13 Ronan

Ronan sat in the second row of seats in the van, staring out the window at nothing. All he could do was think about Shane’s death and how it might be all his fault. Fitzgibbon had dropped everyone off at River’s house with a promise that the detectives would join them as soon as possible. All Tennyson had wanted was a vacation where neither of them had to work and Ronan couldn’t give his husband that one small gift.

“Head out of your ass, Ronan. We’re here,” Fitzgibbon said, eyeing his detective from the rearview mirror.

“I’m good, Cap.” Ronan was lying. He wasn’t good at all and wouldn’t be again for a long time. “I know what we have to do today and I’ll do whatever I can to help bring Shane’s killer to justice.

“I know you will. Losing Shane like this is tragic, but you moping around isn’t going to help us find the motherfucker who killed him.”

“You’re right. I’m all in, Cap.” Ronan unbuckled his seatbelt and slid the back door open. He stepped out into the parking lot and was instantly hit with a wave of heat. He took a deep breath and tried to get his head out of his ass, as requested. If Ronan didn’t bring his A game then something would be missed. He might have been the reason Shane was dead, but he’d be damned if he was the reason the fucker who killed him got away scott-free.

Following Fitzgibbon into the St. Pete Police Station, Ronan signed in and grabbed a visitor badge, he clipped it to his jeans as Fitzgibbon pressed the button for the elevator. Minutes later, they walked into the Homicide Division and found Captain Mark Richmond standing at his window, looking out over the city.

“Cap?” Fitzgibbon said, breaking the silence.

“Oh, good. You’re here. Where’s the psychic?” Richmond asked.

“Home with our kids,” Ronan said. “Ten had a vision about the murder, which I’ll tell you about in a minute. After he sees something like that, his gift usually powers down for a while, so bringing him with us wouldn’t have helped us to nail Shane’s killer.”

“I see,” Richmond said. “Tell me what you know. Fitz, you start.”

Fitz took one of the chairs in front of the captain’s desk. “A woman by the name of Jillian Marsh was murdered on Christmas Day ten years ago in Salem, Massachusetts. The case went cold after there was no evidence linking her husband, Patrick Marsh to the crime. No other suspects were ever named or interviewed.”

“Patrick Marsh?” Richmond asked. “Surely not the landscape guy? He works wonders with my wife’s prized roses.”

“Same guy,” Fitz said. “I started working on the case in November because we were supposed to come down here for Thanksgiving. Plans changed when Ten and Ronan’s baby niece arrived early, so we decided to come down for Christmas. I didn’t read Ronan or Jude in on the case until just before we left Massachusetts. I knew Patrick Marsh lived in St. Pete and it was my plan to show up on his doorstep unannounced to see what I could rattle loose after all these years. Things didn’t go as I’d planned.”

“Explain,” Richmond barked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We all took our families to get Santa pics at the mall the other day.” Ronan pointed to himself, Jude and Fitz. “I thought I recognized our Santa’s voice and when it was our turn to take the photos, Shane recognized me. He was my training partner when I was promoted to Homicide, back when we were both still with the Boston Police. We made plans to meet for dinner and to catch up. He came over the other night for dinner and the three of us had a proposal to run past him.”

“Which was?”

“Our husbands are pissed at the thought of us working over Christmas break,” Jude picked up the story. “We thought that if we hired Shane to look into Patrick Marsh, we’d get the answers we were looking for, keeping our husbands happy.”

“Back when we were still with the BPD, I brought in consultants all the time. Jude was our best PI and you know we did the same with Tennyson,” Fitz said.

“I understand what you’re saying and there’s nothing wrong with hiring and outside contractor to surveil Patrick Marsh. What happened next?” Richmond relaxed back into his chair. He didn’t look like he wanted to throttle the three detectives at the moment.

“Here’s where the story gets weird.” Ronan sighed, the last thing he wanted to do was rehash the case, but Richmond needed all the information he could get to help solve Shane’s murder. “It turns out that Shane had been hired by Mabel Marsh to look into her husband because she suspected he was poisoning her.”

“Jesus Christ on a cracker,” Richmond muttered. “Was he?”

Ronan nodded. “Shane got the results back yesterday. He sent Mabel to stay with her parents. She lied to Patrick and told him she was having women’s issues, so he wouldn’t suspect she was onto him. Shane had an appointment to meet with Mabel yesterday to see how things were going. He had a Santa shift at the mall and when he got off duty, was going to sit on the Marsh house and collect the garbage in hopes that there would be something incriminating.”

“When was the last time you spoke to Shane?” Richmond’s eyes were still on Ronan.

“Yesterday afternoon. We met with him to exchange information. Fitz filled him in on the Jillian Marsh case and Shane caught us up on what he knew about Mabel Marsh and Patrick’s ex-fiancé, who he’d also done work for. Spoiler alert, he was cheating on her.”

“Did Shane mention anything about having enemies or disgruntled clients?”

Fitzgibbon shook his head. “No. The only people he mentioned who might have a grudge were his two ex-wives, both of whom took exception to the fact that he was married to his career. I’d speak with each of them, but I don’t think either had anything to do with the murder, especially if they were still getting alimony or other forms of support.”

