Wise Guys (4/4)
Wise Guys
Part 4
The cannolis ended up being the highlight of the day. As well as the next day and the few after that. As the first week slipped into the second it became nearly impossible to get Charlie to sleep, eat or even leave the office. It was looking dangerously like a P:NP situation except an answer was actually out there and Charlie new it, which sent his levels of frustration even higher.
Cromwell cornered Don in the break room as he tried to decide which flavor of cappuccino he would start his day out with. “So… Eppes, how long do these math cases usually take you?”
“Trying to get rid of us?”
“Well I wouldn’t mind my meeting room back but I’m just trying to think ahead.”
“They take less time than a case would take without the math.”
“That’s a hell of an answer. Try the green cartridge.”
Don picked up a green coffee cartridge. “If it was a cold case I’d drag him home but unless this guy picked up and moved in the last month he’s still out there waiting on whatever his trigger is.”
“Any chance he’s moved?”
“If he has we’ll find out. Charlie has his databases set to ping at him if any child of the right age comes up shot.” The machine spat out an espresso that had a slightly nutty smell. “At this point I think only an act of God will take him off this case.”
Charlie chose that moment to walk into the break room. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the red pot and, without milk or sugar, emptied the cup and walked back out. Don sipped his espresso. “Of course Charlie doesn’t believe in God.”
~
By noon Don was praying for an act of God. Or at least a fire alarm. The redhead who had Cromwell shaking in his TAC gear, a Jenna Maple, had showed up to talk to Charlie about how he ‘really’ knew the bank robbers were likely to turn violent. She also took the opportunity to ask Agent Cromwell if he truly believed that math homework was the best way to catch a serial killer and the best use of his agents’ time.
Don had been amused for the first ten minutes watching Charlie carefully and patiently explain concepts that were old hat to the LA office now, only to have Ms Maple leap into a long legal argument about the validity of evidence gathered, and explaining it to juries. Charlie had countered with actual cases he’d worked and given testimony on. And to Don’s surprise Charlie could quote the case numbers.
Things had started going downhill from there with Ms Maple spouting legalese and Charlie throwing back math hot and heavy. Cromwell and his entire team stayed in the room watching the two go tooth and nail. Don knew what was happening. Ms. Maple was worried about a new player in her sandbox possibly messing with her cases and she was determined to make it very clear who the top dog in Jersey was.
She was obviously not expecting to get pushback from a math teacher.
She had obviously never met Doctor Charles Edwards Eppes, Crown Warrior Prince of the Ivory Tower and Best Selling Self Help Author.
Cromwell and his agents were watching in rapped attention.
“Oh for Fuck sake.” Charlie snapped letting the first curse word into the argument. “If a guy called Tweak can understand that there is a difference between penguins and fish than a jury can…” Charlie stuttered to a halt. Don sat up.
“A jury can what, Doctor Eppes?” Charlie didn’t answer just stared at a point on the table. Ms. Maple started to open her mouth but Don waved her silent.
“Penguins and fish,” Charlie whispered.
The other agents looked at each other in confusion but Don motioned them to be quiet. This was the moment Don had been waiting for, when something in Charlie’s brain clicked with something else setting of a chain reaction letting Charlie see something in the chaos that had been missed.
“Penguins and fish,” he whispered again. He turned towards the wall with the most number of question marks. “Not all things that swim are fish. Not all birds can fly.” Cromwell looked to Don considerable concern across his face. Charlie turned towards one of his boards. “All murders are deaths. Not all deaths are murders.”
A light bulb went off in Don’s head even as Charlie began franticly erasing a board full of math. A half second later Don saw all the other agents clue in.
“We’ve been looking for murders.” Charlie called out as he began to spread fresh equations across the board. “We’ve been looking for murders because I am an idiot. I am too locked into my current thinking.” Charlie whipped around to his laptop and began to type. “I need records of every death to happen in the county before each killing. Let’s say a week and we’ll stretch it if I have to.”
“What are you talking about?” Ms. Maple finally asked obviously irritated at the sudden lack of attention she was getting.
“We found dark matter.” Agent Cromwell stated plainly.
