As Sean lay awake in bed that night, with his sweet Lauren by his side, a
sudden image of a young Dave Boyle ran through his mind. It was a sudden
flash of him, wearing his red baseball cap and blue jacket, like he had
been that day they took him away. And he was wearing an expression of
fear, also like the one he wore that day. The image swam in front of his
eyes, of a young scared Dave, and Sean wondered to himself: he never
changed. After that day, Dave had always been the same. He hadn't risen
and grown above the terrible thing that had happened, he hadn't put the
past behind him and started new. When Sean first came up to Dave Boyle and
asked him about Katie Markum, Dave had looked like the same little lost boy
that the two perverts had taken away in their car. He wore the same
expression and Sean felt sorry for Celeste just then, wondering if she had
to endure that same expression everyday from her husband and not know what
had caused it to remain there for so long. Dave was always going to be a
scared little boy.
Or maybe he wouldn't be anymore.
Sean knew it. He knew Jimmy had killed Dave Boyle. That was the thing about being a cop. That was the job . . . knowing if the suspect was guilty or not just by looking at them, although he certainly screwed that one up with Silent Ray and Johnny O'Shea. But Jimmy, Sean knew that he had killed Dave, just from how he had been acting. His voice, his manner . . . and Sean knew how smart Jimmy was. There would be no evidence . . . only motive. And courts don't convict on motive alone. No, Jimmy was smart enough to get rid of evidence and make sure that the Savages kept their mouths shut good about anything they might have known. He was smart that way, always going ahead with what he thought was right for him and him alone, thinking the consequences through and playing along with them.
It seemed Jimmy hadn't changed either.
* * * * * *
"Hurry up or you'll be late for school!" rang Annabeth's voice through the kitchen. Sara and Nadine shoved one more spoonful of cereal into their mouths and dashed into the front hall to get their spring jackets on. Annabeth was standing there with an expectant face, smiling as little Nadine shoved her arms into the sleeves. "I'll walk you today, Daddy isn't feeling well."
"Why?" Sara said.
"He's very tired and just needs to rest for another hour or so, honey. Can't I take you?"
"Okay, Mommy."
From upstairs, Jimmy was stepping into the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist about to jump into the shower, when he heard Annabeth talking to the girls downstairs. God, that woman was amazing. She helped with everything . . . even if it was bad. She just went along with anything that he threw at her.
Would Marita have done that? Katie wasn't even Annabeth's daughter but she sure as hell was acting like she had been, like it was an actual "loss of daughter" thing for her. Maybe it just put it into full-blast perspective for Anna, and she started thinking that, yeah, these things actually happen. People get killed.
Marita, though, Jimmy knew this, that she wouldn't have approved – it was the only word that Jimmy could come up with - of killing Dave, just for the sake of the Family protection. What was this, The Godfather? No, Marita would have had pretty much the same reaction as Celeste had to Dave. Jimmy closed the bathroom door and jumped in the shower. As the near- scalding water fell onto him, he was reminded of the Mystic River, as it swallowed Dave up. Gone forever.
When Jimmy was done, he turned the knob of the bathroom door to go back to his room and change, and found Annabeth standing there.
He didn't say anything for a second. "Hi," he finally choked out.
"Hey baby," she smiled and hugged him. He was still dripping wet, but she pressed herself against him anyways, getting her shirt wet. "What time do you want me to go in today?"
"What?"
"To the store. You said you weren't feeling well, so I decided to go into the store for you and work your shift. I already called ahead."
Jimmy waved his hand in protest. "No, no I feel fine now. I just, I was exhausted when I woke up and when I said that I didn't wanna go in today, I just said it out of grogginess. I mean it, I'm fine. I'm good to go."
A sudden flash of a young Dave Boyle passed before his eyes.
"You know, Celeste grabbed me yesterday, after the parade." Annabeth's voice didn't even waver. "She looks terrible, like she hasn't got much sleep."
"I would expect not," was Jimmy's lame reply.
"We used to be so close as teens," said Annabeth. "And then we just . . . I dunno, it all fell apart. Thank God for that though."
"What do you mean?"
She sighed. "I don't know, okay? I guess because I wouldn't want to be close with her, the way she's acting these days. She's a backstabber."
Jimmy stared at his wife. "What?"
"She was talkative, you know? Saying those things about oh, how she was so relieved when she left Dave, but now she feels guilty for it and maybe he wasn't that bad of a person, but then she completely switches gears and says how it was terrifying somehow, never completely knowing who he was all those years." She shrugged. "Stupid crap like that."
Jimmy felt a twinge of secret sympathy for Celeste. "I think I'm gonna get dressed now." He kissed her quickly on the mouth and walked past her, two steps into the hall and into their bedroom. He opened the closet door and pulled out a black t-shirt and faded jeans which he threw on the bed.
