The Silver Gun

by L. A. Chandlar

  CHAPTER 39

  Art is to console those who are broken by life.

  —ML

  I scrambled to my feet. There, standing behind Eliza, was Fiorello, looking shattered. His gun was smoking.

  I walked slowly over to Fio, took his gun gently from his hand, and handed it to Mr. Kirkland. Then I bear-hugged my hero.

  “Fio! I knew you’d get here in time.” That broke the spell that had kept him stunned. Then I went to Mr. Kirkland. I looked up into his bright blue eyes, his gray hair forming an incredible halo around his rugged face. I threw my arms around him, too. “Thank you.” He didn’t say anything, but for our first real hug, he did a bang-up job.

  The last charge.

  I ran to Finn, who was just getting up from a mangled, but breathing, Donagan. “Finn!”

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  He lowered me down, to much yelling and disagreement from the ones who had been running up to us, including most of the police force, who had shown up from Pete’s crew. But we had already done this, and we could do it faster than anyone.

  We were cutting the timing terrifyingly close. I located the bundle, found the wire with the orange tag, and cut it without an ounce of hesitation.

  I slowly, carefully stood up on my narrow platform, holding tightly to the railing. As I paused, I was given a moment of total clarity, an intense moment of deep thanks and peace. The cheery yellow and orange from the rising sun splashed onto the shining buildings in a beautiful scene that took me completely by surprise. My town. My city. Above the traffic, I heard the lonely cry of a gull in the quiet of the morning.

  A new day. A slow smile spread across my lips.

  I looked up at the men lining the edge of the bridge. I raised my arms above my head in victory, like a runner crossing the finish line. “Got it!” I yelled, full of ridiculous happiness. Suddenly a dozen faces broke into enormous smiles. Cheers, hand-shaking, and manly hugging spread everywhere at once. A particularly burly fellow reached his arms down and said, “Okay, doll, let’s get you back up here.”

  Finn interrupted and patted the guy on the back. “Thanks, pal, I got her.” And he reached his arms down to me. He grinned, his eyes glinting with enjoyment. “Come on, Lane!”

  I jumped with more energy than I thought possible, and he gripped my arms. He pulled me up, and as I got closer to the top, several kind hands helped me up and over the railing. Many hands slapped me on the back. I hugged the burly guy.

  Finn put his arms around me in a quick embrace, whispering into my ear, “Nice job, love.” We had so much more to say, but we’d have to wait a little longer.

  Our friends, firefighters, and policemen all gathered around. Finn and I quickly told the other officers everything we learned concerning the rest of the explosives. The police were already clearing the bridge, and they had the professional bomb crews out checking the charges and safely retrieving the dynamite bundles. We also filled in the police about Daley’s body, the Schmidt brothers at the other end—still tied up, hopefully—and then Donagan and Eliza. A medic was already covering up Eliza’s body with a white sheet.

  Another medic quickly bandaged my throat. The bleeding had stopped, but I was going to need some stitches. Finn looked like his shoulder was bothering him, and he had a couple of good bruises appearing on his face, but I didn’t see too much blood or broken bones.

  They wanted to take us to the hospital, but we both thought that was overkill. However, my need for stitches ended our arguments about the matter. At least they didn’t strap us down to stretchers. I was swept away toward one ambulance, Finn another.

  I suddenly caught sight of Roarke being wheeled into an ambulance nearby, and I went over to him to talk for a minute, even though the traveling nurse wanted to force me right into the ambulance. I swatted her away.

  His head bandage was showing some blood through it, and his face was pasty. His eyes were shut, but when I went to him, the golden lashes fluttered open.

  I gently rubbed his arm, afraid to touch anything else, and whispered, “Roarke, are you okay?”

  He smiled dimly. “Lane . . . did we make it? I didn’t hear any explosions.”

  “Nah . . . no explosions. Our plan worked, Roarke. And you wouldn’t believe the cavalry that rode in to save us. Fio even had his trumpet.”

  “Oh, God, that’s good to hear. I thought I heard a trumpet. I thought I was hallucinating.”

