Death on Hanover Read online

  “Where’s Mr. Martin?” Samantha asked. The intern was usually around, but Samantha didn’t ask for that reason. She was simply trying to make conversation.

  “He’s in class.”

  “Right,” Samantha said. “Final year of medical school, I think you said.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And Dr. Guthrie?”

  Haley’s eyes rolled ever so slightly. “I believe he’s engaged with my housekeeper. Tea and crumpets or some such thing.”

  Samantha chuckled. “I’ll miss watching the blooming romance.”

  “Don’t worry,” Haley said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  Silence dropped when they both realized that was probably not true.

  “Talia will be happy,” Haley said. “Does she know?”

  “Not yet.” How could she? Seth had only just given Samantha the ultimatum. Haley’s eyes flashed with discomfort as if she knew she’d said the wrong thing.

  Samantha suddenly felt the need to hurry through her coffee. Her gaze left Haley’s face and found an excuse to scan the room. It was then that she noticed a body on one of the autopsy tables. She was off her game—how had she missed that?

  “Who’s the guy on the table?”

  “Another John Doe, on Hanover again. They’re dropping like flies now. Dr. Guthrie actually had to go to the scene of the crime this time.” Haley’s lip twitched into a near grin. “Almost the same modus operandi as Keating. By the way, the blood samples I picked up at the docks match Keating.”

  “So that was the scene of the crime?”

  “The first crime. I just put Douglas Mulryan in the fridge.”

  “The church secretary?”

  Haley nodded. “His body was dropped on the east end of Hanover by the docks.”

  “Delaney came through on his threat?”

  “That’s a good possibility.”

  Samantha wanted to ask more questions, but why should she now that she was no longer an investigative reporter?

  Apparently, Haley was determined to tell her anyway. Anything was better than this dead conversation they were having.

  “Evidence of fighting,” Haley started, motioning to the body on the slab. “Dumped, but positioned on his side. Cause of death for both was a knife to the throat.”

  “You said almost the same modus operandi?”

  Haley gave her a strange look. “This guy had a fig tucked in his left cheek.”

  “Put there after the fact,” Samantha started, “or was he in the middle of a snack?”

  “The latter. It was quite masticated. Just odd, since a trace of fig was at the other dumping site.” Haley got to her feet. “I found something else that may be of some importance.” She went to the corpse and shifted the sheet until the man’s bicep was exposed, then pointed to an ink mark on the underside.

  Samantha stared at Haley with a slack jaw.

  “What is it?”

  “Seth has that same tattoo in the exact same spot.”

  19

  When Samantha left Haley at the morgue, she fought feelings of being bereaved. Life had a way of handing out lemons, but she would make lemonade, goldarn it, starting with picking up Talia from school for a change.

  Bina didn’t seem surprised to see Samantha when she returned in mid afternoon.

  “Seth made me quit my job.”

  “It’s for the best,” Bina said. Of course, she would side with her son. Samantha sighed. Maybe, in this case, she was right.

  When Samantha announced, “I’m picking up Talia up from school,” Bina simply nodded. Samantha felt a flash of sympathy for her mother-in-law. She’d suffered a lot of shock and pain in her life, losing her husband, several children in their infancy, and then Seth. Now that he was back, Bina should have been brimming with joy, but the wrinkle lines on her face pulled downwards. Even through Bina’s rosy lenses, she could see that the son that had left wasn’t the son that had returned.

  “Where is he?” Samantha asked. The apartment was so small you could practically see into every room from the front door.

  “He never said. Just ‘out’.” Bina shrugged a bony shoulder. “I’m his mama who waited years for him to come home, and all I get is ‘out’.”

  Samantha sauntered wearily into her bedroom and dropped her messenger bag and Kodak to the floor. At least, she wouldn’t have to lug those things around anymore. A small purse would do.

  Then again, she didn’t want Seth to get any ideas about pawning her camera off, and swooped it up. She’d have to find a good place to hide it, but for now, deeply under the bed would have to do.