Annabeth came in the room. "Honey, are you okay?"
"No, Annabeth, I'm really not." Jimmy stopped and gave his wife one of his annoyed looks, the look that he had given to Dave the night he killed him.
Oh God. The more he thought about it, the more real it seemed. And the more he felt . . . guilty.
Annabeth stopped moving. "Jimmy?"
Jimmy snapped out of it and mustered what he thought was a smile. "I'm fine, baby. Serious. Just tired."
Annabeth peered at him. "You've been acting weird, ever since Saturday night."
Jimmy's heart plummeted. "Annabeth, you get the gold."
"For what?"
"For stating the obvious."
"Well, Christ Jim, I know what you mean." She moved closer to him.
"Well then" – he walked over to the bed – "start acting like it."
Annabeth raised her eyebrows. "Jimmy, do you think what you did that night was wrong?"
Jimmy looked at the ceiling and let out a long huff. "Anna, can I just get dressed?"
She glared. "I'm not stopping you."
Jimmy looked down at the clothes in his hand and walked out of the room, back into the bathroom. Annabeth stood there stricken, and then stomped downstairs. As she rounded into the kitchen, the phone rang. She grabbed it and promptly slammed it down.
* * * * * *
Celeste stood in her kitchen, staring at the phone in her hand. She knew that something had happened, something bad and now Jimmy and Annabeth were acting weird. And somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice was teasing her, telling her that going to Jimmy with her worries about Dave was a very, very bad idea.
She put the phone back on the wall and stared at it for a few minutes, considering smashing it with a hammer but then nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone screamed at her. She picked it up and hesitantly said: "Hello?"
"Celeste."
Her heart skipped. "Jimmy. Hi, I just called your house."
"I know. Listen, I need to talk to you. It's very important." He sounded aggravated.
"Jimmy, what's wrong? Where's Anna? And why aren't you at work?"
She heard him sigh. "Annabeth's taking my shift at the store."
"Why?"
He felt like screaming. "Just please, Celeste? I really need to talk to you."
Celeste nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Okay Jimmy, I'll be right over."
"But it's not about Kat – "and suddenly he heard the dial tone in his ear.
Well, he thought. Here we go. What am I gonna tell her? How do you tell someone something like that?
He let loose a cry of frustration that echoed around the empty house. When no one responded, he suddenly felt foolish and went to the stove to boil some water.
Fifteen minutes later, he was standing by the counter, sipping black coffee, when there was a pounding at the door. He stopped staring at the floor and walked over to the front door. He didn't open it right away, but put his hands on the frame and looked down at the carpet.
Ok, he told himself. Are you ready for this?
Never.
He pulled open the door. Celeste stood there, carrying a plastic container and gave him a sympathy smile. She was wearing a black jacket and baggy jeans. Her hair didn't look brushed and her eyes looked tired. And Jimmy had a strange thought; he never realized how beautiful Celeste was.
She reached over and hugged him tightly. "Hi, Jimmy," she whispered. "I'm glad you called me."
They pulled away from each other and Jimmy peered at the container she was holding. She looked down at it too, as if she was just seeing it there in her hand. "Oh, um, it's just some quiches me and Michael made last night. I, uh, haven't heard from Dave for a couple of nights so we came back home and made some food." She wouldn't look at him.
Jimmy took the container from her shaking hand and squeezed her shoulder. "Sorry to bother you Celeste – I just . . . uh . . . "
Celeste nodded. "Come on, let's sit down, okay?" They walked towards the living room and pictures of the family stood on a table standing outside of it. Celeste realized she had never closely looked at them before and took the opportunity to quickly glance at them. A smiling photo of her cousin and Jimmy tore her up inside.
Celeste thought back to the day of the parade and remembered the way her cousin had looked at her, like she knew something Celeste didn't. This was true, Celeste knew. She just hadn't figured out quite what it was.
Oh come on, said the voice. Of course you know.
Shut up, Celeste thought.
She tore her eyes away from the pictures and slowly walked into the living room. She sat on the couch beside the piano and set the container down, wringing her hands after she did. Jimmy came into the room carrying a mug. He set it down in front of Celeste and then sat on the opposite end of the couch, propping his elbow up and resting his hand on it. He rubbed his eyes.
"So" said Celeste. "What did you want to talk to me about? Oh sorry – shit, that was a stupid question." She laughed nervously and took a sip from the mug in front of her.
Jimmy felt like throwing up. He looked at Celeste and pressed his lips together. "It's not stupid," he muttered. "In fact, I need to tell you something."