Agent Marino jumped onto another laptop. “That’ll be a lot records.”
“More data is always better.”
“If you’ll excuse us Counselor, but we’re going to catch a serial killer with math now.” And with one quick move Cromwell ushered her out the door and closed it. “I’m going to pay for that.”
“Tell us what you’re thinking Chuck.” Don said. He knew the other agents hadn’t learned to take a lot of Charlie’s math on face yet.
“I’m creating an set analysis algorithm to filter all the deaths leading up to each killing and to find a common factor. It’ll look for age, gender, race, cause of death, number of days removed from crime. If our killer’s trigger is 87 year old females who die from strokes then we will be so much closer.”
Charlie’s fingers were flying over the keys of his laptop and the server box began to hum and click. Don looked around and realized there wasn’t much he could and at that stage and he didn’t have any other case files to work on or suspects to talk to. “Coffee anyone?”
Charlie and a few of the other agents put up their hands. Feeling more than a little like his dad Don went to fetch coffee.
~
Charlie got his code written in a reasonably short amount of time but then it became a matter of computing power. As the county records coughed up death after death Charlie ended up on the phone with Amita talking about virtual boxes and network speed. The conversation lasted about five minutes before Charlie handed the phone over to Mary who looked a little annoyed.
Charlie sat down next to Don and took a swig of his tepid coffee. “I have been so stupid.”
“Your personal bar for stupidity is a lot higher than most people’s.” Charlie took another sip. “Come on Chuck, between you and me, you’re already five steps ahead of this. Where are we going?”
“I don’t like conjecture.”
“Come on.”
“We find the trigger. We find the distance. We find the next child who is ten years and three days.”
“We scoop up the killer without breaking a sweat.”
“Long shot still. There’s still the question of how the killer knows about the deaths. I’m thinking he must work for the county on some level. Maybe we’re just looking for the guy who files the death certificates.”
“That would make sense.”
“But it’s not him. I checked. He’s lived in the county his whole life.”
“Oh well.” Charlie didn’t answer, just closed his eyes. Charlie’s fingers tapped only on his coffee cup, in no desirable order or rhythm. He had done that since he was a kid, tapped out strange little beats with his fingertips. Don never asked what he was doing. He always figured it was Charlie’s way of counting on his fingers, physically keeping track of huge numbers or complicated algorithms the same way a kid might work out his times tables. Charlie’s fingers froze on his cup and he opened his eyes.
“I want this one Don.”
“We all do.”
“No. I really want this one.” Charlie’s voice was low and soft. “I want to make this arrest myself. I know I can’t. I know I never will. But I want to. If I had to shoot this bastard I do not believe my hands would shake.”
“If we could we’d let you.”
“I know. It’s good that you can’t.” There was a ping from some computer. “Here we go.”
Charlie went to his laptop. On the large screen a three dimensional scatter plot was displayed with a new point being added every couple of seconds. It was a lot of deaths but Don’s eyes were already trying to find the pattern in the randomness.
Agent Cromwell popped his head in. “How’s it coming?”
Don waved him in. “Charlie’s got the computers crunching away at the numbers and we’re getting first results by the looks of.”
Cromwell looked at the scatter plot. “That doesn’t look helpful.” A few points dropped off the plot. “Okay, that’s a bit more helpful. I think.”
“Asian Males, within two days of the killings are only present within 19.3% of the cases. Hispanic females, within three days, only 17.2%. Other children, under the age of 11 within a week only present within 5% of cases.” More points dropped off and others came back on as Charlie shuffled them from one set to another like Mendeleev elements.
“Are you looking closely at the three day mark?” Don asked.
“Of course I am.” Charlie looked up at a timeline printout that was taped on one wall. “Fuck I’m an idiot. I am getting old and I am never allowed to drink anything every again. I’m killing too many brain cells.” Charlie slapped the peaks on the timeline. “Flu season, flu season,” He slapped the largest peak. “Particularly bad flu season. The CDC had me doing analysis. I knew I’d seen something like it before.” He tapped his computer and a bunch more dots dropped out. “I’m taking out all the suicides.”
“That’s a lot of suicides.” Agent Marino commented.
