“Very good, Mr. Smith, very good,” said Metcalf. “Do go on.”
I did. “Don’t you see, Cochran? This whole thing was nothing but a scam by Metcalf to obtain immunity. He had no intention of giving evidence against Wolfe.”
A second flash of inspiration hit me. I turned back to Metcalf. “John Wolfe is dead, isn’t he? You’ve been running his operation.”
“What are you talking about?” Cochran asked.
I looked at the lawyer. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?”
An annoyed look crossed his face. “I suppose I should. Mr. Smith is correct, Agent Cochran. John Wolfe died over a year ago. No,” he said. “I didn’t kill him, though in hindsight I could have. He died of a heart attack. I was there when it happened. I was the only one there, and I realized that he was even more useful to me dead than alive. That’s when I contacted Talbot about providing evidence in return for immunity and protection.”
“Protection from a dead man,” Lynn said.
“That’s right, my dear. And now I’m afraid it’s time to bring this little charade to an end.”
Joey spoke up from behind me. “You mean you hired the bastard who killed the guy I was supposed to be protecting?”
A peeved look came to Metcalf’s face. “Does it really matter? I’ll just need to rearrange the story a little. Newcomb here,” he nodded toward the body of the hit man, “shot and killed the four of you, I heard the shots, came out on the patio and shot him.”
Lynn held my arm tighter.
Cochran spoke. “You don’t have to do it this way.”
Metcalf shook his head. “Sorry, Agent Cochran. The only question now is who goes first.”
There was a growl behind me. “You gonna shoot Lynn?”
Joey pushed past me. With one movement he swept up the bag of golf clubs and held it front of him in both hands. He walked fast, almost at a run, toward Metcalf.
Metcalf raised the gun and shot twice, and then twice again. At least one shot went wide and a window shattered behind us. I think a couple of shots hit the bag and at least one shot hit Joey, as I saw him falter in his run. Metcalf stepped backward and kept shooting as he did, but Joey closed the gap between them quickly.
Then, before what was happening could really register with us, Joey and Metcalf were at the parapet at the building’s edge. There was no way Metcalf missed Joey with his next shot, but Joey’s momentum keep him moving, and with the bag of golf clubs like a battering ram, he ran into Metcalf. For a moment they teetered on the edge, and then Metcalf, the bag of golf clubs and Joey went over the side.
The three of us ran to where they went over and looked down. Twelve stories down, two figures lay on the street. Cars were stopping, and we could hear shouts and screams. By some small miracle, as far as I could tell, no one on the street below had been injured. Several people looked up at where we were and pointed.
“Oh, my God, Kid,” cried Lynn. “Poor Joey.”
Cochran took out his cell phone and called his office.
Lynn and I turned away from the sight below and hugged each other. I looked around at the patio. It still resembled something out of a decorator magazine with its designer patio furniture, potted plants and trees and putting green. It was picture-perfect except for Newcomb’s body and two golf clubs lying where they’d fallen from the bag as Joey rushed Metcalf.
Cochran put down his cell phone. “The police will be here in a few minutes. I’m going inside to let them in when they arrive.” He looked at Lynn and me. “You know the drill.”
I nodded. “Don’t touch anything,” I said.
He gave a rueful smile and left.
Chapter Forty-Six
Just when we thought it was over, it wasn’t.
Three days had passed since Joey died saving us. Max was back from the hospital to spend one last night at The Book Nook before heading out to Chicago. I wondered how Candy was going to take that. She and April had remained by his hospital bedside for most of his stay there.
It was mid-afternoon, and the store was quiet with only a couple of customers browsing through the shelves. I was sitting on the floor, unpacking a box of books.
Cochran walked in, and he wasn’t alone. Special Agents Cranz and Stern were with him. The look on their faces as they came into the store gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Hi, Kid,” said Cochran. There was trouble in his eyes. “You already know Agents Cranz and Stern.”
