“Like you did Kate Hubbell.”
“You’re done here.”
I glared at him.
“Harper, ever think I might not be talking to you?”
“Shut up, Russo,” Joey said. “He’s right, your time’s up. You walk in here, accuse me of murder, you’re done.” With that, Joey made a small movement with his hand. Erwin and Lampone quickly moved to stand just inches behind my chair.
“Escort the gentleman to the door,” Harper said.
18
“You went in there alone, without a gun, and accused Don Joey of murder?” Sandy said. We sat in the front office, Sandy at her desk, Henri and I in chairs by the Lake Street windows.
“He wanted to do it easy,” Henri said, gesturing at me with his thumb, hitchhiker-style.
“What do you mean, easy?” Sandy said. “You’re not supposed to let him do stupid shit like that.”
“I was all set to run in when the shooting started,” Henri said.
I laughed.
“Be quiet, both of you,” Sandy said. “You sound like frat boys again. This isn’t some college prank after the big game.”
“I didn’t really accuse Joey …”
“Close enough,” Sandy said. “These are dangerous people you’re messing with.”
“Henri doesn’t think Joey’s people killed Kate Hubbell.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Sandy said, sounding exasperated. “DeMio’s always dangerous. I need another job.”
“Thought you liked this one?” I said, trying to be serious.
“I do like this one. But I’d like you to live long enough to sign my next paycheck.” Sandy’s voice trailed off as she shook her head.
I had no witty response, no humor to minimize the violent people we’d been dealing with.
“Much as I hate to admit it,” I said, “you’re right. I thought I was being careful, but …”
“And we’re back at it tomorrow,” Sandy said.
I looked up. “Tomorrow?”
“The Harbor Springs bookstore? Stop number two on the tour? Jesus, boss, get your head in the game, will you?”
We were quiet. I stood and looked out the window. The late afternoon sun put one side of Lake Street in the shade — to the appreciation of the tourists, I was sure.
“Russo?” Henri said.
“Yeah?”
“How ‘bout I run over there and have a look?”
“To Harbor?”
Henri nodded. “Look at the layout, the bookstore, the street.”
“Good idea,” I said. “The threats, even Lenny getting beaten up …”
“Then Kate was killed,” Henri said.
“It’s a different game now,” I said.
“I hope both of you remember that,” Sandy said.
“Where will you be in a couple of hours?” Henri said.
“Not sure. Probably with AJ. Text me when you’re done in Harbor.”
“Speaking of done,” Sandy said, “you have anything else for me, boss?”
I shook my head. “See you in the morning.”
Sandy turned off her computer screen, gathered up her shoulder bag and went for the door. We heard her go down the steps.
“One thing’s bothering me,” I said.
“Only one?” Henri said.
“Maybe two things. Something Joey said when I accused him of hiring teenage boys.”
“Which you did intentionally.”
“Of course, to get a reaction. So Joey says, ‘Do I look that stupid?’ Something like that.”
“He was insulted by the question.”
I nodded. “Right. It came off the top of his head.”
Henri sat forward, elbows on his knees. “You think Joey really didn’t know what you were talking about?”
I shrugged. “Well, he knew Kate had been killed, he said so …”
“But after that, you lost him.”
“Maybe I was too quick to blame Joey for this. We seem to do that when anything bad happens around here.”
“They’ve made themselves easy targets, don’t forget that. Joey’s people do bad things. He’s at the top of Fleener’s list, too, and he’s a good cop.”
My phone buzzed, and I took a look. “AJ’s leaving for Chandler’s.”
“That’s my cue,” Henri said. “Off to beautiful downtown Harbor Springs.”
I dialed back the air conditioning, and we left the building. The shade on my side of the street was welcome for the short walk up Lake Street.
Chandler’s is a comfortable restaurant tucked into a small courtyard behind Symon’s General Store. The main room was a long rectangle, a bar on the left, tables large and small scattered in the rest of the space.
“Hey, Michael,” Jack said from behind the bar. He’d been serving drinks from that spot for as long as I could remember. “AJ’s already here.” He pointed to the back of the room.
AJ waved from a four-top in the corner, and I went to join her.
“Hello, darling,” she said.
I leaned over and kissed her. “Hello, back. What’s that?”
“Chardonnay.”
I turned toward the bar and pointed at the glass. Jack waved back.
“How’re you doing?” I said as I sat down.
“Work was fine, but Kate Hubbell was all anybody talked about. Most of them never met her, but that didn’t matter. She’s dead, we’re all feeling it.”
Our waiter, a short, stout man in his twenties, put down a napkin and my wine. “Another glass, Ms. Lester?”
“With dinner,” she said.
He nodded, and we ordered dinner, the duck breast for AJ, walleye for me.
“Any more news on Kate?”
I shook my head and described my trip to see Joey DeMio.
“Sandy’s right, Michael.”
“About what?” I said, sipping some wine.
AJ leaned in, her face taut, eyes narrow.