“Come on.” Charlie snarled at the computer. “Faster you piece of…”
Don could feel his heart speed up. He may be out of the field but the old reactions were still there and Charlie worked up the way he was meant it would not be long before he had a name to chase down.
Cromwell started bouncing on his toes. “Why do I think I should just suit up now?”
“Because you’re not an idiot. By the way this is your bust. This isn’t officially my case and I don’t want to drag myself out here for every trial and appeal.”
“No problem.”
The scatter plot flashed and a bunch of death certificates came up on the other screen. “Here we go.” Don whispered to himself.
“Female, Caucasians, over the age of 65, all died in their homes three days before each killing.” Charlie announced still hunched over his laptop.
The final death certificate came up on the screen. Don checked the date. “Chuck, this one is from only two days ago.”
“I know.” A few dozen birth records popped up on the screen. “Those are your potential victims.” The printer on the table beside Don started churning out copies of the records. “Find them, lock them down.”
Cromwell looked at his team who were all blinking, and looking a little poleaxed. “You heard the man.”
“I’m staying here and getting back on the suspect list.” Charlie announced.
Don gave Charlie’s shoulder a squeeze. “You did- "
“Don’t.” Charlie cut him off. “Not until someone is in cuffs or dead.”
“Okay.” Don grabbed a few more sheets off the printer and went to help.
~
It turned out to be harder than one would think to put security details on 40 ten year olds. The first trick was finding them. Some had parents who had moved away. Some had parents who were divorced and quick searched didn’t say anything about which parent a kid was with. There was one kid who’d lost their parents and was now somewhere in the county foster system.
According to Charlie none of the killings had happened before 7 am, which gave them 16 hours to find and protect all the children, or better yet just find the killer. Everyone in the federal building with field status had been called in. Only by some minor miracle had they kept the investigation out of the press but the cat was clawing its way out of the bag and if they didn’t catch this guy there would be a million kinds of hell to pay.
~
It was almost midnight and Don’s eyes were gritty. Since he wasn’t really official there he’d been stuck in the office monitoring stakeout and protection teams across the county as they got into place.
Charlie stopped trying to put the couple of hundred suspects through a mathematical sieve and was now analyzing them one at a time. It was slow work but they still had a few hours.
“Don?”
“Yes?” Don didn’t look up from his monitor and he could still hear Charlie typing.
“When I was fifteen I read an article about the Rossi family. They were in the middle of a turf war with another family. The article was pretty in depth. More of an exposé. It had lists of the family members and lieutenants, what they were fighting over, things like that. I had just gotten into game theory and I wrote up a little paper, changing names and stuff. I called it War and Peace. I worked out what kind of deal would make both sides happy for peace and who exactly would need to be killed for the most efficient war victory on either side with minimal collateral damage.”
Don had looked up from his monitor and was staring at Charlie. Charlie was still hunched over his computer.
“What happened to this paper?” Don asked carefully.
“I misplaced it.”
Don dug back through his memory. If the files were right the Rossi family had solidified their place with an unexpectedly quick and decisive victory over another family when Charlie was about fifteen. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.”
“I gave almost identical math to the Pentagon once. They didn’t use it.”
“Charlie, please just stop talking.”
“Okay.”
They sat in silence for another half hour or so before Charlie banged the table. “Got you,” he hissed.
“What?” Don jumped up to look over Charlie’s shoulder.
“James Jacob. Works as a part time assistant at the county morgue. I dismissed him because he lives two blocks from the morgue and doesn’t have a car. But, when he was 22 he was picked up working as an under the table mechanic at a second rate chop shop. He has also been known to moonlight as a cab driver.”
Don’s heart began to race. “So if he’s working as a mechanic somewhere he’ll have access to cars. Depending on the clientele possibly access to weapons and if he’s working as a cabbie he’ll know the county. And working at the morgue he’ll be able to monitor the dead coming in and probably be able to sneak computer access to the county databases.”
Charlie hit print on the file. “Call Cromwell and arrest this guy.”
“On it.”
Within an hour Don’s heart was thumping not in excitement but in anger and frustration. Apparently there was not a judge in the county who was will to grant an arrest warrant at one in the morning based on mathematical analysis.
