Page 15 of Ghostmaker

“How many different detectives worked on your mother’s case?” Fitzgibbon asked.

“It started off with five or six, then dwindled down over time. After the first month, the detectives didn’t call me with updates anymore. After two months they wouldn’t return my calls. Over the years, I’ve heard from five or six different guys who promised they’d get this case solved, but it never went anywhere.”

“That explains your attitude about cold case detectives.” Jude sighed. West had rubbed him the wrong way more times than he could count, but he still wanted to find Alice’s killer and find justice for her son. “Where did the crime happen?”

“Cambridge, like Cope said.”

“Ronan and I both worked in homicide and cold case when we were with the Boston Police Department. We worked with the Cambridge Police on several occasions when events or suspects crossed jurisdictions. One of our friends is the captain of the Boston unit now. If memory serves, Cambridge doesn’t have its own cold unit. When those sorts of cases arose, they were sent to me. It might be worth a phone call to find out if that’s still the case.” Fitz wore a hopeful look.

Ronan and Jude nodded. “No promises, but we can look into this case for you.” Jude had a feeling if they looked into this case, they’d be able to get somewhere with it.

“Even if you find my mother’s killer, I’m still going to give Salem’s mayor and city council my honest opinion about this department and if the budget should be allotted to keep your team.”

“This isn’t a quid pro quo. We’re not trying to exchange finding your mother’s killer with recommending Salem should keep our unit,” Fitz said. “Finding killers is what we do, all day, every day. There are just so many cases that have gone cold over time. I showed you all the cases we worked on over the last three years and how we haven’t made much of a dent in the unsolved pile. I imagine it’s the same for other departments.”

“Even with as big of a jerk as I’ve been, you’re still willing to look into this for me?” West asked.

“Oh, please,” Jude said. “We’ve worked with bigger assholes before. Take Ronan for example!” Jude laughed. The rest of the table laughed along with him.

Fitzgibbon had been right on the money when he suggested inviting West for dinner. They’d shown the accountant what kind of detectives they were and what the power of family had done for them. Jude knew it wasn’t going to be a cake walk getting the Cambridge Police to look into Alice’s murder. The same went for finding evidence that would lead to the killer after fifteen years, but Jude was up for the challenge. Looking around the table at Cope, Ronan, and Fitz, they were too.

It was time to show West Strickland just how valuable cold case detectives were.

8

Cope

The next morning, Cope stood in the kitchen contemplating what to make the kids for breakfast. He sipped his coffee and went over the events of the night before. Somehow, Everly had been able to get to the root of West Strickland’s hatred for cold case units in general and got him to promise his review of the department would be done in an unbiased manner. He couldn’t ask for much more than that.

Cope knew Jude was worried about losing his job with the Salem Police and what would come next. When his father, Buford, died, he left Cope the entirety of his estate. Cope hadn’t wanted it at the time, but now, that money tucked away in a separate account accruing interest was a safety net for their family. He knew Jude would hate sitting around the house all day watching the Food Network and playing games on his phone, but Cope wouldn’t have to worry on a daily basis if his husband was going to get shot at, stabbed, or kidnapped. All of which had happened to Jude in the past.

Jude had proverbial ants in his pants and wouldn’t take well to having nothing to do all day. Not to mention how hard it would be for him not to work with Ronan and Fitz any more. Both men were collecting their pensions from the Boston Police Department and could retire from Salem at any point in time, but Cope knew they were like Jude and wouldn’t want to sit around all day with nothing to do.

What would come next for the detectives if the unit was shut down? Would they assign Ronan and Fitz to homicide or vice? From everything Jude said, the three of them being hired to man the fledgling cold case team over tenured, senior detectives within the SPD had ruffled a lot more than feathers. They’d probably end up working the night shift on patrol, weekends, holidays, you name it, all the shit assignments would come their way until they got fed up and quit. It was good to be king, but sometimes the peasants rose up and sent the king to the guillotine.

Sighing, Cope decided the kids could have cold cereal. He wasn’t in the mood to fry eggs or to clean up the mess. He grabbed the kids’ favorite cereal along with bowls and spoons and set them on the table.

Making a second cup of coffee, Cope opened the news app on his phone, hoping to catch the weather report for the day. The top headline grabbed his attention. Salem Man Murdered in Home Invasion. Cope tapped the article and started to read.

Father and husband Paul Shea was murdered in his State Street home last night over an apparent robbery gone wrong. His wife, Carole Shea, found his body in their kitchen when she returned home from her weekly book club. A call was quickly placed to 911. When paramedics arrived, Mr. Shea was declared dead and transported to the Essex County morgue for autopsy.

The crime scene unit worked deep into the night along with detectives who refused to comment about the crime scene and possible suspects.

This article will be updated when the situation warrants.

Cope shook his head. State Street was near West Side Magick, only a few blocks away from the Salem Witch Museum. This murder took place in the heart of the city. He couldn’t help but think these would be the kinds of cases Jude could be working on if the cold case unit was shut down and the detectives reassigned.

The article mentioned that the detectives worked into the night, which would mean Cope would be home, alone, with the kids, not knowing when he’d be home. Jude would waltz in, asleep on his feet and would have just enough energy left to kiss Cope’s cheek and fall into bed for a few short hours, before getting up and doing it all over again.

Cope remembered what it was like when Ronan and Fitz were still working in Boston. They were never home. Tennyson got to see Ronan when they worked cases together, but Jace hardly saw Fitzgibbon at all. In fact, that was the main reason they’d broken up for a time, because Fitz was always on the job.

The one thing Cope was sure of was that he didn’t want to live that kind of life, where Jude could be called out at a moment’s notice and could be home anytime between dinner and 2027. On the other hand, what else would Jude be happy doing? He couldn’t imagine his husband dressing in a suit and tie every day to sit in an office and crunch numbers or trade stocks. Jude would go stir crazy being chained to a desk.

Maybe he could teach at the police academy? Or enroll in college and get his degree in criminal justice or business or marine biology. Cope snorted. He supposed Jude wouldn’t be home very much if he were off filming great white shark documentaries in California, South Africa, or Australia. There was no doubt in Cope’s mind that Jude would study the biggest and most ferocious shark in the sea, rather than taking a slower approach studying turtles or sea anemones.

“What’s so funny?” Jude asked, walking into the kitchen. His skin was still rosy from his shower and his hair damp and curling at his shirt collar.

“The idea of you studying sea anemones.” Cope snickered at the stunned look on Jude’s face.