“Stop, just stop. Damn it. I’m not in the mood for your Sam Spade routine. I’m too tired, and Kate Hubbell’s too dead.
“I didn’t mean …”
“Bullshit. I know you too well. You always feign ignorance when danger’s in the air. You … you thrive on it, Michael. I just can’t stand to hear it right now. Kate’s murder …”
AJ sat back. She was done, for now, but the tension in her face remained.
I put my hands out, palms up, and nodded.
“All right,” I said. “I’m sorry …”
“Sorry doesn’t do it. Kate’s got a bullet in the back of her head. It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet. Treat the risk seriously for a minute, will you? I don’t give a damn if Joey has new bodyguards. You made a serious mistake walking in there alone.”
I remained silent. I had no answer for her.
The waiter put our dinners on the table and left another glass of chardonnay for AJ. I cut off a piece of walleye. AJ picked up her fork and stared at it for a moment, like she wondered of what possible use it might be. We sat quietly and sampled our dinners.
“I accept how you earn a living, but … but there are times when I … I tolerate it, but right now, Kate’s dead.” She picked up her wine glass, but put it down before taking a sip. “Sometimes you shove it in my face, Michael. You do. That time … that time you and Henri went after Conrad North and his gang … walked down the middle of the fucking street like cowboys in a shootout. It wasn’t a goddamn movie, Michael. I wanted to yell at you … at both of you.”
I hesitated.
She caught it and glared at me. “Would it have done any good if I had?”
19
AJ and I sat at the table and were quiet. Odd for us. I ate some of my dinner while AJ moved food around her plate. We always had
much to say, much to discuss, but words didn’t come easily this night. We didn’t even comment on our dinners. Not like us at all.
“I get scared, Michael. You scare me. Not you … exactly. Your life can be dangerous. Violent people. I know that. Then … I remember that call in the middle of the night, when you’d been knifed in an alley … !”
“I was attacked …”
“Just listen, will you? I need you to listen. I know damn well you were attacked, but in the hospital … you were groggy. I stood there and heard the doctor say if the goddamn knife went just two inches the other way …”
She sat back, pushed her plate to one side, picked up her wine and took a drink.
“Now you go to DeMio’s alone? You could have vanished, right there, in the middle of town, the middle of the day. The man’s capable of that with a snap of his fingers. I don’t know what makes me crazier, your movie-hero bravado or being afraid you’ll end up in Lake Michigan.”
I wanted to say something, anything. Anger was one thing, but listening to her fear was painful. But I kept my mouth shut. We’d treaded lightly over this territory before, without coming to any understanding or accommodation.
The front door opened, and Henri entered the restaurant. He waved greetings to the bartender as he walked over, pulling out a chair.
“Michael, AJ.”
Our waiter put a Molson Canadian down. “Anything to eat, Mr. LaCroix?”
“I’m fine,” Henri said, glancing at each of us. If he detected tension in the air, he said nothing. He knew us well enough, knew when it was best to leave it alone.
Henri took a long pull on the Molson and waited.
After a slow minute, I said, “What did you find out in Harbor?”
“You mean Humbug’s Bookstore? Or the street?”
“Both.”
“You’ve been to Humbug’s?” Henri said.
I shook my head.
“It’s a small store, square,” Henri said, moving his hands as if to create a diagram. “Two floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the front door.”
“That’s not good,” I said.
“Shelves crammed with books lining the walls. Tables with bestsellers, local authors, Michigan history are arranged in the middle of the floor.”
“Any idea where they’ll put Lenny?”
“Uh-huh,” he said. “You’re not going to like it.”
“No?” I said.
“There’s a tall stool and a podium in the window to the left of the doorway.”
Henri was right, I didn’t like it. Lenny Stern was vulnerable enough. In stores, libraries, on the road. But placing him in the bookstore’s front window endangered our author, not to mention the audience that would come to listen or other customers in the store.
“One shooter with an automatic pistol could do a lot of damage,” Henri said.
“I’ll talk to the owner or manager tomorrow,” I said.
“Try to get Lenny out of the window.”
“See what I can do,” I said. “After you deliver Lenny to the store, you decided where you’ll be during his talk?”
Henri nodded. “Across the street, Café Java. I’ll get a table on the patio right in front. Good sightlines. Easy to see fifty, sixty feet up and down the street.”
The waiter came by and removed our plates. I folded my napkin and put it to one side. AJ sat quietly, sipping her wine.
“What’s up, Russo? What’re you thinking?”
I wasn’t sure if Henri meant about AJ and me, or was asking about Humbug’s Bookstore. I played it safe.
“You’ve got it all figured out?” I said.
Henri nodded.
“You’ll set it up as best you can?”
“Of course.”
I was quiet.
“I’ll ask again,” Henri said. “What’re you thinking?”
“What if the gunmen who show up don’t belong to Joey DeMio? Suppose they’re not professionals.”
“What?” It was AJ, finally in the conversation. “What’re you talking about?”
“Not sure,” I said.
“If not Joey’s gunmen, then who?” she said.
I shrugged.