“For fuck sake!” Charlie threw a thankfully plastic cup across the room. “We know who he is! We know where he is! I have triple checked my math. He had similar employment at two other counties. And when he was 19 his 70 year old grandmother died of pneumonia in his home on his little sister’s tenth birthday and three days a later she was gunned down in a random act of violence, and he was the sole caregiver for both. A jury would need all of 30 seconds to prosecute!” Charlie threw a pen next.
“I know. I know. Cromwell is staking out his place. He’s not going to be able to move a muscle without someone knowing about it.” Charlie took several deep breaths then looked down at his phone where it was sitting on the table. He stared at it hard. “Don’t do it.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Yes I do. because I’m thinking it too, but don’t.”
“And you’ve never crossed a line.”
“I’ve never ordered a hit on someone and that is what it would be. That wouldn’t be crossing a line that would be driving across it at a hundred and three.”
“He’s killed children Don. Lots of them.”
“I know.”
Charlie closed his eyes and took several long, shuttering, breaths, his fists clenching and unclenching. “If he kills today I will hate myself forever for not making this call and I will feel no extra remorse for picking up the phone then.”
“Have a little faith in the system, Charlie.”
Charlie sat down and pushed his phone away.
~
There was a faint brush of pink on the eastern horizon when a call came in from Cromwell and the rest of the surveillance team who were sitting James Jacob. “He’s on the move.”
Charlie handed Don his coat. “Go meet up with the surveillance team.”
“They’ve got plenty of people.”
“If we lose track of this guy the best place I can be is here running capture and evasion math but for maximum efficiency I need you in the field translating as it were.”
“You’re not going to do anything stupid if I step out?”
Charlie didn’t so much as blink. “Just go arrest the bastard for me.”
Don took his coat from Charlie’s hand, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and headed out, quietly praying that Charlie’s moral compass would hold true.
~
Don caught up with Cromwell as Jacobs was letting himself into a rundown auto repair shop. He slipped into the back seat behind Agent Cromwell and Agent Marino.
“Second rate chop shop, just like you boys said.”
“People are creatures of habit.”
A few minutes later a 10 year old Camry pulled away from the shop. Cromwell radioed in the plate number and description.
Don’s phone rang. “What’s up Charlie?”
“If you relay his location to me, turn by turn, I can do an analysis on the fly which will narrow down which victim he’s heading towards. It’ll also help you find him again if you lose him.” Charlie paused. “Don’t lose him.”
“We will do our best.” Don put Charlie on speaker. “And he’s turning right onto Fifth Street right now.”
As Jacobs headed out into the suburbs Don relayed every turn, and lane change while Charlie sent back lists of which protection unit should be on high alert. Then Don relayed a simple left turn onto a good sized road.
“Kerry Sanders.” Charlie declared. “63% chance he’s going after Kerry Sanders.”
“How good are those odds, really?” Cromwell shouted towards the back seat.
“The next victim on the list is Lee Kim and he’s at 18%.”
“Kerry Sanders it is.”
Kerry Sanders’ house was on a sheltered suburban street shaded in wide, old maple trees. The Camry pulled to a stop across the street from her house and waited. Don began to worry that maybe Jacobs had made them. But then the man had been killing for 18 years without the law getting a single whiff of his existence so with any luck he was cocky or at least unobservant.
After five minutes of staring out the house Jacobs got out of his car and jogged across the street. Cromwell and Marino got out if his car and intercepted Jacobs before he could get as far as the lawn.
“James Jacobs? Mark Cromwell, FBI.”
What happened next took less than a second. There were two moves, one pop, and Jacobs hit the ground, his gun hitting the sidewalk while Agent Marino’s weapon was steady in her hands. Agents rushed towards the sound from other cars and one from the house.
Cromwell kicked the gun aside and crouched down beside Jacobs. “Fuck me, he’s still alive.”
~
In the time between Jacobs hitting the ground and him being admitted to the hospital for a gunshot wound to the lung the story had gotten out with every conceivable fact completely wrong and half the reporters in the western hemisphere had descended on the hospital. This was the other reason Don was more than happy to let Cromwell take the entire collar.
