nickname on the water.
“How are you, Sops? Water’s kind of rocky, might be a storm later in the day.”
“Fantastic,” Sops said.
Tenant wished them a good day and headed toward the parking lot. The warehouses that surrounded the lot expelled smoke and steam, doing their best to spur the economy. The air smelled like fish and soot, and Tenant would be happy just to get home.
He reached his car and was reminded how lucky he was. In these days, it was good fate to have a car when hardly anyone did. Meanwhile those guys down in Clifton were trying to build that dog park, and doing whatever the hell else FDR wanted them to do. And all that shit out in Europe, he was living a blessed life.
He unlocked the door and got in. And as he sat down, he realized he’d left his lunch box on the barge. He sighed, got out of the car, and started the trek back to the boat. The water slapped against the dock, and it wobbled a bit. He knelt down and reached for his lunch box.
“We warned you.”
The voice was loud, rising over the water. Tenant looked to his left toward the source of the sound. About thirty feet away, two men slouched along the shore, staring downward. A thin stream of light reflecting off the river illuminated them. The light came from a docking boat farther down the river.
Tenant could tell the men were out of view to anyone in the parking lot. He’d gone down to the shoreline to fish out his shoe when a coworker played a joke on him. He knew you could be seen only from the dock he stood on.
“No, please.” Another voice. “It was only business.”
Between the two men, a hand rose out of the water, as if the person needed help standing. One of the men slapped the hand away.
“Don’t worry, Maxwell. This is only business too.”
The second man raised his arm over his head. In the light Tenant saw a thick shape, probably a blackjack. The man swung it downward, and it landed with a sickening thump. Water splashed around his arm. The man repeated the move three more times.
Tenant should have just turned and run away, but his muscles wouldn’t move. His eyes wouldn’t look away.
The other man kicked at the body in the water until the current took it. He turned his head to watch it float away, and his pale face faced Tenant, his features caught momentarily in the thin light off the river. Joe Tenant tried to memorize them. The reddish hair, freckles, the crooked smile.
If the man saw Tenant, he didn’t react. He just turned back toward land and walked off.
Tenant peered over the edge of the dock. Dark waves ebbed and flowed, and the water was deep enough here that he couldn’t see the bottom. The dock rocked again, hard enough that Tenant had to brace himself. He crossed to the other edge and peered over.
At first he didn’t notice it, he looked too far left. But once the dock rocked one more time, he looked to the right. Bile rose in his throat.
Facedown in the water, the body of a man in a pin-striped suit bobbed in the current, sleeve caught against the pier.
Tenant closed his eyes and swore.
Maybe he wasn’t as lucky as he thought.
Jackson Donne hadn’t talked to his sister in years. So when Susan buzzed his apartment, he wasn’t really expecting it.
“You closed your office,” she said as she entered. “Court ordered.”
She didn’t respond, save for brushing a strand of her short auburn hair over her ear. Susan had cut her hair since the last time he’d seen her and it was boyish in style, though thick and brushed back. It didn’t fit her.
“How are you, Jackson?” she asked. “Why are you here?”
She stalked past Donne and sat on the couch. Dropping her purse on his coffee table, she said, “No small talk?”
He didn’t respond.
“It’s Mom,” Susan continued. “She’s sick, real sick. She doesn’t have much time left.”
He couldn’t help asking, “What’s wrong?”
“Alzheimer’s, dementia. We put her in a nursing home last year, now she’s in a hospice.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Would you have come help?”
It was a good point. He had separated himself from his family, just as his father had. Unlike his father, however, Donne had good reasons. At least he thought so.
“There’s a reason I’m coming to see you now. Mom, she’s been talking about stuff I never knew about. I’m not sure if it’s rambling truths or she’s making things up, but I need your help. You’re a detective.”
“Not anymore,” he said.
“Whatever,” she said. “I want your help.”
“To do what? You want me to sit by her, read her stories, talk to her?” He shook his head. “I’m busy, Susan. Not going to do it.”
“Come on, Jackson. You know how much we mean to her. She had us so late in her life. Please, she should have been in menopause and she was having kids. We should both be there for her.”
Donne shook his head.
“Damn it, Jackson. It’s time to grow up. Be a son. Be a brother. What else are you doing with your life?”
“I’m starting school at Rutgers in the fall. I’m working.”
“I want you to find out about Mom’s dad. She’s been talking about him.”
“What does it matter?”
She grabbed her purse and moved toward the door. Finally. “Peace of mind,” she said as she turned the knob. “Doesn’t that matter?”
“What kind of purse is that?” he asked. “Coach, one of those expensive kinds?”
She looked at the purse, then at Donne, confused.
“Franklin buy that for you? Drop a couple hundred on you to keep you happy?”
Her face turned red, and she took a deep breath before speaking. “Think about it, Jackson. You need to see her again before she dies. Peace of mind. I don’t think you’ve ever had it. Not with Jeanne, not with me, not with Mom. Hell, not even with Dad, and you were, what, eight when he left? Maybe you could use a little closure. Help us out.”
“No.”
“Please, Jackson. She said that our grandfather murdered someone.