“We haven’t gotten that far, AJ.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to think about it. Why’d you change your mind, Michael?”
“I haven’t changed my mind, but it was something Joey said.”
I reprised Joey’s annoyance at my question about hiring teenage gunmen.
“Then figure out who hires kids,” AJ said, her irritation had not yet receded.
Henri shot a glance my way.
“Don’t look at him,” she said, pointing at me. “I’m pissed at everything right now, especially him.”
“Okay,” Henri said, sounding uncharacteristically sheepish.
“The question stands,” she said, looking at both of us. “Who hires kids to kill people?”
“It has to be someone not on our radar screen,” Henri said.
“Are you sure you turned the radar on?” AJ said. “You’ve been focused only on Joey DeMio.”
“I’m not letting Joey off the hook just yet,” I said.
“So do two things at once. You guys ought to be good enough for that.”
I glanced at Henri, who shrugged.
AJ glared at me. “Are you going to shrug, too, or come up with a name?”
Before I could respond, Henri said, “One thing about tomorrow … in Harbor Springs?”
“I’m listening,” I said, relieved at the change of subject.
“We’d better assume we’re watching for teenagers, too.”
“Professionals could be young,” AJ said. “What about that new bodyguard, the one you saw at the restaurant today?”
“Jimmy Erwin,” I said.
“He’s barely twenty,” Henri said, “but he is a professional, with a track record to prove it.”
“Those two kids who tried to scare Lenny in the parking lot that day are a long way from being Jimmy Erwin,” I said. “I’d bet they didn’t kill Kate Hubbell.”
“And you can bet they won’t be sent to Harbor Springs tomorrow, either,” Henri said.
“Are you sure they’ll try to get at Lenny tomorrow?” AJ said.
“No,” I said. “The whole thing might come off without a hitch, but we have to assume they’ll try. If not at the bookstore, on the street, or on the way over from Petoskey.”
“I’ll stay off the Harbor-Petoskey Road,” Henri said, referring to the most direct route between the towns. “Maybe I’ll head north first … come in the back way.”
“Lenny needs to be at Humbug’s at least thirty minutes before his talk.”
“We’ll arrive on time.”
“Tina will be with you, right?”
“She will, indeed,” Henri said, draining the last of his Molson. “All right, I’m on my way to get Lenny.”
“Is he still at the office?” AJ said.
“Yeah. He’s working late since he’ll be gone tomorrow.”
Henri said his good-byes, and we were, again, alone.
Our discussion about Harbor Springs seemed to have diverted some of the tension. I wasn’t sure how much, but I didn’t like where AJ and I had left it when Henri joined us.
“AJ …”
“I know … I know, Michael. You don’t have to say it.”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Maybe you do, but not right now. Okay? I’m too … I’m mad at you, I love you, I’m scared. It’s all mashed together.” AJ took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’ve got a tough day tomorrow.”
She eased herself out of the chair. She came around, leaned in and kissed my cheek. “G’night.”
20
I took Bea
ch Road, the scenic route, into downtown Harbor Springs. It ran along the bay, the sandy beach on one side, ornate Victorian cottages of the Wequetonsing Association on the other. The beach was dotted with colorful towels, water toys and vacationers of all sizes, shapes, and ages.
I left the car in the lot across from the New York restaurant, walking up State Street. I spotted Café Java three doors down Main Street, across from Humbug’s Bookstore. I crossed with the light and walked to the coffee shop. Four small two-top tables took up patio space on either side of the shop’s front door. All of them were occupied, but lunch hour was nearing an end. Henri had no doubt figured a way to be at one of them during Lenny’s afternoon appearance. I stood for a moment, looking up and down Main Street. Henri was right. He’d have a clear view in both directions, and of the bookstore itself.
I waited for traffic to clear, crossed the street in the middle of the block, and entered Humbug’s Bookstore. The space was even tighter than I imagined after listening to Henri’s description. I glanced at the shelves crammed with books, the tables crowding the floor, but my attention was drawn to the podium in the front window. White folding chairs had been set up close to the podium.
Lenny would entertain folks with his back to the street, less than three feet from the glass. An easy target if the shooters didn’t care how many other people they shot up.
“Mr. Russo? Michael Russo?” a woman said, hidden by two piles of books.
“That’s me,” I said. “Private eye to the literati.”
She came from behind a table, and we shook hands.
“Eleanor Cosworth,” she said, staring at my loose-fitted print shirt. “I was alerted that you were a smart aleck.”
“You have good sources.”
“I’ve heard all about your Philip Marlowe heroics.”
“I’ve been leaning toward Harry Bosch myself,” I said. “Weird guy.”
“The kind folks at McLean & Eakin filled me in.”
“You bookstore people sure are a clannish bunch.”
“You have no idea,” she said, as her eyes wandered over my shoulder toward the front door.
Eleanor was close to sixty, with a cheap haircut and sad green eyes. The badge clipped to the breast pocket of her maroon blazer displayed her name, and below it, “Manager.”
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