Charlie met them at the hospital managing to sneak in just before the reporters.
Cromwell held out his hand to Charlie. “Thank you.”
Charlie shook his hand but didn’t say anything. He just stood there looking as exhausted as Don felt. Don was sure there was a time when he could go 24 hours and be fresh as a daisy. And he knew for a fact that Charlie used to be able to do it as well.
Suddenly there was a bit of a commotion behind Don down by the nurses’ station. Charlie’s eye’s went wide and he sprinted towards the trouble. Don and Cromwell followed.
“Charlie.” Tommy shouted from the other side of a couple of large nurses. “Have they got him?”
Charlie pretty much threw himself between Tommy and the nurses. “Yes, but-“
“Good. I can kill him myself.” Tommy snarled.
“No.” Charlie grabbed the nearest thing at hand which happened to be a clip board. Don’s hand went to his own weapon. “I’m not going to let you do that.”
Tommy sneered. “You going to hit me with that, Teach.”
“Damn fucking right I am. You don’t get to kill him.”
Tommy leaned in until he was inches from Charlie’s face. “He murdered my baby girl.”
“I know. And I’m sorry but you don’t get to be selfish with your grief.”
“I’m being selfish?”
“He hasn’t been killing for five years he’s been killing for eighteen.” Charlie snarled right back. “Eighteen years in three different cities. There are hundreds of mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters who all want a chance to spit in that bastard’s eye and rip off a pound of flesh and you don’t get to call dibs.”
“Do you know what I could do to him?”
“Yes I do, and you will go to prison for it.” Tommy gave a dismissive snort. “And what would your sons do if you were doing time?”
“They’re tough.”
“Yeah, how tough are their memories? Are they going to remember their dear sweet tragically lost sister fondly? Or are they going to remember their sister as the one who got shot, sent dad off the deep end, and that’s why he spent their teenaged years in prison instead of helping them become good strong men.” Don saw Tommy’s jaw tighten as well as his fist. “And what will happen to the rest of the family if you go down for this?”
“I need to do this. I need to do one thing- "
“You did do something. You came to me. You called in a favor, and I promise you, for all the people you know, I know more of them. You want to go in there and kill him? That’s too good. That’s too quick for what he has done and you know it. He will go into the deepest blackest hole this country has to offer and I will call in all my favors to make sure of that. I am your act of revenge, so you can have peace.”
Tommy’s jaw was still clenching but Don could see the tiny twitches at the corners of his eyes and the way he was swallowing hard. Charlie must have seen it too.
“Come on.” He took Tommy firmly by the arm. “Let’s take a walk. Just you and me.”
Don watched as Charlie lead Tommy back down the wide hallway and around a corner.
Cromwell stepped up to Don’s side. “So, does your entire family have balls of titanium or just your brother?”
“I think he got them from our mom.”
~
Don couldn’t handle the idea of going back to the office and pulling case notes together. Especially considering it wasn’t his case. Instead he went back to the hotel and fell face first into the bed. The clock told him he’d been asleep for about an hour and a half, and it wasn’t even noon yet, when he heard Charlie come in and crash down onto the other bed.
“We’ve been invited over to Tommy’s place for dinner tonight.” Charlie mumbled
“Can I sleep for another hour, first?”
“No problem. They always eat late.”
“How is he?”
“He’ll live. And so will everyone else.”
“Good to hear.” Don closed his eyes and fell back asleep.
~
Charlie knocked on the door of a reasonably stately suburban home a large bouquet clutched in one hand. After a nap they had spent the afternoon putting together case notes, breaking down the war room, and watching Cromwell do an amazingly inspired victory dance around Ms Maple which may have bordered on sexual harassment.
Don could already hear talking and music coming from behind the door. A woman opened the door and flung her arms wide. “Charlie!”
The woman had obviously dyed auburn hair and a thick layer of makeup. Don guessed her age as someone over 60 but he couldn’t tell from there.
“Mama Rossi.” Charlie was pulled into a tight and extended hug. “This is my brother Don.” Charlie said when finally released.
“This is Donnie.”
