The Penitent One (Boston Crime Thriller Book 3) by Brian Shea (most read books in the world of all time .txt) 📗

Better for her to do it than for him to assist. If this case led to arrest and prosecution, Kelly didn't want a defense attorney to say he led the witness to describe the person. He sat patiently, letting her work it out on her own, as painful as the process was.

"He looked fit, but it was hard to tell. He just had that look of a guy who likes to work out. Ya know—a strong jaw, kind of like an action hero, and dark hair, but short and clean-cut, like one of those military guys. Not too different from you."

And then she stopped altogether and finished the last sip of coffee.

"Anything else? Anything at all that you can remember?"

Debbie rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, as if trying to visualize the man. "Glasses—I think he had glasses. I'm not sure. I want to say he had glasses."

Kelly nodded, making a mental note.

"That's all I can remember. I left right after that. I got the text from my sister about my aunt, and I rushed out. I guess I pretty much forgot it all until now. Strange. I really couldn't remember him at first. I didn't think I would be able to help at all, but I did. Right, Mike? What I told you helps?"

She seemed eager to please him, excited at the prospect of potentially helping the case, maybe to put herself in Father Donny’s good graces.

"You did great, Deb. Thank you so much for coming in." Kelly noted the interview’s end time in his notepad and looked up at the hair stylist who’d give Tammy Faye Bakker a run for her money in the liberal application of makeup. "I've got your number and you've got mine. Should anything else come to mind, please don't hesitate to reach out."

She reached across the table unexpectedly and placed her hand on Kelly's, rubbing it gently and looking him in the eyes. "You can call me anytime, Michael Kelly. Any time."

Kelly blushed red. He felt Barnes's knee jab his and knew he would never hear the end of this conversation.

Kelly returned from escorting Shoemaker to the lobby to see Mainelli sitting at his desk. He looked at his watch. It was nearing 9:00. "Wow, Jimmy. Making good time today. You look like dog crap."

Mainelli raised a glass mug in mock cheers. "Thanks so much, Mike. Always appreciate your kindness." He took a swig of coffee. "The wife put me on the couch last night. It's our rule. If I come home after midnight, there's no bed for me. I'm not going to lie to ya, sleep didn't come easy. Didn't even wake up when the kids got up."

Imagining Jimmy Mainelli not waking up in his house was shocking and a testament to the man's obvious fatigue. Kelly had witnessed firsthand the war zone that was his children's daily norm.

It didn't bode well for Mainelli's work output for the remainder of the day. Kelly had worked alongside the man long enough to know that once he was beleaguered by either hunger or fatigue, his investigative skillset dropped dramatically. On those days, Kelly typically assigned him alternative duties rather than the tip-of-the-spear work. Looking at his watch, he knew they had a little time to get across the city to meet with the medical examiner and go through Father Tomlin’s autopsy. Better to take Barnes. Mainelli could stand by and assist should any of the forensic evidence start to trickle in from Charles and Dawes's office. Kelly could focus on the primary responsibilities, especially since this was officially his case and everyone else on the team would be in a supporting role.

"Well, Jimmy, since you look so chipper this morning, how about you hang back? I'm going to grab Barnes and head over to see what we've got with Tomlin's body. Who knows? Maybe something will pop on the autopsy today."

"You're not going to get an argument from me," Mainelli said, offering no resistance.

"I'd like to tag along, if you don't mind." Gray poked his head out of the conference room, where he'd spent most of the morning.

"I don’t see a problem with that. You been to many autopsies with the Bureau?"

Gray shrugged nonchalantly. "I've been to my fair share."

"Okay, then, let's head out. I don't want to keep the ME waiting."

Kelly spoke with the receptionist, notifying her that Boston PD Homicide was there for Tomlin’s autopsy. The trio waited only a few minutes in the cool antiseptic lobby before the door opened.

Luck be damned. Standing in the threshold was Ithaca Best. Kelly felt his heart sink at the awkwardness of seeing the forensic pathologist; they’d recently gone on a date, during which Kelly had to ditch her for a shooting. He had ended any potential of a romantic relationship without giving it much of a chance. Now, he stood next to Barnes, feeling completely out of place.

Gray was oblivious to the tension as they strode up. Kelly made quick introductions, although Best knew Barnes already, having worked with her on prior cases. For Kelly, this was the first time he had attended an autopsy with Best since their failed attempt at a dating relationship. Although he had told her that it wasn't the right time, that he wasn't ready for a relationship, and she said she understood, upon seeing her face-to-face, he felt wholly wrong about his handling of it.

"Ithaca, this is Sterling Gray. He's with the FBI, attached to Homicide on the Tomlin case,” Kelly said.

She extended her hand. "Ithaca Best. Welcome to the dead zone." A quirky sense of humor was needed when you worked among the dead.

"The pleasure's all mine," Gray said.

Kelly noted that their handshake lingered a bit. Maybe she'd moved on from him as quickly as he had from her.

"Well, let's get to it, shall we?" Best led them into the sterile hallway and down to the autopsy room where Father Tomlin was the guest of honor.

His body was set on the cold