  Samantha changed her clothes and shoes to something simpler, more fitting for a housewife than a career girl, and then left for the school.

  The kids were playing in the small playground, and Samantha recognized Talia’s blond curls in the midst. She and her friend Sarah were sitting on a flat stone, quietly waiting.

  Samantha was about to call for her when, to her shock, she saw Seth on the perimeter watching Talia too. Was he here to pick her up as well? Without letting Bina know? What if he’d taken Talia before Samantha had gotten here? She’d have been sick with worry.

  Samantha approached Seth with every intention of setting him on his way. If she wasn’t allowed to work, then she’d be the one to pick their daughter up.

  Plus, and she hated that she thought this, Samantha didn’t trust Seth to be alone with Talia. He was too coarse for the child’s sensitive spirit, and she didn’t know what kind of ne’er-do-wells he might expose her to.

  Then, as if to prove her judgements against her husband right, a muscular and sinewy man in a sharp-looking suit, joined him. Samantha impulsively ducked behind a milk truck. She didn’t want Seth to catch her spying on him. The man with him wore a hat bill tipped low, sunglasses that concealed his eyes, and had his chin tucked low. His back was turned to Samantha, and she couldn’t make out his features.

  Seth and the man stood in front of the truck and lit up cigarettes. The vehicle acted as a shield and Samantha shimmied quietly around one side, just close enough to hear snippets of what they were saying.

  “The boss is wonderin’ why you’re back,” the man said, his voice low and gravelly.

  “I figured enough time has passed. Besides, I can’t stand the South. Bunch of rednecks.”

  Samantha thought that was rich, coming from Seth. He wasn’t exactly the most sophisticated type.

  “And I gotta kid, ya know. A girl, it turns out. Was hopin’ it was a boy, but you get what you get, eh?”

  Samantha scowled. Seth had known she was expecting when he took off, but he hadn’t stuck around long enough to see Talia born.

  “And my wife,” Seth continued, “she’s a looker, eh? I gotta keep her in line. Can’t do that from Alabama.”

  “Sure, whatever, Rosenbaum. Look, the boss says if you’re going to kick around Boston, you gotta do your part. Stay in the game.”

  “Ain’t my first rodeo. I took care of the Keatings, dinn’t I?”

  What did he mean, took care of the Keatings? Samantha’s heart almost stuttered to a stop. What did he mean?

  “He wants to see you.”

  “Now? I’m getting my kid.”

  “I thought you said your wife was gonna do it.”

  Seth shrugged and dropped his cigarette and smashed it with the toe of his boot. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  The two men walked away. Where were they going? Who was the “boss” the stranger spoke of? If only she didn’t have to pick up her daughter, she’d trail them. She let out a grunt of frustration.

  Once Seth was gone, Samantha stepped back onto the sidewalk and strolled to her daughter. She raised an arm to flag her. “Talia?”

  Talia looked up with wide blue eyes. “Mommy? Why are you here?”

  Samantha put on a smile. “I wanted to surprise you.” She greeted Talia’s friend. “Hello, Sarah.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Rosenbaum.”

  Samantha reached for
Talia’s hand. “Ready to go?”

  Talia jumped to her feet. “Bye, Sarah.”

  “How was school?” Samantha asked. One part of her brain paid attention to her daughter’s answer, able to ask more questions and offer advice. The other part of her mind worked furiously to figure out what Seth was up to.

  There was only one way to find out. The next chance she got, she would follow him.

  Bina heated up leftover kugel casserole—the pureed potato, egg, and onion dish smelling as delectable as it did freshly made. Around the table, Samantha sat across from Seth, and Talia opposite Bina.

  “Will you say the blessing, son?” Bina asked.

  Seth wrinkled his nose. “You go ahead, Eema.”

  Bina’s eyes briefly flashed with disappointment before she closed them and began, “Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu Melekh ha’olam shehakol nih’ye bidvaro.” Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, through whose word everything comes into being.