  “No, no hallucinations. Just our mayor. He only lacked a white steed and Excalibur.”

  “God. What he would do with that . . .”

  I snickered, then I paused. “Roarke, they say you have a concussion, but you’re stable. You lost a lot of blood. I . . .” I shook my head. I couldn’t finish my thought.

  “Oh, Lane, it would take a lot more than a pistol whip from that greasy, pitiful excuse for a man to take me out.” He paused for a minute. “I thought I saw Finn over there. Is he all right?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine.” I quickly filled him in on all that had happened.

  “So Eliza had the silver gun?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, that’s interesting.”

  “Mmm. Sure is. And she lost it. The gun fell over the edge of the bridge when she was killed.”

  “Hmm. I guess that’s the end of the silver gun, huh?” he contemplated. For some reason, I wasn’t so sure about that. “Who shot her?” he asked.

  “Fio.”

  “Oh, my God, what I would give to write up that scene. It’s painful I can’t do it.”

  “Who says you can’t? Here, I have my notepad and my pen. I’ll describe it all and you put it to your own, heroic words. Make sure you put in your part. We wouldn’t have been able to do this without you, you know.”

  He smiled a full-dimple grin at that. I reciprocated. Minus the dimples.

  I searched his golden brown eyes and said intently, softly, “Roarke. Thank you for going through all this with me. It wouldn’t have been survivable without you.”

  He gazed at me, then slowly raised his left hand and put it over mine, which was still on his right arm.

  “Come visit me in the hospital, Lane. I want that story.” I smiled. He’d be just fine.

  The medics wheeled him over to the ambulance, lifted him in, then closed the doors with a bang.

  CHAPTER 40

  For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.

  —ML

  I arrived at the hospital and, sure enough, ended up with six stitches. They were quite painful, but Fio got the best surgeon he could find who specialized in a new surgical method that left minimal scarring. Fio would have nothing but the best.

  I didn’t have to stay under observation, so they allowed me to go and find Roarke. I gave him the entire scoop with as much description as possible. He wrote furiously, and I could see the gears of his mind turning; it was like he’d never been wounded. He was captivated, fully enthralled with getting this good story. This was his life blood, this was his mistress. She was a keen, bright flame.

  Aunt Evelyn told me they’d released Finn and that he said he’d come by tonight for the debriefing she’d scheduled. She took me home. Mr. Kirkland was waiting for us there, and I have to say, home never looked so good.

  It was early evening, and a golden glow of lamps and candles shined from the front windows, and my Ripley was at the side window of the front door. I looked up at the face of our home: the red bricks, the bumped-out bay window in the front with the green copper roof, the little curved dormer windows way at the top in Aunt Evelyn’s studio . . . taking it all in as if I’d been on a long, long voyage and was returning home at last.

  Inside, the heavenly aroma of Mr. Kirkland’s cream of potato chowder, fresh bread, and brownies just about overwhelmed me, as I was starving. Luckily, Aunt Evelyn and Mr. Kirkland knew me well, and we had dinner right away at the scrubbed pine table, with Ripley lying directly on my feet, letting me know in no uncertain terms that
I would not be going out tonight, possibly ever again.

  As if the three of us had made a silent agreement, we didn’t discuss anything of the case or even of the remarkable events of the past few days. We were just happy to be in one piece, and together. We talked of trivial things and delighted ourselves in the normalcy of life.

  I did ask what had happened to Morgan, wondering why she wasn’t here for dinner. After she and Aunt Evelyn talked, she had decided she felt most comfortable going to live, at least temporarily, at a new home for women that Ellie and Evelyn were helping to organize. Morgan was younger than most of the guests who had been on the streets, but could relate to them in ways we never could. But we’d be checking up on her in the days to come, figuring out some schooling and a plan for her future. She was so young. But I could also see a bright streak of defiance, strength, and independence in her. I liked her, and I wondered if she would let us help her, or if she’d decide to go her own way.