Don held out his hand but found himself pulled into a hug as well.
Charlie handed over the flowers. “For you.”
“Such a sweet boy. Come in.”
Don’s heart was pounding a little. Knowing his luck there was a whole multi agency squad waiting to the bushes to sweep in and he was about to get swept up with it. By the door a large statue of some saint sat in an alcove but the rest of the house was sleek and fairly modern and if Don had to guess only recently remodeled.
“Tommy told me you were coming and we were all so excited to hear. I even used the special recipe for the meatballs.”
Charlie rolled his eyes but was still smiling. “I told you years ago I’m not kosher.”
“Are you saying you don’t like my meatballs?”
“Don’t you put words in my mouth. I love your meatballs and you know it.”
They were led into a large living room that was full of men standing around, each holding a beer. Don recognized half the faces from files and briefings. They spotted Charlie and there was a cheer followed by much back slapping, hugging, one nuggy which Charlie bore with far greater humor than he ever had before. Don was the recipient of a fair share of back slapping and meaty handshakes himself before a beer was pressed into his hand.
Don drank it. It was cheap and in a can but Don did not care. If he was going to get through the evening alcohol was going to be involved. A particularly tall guy, at least six and a half feet, and maybe 200 pounds of muscle approached Charlie. Charlie threw his arms wide his jaw dropping.
“Hey Mini Teach, you got tall.”
“And you got tiny!”
Don wasn’t sure how six five counted as tiny and figured this had to be Giant Jimmy. Jimmy grinned. “Dropped two forty.”
“That’s like two of me.”
Don coughed into his beer. “You wish.”
Charlie scowled at his brother. “Jimmy, Don, Don, Jimmy.”
Jimmy’s abnormally large hand wrapped around Don’s enveloping it. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Charlie gave Jimmy a little backhanded slap on the arm. “You’re an accountant?”
Jimmy grinned. “Yeah, turns out I’m pretty good with numbers. Not half bad with stats to. Been doing pretty well at the whole fantasy baseball thing.”
Charlie dropped his face into both hands. “How much really strange extra credit did I have to think up for you to get a C?”
“A lot of it.”
“Imagine if you’d showed up sober for class. You could be a mathematician. Striking fear into the hearts of grad students.”
“Hey, I wasn’t half as bad as Tweak.”
“Yes, but they called Tweak, Tweak for a reason.” For some reason this got a laugh from the crowd. It turned the conversation towards who got pinched for what. Who was out, who was still in. Tommy brought up Charlie’s speeding much to the laugher and delight of the crowd.
Don finished his beer and another found its way into his hand. He sipped at it knowing he’d be driving later but Charlie wasn’t pacing his second any more than anyone else. Don tried to slip away from the main conversation knowing he had nothing to add and didn’t really want to accidentally overhear certain things. However he was followed and found himself craning his head back to look at Giant Jimmy.
“So, I hear you’re FBI.” Jimmy started without any warm up.
“Yep.” Don took a sip of his beer to calm his nerves.
“Charlie always talked about you doing baseball.”
“Made the minors, turned out I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. Had to do something else.”
“Your mother must have loved that, being an activist and all.” Don choked on his beer. “She was always making us sign petitions and trying to get us to vote, and she told us how your old man got arrested by the FBI and spent three days in interrogation but didn’t squeal on anyone.”
“Yeah. It was a tricky conversation. She got a little more forgiving when she realized I spent more time hunting down psychopaths, rapists, arsonist, and terrorists, than busting hippies. Of course now I’m middle management. Haven’t actually arrested anyone in ages.”
“Miss it?”
Don shrugged. “Don’t miss the paperwork.” Charlie’s laugh cut through the room and drew Don’s attention. He wasn’t sure what the joke was but Charlie’s face was already flushed and he was grinning from ear to ear. That’s when it hit Don, what had really been bugging him every time Charlie was near one of these guys, it wasn’t that Charlie was comfortable with them, it was that Charlie was happy with them. Not that Charlie was the depressed type but there was almost always an edge of seriousness in him whether it was as teacher, scientist, investigator or husband. Here Charlie was just an old college friend, and an actual friend, not an academic rival.