Celeste gripped the mug so that the heat burned her hands but she kept from running out of there. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at her cousin's husband. He leaned forwards so he was looking directly at her and he motioned for her to put the mug down. When she did, he took her hands in his and gripped them tightly. "This is hard," he muttered.
I knew it, said the voice in Celeste's head.
"Celeste," Jimmy started to say, but they were suddenly startled by a pound on the door. They both jumped and let go of eachother. Jimmy swore under his breath and peered through the curtains to see who it was.
"Oh, wonderful."
"What?" said Celeste, and she peeked through the curtains. Sean Devine and Whitey Powers were standing on the porch, looking extremely agitated. Her mouth dropped open, and she felt Jimmy grip her shoulder.
"Markum!" yelled Sgt. Powers. "Open up!" He pounded on the door again.
"What do they want?" whispered Celeste, letting go of the curtains and staring at Jimmy. "You'd better give me some answers, Jimmy."
"What do you think I was trying to do?" he shot back.
Celeste's heart stopped. "You know why they're here?"
Jimmy closed his eyes and nodded.
"Why?"
He didn't answer but got up and slowly ambled over to the door, where Whitey Powers continued to bang on it. When he got as far as the staircase, he turned back to look at Celeste.
Why did they have to pick this time? he thought. That is so convenient. He pointed his finger at Celeste. "Listen to me," he spoke sharply. 'Whatever they say to me, whatever they accuse me of or whatever bullshit theory they have to offer, I don't want you to believe a word of it, you hear? They're just stupid, crackpot cops who don't know anything, you understand me?"
Celeste rose off of the couch. "Jimmy, what is going on?" she stammered.
Jimmy balled his fists in frustration. "Jesus, Celeste! How long have you known me? Don't be like this now!"
"I'm not being like anything Jimmy – I'm tired, I'm confused and you're not giving me a straight answer, so pull your shit together and answer that door!"
"Annabeth?" yelled Sean's voice from the porch. "Jimmy? Open up now!"
Jimmy gave one last look at Celeste and headed to the door. She watched him head out of the living room but almost yelled at him to come back. Suddenly, she didn't want to know anything. But the pieces were starting to fall spectacularly into place. And now, the cops who had been investigating Katie's murder were at Jimmy's door – and Celeste was still with a missing husband who she ratted out to Jimmy.
I told you so, said the voice. Didn't I tell you?
Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. Dave, she thought. I'm so sorry. But I need you here, right now. I've never needed you more than I do now. I'm so sorry for what I did.
Celeste stayed rooted to the spot. She faintly heard the sounds of the door, being opened and then a man burst into the room. She recognized him as Sgt. Powers.
"Do not screw around with this, Markum." He sounded pissed. Celeste watched Jimmy and Sean come into the room, Sean looking slightly surprised when he first saw her standing in the middle of the living room. She nodded at him, and a look passed over his face.
He brought her here to confess, was Sean's first thought. Did he do it already?
It was at this moment that Whitey noticed her too.
"And you are?" he said to her.
"Leave her alone, Sergeant," said Jimmy. Celeste caught his eye and he shook his head at her.
She gave him his name anyway. "We met very briefly that one time," she quietly said.
"Boyle, eh?" said Whitey. "I know that name. You know that name, Jimmy?"
Jimmy shrugged. "What is this about, Sergeant? I've got things to do."
"Like work, Mr. Markum? Yeah, well if you're working right now, I'll be glad to let you get back to it." Whitey stood his ground. Sean and Celeste didn't move, although Sean kept his eyes on her, now positive that Jimmy was the guilty party.
Jimmy and Whitey eyed eachother until Sean broke the silence. "Jim, I told him about our conversation."
Jimmy turned his attention to Sean, but Whitey kept his gaze where it had been. "What conversation?"
"Jimmy, maybe you don't remember because you were too out of it, but you and me had a pretty interesting conversation about Dave Boyle."
Celeste blinked furiously and her heart sped up. Now, everyone's eyes were on her and she wished for a hole in the ground she could jump into.
Whitey crossed his arms. "When did you last see your husband, Mrs. Boyle?" he said to her.
"Powers," said Sean warningly. He shook his head at his partner who rolled his eyes. "The thing is, Mrs. Boyle, we just wanted to ask Jimmy a few questions right now, and we'll need to take him downtown for a bit, but we didn't expect you here – so if you don't mind – "
Whitey cut in. "My partner here told me something very interesting this morning when we got into the office."
Jimmy nodded. "Which would be?"
Whitey looked at Celeste. "We shouldn't talk here."
That's when Celeste cracked. "You know, all you guys talk an awful lot of shit, yet you aren't saying anything at all! I've been in the dark for the past while about a lot of things and if Jimmy's going downtown, then I am too because you guys need to help me out here!" She marched over to Sean. "Please."
Sean grimaced. "Okay Mrs. Boyle. You can come."
