“Stay put! Don’t come out until we say so!” Tony and I huddled in the seat as several more bullets streaked overhead, piercing holes in the back walls.
A deathly pall fell over the room before the slow scrape of chairs and tables entered my ears. A woman cried from the front of the restaurant. A man moaned and then coughed.
Tony and I had formed a spoon in the booth. When I looked up, all I could see was Norm from the chest down. With shaking hands, he was holding a tray of fried ice cream.
Tony and I unraveled from each other. “Stay here with the kids,” he said, and brushed past Norm.
The fool was running for the door. Once a cop, always a cop.
“Watch yourself,” I yelled.
Norm put the tray of ice cream on the table and managed, after a few moments, to get words out of his barely working mouth. “Was this your doing? Was that the guy who gave you the tape?”
I crawled out of the booth and motioned for Ruthie and John to remain under the table. I ducked my head under it. “Are you both okay?” I asked.
They nodded and scooted back toward the wall. “Was that the man outside your window?” Ruthie asked.
“I think so, sweetie.” I turned to Norm. “I tried to warn you that being me wasn’t as glamorous as you thought.”
“I guess the hell not.” I could tell he was in shock. He wasn’t even paying attention to the other diners.
“Norm, maybe someone’s hurt. Don’t you think we should check on your customers?”
He nodded, but I could tell his head wasn’t on straight. He was in a place he’d never been before.
I looked back under the table at Ruthie and John. Both were wide-eyed with wonder at what had happened. “Pretend you’re bear cubs hiding in a cave from a hunter and the big papa bear will be home soon to save you.” They looked at me with horror on their faces. It wasn’t the best excuse to keep them under the booth, but it was the only one I could come up with at the moment.
Han’s looked a lot worse for wear. The shooter had made a fucking mess—which was putting it politely. The two plate-glass windows looking out on the street were riddled with bullet holes about three quarters of the way up to their tops. One had cracked in half all the way down and was holding together precariously; the other bowed in, as if about to pop from the carnage. Glass was scattered about a third of the way into the restaurant. Two or three other lanterns had also been exterminated.
Diners were dragging themselves off the floor. One woman in a white blouse had blood on her sleeve. A man was holding his hand up to the left side of his face. A trickle of blood ran down his cheek onto his collar. Miraculously, no one was dead or, on the face of it, severely injured.
That was no miracle, however. I surmised that the party pooper who had ruined our nice dinner probably wasn’t carrying an M16A2, the assault rifle Tony suspected had killed Rodney. No, this was damage, but only enough to scare the bejeezus out of all of us. Besides, he’d have to have a pretty clever concealment device to cart a military-style weapon through Midtown Manhattan. I couldn’t imagine what that would be. Violin cases went out with Prohibition and gangster movies. Maybe a really long quiver? No, that was too crazy. Still, we were in New York.
Norm looked lost tending to the injured diners. I took over for him. Other than elevated heart rates and disbelief, nothing looked serious—only a few minor cuts from flying glass.
I saw Tony flying up the street. Sirens blared behind him. Oh god, I thought, more cops, more questioning.
He burst through the door and asked Norm to lock it until the police came. Then, he ran to me. “Get the kids and get out of here. Is there a back way out?”
“Gladly,” I said and pointed toward the kitchen.
“I’ll handle the cops. We don’t want Ruthie and John in the papers. I’ll tell Norm we need to stick to the story that I was dining alone.”
I cocked my head toward the table with the remains of five plates of food. “They’ll think you’re a big eater.”
He shoved me toward the table. “Just get them and get out of here. Everybody else needs to stay. The cops will interview witnesses separately.”
Tony didn’t need to ask me twice. I coaxed Ruthie and John out from under the booth, grabbed their hands, and headed for the kitchen.
“Bye, Norm,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
He looked at me, mouth agape, and shook his head.
I pushed open the kitchen door. No one was inside. Something rustled in the corner, and I saw the two cooks and Norm’s sister-in-law huddled between a refrigerator and the wall. I figured they couldn’t get into Norm’s office, the most logical place to escape the shooter, because it was locked.
Norm’s sister-in-law sneered at me. I’m sure she wasn’t happy about washing dishes. As soon as Norm filled her in, she’d have another reason to be mad at me.
Triple trouble. When we got back to the apartment, I knew something was wrong. Someone had tried to jimmy the door, but hadn’t made it through the double security lock. The scratches and indentations made that clear; it looked to me as if a small crowbar had been used—the kind you could easily hide under a jacket. I didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out who had tried to get into my apartment. He might have tried before he shot up Han’s, or maybe after he left. He probably got interrupted mid-break-in. Who knew? Mrs. Lonnigan might have stood on the sidewalk with her whiskey bottle and stared at him. I pushed Ruthie and John against the door and looked over my shoulder. I fumbled with the key.
Once inside, the kids collapsed on the couch. We were all covered in food, and a bath seemed to be the next order of business.
The blinds were shut so I didn’t need to check them. In the living room, I turned on a pole lamp I had scavenged from the street. After the kids were settled, I ran bathwater for Ruthie. She was a trooper and marched straight to the bathroom. I stood outside the door to make sure she’d be okay. She seemed well acquainted with the ways of soap and water.