I nodded. This obviously wasn’t a social call.
“Is Barbara here?”
I nodded again. “Yes, she’s in the back room. Go on back. I’ll be there in a second.” I glanced over at Old Tom.
He waved from his place behind the counter.
Cochran led the other two agents into the back room.
I stood up and surveyed the store as if for the last time. One of the browsing customers had left, leaving only one man. He was an older black man, tall and wearing a dashiki. He might have been out of place at another bookstore, but here he looked at home.
I really loved The Book Nook. It had been the one constant, the one place of refuge for me that I could count on as I grew up. Lynn and I had put everything we had into it. Then there was Barbara. The store held Barbara’s soul. I couldn’t imagine her not living here just as I couldn’t imagine The Book Nook not existing.
I breathed in a lungful of air, tasting the tang of old books, wood shelves and time, and then I headed for the back room.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Barbara, Lynn and Cochran sat at the table. Agents Cranz and Stern stood behind Cochran, who looked up at me as I pushed through the beaded curtains and then continued with what he was saying. He held a piece of paper folded lengthwise. It looked familiar.
“I’m sorry, Barbara, but the bureau can’t ignore this warrant and the reason it was issued. If this warrant didn’t exist, there wouldn’t be a problem. None of us want to do this.”
Stern and Cranz nodded in agreement. Cochran handed the warrant to Agent Cranz, who put it in his coat pocket.
“But the warrant exists, and these agents have to take you into custody.” Cochran looked at me. “The store will have to be regarded as ill-gotten gains until and unless Barbara can show otherwise.”
“I don’t care about the store,” I said, “but we had a deal.” I could feel my face getting red. “I went along with what Talbot wanted. He said he wouldn’t go after Barbara if I did what he wanted, and I kept my side of the bargain.”
“But Agent Talbot is dead, and we can find nothing to confirm that,” Agent Stern replied.
“This is so unfair,” said Lynn. “We trusted Talbot, and we trusted you, Cochran.”
Cochran could only look down at the table while I looked at Barbara. To my surprise she smiled, and lifted her shoulders. “Life is certainly a long, strange journey, isn’t it, Kid?”
I couldn’t believe she was taking this so lightly. “Barbara, don’t you understand? There will be a trial that could drag on for over a year. We’ll lose the bookstore, and you could end up in jail.”
“Now don’t get upset.” Barbara reached up and took my hand. “You know things always work out for the best. Besides, I’ve heard that jail food has gotten a lot better since the last time I was there.”
I looked at Lynn to see if she could get through to Barbara about how serious things were. A movement behind us caused the beaded curtain to click. I turned. The older man I had seen in the bookstore had come in.
“Sir,” said Agent Cranz. “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
The man ignored him. “Hello, Barbara,” he said softly. His voice was a deep baritone with shades of an accent.
Barbara studied his face for a few seconds, and then her eyes lit up. “Jimmie? Jimmie LeCuyer?”
The man nodded. “I got word you were in trouble, something to do with a little bank robbery a few years ago?”
Barbara jumped to her feet and went to him. She took both of his han
ds in hers and gazed up into his face. “Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she said. “You didn’t mind coming?”
“No,” he answered with a tender tone. “I knew it was time.”
Cochran pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He faced LeCuyer.
“Mister James LeCuyer?” he asked in a formal voice.
LeCuyer answered in kind. “I am, sir, and you are?”
Cochran brought out his identity card and opened it. “Agent Cochran of the FBI. It is my duty to arrest you in connection with the robbery of the First Federal Bank of Madison, Wisconsin, and the death of the bank guard.” Cochran went on to recite the familiar Miranda rights statement. He ended with, “Do you understand these rights as I have presented them?”
LeCuyer, still holding Barbara’s hands, nodded.
“I do,” he said, “but before we leave I’d like to say something in front of witnesses.”
