Page 31 of Secret Triplets for Christmas

Frankie looked at me, at first with no expression, but then recognition and surprise came. “Well as I live and breathe. Oliver Quinlan.”

I mustered a friendly smile. “Frankie. Long time no see."

“No shit. I heard you made your fortune. Did you lose it? That’s the only reason I can imagine you’d return to this hellhole.” I’d always liked Frankie. When I’d aged out of foster care and had to leave, it was harder for me to watch over Liam. At fourteen, Liam found himself attracted to trouble usually found here, but Frankie would try to keep him on the straight and narrow, going so far as to make Liam do his homework.

“This place brings back memories.”

“Memories you’d rather forget, I imagine. I’m still in shock about Liam.”

I took that as my opening. “That’s why I’m here. I'm trying to figure out what happened."

“Ah, well, if the cops can’t figure it out, don’t know how you will.” He wiped down the area in front of me. “What’ll you have?”

I wanted answers, but I’d start with a beer. Once Frankie served me, I asked, “Do you have any idea what Liam was involved in?”

Frankie pursed his lips but kept moving around, wiping down a part of the bar he’d already cleaned. “I make it my business not to know people’s business.”

I had no doubt that Frankie knew everyone’s business. The problem was that sharing the business could be deadly.

“Liam didn’t confide anything with you?”

“Nope. Not that I remember.”

“Who can I talk to who might know something and be willing to talk?”

Frankie shrugged. “Maybe Johnny.” He nodded toward the man in the corner.

I left a hefty tip for Frankie. Maybe he’d change his mind about keeping closed lipped before I left. I picked up my beer and headed toward the man in the corner.

"Be careful, Oliver,” Frankie warned. “Nothing you find out will bring Liam back.”

I nodded that I understood but continued on to the man. As I approached, I realized it was Johnny Walters. Liam and I had been in foster care with him at one time. Another set of memories rushed in. This one was of trying to protect Liam from a beating when our foster mother accused him of stealing her wedding ring. The husband had taken it and pawned it, but she wouldn’t believe that. I had the urge to heed Frankie’s warning, not to avoid trouble but to avoid the ghosts of my past.

“Johnny.”

He looked up, and like Frankie, his expression showed surprise. “Oliver Quinlan. What the fuck brings you back here?”

I nodded toward the chair, and he nodded back that it was okay for me to sit. “Checking out the old haunts.”

“Why? We all heard you’re a bigwig in California.”

“I do alright. But I’ve heard from someone who knew Liam and so I’m back to find out who and why? Are you still with the Back Bay Crew?”

He tensed and looked around the pool hall, then shook his head. “Nah. Not since I got out of jail the last time. I’ve got a job making auto parts. Ended my shift an hour ago and am taking a little break before heading home to my girl. She’s got a baby on the way.”

“Congratulations. Let me buy you another beer to celebrate.”

“Nah, that’s okay. She doesn’t like it if I have too much.”

“I was hoping you could tell me what Liam was into when he died.”

Johnny scanned the pool hall again. “I’m no snitch.”

“I’m not a cop. I’m like you. Someone from the neighborhood. I just want to know why Liam died.”

“I don’t know anything.” He took a long gulp of his beer. I suspected he wanted to finish and get out. I had until he drank the last drop to get information.

“Did he say something?”

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