Mama Rossi came in announcing that it was time for dinner and shooing all the men into the dining room. There was a huge table groaning with food and red wine and more cooking smells were still coming from the large kitchen.
There was some shifting around of the seating arrangements until Charlie was sitting at Tommy’s right hand. Don was one down from there and across from a couple of teenaged boys. Tommy’s other children he guessed.
Once everyone was settled Tommy stood and held up a glass. The table went silent. “A year ago we lost an angel too young and too soon. I didn’t think I’d survive this but today I’m starting to believe that she, and too many other children, are now at rest, now at peace. And that peace would never have come without our dear old friend, Charlie Eppes. Salute.”
Everyone raised their glass as well while Charlie ducked his head a bit. Then someone started dishing out the food.
Some meatballs were placed on Don’s plate and at the first bite he thought he just might die. He’d had meatballs before. Or at least he thought he had but this was a whole special level of amazing. It was like a perfect hamburger, in ball form. “Oh my god this is good.” Don mumbled around a full mouth.
“Try the tiella barese when it comes by.” Charlie whispered in his ear.
Don swallowed. “I have no idea what that is but absolutely.” Don tried everything that went by and wanted more. The pasta was homemade, the colors of the herbs and vegetables were bright. He ate something that he was told was eggplant which was odd because Don hated eggplant but whatever he’d just eaten was really good.
While Don was stuffing his face like an idiot, and somewhat shamefully wishing Robin could cook better, Charlie was chatting away with Tommy and his wife about this and that. There was the sound of a phone ringing and 90% of the table patted their pockets to see if it was theirs.
Charlie checked his and jumped up. “Sorry. I need to get this. Sorry,” he said as he dashed out of the room. Don used the opportunity to steel another bit of eggplant off Charlie’s plate. Tommy reached over and filed Don’s glass with more thick red wine.
Don tried to shake his head. “I’m driving tonight.”
Tommy smiled at him. “Ah, don’t worry about it.”
Don decided it was probably best not to worry about it. If all else failed they could abandon the rental and take a really expensive cab ride back to town. Don drank the wine and was about to jump into a conversation about the designated hitter rule when Tommy look up and over Don’s shoulder.
“Hey, Mini Teach, what’s wrong?”
Don turned around. Charlie was standing in the doorway, his face slack and his eyes unfocused. His fingers were tapping away franticly on the edge of his phone. The room got quiet. Don got up and went to him.
“Hey, buddy, what’s up? Talk to me. Who was on the phone?”
Charlie’s eyes focused a little. “Amita.”
“What’s happening?” Don’s mind began running through worst case scenarios as fast as possible.
“She…Um…she was at the doctor’s…” Charlie’s brows came together.
“What’s wrong?”
Charlie’s face twitched before he finally made eye contact with Don. “She’s… um… She’s pregnant. She’s eight weeks pregnant.” A smile crawled across Charlie’s face at the final word and a giggle bubbled out. Don grinned back. “She didn’t want to wait to tell me. She’s pregnant.”
A cheer rose up from the table as Don pulled Charlie into a hug. He could feel Charlie’s shaking and just squeezed him a bit harder. Someone called out for more wine. Someone turned up the music.
When he finally let go of Charlie others were there to take his place giving Charlie manly hugs and slaps on the back. A glass of wine found its way back into Don’s hand. ‘A baby.’ Don thought ‘Charlie’s baby. Charlie and Amita’s baby.’ Don looked at his baby brother who still had a goofy grin plastered to his face. He was going to be a father. His baby brother was going to have a baby of his own. Don emptied the glass of wine.
Things quickly shifted from a nice meal with friends to a party. At some point the wine was traded out for something much stronger. Charlie did shots of it even as he held his sides with laughter. Someone started making toasts, half of which Don didn’t even recognize, but he emptied his glass with each one. Someone started the dancing.
Don found himself being spun around the room by the wife of one of the Jimmys, adding to the spinning in his head. He tried to calculate just how much he was going to hurt in the morning but the best he could come up with is that he’d probably hurt less than Charlie who was being whipped around at astonishing speeds by Mama Rossi herself.