Whitey threw up his hands. "No, she cannot! It's not her problem – she has no reason to come with us!"
"What are you talking about? It's her husband!" yelled back Jimmy. He glared at Whitey but then suddenly realized what he said and slowly looked over at Celeste who looked pale.
"What did you say?" she whispered.
Jimmy took a shaky breath and put his face in his hands. Celeste stomped over to him until she was barely ten inches away from his face. "What about my husband, Jimmy?"
Jimmy looked up at her, locking his eyes with hers and she put her hands on either side of his face. "What do you know that I don't?"
"Your husband was the prime suspect in the investigation of Katie Markum's death," spoke up Whitey from behind her.
"Shut up!" yelled Jimmy. "Don't bring that up now!"
"Jimmy, please," said Sean. "We just want to ask you a few questions."
"About what?" snapped Celeste.
"About the disappearance of your husband," said Sean in a strained voice.
Celeste turned slowly to look at him. "I never reported my husband as missing. How did you know he was gone?"
Sean looked at Jimmy over her shoulder.
"Are you allowed to question someone about a missing person that hasn't even been reported to you?" she asked, pressing her lips together and glaring at him.
She felt Jimmy stir behind her. "She's right," he piped up.
"No!" yelled Whitey, coming to stand in front of him. "You practically confessed to knowing why Dave Boyle was missing to Sean here! Don't give me that!"
Jimmy didn't move, still glaring at the cop. "I know how this works, Sergeant. And I want my lawyer."
Celeste fought back the urge to punch one of them and ran out of the room and up the stairs. When she reached the bathroom, she sat on the toilet seat and shook violently – listening to Jimmy and the cops argue downstairs.
"Sean, what the hell?" spat Jimmy. "Who the hell do you think you are, saying stuff about Dave in front of her?"
"What are you saying, Mr. Markum?" asked Whitey, looking as though he was one minute away from cuffing him.
"Don't read too much into it," growled Jimmy. "I'm only looking out for her because her husband's been missing for a bit and you don't need to go spewing bullshit stories – yes, BULLSHIT, Sergeant – around her! What kind of inconsiderate bastards are you?"
The two cops stood silent for a minute, while Jimmy looked back and forth at them, and taking great heaving breaths.
Sean cleared his throat. "I know you did it, Jimmy. I know you killed Dave."
There it was. Out in the open. Whitey didn't look at all surprised at Sean's conclusion.
Jimmy offered no reaction either. He merely gave Sean one of his "you can go to hell" looks and shrugged his shoulders. "Who says I did?"
"Who says you didn't" Whitey shot back. "You and Dave were such good friends – if you didn't kill him, I'd assume you'd at least be a little upset that we're accusing you of such a heinous crime."
Jimmy crossed his arms. "You think I'm not upset? I said I want my lawyer."
Sean sighed.
"What?" Jimmy turned on him. "What's your damn problem, Devine?" He scoffed. "Look, whatever you're thinking, stop. I didn't kill nobody."
"Neither did Dave," muttered Whitey. Jimmy shot bullets at him with his eyes. The two cops started to walk towards the front door.
"We'll be seeing you," said Sean.
"I don't doubt it." Jimmy stood where he was, watched as Sean and Whitey opened the front door and walked down the front steps. In a flash, Jimmy slammed it behind them, double locked it and then took the stairs two at a time to find Celeste. She was still in the bathroom, shaking like anything but not crying. She looked up as Jimmy came in through the door. He quickly knelt down in front of her and wrapped his arms around her. She gladly relaxed against his chest and buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she heard him whisper against her hair. "I'm so sorry."
For what? She thought. For what?
They stayed like that for a while, just sitting and breathing together – both minds running a mile a minute and unaware of what the other was thinking. When Celeste pulled away from him after what could have been a minute or an hour, she peered deep into his eyes. "I want you to know that I heard everything," she whispered.
Jimmy's eyes widened. "You did?"
She nodded grimly.
Jimmy hung his head. "I never wanted you to find out that way," he whispered back.
Celeste pressed her lips together. "Okay, okay . . . here's what I think . . . you need to leave town."
"What?" Jimmy grabbed her hands. "No way! Are you out of your mind?"
Celeste shook her head furiously. "Sean knows all about it, right? He'll figure out a way to get you. And I'm only saying this because I love you, and I don't want you to go to jail."
Jimmy's eyes filled with tears. "Celeste, I'm so so sorry. And I know that can never make up for it, but . . . I was very confused."
"You're right, Jimmy," Celeste cut in. "Nothing you say can make up for it. Which is why you should leave before I turn you in myself." Her eyes were full of malice and worry at the same time.