John sat on the edge of my bed and waited for his turn. I kept the room dark. The only light was from the soft glow of the floor lamp as it spread in a long rectangle across the bed.
“Uncle Des?” John’s voice quivered with the question.
“Yes.”
“Why is this man trying to kill us?”
His question knocked the wind out of me. I wanted to say something snarky—make light of the whole mess—but I knew the subject was too serious and the kid deserved an honest answer. I took a deep breath.
“He killed my father, didn’t he?” John asked.
I stepped away from the door a minute. I wanted to sit by him and hold him in my arms. “Probably . . . but we don’t know that yet.” The situation was delicate—I didn’t want to frighten him to death. “Your father was a famous man. Sometimes famous people make enemies whether they want to or not. That’s what Tony and I are trying to figure out. We’re going to bring your father’s murderer to justice.”
The words drained out of me and my eyes welled up. I thought of Stephen Cross. What justice did he have? The suicide of a crazy man? No. Sometimes life wasn’t fair, and justice wasn’t always served. Maybe it was time Ruthie and John—at least John so that he could watch over his little sister—knew how difficult catching this killer might be.
As the soft light fell across John’s face, I pictured him as a man. One sturdy and strong. I felt he’d be a good man—one who knew right from wrong. One who might marry, have kids, bring them up right, and make them productive members of society. John could make the world a better place, as corny as that platitude might sound. That’s what I wanted. That was my goal too after a really shaky start.
I sat beside him. “I want you to be really grown up about this for the next few days. I’m not asking you to take on anything you can’t do. Look out for your sister. Always make sure you’re both safe. You’re going to be staying with a friend of mine—a good friend who will take care of you. But I want you to watch out for your
self and Ruthie.”
John nodded.
“We’re going to get the guy who’s causing all this trouble. There are good guys and bad guys in the world. I don’t want you to worry that he’s out for you. You can’t live your life that way. We’ll all be safe. Tony and I will make sure of that.” I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. A lump formed in my throat. It was the first time in my life I had kissed a child.
Ruthie appeared at the door with a towel draped around her like a white evening gown. I dried her off and got her into fresh clothes. John went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Ruthie and I were looking at one of my travel books in the living room when Tony walked in.
He threw his keys on the kitchenette table and plopped down next to us. We didn’t speak for a few minutes. Ruthie nodded against my shoulder.
“Well, how did things go with the cops?”
I finally asked. “Just peachy,” Tony said.
I snickered. “Hardly think so.”
Dripping wet, John stepped into the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Should I get ready for bed?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “We’re going for a ride. Put on some clean clothes. Just throw the dirty ones in the corner with Ruthie’s. I’ll take care of them. Make sure you have everything in your suitcase.”
He disappeared into the dark room.
“I can see the Ophelia Cox issue has been decided,” Tony said.
“You still have reservations after what happened tonight?”
Tony shook his head. “Can’t say that I do.”
I put my hand on his arm. “You’re sounding awfully Southern. What happened at Han’s?”
Tony leaned back against the couch. “I had to be a good ole boy. Again. That’s what forced me out of the fraternity in the first place.” He stretched out his legs and stared up at the ceiling. “Thankfully, Norm played along. I couldn’t have done it without him. I was ‘visiting’ a friend, happened to be in the restaurant for dinner. Norm told the staff not to mention you and the kids. I guess the other customers were so shook up, they didn’t even notice that you left.”
“This was a warning—a show of what he could do,” I said.
“Yep. He could have taken everyone out in the first quarter of the restaurant, reloaded, and taken out the rest of us if he wanted to. All he needed to do was step inside the door.”
Ruthie pushed away from me and nodded off in the corner of the couch.
“Some kind of high-caliber automatic pistol, I’d say, the way it made mincemeat of those lanterns.”
“The cops were taking bullets out of the wall when I left.”
“Did anyone see him? Get a description?”
Tony turned toward me. “The woman who got cut got the best look at him. And that wasn’t much. I talked to her for a minute before the PD took over. White male. Clean cut. Thirtyish. Semi-handsome. He slipped on a black ski mask when he fired. He walked up to the window—not that anyone would particularly notice him looking at a window menu—slipped the mask on, took his shots, and then got the hell out of Dodge. Hoofed it north and disappeared into the city.”
“Someone had to see him on the street.”
“When he started firing, people took off or ducked for cover. That’s all the cops would tell me.”
I sighed. “He knows this city. That’s the scary part.”
Tony straightened up and smacked his thighs with his palms. “Well, guess we should get the kids to Ophelia’s.”
“Thought you’d come around.”
I told Tony to get the Crown Vic out of the garage and then come back for us. In the meantime, I would try to reach Carol. After Tony left, I checked all the blinds and locks and settled Ruthie and John in front of my old portable radio. They were suddenly kids again. They both complained about not having a television set. I told John that when he was older and earning his own money he could buy any television he wanted. I knew what he was used to watching in Virginia.
