Tony sped off like a New York cabbie and I watched in the rearview mirror. No one was following us. It reminded me of the time I had taken a taxi home from the Roxy dance club at four in the morning. The cab driver hit sixty miles per hour on Tenth Avenue. I went airborne in the backseat at several intersections as we headed uptown. A few pedestrians, flirting with death by jaywalking across a New York City avenue, narrowly escaped with their lives as we whizzed by. No one could have followed me that evening either.
I directed Tony to Ophelia’s and we were a bit more relaxed by the time we got to the Lower East Side.
As we pulled into a parking spot about a half a block away from her apartment, I prepared the kids. “Uncle Robert is a little different from what you might be used to.”
John looked at me suspiciously and asked, “What do you mean?”
“It’ll be fun staying with him,” I said.
I held my breath when we rang the Martin/Cox buzzer.
“Come in, darlings,” came the breathy reply.
Ophelia’s voice seemed cordial and happy, much more like her old self.
When we got to her apartment, the door was open. Tony whistled under his breath.
SHE was back.
The lights were dimmed, the skyline twinkled in the background past the rooftops. Strategically placed candles cast soft shadows about the room. Ophelia, dressed from neck to toe in a long-sleeved, sequined red evening gown, stood in its center. She wore a brunette wig that fell in soft curls across her shoulders. Her lips were painted with ruby-red lipstick and her eyelids were traced with sparkly silver. A large, white, beaded necklace graced her throat. An equally long set of matching earrings completed the look.
“Come in,” she said softly.
Ruthie and John stared, but didn’t move.
I guided them into the room and said, “Ruthie and John, I’d like you to meet your aunt Ophelia. She’s going to be taking care of you for a few days until your mother arrives.”
“I thought you said we were meeting Uncle Robert,” John said.
Ophelia jangled the bracelet on her wrist. “Uncle Robert and Aunt Ophelia can’t be together in the same room. Tonight, you get Ophelia.”
“Wow,” John said.
Ruthie smiled and held out her hand.
I grabbed Tony’s arm and led him to Ophelia. “Tony, I’d like you to meet Ophelia Cox.”
“Charmed,” Ophelia replied and bowed slightly in her tight gown.
“Likewise, I’m sure,” Tony said.
I nudged him. “Didn’t I tell you Aunt Ophelia was a knockout?” I was thrilled that Ophelia was feeling well enough emotionally and physically to showcase her old self. She’d always had a thing for glamour and a touch of romance.
Tony nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t think you prepared me for the shock—a nice one of course.”
“Ophelia has that effect on everyone she meets. She certainly made an impression on me when we met.”
We looked at each other for a time with uneasy smiles before Ophelia said to Ruthie and John, “Tonight we’re going to play dress up. I’ve already chosen your outfits.”
John pulled his bag to the couch, sat down, and said, “I’m not dressing in girls’ clothes.”
Ophelia laughed. “Don’t be silly. You’re going to be a pirate— with a sword and silver earrings and a parrot. All real pirates wear earrings and have a pet parrot.”
“What am I going to be?” Ruthie said.
“A princess.”
Ruthie clapped her hands. “Where’s my dress?”
“Both of them are on the chair,” Ophelia said and pointed to her bedroom. “But don’t put them on yet. I want to make sure everything’s perfect.”
Ruthie ran to the room and I heard a squawk.
“You have a live parrot?” I asked.
“No,” Ophelia said. “I can’t keep animals in the apartment. It’s a toy I got years ago at a thrift shop. I do most of my shopping at thrift shops.”
John ran to see the bird.
“I named the parrot Sailor. He’s a nice bird, but he has a tendency to swear.”
Tony looked at Ophelia and then at me.
“I sometimes put words in his mouth,” Ophelia said, “but I suppose it’s nothing these kids haven’t heard.”
“They’ve been pretty sheltered,” Tony said.
“Carol’s not exactly a saint in the language department,” I said. “I’m sure whatever they do here will be an experience they won’t forget.”