Jimmy stared at her for a minute, tears falling down his face and leaned in to kiss her. She kissed him back and gripped the back of his head. He pulled back after a minute and rested his forehead on hers. She let out a quick sob and stood up, stopping at the doorway. Jimmy stayed on his knees, looking at the carpet in shame. "When I come back tonight, I want you to be gone . . . understand?" Celeste demanded. She felt rather than saw him nod, and she bolted from the house.
Leaving Jimmy to see Dave Boyle float in front of his face over and over again.
Or maybe he wouldn't be anymore.
Sean knew it. He knew Jimmy had killed Dave Boyle. That was the thing about being a cop. That was the job . . . knowing if the suspect was guilty or not just by looking at them, although he certainly screwed that one up with Silent Ray and Johnny O'Shea. But Jimmy, Sean knew that he had killed Dave, just from how he had been acting. His voice, his manner . . . and Sean knew how smart Jimmy was. There would be no evidence . . . only motive. And courts don't convict on motive alone. No, Jimmy was smart enough to get rid of evidence and make sure that the Savages kept their mouths shut good about anything they might have known. He was smart that way, always going ahead with what he thought was right for him and him alone, thinking the consequences through and playing along with them.
It seemed Jimmy hadn't changed either.
* * * * * *
"Hurry up or you'll be late for school!" rang Annabeth's voice through the kitchen. Sara and Nadine shoved one more spoonful of cereal into their mouths and dashed into the front hall to get their spring jackets on. Annabeth was standing there with an expectant face, smiling as little Nadine shoved her arms into the sleeves. "I'll walk you today, Daddy isn't feeling well."
"Why?" Sara said.
"He's very tired and just needs to rest for another hour or so, honey. Can't I take you?"
"Okay, Mommy."
From upstairs, Jimmy was stepping into the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist about to jump into the shower, when he heard Annabeth talking to the girls downstairs. God, that woman was amazing. She helped with everything . . . even if it was bad. She just went along with anything that he threw at her.
Would Marita have done that? Katie wasn't even Annabeth's daughter but she sure as hell was acting like she had been, like it was an actual "loss of daughter" thing for her. Maybe it just put it into full-blast perspective for Anna, and she started thinking that, yeah, these things actually happen. People get killed.
Marita, though, Jimmy knew this, that she wouldn't have approved – it was the only word that Jimmy could come up with - of killing Dave, just for the sake of the Family protection. What was this, The Godfather? No, Marita would have had pretty much the same reaction as Celeste had to Dave. Jimmy closed the bathroom door and jumped in the shower. As the near- scalding water fell onto him, he was reminded of the Mystic River, as it swallowed Dave up. Gone forever.
When Jimmy was done, he turned the knob of the bathroom door to go back to his room and change, and found Annabeth standing there.
He didn't say anything for a second. "Hi," he finally choked out.
"Hey baby," she smiled and hugged him. He was still dripping wet, but she pressed herself against him anyways, getting her shirt wet. "What time do you want me to go in today?"
"What?"
"To the store. You said you weren't feeling well, so I decided to go into the store for you and work your shift. I already called ahead."
Jimmy waved his hand in protest. "No, no I feel fine now. I just, I was exhausted when I woke up and when I said that I didn't wanna go in today, I just said it out of grogginess. I mean it, I'm fine. I'm good to go."
A sudden flash of a young Dave Boyle passed before his eyes.
"You know, Celeste grabbed me yesterday, after the parade." Annabeth's voice didn't even waver. "She looks terrible, like she hasn't got much sleep."
"I would expect not," was Jimmy's lame reply.
"We used to be so close as teens," said Annabeth. "And then we just . . . I dunno, it all fell apart. Thank God for that though."
"What do you mean?"
She sighed. "I don't know, okay? I guess because I wouldn't want to be close with her, the way she's acting these days. She's a backstabber."
Jimmy stared at his wife. "What?"
"She was talkative, you know? Saying those things about oh, how she was so relieved when she left Dave, but now she feels guilty for it and maybe he wasn't that bad of a person, but then she completely switches gears and says how it was terrifying somehow, never completely knowing who he was all those years." She shrugged. "Stupid crap like that."
Jimmy felt a twinge of secret sympathy for Celeste. "I think I'm gonna get dressed now." He kissed her quickly on the mouth and walked past her, two steps into the hall and into their bedroom. He opened the closet door and pulled out a black t-shirt and faded jeans which he threw on the bed.
Annabeth came in the room. "Honey, are you okay?"
"No, Annabeth, I'm really not." Jimmy stopped and gave his wife one of his annoyed looks, the look that he had given to Dave the night he killed him.
Oh God. The more he thought about it, the more real it seemed. And the more he felt . . . guilty.
Annabeth stopped moving. "Jimmy?"