Cochran signaled his agreement, and LeCuyer continued. “I’d like to say for the record that after the bombing and during the week I stayed here, Barbara Jenkins had no idea I was a wanted man, nor did she receive any of the money I may or may not have stolen from that bank.” He stared at Cochran. “I will so testify in any statement I make and at any trial that is held.” He held Cochran’s gaze. “Do we understand each other?”
Cochran looked at Cranz and Stern. They nodded. He turned back to LeCuyer. “Yes, sir, I believe we do.” Suddenly he stuck out his hand. LeCuyer appeared startled for a moment, and then he released one of his hands from Barbara’s and shook hands with Cochran.
I caught Lynn’s eye, and we both smiled. There was a reason we liked Cochran.
Agents Cranz and Stern left the store with Jimmy LeCuyer in custody. Cochran went with them as far as the front of the store. If it weren’t such a serious situation, it would have been comical as we watched the two beefy agents, Cochran and LeCuyer try to get through the beaded curtain at the same time.
Barbara was cheerful as she called goodbye to LeCuyer and promised to visit him as soon as he was booked and in jail, but as she went to the stove and put the kettle on for tea, I spotted the glint of tears in her eyes.
Cochran returned and took his seat again at the table.
We drank our tea in silence, all of us stunned by what had happened. Finally Lynn spoke up.
“Those errands you’ve been running, Barbara? And all that searching on line? You were trying to get word to James LeCuyer, weren’t you?”
Barbara nodded. “I was hoping he would give a deposition from wherever he was, clearing me of any involvement in the bank robbery.” She shook her head. “I never dreamed that he would come back in person.”
An unpleasant thought came to my mind. “Cochran, as long as that arrest warrant exists, this could come up again. Isn’t there any way we can file some kind of motion to have it rescinded?”
Cochran leaned back in his chair, a slight smile on his face. “I have an idea that that arrest warrant is never going to be seen again.”
“What do you mean?”
Cochran reached under his left shirt cuff and removed a piece of paper. It was folded lengthwise and looked very familiar. He tossed it on the table. The rest of us simply stared. Cochran’s smile grew wider.
It finally dawned on me. “You took the warrant from Cranz’s pocket when you were crowding through the door with them, didn’t you?”
Cochran’s smile was as wide as it could get. “Actually, it was Stern who had it, but yes. So tell me, did I pass the test?”
I laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
“But,” asked Lynn, “those are all computerized. Can’t they simply print another?”
Cochran shook his head. “They would have to ask the judge to sign it again, and with James LeCuyer’s statement exonerating Barbara, there’s not much chance of that.”
Our uproarious laughter filled the back room of The Book Nook. The sound of it brought Old Tom from the front of the store to see what the commotion was. He stared at the sight of a saucepan on the table with a burning piece of paper in it.
Tom adjusted his wireframe glasses. “I suppose there’s a rational reason behind all this?”
“Absolutely,” I answered, straight faced. “We are celebrating Agent Cochran’s graduation from Pickpocket University.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Dinner was a bittersweet affair that night. Max stumped into the back room, leaning on his walking stick, with Candy on one arm and April on the other. He accepted my offer of a chair and lowered himself into it, wincing a little as he did.
“It’s a real shame about that Joey fellow,” he said, “but he saved your lives, and we shall hoist a brew in his honor.”
I got the hint and fetched a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and a glass from the cupboard and put them on the table in front of him.
“Thanks, Kid,” he said, opening the bottle and pouring beer into the glass. He waited for the foam to subside and then lifted the glass. “Here’s to Joey, a good man.” He took a long pull from the glass. Duty done, he set the glass down. He leaned back in his chair and let his eyes wander around the kitchen. “I’m going to miss this place, Kid. I hope you don’t mind if I stop in again the next time I’m in the area.”
I told him that was fine, and I meant it. Max had his rough edges, but I’d grown to enjoy his company.
