Shit, the last thing Ronan needed was two little girls melting down over baby goats. “I’m sure the baby goats will be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Let’s go meet them now.” He signaled to Ten and Jude, pointing to the bright green barn.
Ronan couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Fitzgibbon possibly getting to work the murder case with Greeley. Working Salem’s cold cases was a great job. He wouldn’t give it up for anything, but he couldn’t help but think back on his time with the BPD. Solving cases and doing television interviews. Fitzgibbon had never been the type to seek glory, but Ronan sure the hell was.
If the BPD let Fitz assist, Ronan would be ready to jump into action and save Fitzgibbon’s ass. Christ, he really did live in a dream world.
12
Tennyson
When everyone got home from Happy Hooters, the kids wanted to hang out in the pool at Fitzgibbon’s house, and Ten had no problem with that whatsoever. Exhausted from wrangling the kids and hungry baby animals, all he wanted to do was take a load off and relax.
He slathered the kids in sunblock while Ronan put on their floaties, and away the kids went. Fitz and Jace were in the house, working on snacks, while Jude floated in the pool, pretending to sleep but watching the kids. Barb had gone back to Kaye’s to take a nap. River sat to Ten’s right.
“Where are we with the Brighthouse case?” Cope asked when Ronan went to go join the kids in the pool. He made a big splash with his cannonball. The cool water slapped against Ten’s legs.
“There is no case,” Ten said. Brighthouse couldn’t say what he needed help with and why. Baxter had kicked Ten and Ronan out of his office. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing left to be done.
Cope grinned. “Okay, I’ll play along. There’s no case. What happened last night? Were you able to reach out to Kotter’s spirit?”
Ten nodded. “Kotter Brighthouse showed up, but there’s something wrong with him. He might be having memory issues or trouble with dead speak.” Saying it out loud like that made Ten feel sorry for the dead theme park owner.
“What’s dead speak?” River asked.
It had been a long time since Ten had to explain psychic lingo to anyone outside their friend group. He loved that River was interested in his abilities and what he could do with them. “It’s the way spirits communicate with the living. Some of them speak as easily as we are now. Others have a harder time. I worked a case with Ronan and the Boston Police Department about five years ago that involved a young man who could only talk me through the use of images, not words.”
“What causes something like that?” River looked as if he might not want to know the answer to that question.
“The young man had been brutally murdered by a serial killer and left to rot in a marsh.” Ten’s memory flashed back to that moment on Rumney Marsh when he and Ronan were called out to the crime scene.
River gasped. “You’re serious?”
“I am. Those early days working with Ronan were really hard on me. Here I was, this kid from a small rural town in Kansas, going to gruesome crime scenes. It took a while and a lot of therapy to get my head right from the things I saw. I’d never say this to Ronan, but I was so happy when he retired because it meant I wouldn’t have to see horribly wounded bodies anymore.” Ten hated saying that out loud, but the trauma he’d endured was real. Seeing young gay men torn apart by a monster for his own pleasure was something that still shook him. He had nightmares about Justin Wilson’s death scene to this day.
“Were you able to help solve the crimes?” River asked, looking wary of the answer.
“Yeah. I helped put away a lot of bad people. Of course, none of what I learned was admissible in court, but Ronan used the information I had gathered to confront suspects duringinterrogations. Usually, the killers would confess after being confronted with what they knew was the truth.” Ten was proud of the work he’d done with the Boston Police Department but never wanted to be involved with cases like that again. End of story.
“So, back to Kotter Brighthouse.” Cope raised an eyebrow at Ten, indicating he wasn’t going to get out of telling the story that easily. “Did he manage to tell you anything useful?”
Ten nodded. “Possibly, but what he told us didn’t move the needle very far.”
“What did he say?” Cope asked.
“At first, Brighthouse didn’t seem to know he was dead, which is common in traumatic deaths. He also didn’t know he’d jumped from the top of the Ferris wheel. He started asking why, over and over again.” It had been gutting listening to Kotter’s pleas and being unable to help him.
“Did you ask about his son and his wife?” Cope shifted in his seat and reached for his bottle of water.
“I did. He didn’t say anything about Baxter, not that he was proud of him, and didn’t seem to know that Fun-A-Rama had briefly stopped operating. Talking about Mary Lou was the only real reaction we got out of him. When I mentioned her name, he said, ‘My wife. Lost. Tilt.’ I have no idea what the last two things have to do with his wife, and after the way she kicked us out of Baxter’s office yesterday, I don’t think she’d be in much of a mood to answer any of my questions.” Not that Ten blamed her. Kotter had been dead for over twenty years. She’d moved on with a new husband. He could imagine how hard it would be to relive the memory of those dark days when her husband took his own life. Combine that with the taint of the missing money andBaxter trying to walk in his father’s shoes, it was no wonder she shut down and asked them to leave the office.
“Lost probably has to do with the money,” River said.
“I was thinking the same thing, but what about tilt?” Ten’s eyes were on Cope.
“Tilt makes me think of Saturday cartoons, when Jerry would hit Tom with a mallet and the word ‘tilt’ would flash over his head, or the pinball machine hitting tilt when someone bumped or hit the game with their hands.” Cope shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea what it could have to do with Kotter’s death.”
“I haven’t dealt with a ghost this scrambled in a long time.” All Ten could do was hope Brighthouse could find a way to communicate so he could finish his earthly business and cross over.
“The only time I’ve ever spoken to a spirit like this was when I met Elvis.” Cope offered a dazzling smile.