  “It’s so good to have the four of us together again,” Bina said, beaming, her motherly blinders back in position. She dished a portion of the casserole onto Seth’s plate. “Such a lovely family!”

  “It’s sho’ good to be back,” Seth said.

  To Samantha, it sounded as if a southern drawl had snuck into his voice. She smiled at her husband. “Where were you all these years, Seth? Alabama?”

  Seth’s gaze jerked up. “What makes you say that?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Samantha wasn’t about to give away her hand.

  Seth answered with a full mouth. “It don’t matter where I was, only that I’m back.” He swallowed and stared hard. “Got that, sugarplum?” He turned his attention on his daughter. “Hey, Talia, what grade are you in?”

  “First.”

  “So, I didn’t miss too much.”

  Only the first seven years of her life!

  He grinned crookedly at Samantha as if reading her mind. “I’m not much for diapers and baby talk.”

  Bina brought out a plate of her famed rugalach—a rich pastry filled with fruit and nuts. This kind of thing was considered too extravagant or expensive during such depressive times, and was usually only made on Talia’s birthday. Bina, ignoring Samantha’s frown, declared, “We’re celebrating!”

  Samantha offered the sweet tea Bina insisted on serving and passed a teacup to Seth. He winked at her, produced a flask from his boot and poured amber fluid into his. Samantha quickly looked to Talia, relieved that her daughter hadn’t witnessed the sleight of hand.

  Finally, the affair ended. Samantha excused Talia to play in their room. Seth turned on the radio and poured himself more “tea” as he got comfortable on the couch. Samantha helped Bina clean up, feeling disturbed by Bina’s uncharacteristic whistling along to “Happy Days are Here Again”.

  Samantha dried the last dish and put it away. She intended to hide away with Talia, but Seth, catching her off guard, stopped her in the short hallway.

  “Babe. The couch is really uncomfortable.” He placed an arm on the wall just to the left of her head. He leaned in and whispered. “I want to sleep in my bed tonight. With my wife.”

  Samantha weakly protested. “But, Talia . . .”

  “I’ll make her a room in the attic.”

  “The attic?” Samantha was incredulous. The only way to get to the attic was through the fire escape. She’d used the uninhabited space to develop photos in the past, but it wasn’t fit for a child.

  “It’s unsuitable. She’ll be afraid.”

  “Then she can sleep with Eema. Samantha, a man has a right to sleep with his own wife.”

  “Give me one more night with her. I need to explain things. And maybe you should let your mother know.”

  Seth pushed himself off the wall. “Fine. One more night on the couch, but that’s it.”

  “Okay.”

  Samantha hurried to her room and closed the door behind her.

  “Are you okay, Mommy?” Talia asked. Her eyes were round and filled with uncertainty. Samantha’s heart swelled with love for her daughter, and there was nothing, nothing, she wouldn’t do for her. The only things that mattered—keep Talia safe and try to make her happy.

  “Of course, sweetie.” She sat on the bed beside Talia and stroked her silky hair. “Daddy and I were just talking, and now that he’s back, well, he doesn’t want to keep sleeping on the couch, and this bed is too small for all three of us.” Samantha chuckled as she tried to keep it light. “So we thought, wouldn’t it be fun for you to share a room with Bubba.”

  Talia wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to move in with Bubba.”

  “It won’t be that bad. And maybe, after a while, Daddy will move us into a bigger place, and you can have your own room.”

  Why had she said that?

  Samantha didn’t believe it for a second, but a little hope in times like this didn’t hurt.

  “I don’t want my own room, Mommy. I like things the way they are.”

  “I know. Let’s not think about it right now. I’m still here for tonight.”

  Samantha read a chapter of Anne of Avonlea, said a Christian prayer, then tucked Talia in with a kiss on the forehead. “Go to sleep, angel.”

  Talia fought the inevitable for as long as she could, but soon she’d drifted into dreamland. Samantha, hoping she wasn’t too late, tiptoed into the living room. Asleep in a sitting position, Seth’s legs sprawled, his head tilted back, and his mouth stayed opened.