Jimmy snapped out of it and mustered what he thought was a smile. "I'm fine, baby. Serious. Just tired."
Annabeth peered at him. "You've been acting weird, ever since Saturday night."
Jimmy's heart plummeted. "Annabeth, you get the gold."
"For what?"
"For stating the obvious."
"Well, Christ Jim, I know what you mean." She moved closer to him.
"Well then" – he walked over to the bed – "start acting like it."
Annabeth raised her eyebrows. "Jimmy, do you think what you did that night was wrong?"
Jimmy looked at the ceiling and let out a long huff. "Anna, can I just get dressed?"
She glared. "I'm not stopping you."
Jimmy looked down at the clothes in his hand and walked out of the room, back into the bathroom. Annabeth stood there stricken, and then stomped downstairs. As she rounded into the kitchen, the phone rang. She grabbed it and promptly slammed it down.
* * * * * *
Celeste stood in her kitchen, staring at the phone in her hand. She knew that something had happened, something bad and now Jimmy and Annabeth were acting weird. And somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice was teasing her, telling her that going to Jimmy with her worries about Dave was a very, very bad idea.
She put the phone back on the wall and stared at it for a few minutes, considering smashing it with a hammer but then nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone screamed at her. She picked it up and hesitantly said: "Hello?"
"Celeste."
Her heart skipped. "Jimmy. Hi, I just called your house."
"I know. Listen, I need to talk to you. It's very important." He sounded aggravated.
"Jimmy, what's wrong? Where's Anna? And why aren't you at work?"
She heard him sigh. "Annabeth's taking my shift at the store."
"Why?"
He felt like screaming. "Just please, Celeste? I really need to talk to you."
Celeste nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Okay Jimmy, I'll be right over."
"But it's not about Kat – "and suddenly he heard the dial tone in his ear.
Well, he thought. Here we go. What am I gonna tell her? How do you tell someone something like that?
He let loose a cry of frustration that echoed around the empty house. When no one responded, he suddenly felt foolish and went to the stove to boil some water.
Fifteen minutes later, he was standing by the counter, sipping black coffee, when there was a pounding at the door. He stopped staring at the floor and walked over to the front door. He didn't open it right away, but put his hands on the frame and looked down at the carpet.
Ok, he told himself. Are you ready for this?
Never.
He pulled open the door. Celeste stood there, carrying a plastic container and gave him a sympathy smile. She was wearing a black jacket and baggy jeans. Her hair didn't look brushed and her eyes looked tired. And Jimmy had a strange thought; he never realized how beautiful Celeste was.
She reached over and hugged him tightly. "Hi, Jimmy," she whispered. "I'm glad you called me."
They pulled away from each other and Jimmy peered at the container she was holding. She looked down at it too, as if she was just seeing it there in her hand. "Oh, um, it's just some quiches me and Michael made last night. I, uh, haven't heard from Dave for a couple of nights so we came back home and made some food." She wouldn't look at him.
Jimmy took the container from her shaking hand and squeezed her shoulder. "Sorry to bother you Celeste – I just . . . uh . . . "
Celeste nodded. "Come on, let's sit down, okay?" They walked towards the living room and pictures of the family stood on a table standing outside of it. Celeste realized she had never closely looked at them before and took the opportunity to quickly glance at them. A smiling photo of her cousin and Jimmy tore her up inside.
Celeste thought back to the day of the parade and remembered the way her cousin had looked at her, like she knew something Celeste didn't. This was true, Celeste knew. She just hadn't figured out quite what it was.
Oh come on, said the voice. Of course you know.
Shut up, Celeste thought.
She tore her eyes away from the pictures and slowly walked into the living room. She sat on the couch beside the piano and set the container down, wringing her hands after she did. Jimmy came into the room carrying a mug. He set it down in front of Celeste and then sat on the opposite end of the couch, propping his elbow up and resting his hand on it. He rubbed his eyes.
"So" said Celeste. "What did you want to talk to me about? Oh sorry – shit, that was a stupid question." She laughed nervously and took a sip from the mug in front of her.
Jimmy felt like throwing up. He looked at Celeste and pressed his lips together. "It's not stupid," he muttered. "In fact, I need to tell you something."
Celeste gripped the mug so that the heat burned her hands but she kept from running out of there. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at her cousin's husband. He leaned forwards so he was looking directly at her and he motioned for her to put the mug down. When she did, he took her hands in his and gripped them tightly. "This is hard," he muttered.
I knew it, said the voice in Celeste's head.
"Celeste," Jimmy started to say, but they were suddenly startled by a pound on the door. They both jumped and let go of eachother. Jimmy swore under his breath and peered through the curtains to see who it was.
"Oh, wonderful."