I called Ophelia and told her we would be there within the hour. After we hung up, I dialed the motel in Virginia hoping to be connected to Carol. Abby answered.
“How did it go today?” I asked.
“I was nervous as hell, but it was fine. Security was tight. I kept my eyes open.”
“Did you see a woman wearing a veil? She stood out in the crowd.” I told her about the news report we had seen at Han’s.
The line was silent for a moment and then she said, “No.” She seemed stunned that Tony and I had noticed anything suspicious. “I’ll get the cops on it.”
“Listen . . . everything’s okay, but something happened tonight at Han’s.”
Abby’s breath caught. “What?”
“Our boy fired into the restaurant. Ruthie and John were there with us, but they weren’t hurt. A few of the diners had minor injuries. Don’t let Carol find out yet. She’ll freak out. You might hear about it on the news. Just gloss over it.”
“Okay.” Abby sounded unconvinced.
“Can I speak to Carol?”
“Sure. She’s in the next room having a drink—of course. But we have adjoining suites so I can keep an eye on her. We’ll be in Virginia for a while longer because she has to take care of some estate matters. We’ll be in New York the Friday after Thanksgiving. I’m not looking forward to the holiday.”
Abby put down the phone. It crackled for a minute and then Carol came on the line. She sounded tired, depressed, and about two sheets to the wind—not quite three. We exchanged as many pleasantries as we could before we ran out of polite things to say. She wanted to talk to the kids so I complied, but not before whispering to them that what happened at Han’s was our little secret. I monitored the phone call carefully, at the ready to grab the phone out of their hands if I needed to. After they were through telling her about the Chinese food they ate, I took the phone back and asked the question that had been on my mind since I’d seen the funeral footage.
“Do you have any friends?” I asked.
A brutal question, but necessary.
“Of course I have friends,” Carol said somewhat indignantly. “I have thousands of friends.” She paused and I heard the flare of a match and the sound of cigarette smoke being sucked into the lungs.
It made me want to light up.
“Do you talk to these thousands of friends every day?”
“Of course not. What the hell are you getting at?”
“Who do you talk to every day?”
I had her because her hesitancy to answer vibrated over the line. The details of her personal life were sacrosanct.
“This is important, Carol. The first night we met in Virginia, I asked you if there was anyone who might be intent on destroying your family. When I asked that question, you gave a look like you wanted to answer but couldn’t. It was a quick flash and then it was gone. Do you remember?”
She sighed. “I’d had a couple of drinks that day. I’d just looked at my husband’s bullet-riddled body. What do you fucking expect?”
It was my turn to sigh. “Think about what you’re going to say because Ruthie and John’s lives may be in the balance.”
Carol sobbed into the phone and then said, “You’re trying to destroy me. You and the rest of your queer friends made our lives hell. Can’t you leave us alone? Can’t you see what you did?”
“I was only trying to get at the truth. Rodney was lying, Carol. He knew Stephen Cross and was afraid to say so because his political career would have been destroyed.”
“It was destroyed anyway.” Ice tinkled in a glass. “I get nasty when I get drunk. Rodney was the opposite. Liquor made him mellow, smoothed him out after a rough day. He was hard to deal with when he was sober. He was always spouting religion and telling us what to do. I tried to support him, tried to make him see that he was a good person—that he didn’t need religion to be a good human being. I was the one who wanted to adopt Ruthie and John because he never wanted . .
. . I’m talking too much.”
“Please answer the question.”
“I talk to Janice Carpenter.”
I’d met Janice at the church in New Hampshire. She was Rodney’s smart and pretty public relations go-to.
“We talk nearly every day,” Carol said. “She was really supportive through this whole ordeal.”
“So, Janice knows where you are and what you do.”
“Yes. But Janice wouldn’t have murdered Rodney. The thought is ridiculous. Besides, she was in Richmond the day he was shot. She adored Rodney and stood by his side when others deserted him. She would never be involved in anything like this.”
“Maybe not, but who knows who she talks to.”
The ice tinkled again. “She doesn’t talk to anyone. Janice and I keep our secrets.”
“Thanks for telling me. It gives Tony and me something to go on. The kids are safe and we’ll keep them safe. You can count on that.” Tony knocked, unlocked the door, and came in. “I’ve got to take care of Ruthie and John, but let me leave you with one thought, Carol. If God can desert you, so can your friends. Don’t talk to Janice for a while. Okay?”
Carol sniffed and then said, “Okay.”
It would be hard for her not to talk to her only friend in the world. So much for her thousands of well-wishers. We hung up. It was time to get the kids to their babysitter.
Tony asked me if there was any other exit to my apartment.
I laughed. “I’m lucky to have a front door.” He was looking for an escape route with the kids. I told him we could crawl through the kitchen window, but we’d have to saw through the security bars first.
Tony had parked the Crown Vic a few parking spaces away from my apartment. To be safe, we asked the kids to put dark towels over their heads and run to the car. They looked like little licorice sticks running down the street. I went first with their bags. Tony followed Ruthie and John and climbed into the car after them. I hoped we were less of a target at night than during the day. However, a good marksman with a night telescopic sight could still do major damage.
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