  Bina exited from the only bathroom, looking like an elf in her oversized housecoat, worn slippers, and gray hair wrapped in a headband. “Goodnight, Samantha,” she said. A peek into the living room caused the elderly woman to go directly to her bed. Samantha got ready too, but she didn’t dress in her nightie. She brushed her teeth and pinned her hair up. She put on a black skirt and blouse and tucked her blond tresses under a black hat, hoping she’d blend into the darkness outside. Seth had been gone most of the night the evening before, and Samantha counted on him to do the same again tonight.

  All she had to do was wait.

  20

  Haley fished through the files of all corpses that had come through the morgue with a tattoo and looked for anything that might help her to connect the dots. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the Keating brothers, the new John Doe, and Seth Rosenbaum all had the same tattoo. There had to be a connection, and several other similar deaths seemed to support her hypothesis.

  Mr. Martin walked in and stared at the piles of files on the table.

  “Can I help with something?”

  Haley explained her tattoo dilemma. “I’ve found three other decedents who died in the last five years with the same tattoo. All suspicious deaths and none solved. I suspect that illicit fighting is the connection between them.”

  “What’s the tattoo look like?”

  Haley produced a photograph from one of the files. “It’s two spiders entangled, about the size of a quarter on the inside wrist of the right hand.”

  Mr. Martin’s brow buckled in thought. “I’ve seen that symbol before.”

  “Do you remember who?”

  “Not a who. A where. Occasionally, it pops up on a door frame or lamp post. I saw it for myself when I picked up my cousin who works on the docks.”

  “On Long Wharf?” Haley said.

  The intern nodded. “Spider fighting is an actual betting event. Common in prisons, at least according to my cousin.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Our family’s black sheep. Maybe they’re using it as a way to let fighters and bettors know where the next fight is.”

  Haley continued the thought. “By moving the fights around the city, they make it difficult to get caught and to be shut down.”

  “Exactly.”

  What bothered Haley about this line of thought was that Joe hadn’t had a tattoo. It was the one thing about the modus operandi of these more recent murders that didn’t connect with him. Haley felt a deep sense of despair. She’d hoped that by solving this case, she’d solve h
er brother’s as well. Was his case destined to remain unsolved forever?

  Haley gathered up the files. “We need to find the next location.”

  Mr. Martin wrinkled his nose. “That’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  Haley was about to agree when a new thought came to her. “Maybe not.”

  After a quick dinner with Molly, who talked excitedly about going to the theater with Dr. Guthrie, Haley prepared for her own evening. It involved dressing in comfortable slacks, low-heeled pumps, and tying her hair back in a ponytail. A hat wasn’t necessary, but she did put on a pair of black gloves. In a small purse, which she wore diagonally over her shoulders, she placed a flashlight, a set of lock picks—just in case—and her H&R pistol.

  She could very well be on a wild goose chase. Her most significant lead was the presence of figs on or near two of the most recent murders. Her gut told her that people working at the Fruit Company warehouse on Long Wharf or areas nearby set up the fights. There were several warehouses on the wharf, and Haley hoped she’d come across the fighting in one of them. All she had to do was find the symbol of the battling spiders.

  Her trek could lead to nothing more than a late-night walk in an industrial area, but either way, it was dangerous for a woman alone at night, and she had to be exceedingly diligent.

  Driving at night was always an adventure. A string of big bug-eye lights rumbled on rough streets under low-hanging streetlights. She passed couples out for dinner, and ruffians out for trouble. At least the number of vehicles on the road was fewer, and in no time, Haley parked along Atlantic Avenue near Long Wharf.

  Dark hair was an asset when it came to staying hidden in the dark, but white skin could prove troublesome. The half moon shone, but the clouds moved in and out causing a slow-motion effect due to intermittent flashes of light. Haley kept her head down and trod stealthily.

  She wasn’t the only one skulking about. Besides the mice and rats, men came out of nowhere in ones and twos, then disappeared again near the end of the dock. Haley’s pulse jumped. Were they looking for a fight to bet on?