“Is it possible Patrick Marsh knew Shane was onto him?”

“It’s very possible,” Ronan agreed. “According to what we know from Jillian’s murder, Patrick was an abusive control freak. It’s not often a zebra changes his stripes. It seems he was pulling the same shit with Mabel. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out there was a tracker on her car or if Patrick had one of those apps that shows him what she’s up to on her phone, but this is all just conjecture on my part.”

“Do you boys want in on this investigation?” Richmond asked, sounding tired. The man looked as if he could sleep for a month and still wake up tired.

“Before I answer that, there’s one more thing you need to know.” Fitzgibbon nibbled his bottom lip.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Fitz.”

“Ronan’s brother-in-law, River, uses Patrick’s landscaping services in his business. The two of them have been working together for the last eight years. River is having a Christmas Eve party tonight and Marsh is invited. We were hoping to chat him up, without him knowing what we do for a living or that we’d like to speak to him about Jillian’s death.”

Richmond sighed. “I’m not sure if that’s the best idea. All it takes is a simple Google search to find out River’s brother is a renowned psychic and that you’re cold case detectives. It’s also not going to take a Harvard education for Marsh to connect Shane’s time with the Boston Police Department to the three of you.”

Ronan nodded, he’d thought the same thing. “It also wouldn’t take much for me to throat punch the motherfucker. Matheson taught me everything I needed to learn to be a good detective. I wasn’t sure if I could cut it when I was promoted to Homicide, but Shane showed me what I was capable of.” Ronan’s voice broke. “He didn’t deserve to die like this.”

“No one does,” Richmond said. “You mentioned your husband having a vision about the murder?”

Ronan took a deep breath and tried to get his head back in the game. “Ten said he saw Shane walk from the mall entrance to his car. There was a knock on the driver’s side window and when Shane rolled down the window, he was shot in the chest. The killer was wearing a full Santa suit with the beard and hat. He couldn’t tell if the killer was a man or a woman. Same goes for hair, eye, and skin color.”

“There’s surveillance video from the parking lot, but its poor quality. We were able to see what happened as Ten described it, but we couldn’t see anything identifiable about the killer, aside from what he was wearing. Is there any chance Ten will learn more?”

“Maybe,” Ronan said. “He knows we’re here with you now. If he sees anything else, he’ll let me know. Same goes for our daughter.”

“Your daughter?” Richmond’s eyes narrowed on Ronan.

“Yeah, our six year old has gifts that are stronger than Tennyson’s. The absolute last thing I want is to get Everly involved in this case. We plan to have the kids at the party tonight and I don’t want her put in the line of fire.”

“We’ve all got kids,” Jude added. “Two for me and one for Fitz. They’re excited out of their minds about the party tonight and of course all the presents tomorrow will bring.”

“We have detectives at Shane’s house now. They’re going through his paperwork and case files to see if there have been any threats. I’ll let you know if they find anything of interest. In the meantime, go to the party tonight and see what you can learn from Marsh. I’ll assign detectives to tail him so we don’t lose track of him.” Richmond paused, seeming to size up the detectives. “Are you sure you can handle speaking to Marsh without your emotions clouding your judgement? If the answer is no, that’s okay, we’ll come at this another way. Unfortunately, I know what it’s like to lose a brother in blue and I’m not sure I could handle interviewing his possible killer.”

Ronan sighed. All he wanted to do was get his hands on Marsh and force him to confess to the murder of his first wife and Shane, but he knew that wouldn’t accomplish nothing and would land him in jail for Christmas. Ten would never forgive him and to be honest, Ronan would never forgive himself. “I’ll be fine. I won’t be the reason this asshole gets away with another murder.”

“Same,” Fitz agreed.

“I never worked with Shane, so I’ll keep Ronan and Fitz in line if need be.” Jude cracked his knuckles.

“Keep me updated. I’ll do the same for you.” Richmond stood and walked the detectives out of the office.

“That went better than I thought it would,” Ronan said when the elevator doors slid shut. “I was thinking that he’d read us the riot act over being involved with Shane’s death.”

“We weren’t involved in Shane’s death, Ronan,” Fitzgibbon said gently. Conversation stopped when the elevator doors opened onto the lobby. “Someone knew where Shane worked and when his shift would end,” Fitz resumed when they reached the van. “That someone was dressed as Santa Claus. It’s possible that his killer was one of the other mall Santas. Shane worked a lot of cheating spouse cases. The killer could have been one of Shane’s former clients or the spouse who’d been caught cheating. It could have been someone he’d arrested back in Boston and was wrongfully convicted. Point is, there are a hundred possible answers to who did this and blaming yourself isn’t going to help us find the killer.”

“I get that, Cap. I really do, but two days after we reconnect and he starts working on the Jillian Marsh case with us, he’s dead. Neither of us believe in coincidences.” Fitz might be right, the killer could be any one of a hundred people, but until they could prove otherwise, Ronan knew Shane was dead because of him. He’d have to find a way to live with that later. For now, he had a killer to catch.