"What?" said Celeste, and she peeked through the curtains. Sean Devine and Whitey Powers were standing on the porch, looking extremely agitated. Her mouth dropped open, and she felt Jimmy grip her shoulder.
"Markum!" yelled Sgt. Powers. "Open up!" He pounded on the door again.
"What do they want?" whispered Celeste, letting go of the curtains and staring at Jimmy. "You'd better give me some answers, Jimmy."
"What do you think I was trying to do?" he shot back.
Celeste's heart stopped. "You know why they're here?"
Jimmy closed his eyes and nodded.
"Why?"
He didn't answer but got up and slowly ambled over to the door, where Whitey Powers continued to bang on it. When he got as far as the staircase, he turned back to look at Celeste.
Why did they have to pick this time? he thought. That is so convenient. He pointed his finger at Celeste. "Listen to me," he spoke sharply. 'Whatever they say to me, whatever they accuse me of or whatever bullshit theory they have to offer, I don't want you to believe a word of it, you hear? They're just stupid, crackpot cops who don't know anything, you understand me?"
Celeste rose off of the couch. "Jimmy, what is going on?" she stammered.
Jimmy balled his fists in frustration. "Jesus, Celeste! How long have you known me? Don't be like this now!"
"I'm not being like anything Jimmy – I'm tired, I'm confused and you're not giving me a straight answer, so pull your shit together and answer that door!"
"Annabeth?" yelled Sean's voice from the porch. "Jimmy? Open up now!"
Jimmy gave one last look at Celeste and headed to the door. She watched him head out of the living room but almost yelled at him to come back. Suddenly, she didn't want to know anything. But the pieces were starting to fall spectacularly into place. And now, the cops who had been investigating Katie's murder were at Jimmy's door – and Celeste was still with a missing husband who she ratted out to Jimmy.
I told you so, said the voice. Didn't I tell you?
Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. Dave, she thought. I'm so sorry. But I need you here, right now. I've never needed you more than I do now. I'm so sorry for what I did.
Celeste stayed rooted to the spot. She faintly heard the sounds of the door, being opened and then a man burst into the room. She recognized him as Sgt. Powers.
"Do not screw around with this, Markum." He sounded pissed. Celeste watched Jimmy and Sean come into the room, Sean looking slightly surprised when he first saw her standing in the middle of the living room. She nodded at him, and a look passed over his face.
He brought her here to confess, was Sean's first thought. Did he do it already?
It was at this moment that Whitey noticed her too.
"And you are?" he said to her.
"Leave her alone, Sergeant," said Jimmy. Celeste caught his eye and he shook his head at her.
She gave him his name anyway. "We met very briefly that one time," she quietly said.
"Boyle, eh?" said Whitey. "I know that name. You know that name, Jimmy?"
Jimmy shrugged. "What is this about, Sergeant? I've got things to do."
"Like work, Mr. Markum? Yeah, well if you're working right now, I'll be glad to let you get back to it." Whitey stood his ground. Sean and Celeste didn't move, although Sean kept his eyes on her, now positive that Jimmy was the guilty party.
Jimmy and Whitey eyed eachother until Sean broke the silence. "Jim, I told him about our conversation."
Jimmy turned his attention to Sean, but Whitey kept his gaze where it had been. "What conversation?"
"Jimmy, maybe you don't remember because you were too out of it, but you and me had a pretty interesting conversation about Dave Boyle."
Celeste blinked furiously and her heart sped up. Now, everyone's eyes were on her and she wished for a hole in the ground she could jump into.
Whitey crossed his arms. "When did you last see your husband, Mrs. Boyle?" he said to her.
"Powers," said Sean warningly. He shook his head at his partner who rolled his eyes. "The thing is, Mrs. Boyle, we just wanted to ask Jimmy a few questions right now, and we'll need to take him downtown for a bit, but we didn't expect you here – so if you don't mind – "
Whitey cut in. "My partner here told me something very interesting this morning when we got into the office."
Jimmy nodded. "Which would be?"
Whitey looked at Celeste. "We shouldn't talk here."
That's when Celeste cracked. "You know, all you guys talk an awful lot of shit, yet you aren't saying anything at all! I've been in the dark for the past while about a lot of things and if Jimmy's going downtown, then I am too because you guys need to help me out here!" She marched over to Sean. "Please."
Sean grimaced. "Okay Mrs. Boyle. You can come."
Whitey threw up his hands. "No, she cannot! It's not her problem – she has no reason to come with us!"
"What are you talking about? It's her husband!" yelled back Jimmy. He glared at Whitey but then suddenly realized what he said and slowly looked over at Celeste who looked pale.
"What did you say?" she whispered.
Jimmy took a shaky breath and put his face in his hands. Celeste stomped over to him until she was barely ten inches away from his face. "What about my husband, Jimmy?"
