“Are you guys okay? You’re not still angry at each other over the disagreement over dinner are you?” Fitz asked, seeming to study the couple.
Ronan shook his head. What he needed to talk about did have to do with the dinner argument about Jefferson McGrath and he knew Fitz was going to blow a gasket.
“Is it the kids?” Jude asked. “They were all going off to the library with Kaye this morning.”
“We’re fine and so are the kids.” Ronan looked to Ten, who nodded. “I need you both tolistento what I have to tell you. If you want to fire me or knock me out after I finish, that’s fine.”
Fitzgibbon exchanged a confused look with Jude. “What did you do?” He looked as if he was afraid to hear Ronan’s answer.
“After you guys left last night. Ten and I kept discussing Jefferson McGrath. He made some good points. Mostly about wanting to know if the spirit had been murdered or if he was just making it up to get attention.” Ronan looked back and forth between Fitz and Jude. Neither man said a word. “We called Kaye to come watch the kids and we went to the jail last night.”
Fitzgibbon’s mouth dropped open. “How did you manage to pull that off?”
“I told Tim I wanted a little alone time with Ten in one of the cells. We’ve all heard the rumors about other cops doing it, so I figured it was a good cover. Tim bought it and on the way out, I grabbed an empty box from the file room to make it look like I’d come into the station to pick up a box of files.”
“Motherfucker,” Fitzgibbon muttered. “I don’t know what I’m more angry at, the idea that members of the department are having sex in the jail or that you pulled this stunt without telling me. What if someone had seen you and called Cisco or me?”
“I knew there was a risk in doing this and I’ll accept whatever punishment you dole out, but before you do, Ten and I need to tell you what happened.”
“I’m guessing you spoke to Jefferson McGrath’s ghost?” Fitz narrowed his eyes on Tennyson.
“I did. You have to know that I was the one who talked Ronan into doing this last night. He was perfectly happy to let this sleeping dog lie. I told him I would be too if I could just speak to McGrath and hear what he had to say.”
“I’m assuming that since we’re here discussing the matter that the sleeping dog is wide awake and barking.” Fitz crossed his arms over his broad chest.
Ten nodded.
“What did McGrath say? Theshortversion.” Fitzgibbon didn’t look as angry as he had moments before, but Ronan knew they still weren’t out of the woods yet.
“He said he was drunk and had been arrested by Cisco and his partner Oliveri. They booked him, and put him in his cell. McGrath fell asleep or passed out. He was awoken later by someone on top of him, choking him.” Ten paused, looking like he was waiting for Fitzgibbon to interrupt. When he didn’t, Ten continued. “He didn’t know who was attacking him. He smelled cologne and the man’s hair was silky soft. McGrath said one hand was holding him down, while the man’s other hand fumbled for something. The killer said, ‘Night, night, asshole,’ and McGrath felt a pinch in his stomach. Before his spirit left the cell, McGrath said he was counting on Ronan and me to solve his murder, and said the others were counting on us too.”
“Others?” Jude asked. “What does that mean? Is he saying other men were murdered in the jail?”
Fitzgibbon held up a hand. “Let’s not get carried away. What is this pinch that McGrath was talking about?”
“We don’t know,” Ronan said. “I was planning to go back through the autopsy report this morning to see if it included the mention of a needle mark or other injury to McGrath’s torso.”
“Are you thinking McGrath might have been injected with something?”
“Maybe,” Ronan said. “My first guess would be diabetic insulin. It’s naturally occurring in the body and metabolizes quickly. If a high enough dose was administered, it would have rendered McGrath unconscious quickly and the level might have been low enough that it wouldn’t have raised an issue with the coroner.”
“We also have to keep in mind that the medical examiner was compromised,” Jude said. “I don’t think we can take any of his conclusions at face value.”
“Okay, hold on a second. It’s one thing for the ME to issue fraudulent death certificates for suicide victims. It’s another entirely to accuse this guy of covering up a murder allegedly committed by a member of the Salem Police Department.” Fitzgibbon sighed. “Ten, did you believe what this ghost was telling you? Any chance he was making this up?”
“He was telling the truth, Fitz. I could feel the pain of his death, the way the killer’s hand was wrapped around his neck holding him down.”
“That piece of information tracks with the fingerprint bruises noted at autopsy. They were only on one side of the neck. If McGrath were being strangled, the killer would have used both hands and the marks would have been on both sides.” Jude tapped his pen against the table.
“Did Cisco or Oliveri do this, Ten? Did one of our own kill this guy?” Fitzgibbon wore a desperate look.
“I don’t know. McGrath said he didn’t see who killed him. The lights were off and he was still drunk and was only half-awake when the attack happened.” Ten paused. “I’m sorry we went behind your back to speak with McGrath.”
“But?” Fitzgibbon prodded.
“But I think we need to look into this matter.”
“Not just McGrath’s death, but he mentioned that there were others,” Ronan added. “It would be easy enough to look into deaths that have occurred in the jail. It’s not unheard of for people to overdose or have heart attacks or strokes.”