  Just as we were finishing up our simple dinner, the invitees to Aunt Evelyn’s debriefing started to arrive. No room but the parlor was big enough for us all to congregate comfortably. Aunt Evelyn, Fio, and Mr. Kirkland took the Command Central seats at the front windows. Val sat next to me on the large sofa; Peter sat on the other side of her in a high-backed chair. Roarke had to stay in the hospital and left a noticeable void.

  Lastly, the bell rang. I walked over to the door. “Hi, Finn,” I said as I opened the door.

  “Hi, Lane,” he said quietly, with a smile. Then his brow furrowed and he looked closely at my neck as he stepped in. The chattering from the other room was nice and loud, letting us have a minute of solitude. I smiled at him. He drew close and took a good look at me. I had changed into a soft pink pencil skirt and white blouse, which was open a couple of buttons at the collar to give my poor neck some room. He winced as he took in the stitches.

  “Is your neck all right?” he asked as his hand softly came around my jaw.

  “Yeah, I took some aspirin, and the six stitches hardly seem noticeable.”

  “Six?”

  “Finn, it’s okay. I’m good.” His face looked tired, but his dark eyes were mesmerizing, and it just felt good to have him here. His brow cleared as he looked into my eyes and found that I meant it: I really was all right.

  Finn greeted Aunt Evelyn and took the offered cup of coffee from Mr. Kirkland, then came to sit down on my other side on the sofa.

  “Were there brownies?” he asked abruptly and a tad forlornly.

  “Smells good, huh?”

  “I’ll bring out some more brownies for everyone,” said a grinning Mr. Kirkland.

  Finn ate his brownie with complete devotion, no crumb going to waste. If it had been proper enough, I was certain he would have licked his fingers.

  Aunt Evelyn brought the meeting to order with an ahem, and all the little conversations happening around the room came to a halt as we turned our attention to her. In her usual, methodical manner, she’d given the order of events some thoughtful consideration.

  “Lane, I believe we are all up to speed from the part where we left Eliza’s um . . . house of . . . ah, yes. We’ll just leave it at Eliza’s. The police were informed of the attempt happening at the new Triborough Bridge. Could you enlighten everyone as to how you all ended up at the Queensboro Bridge?”

  “Certainly,” I said.

  I filled them in on all the events that happened, from leaving Eliza’s place up until now. Much of it sounded unreal even to my own ears, proving the point once again that reality is stranger than fiction. Well, at least my reality.

  “Thank you, Lane,” said Aunt Evelyn. Her eyes took on a beady look of determination and deep thought. “Peter, the police took in Donagan and the Schmidt brothers?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We also picked up Lyle.”

  “And the bodies of Daley Joseph and Eliza?” asked Mr. Kirkland.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Peter. “They’ve been taken to the city morgue. We’ll have to send someone to officially identify them tomorrow.”

  Fio and Finn said that they would handle that the next morning.

  Peter piped in again. “So, I understand the motive of getting Fio out of the way but, may I ask, how does the art theft here and the subway mugging connect with everything? Were they really connected or just coincidence?”

  Finn replied, “The answer to that goes back to Danny Fazzalari and Eliza. There were multiple motives. Overall, Daley and Donagan wanted to discredit Fio and make the city ripe for a new leader. I think Donagan thought he could become the new Jimmy Walker. But those other incidents were Danny going rogue. I’d always felt that the subway incident, the home theft, and even the Randall’s Island bomb were too messy, too aimless for Donagan and Daley. I couldn’t figure it out until yesterday, when I finally got to see Eliza and Donagan together. Eliza started out just trying to get back at Lane, hating her and her family. But Eliza’s plans became much bigger once she got tight with Donagan. Danny was no longer necessary. Not only that, he had become a menace to their carefully laid plans. That’s why Eliza eventually took Danny out. He had filled her purposes well enough for a while. I think he did all that to try to impress her and Donagan. Being Uncle Louie’s nephew, he had a lot to live up to.”

  Valerie piped in, “I get why Eliza wanted to get back at Lane. But it seems like Lane became more of a target than just that.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Lucky me. Well, if Danny’s plans had actually killed me off, it wouldn’t have been too bad for them.” Evelyn winced. “But I survived. And I started asking questions and basically making a nuiscance of myself. What was that, Finn?” He’d snorted.

