounded. On the one hand he wanted her to answer, to put him out of his misery, and on the other … he didn’t.

He cocked his head and smiled. “I kind of hoped for a quicker reaction. Like,
‘Oh my God, Connell, of course I’ll marry you’, but if it helps, if you need further persuading, I should warn you that Parker is waiting in the wings all dressed up, and he does have a ring.”

Her lips twitched.

His heart surged, his stomach flipped and he waited.

“Oh my God, Connell, of course I’ll marry you! In fact I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulled her to him, breathed her in and decided he couldn’t get any happier.

“So what did you want to say?” he asked when he let her up for air.

“I was going to explain about your birthday gift.”

“Yeah?”

“About how it was very special, handmade in fact, but that you’re going to have to wait a little longer for it.”

“How long?”

She smiled tentatively. T
he apprehension was back. He reached out, stroked her cheek with hands that shook with ill-concealed emotion and she leaned into his hand. “Oh, about six months longer …”

He dropped his gaze. He c
ouldn’t believe how blind he’d been. All this time when he’d worried that she was leaving him, she’d been carrying his child and wondering how she was going to tell him. He was overwhelmed with love for her and with the extent of his own stupidity.