“The fact is I’m already planning my next book. It’s going to be set in Monterey in 1948, and it is going to tell the true story of what happened to Doc Ricketts. I’m kind of thinking that it might involve a pickpocket, so I may need to consult you, if you don’t mind.”
I assured Max I’d be available for such a consultation.
Junior strolled into the back room a few minutes later, and Max scooped him up. “I’m going to miss you, too, you handsome devil,” he said as he scratched the top of Junior’s head. Junior closed his eyes and purred in reply.
April Quist spoke up. “I’ve got an announcement of my own.”
We turned our attention to her.
She looked down at the table, gathered her courage and raised her eyes to us. “I’m quitting my job as event coordinator for Max,” she said. “I’m going to write a book, too.”
“And it’s about damn time,” said Max. “Haven’t I been telling you that you’re wasting your time trying to keep an old goat like me on schedule?”
“What’s the book about?” I asked.
April laughed. “Ask Lynn.”
“April, with help from Candy and me, has gotten a job as a dancer at The Pink Poodle,” Lynn said with a smile. “Her book is going to be about the life of a stripper. I’m helping her learn the routines. I think she’ll do fine, and I also think it’s about time someone wrote about all the stuff women like Candy and me have had to go through.”
April grinned. “Max’s editor has already agreed to look at the book when it’s ready.”
Everyone at the table applauded.
“Max, how are you going to replace her?” I asked.
“Already taken care of,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Candy. “Miss Candy here has agreed to take on that job. It turns out she’s got contacts all over the country.”
Candy nodded. “That’s right,” she said. “I figure it’s long past time for me to make use of a life spent on the road. Besides, someone’s got to keep an eye on Max.”
“That’s not the only job she’s taking on,” said Max. He reached up over his shoulder and took Candy’s hand. “You tell them, Doll.”
Candy blushed. “Max and I are getting married.”
Naturally, that was cause for more bottles to be opened, drinks poured and toasts made. April got out her camera and took pictures. One of my favorite photographs to this day is from that evening. It shows Max sitting at the table with Candy on his lap and Junior on her lap. She has one arm around Max’s shoulders. Barbara is standing to one side, and Lynn and I are on the other, and we are all holding our glasses up as a toast is m
ade. Someone, probably Max, had just told a joke, and our faces are lit with laughter and love.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Cochran called my cell phone at ten o’clock the next morning.
“Hi, Kid. Can you, Barbara and Lynn meet me for coffee in an hour? I guarantee it will be worth your time for all three of you.”
I doubted the others would agree. I certainly wasn’t interested in budging from the store. We were all pretty wiped out by the events of the past few days.
We were in the kitchen. I put my hand over the phone and told Lynn and Barbara what he wanted.
“Where?” ask Lynn, ever the practical one.
I asked him. It was one of those chain coffee shops that have become ubiquitous throughout the country. Lynn and Barbara shook their heads, but Cochran was insistent, and we gave in.
We made a quick check to see that we were reasonably presentable and piled into Lynn’s car. Barbara let me sit up front with Lynn. It was almost like a luxury for me.
We parked on a side street, and a minute later we arrived at the coffee shop.
“Look,” said Barbara, pointing into the shop’s front window. “There’s Agent Cochran. He’s waving to us.” She waved back at Cochran.
Lynn and I didn’t pay attention. Our eyes were focused on the building across the street. I had thought the address of the coffee shop sounded familiar. Now I knew why.
The coffee shop was directly across the street from The Empire Room. In a flash I had an idea why Cochran wanted us there. I stole a glance at Lynn. The brightness of her smile told me she had figured it out, as well.
We went inside and joined Cochran at the counter.
“My treat,” he said. Barbara ordered Chamomile tea. Lynn asked for a cappuccino. I decided to go all out and ordered what I call a candy-bar-in-a-cup. That’s one of those crushed ice and coffee drinks with caramel swirled in. Lynn heard me order it and patted my stomach. I ignored her. Cochran ordered a simple black coffee.
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