  “Nothing,” he said, grinning.

  “So, I became a target because they realized I wouldn’t let it go. They tried intimidation with Daley visiting me that night.” I carefully felt my aching neck, remembering that choke hold. “But that didn’t work, it just made things worse. And they had to kidnap Roarke and me when they discovered us at the Meatpacking District, to find out what we knew before they could just get rid of us, in case they had to do any damage control.”

  Finn said, “And that is actually why they changed their plan from the Triborough to the Queensboro. They originally liked the Triborough Bridge best, being that it just opened this summer. But Donagan and Daley figured one last change of plan would be a good thing, to confuse anyone who might have gotten wind of their intentions.”

  “How about Roxy, Val?” asked Aunt Evelyn. “Did she suspect anything? And how did she hold up when you took her home?”

  “Roxy had started to notice some peculiar behavior from Lizzie, and she’s no dummy. However, she had no idea of the magnitude of what was provoking Lizzie’s strange behavior or that she herself was Lizzie’s scapegoat. Roxy kept her suspicions mostly to herself. But she finally confronted Lizzie with the strange absences, the dark circles under her eyes, and the fact that she knew that Lizzie and Danny had been an item and yet she had no real reaction to his death. She let her know enough that Lizzie got nervous, forcing her hand, so she had Roxy kidnapped. But she’s a tough cookie, I think she’ll be fine.”

  “Good,” said Aunt Evelyn. “Now, have we covered everything?”

  Fiorello leaned forward, clasping his hands, elbows on his knees. “I’d like to thank all of you,” he said, with an earnest smile. “What you did today and what you’ve been working on for these past weeks has saved many, many lives. And you’ve also helped me more than I can say,” he declared as his voice started to break. “Thank you—all of you.”

  Aunt Evelyn wiped a tiny tear from the corner of her eye and said just as earnestly, “Fiorello? You are worth it, dear friend. All right, then,” declared Aunt Evelyn. “How about some coffee, and I think we can find some more brownies.” The meeting was adjourned, and we broke up into small groups, chatting and enjoying the company of friends.

  Fio called Finn over in a rather hush-hush way. So, I went to the kitchen, where Mr. Kirkland and Aunt Eve
lyn were assembling another plate of brownies. There was a little plate and a big plate.

  “You made Finn his own plate, didn’t you?” I said.

  “Well, it was pretty obvious he enjoyed them. I always try to favor the fans of my cooking,” said Mr. Kirkland, in a mock snooty fashion.

  When I went back to the main group, Fio and Finn were still in deep conversation, but then they waved me over. “What’s up, fellas?” I asked. “Mr. Kirkland made you your own plate, Finn,” I said, handing it to him.

  “Oooh,” he exhaled, taking the plate eagerly.

  “Well, Laney Lane?” Fio screeched happily.

  “Grrrrr.”

  “Heh heh heh,” he cackled. “We were just discussing that Finn’s undercover assignment is finished. Valentine and I already came to the conclusion that he’s done all he can to uproot the corruption and work with Daley and Donagan in his current role. So? He’s back to being a regular detective.” I was pretty sure Finn could never be classified as regular.

  Fio continued on, “Valentine is already set to make the record straight about Finn’s incorruptible self and his role. In fact, Finn, guess who offered to make the announcement with Valentine tomorrow morning?”

  Finn looked relieved, and his shoulders lowered, letting go of the years of tension as he exhaled deeply. Finn shook his head as he smiled. “I don’t know. Who?”

  “Pete.”

  Finn shook his head. “Well I’ll be . . .”

  CHAPTER 41

  I wish they would just take me as I am.

  —ML

  I walked in the honey brown doorway. The kitchen step creaked the same way I’d heard it creak a thousand times. The clock on the wall made its quick tick-tick-tick, the heartbeat of the kitchen. The gold, flat knobs on the cupboards, the short curtains fluttering in the windows, the butter yellow walls. How many times had I eaten vegetable soup, Swedish steak, mashed potatoes, turkey . . . in this very room? So many good meals.