Jimmy looked up at her, locking his eyes with hers and she put her hands on either side of his face. "What do you know that I don't?"
"Your husband was the prime suspect in the investigation of Katie Markum's death," spoke up Whitey from behind her.
"Shut up!" yelled Jimmy. "Don't bring that up now!"
"Jimmy, please," said Sean. "We just want to ask you a few questions."
"About what?" snapped Celeste.
"About the disappearance of your husband," said Sean in a strained voice.
Celeste turned slowly to look at him. "I never reported my husband as missing. How did you know he was gone?"
Sean looked at Jimmy over her shoulder.
"Are you allowed to question someone about a missing person that hasn't even been reported to you?" she asked, pressing her lips together and glaring at him.
She felt Jimmy stir behind her. "She's right," he piped up.
"No!" yelled Whitey, coming to stand in front of him. "You practically confessed to knowing why Dave Boyle was missing to Sean here! Don't give me that!"
Jimmy didn't move, still glaring at the cop. "I know how this works, Sergeant. And I want my lawyer."
Celeste fought back the urge to punch one of them and ran out of the room and up the stairs. When she reached the bathroom, she sat on the toilet seat and shook violently – listening to Jimmy and the cops argue downstairs.
"Sean, what the hell?" spat Jimmy. "Who the hell do you think you are, saying stuff about Dave in front of her?"
"What are you saying, Mr. Markum?" asked Whitey, looking as though he was one minute away from cuffing him.
"Don't read too much into it," growled Jimmy. "I'm only looking out for her because her husband's been missing for a bit and you don't need to go spewing bullshit stories – yes, BULLSHIT, Sergeant – around her! What kind of inconsiderate bastards are you?"
The two cops stood silent for a minute, while Jimmy looked back and forth at them, and taking great heaving breaths.
Sean cleared his throat. "I know you did it, Jimmy. I know you killed Dave."
There it was. Out in the open. Whitey didn't look at all surprised at Sean's conclusion.
Jimmy offered no reaction either. He merely gave Sean one of his "you can go to hell" looks and shrugged his shoulders. "Who says I did?"
"Who says you didn't" Whitey shot back. "You and Dave were such good friends – if you didn't kill him, I'd assume you'd at least be a little upset that we're accusing you of such a heinous crime."
Jimmy crossed his arms. "You think I'm not upset? I said I want my lawyer."
Sean sighed.
"What?" Jimmy turned on him. "What's your damn problem, Devine?" He scoffed. "Look, whatever you're thinking, stop. I didn't kill nobody."
"Neither did Dave," muttered Whitey. Jimmy shot bullets at him with his eyes. The two cops started to walk towards the front door.
"We'll be seeing you," said Sean.
"I don't doubt it." Jimmy stood where he was, watched as Sean and Whitey opened the front door and walked down the front steps. In a flash, Jimmy slammed it behind them, double locked it and then took the stairs two at a time to find Celeste. She was still in the bathroom, shaking like anything but not crying. She looked up as Jimmy came in through the door. He quickly knelt down in front of her and wrapped his arms around her. She gladly relaxed against his chest and buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she heard him whisper against her hair. "I'm so sorry."
For what? She thought. For what?
They stayed like that for a while, just sitting and breathing together – both minds running a mile a minute and unaware of what the other was thinking. When Celeste pulled away from him after what could have been a minute or an hour, she peered deep into his eyes. "I want you to know that I heard everything," she whispered.
Jimmy's eyes widened. "You did?"
She nodded grimly.
Jimmy hung his head. "I never wanted you to find out that way," he whispered back.
Celeste pressed her lips together. "Okay, okay . . . here's what I think . . . you need to leave town."
"What?" Jimmy grabbed her hands. "No way! Are you out of your mind?"
Celeste shook her head furiously. "Sean knows all about it, right? He'll figure out a way to get you. And I'm only saying this because I love you, and I don't want you to go to jail."
Jimmy's eyes filled with tears. "Celeste, I'm so so sorry. And I know that can never make up for it, but . . . I was very confused."
"You're right, Jimmy," Celeste cut in. "Nothing you say can make up for it. Which is why you should leave before I turn you in myself." Her eyes were full of malice and worry at the same time.
Jimmy stared at her for a minute, tears falling down his face and leaned in to kiss her. She kissed him back and gripped the back of his head. He pulled back after a minute and rested his forehead on hers. She let out a quick sob and stood up, stopping at the doorway. Jimmy stayed on his knees, looking at the carpet in shame. "When I come back tonight, I want you to be gone . . . understand?" Celeste demanded. She felt rather than saw him nod, and she bolted from the house.
Leaving Jimmy to see Dave Boyle float in front of his face over and over again.