It was sometime after midnight when Don crash landed into an overstuffed sofa and had to close his eyes as the room spun.
“How you holding up there, Eppes?”
Don opened his eyes. Tommy was standing over him looking disturbingly sober. “How are you not drunk?” Don slurred out.
“I’m drunk, I’ve just got more practice faking it.” He sat down next to Don. “How wasted are you?”
“Well I’m not driving anywhere.”
“No shit. Giant Jimmy’s sort of the permanent designated driver seeing as how he’s permanently off the booze.
“Good to know.”
“Not sure if you’ll remember this but I talked with your brother today and he and I are square. Not that he ever really owed me but him and me, we’re square.”
Don did hope he’d remember that and did his best to lock it in. “Good.” A thought tried to swim its way up through the alcoholic sludge that was his brain. “Charlie wrote you an essay.”
“No, no. Mini Teach always made us do our own homework.”
Don shook his head and wished he hadn’t. “No. Theory. Game theory about… stuff.” Don tried waving a hand because he couldn’t find the words.
“Oh. That essay.” Tommy got up and Don closed his eyes again.
Don wasn’t sure how long his eyes had been closed. He was pretty sure he hadn’t actually slept, just drifted, but he snapped fully awake when Tommy sat down next to him again. He handed Don a worn and slightly discolored stack of papers, stapled together.
It took a moment for Don’s eyes to focus enough to read it but at the top of the first page were the words War and Peace by Charles Eppes.
“Charlie left it in my room and I brought it home on the weekend and showed it to my old man. I actually had hoped he’d read the Peace bit but he wasn’t interested in that. But when he finished it he smiled at me like I’d just given him the best fucking father’s day present ever and he asked if I was planning on bringing Charlie up to hang out for a weekend.” Tommy let out a long breath and tilted his head back. “You know maybe if I’d liked my old man a little more. Maybe if I’d liked Charlie a little less. As it was I never let my old man in a room alone with Charlie.”
“Thank you.” Don mumbled and actually meant it.
“Take that essay home and get rid of it. The feds are going to kick in these doors in the next few months, I just know it. And when they go digging through my stuff they don’t need to find that, even if he was a kid when he wrote it.”
“Thank you.” Don said again. “Oh, and your mom is a really, really good cook.”
Tommy grinned. “Yeah, I know.”
Don grinned back and felt the world begin to fade out.
~
Don woke up and wished he hadn’t. He knew he was in his hotel room by the awful bed spread his face was pressed against. He tried to remember how he got there. He found a hazy memory of a drive and Charlie trying to sing Rainbow Connection for some reason.
He could hear the shower running which meant Charlie was probably up. Don guessed that Giant Jimmy must have hauled their incredibly drunk asses back to the hotel.
He tried to sit up and felt his head pound and his stomach lurch. There was something always particularly bad about red wine hangovers and he’d certainly been drinking enough of it last night. There was a stack of papers on the nightstand and Don hazily remembered a conversation with Tommy about them. There was also a note telling him that the rental was down in the lot.
The shower stopped running and a few minutes later Charlie came out wrapped in a too small, complementary bathrobe. He sat down next to Don looking surprisingly good.
“Why don’t you look like hell?” Don asked because it didn’t seem fair.
“Considered what I drank last night and the fact that it isn’t that late, if my calculations are correct I’m still legally drunk and probably will be for another couple of hours.” Don leaned forward and put his throbbing head in his hands. “We made the papers. Well the case made the papers, and just about every other media outlet on earth.”
“Not surprised.” Don suddenly remembered something else from the previous night and sat back up. “You’re going to have a baby.”
“Well, Amita is.”
“You’re going to be a father.”
“I know.”
Don pulled Charlie into another hug. “You are going to be a great dad.”
“Thank you but tell me that about five hundred more times before the kid arrives so maybe I’ll start believing it.
“Absolutely.” Don gave Charlie one more squeeze. “You did good work on this. The case and everything.”
“Someone was killing children. I couldn’t exactly say no.”
“I know. But it’s done with now. Why don’t we get home?”
Charlie let out a long sigh. “Yeah, let’s go home.”
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