“Probably life altering,” Tony said.
I hugged Ophelia. “Everyone should be so lucky as to spend a night playing dress up with Ophelia Cox.” I pointed to the couch.
We had some serious matters to discuss before we left. The kids laughed in Ophelia’s bedroom.
I began, “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of them. Tony or I can be here in the evenings if you have to work.”
Ophelia relaxed against the cushions. “The job is important, but not that important. If I have to take a couple of days off, I can. I just can’t be out over Thanksgiving weekend. If I am, I’ll get fired—and I need the money.” She looked down and smoothed her dress with her palms. “I got the info on the pills. It’s five hundred dollars for a bottle of ten. It’s all black market now. The side effects can be serious, but some men are doing well on them.”
I didn’t care what the pills cost. “I can get you the money tomorrow. I’ll bring a thousand over. Give it a try.” All that mattered was that they worked.
Tony looked at me like I was crazy, but he didn’t understand yet how far I was willing to go for my friends.
“What do you have in mind for tomorrow?”
“I was thinking of taking them to the zoo and aquarium in Brooklyn. We could all use some fresh air.”
“Maybe that’s not such a good idea after what happened tonight,” I said. I briefly filled in Ophelia on the shooting at Han’s, with the mention that their mother shouldn’t know the kids were in the restaurant. “I bribed the kids the first night and told them they could go to Central Park with Tony. It was hard enough for him to keep an eye on them the next day. I’m not sure how much this pair knows about our actions. They know where I live. We’ve tried to be careful, but they might know where you live, too.”
Tony nodded. “Isn’t there some place around here they could play that’s more secure?”
Ophelia laughed. “My apartment is all they’ll need for a playground—I’ve got plenty of trinkets to keep them occupied.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
Ophelia glanced at her beautifully polished nails. “And this building has an enclosed courtyard in back. It’s large enough to keep two kids happy.”
“That would be perfect,” I said.
“Believe me,” Ophelia said, “I’ve been keeping my eyes open for years. No one’s going to touch those kids.”
“We need to be getting home,” I said. “Call us if you need to. Tony and I have business to take care of.”
Ophelia cocked an eyebrow and said, “I’m sure you do.” She looked directly at me, acting as if Tony weren’t in the room. “And, by the way, I think he’s very handsome. Much better than the riffraff you usually hang out with. I think he just needs to loosen up a little.”
Except for the “riffraff” comment, which I assumed was a joke, Ophelia was correct. “He’s former army and an ex-cop. A tight-ass. What do you expect?”
Ophelia looked at me and said, “I expect you’ll end up in love.”
Tony and I managed weak smiles. It was time to say good-bye to the kids and get home.
On the way back to the apartment, I filled Tony in on my telephone call with Carol and her almost daily conversations with Janice Carpenter. Tony had met Janice a few times and thought she was a driven, calculating, professional woman, but not one capable of murder. Having seen it all in my lifetime, I, of course, never put murder past anyone. We also considered the fact neither one of us had seen the name C
arpenter on the Ralston’s log, although that really didn’t mean much.
We parked the car in the garage and walked to the apartment. The temperature had dropped during the evening and the wind blew icily down the side streets. I snuggled next to Tony and he reached for my hand. Tony and I kept our eyes on approaching doorways and rooftops. I felt a little starry-eyed, but still on edge when we got to my door. He stopped me before I could pull out the keys. He glanced at the surrounding buildings, stared at me, and then cupped my face in his hands. Heat roared through my veins.
“Our first real night alone,” he said. “At your apartment, in your bed. Should we?” He kissed me.
“Should we what?” I asked, playing dumb.
Tony seemed a bit crestfallen. “Be serious. Have sex.”
I thought for a moment, still in the mood to tease him. “I think we should wait. Every time we start, we get interrupted. Making love to you seems to be a dangerous proposition. I don’t want to tempt fate.”
He kissed me again and I melted into him.
When we finally came up for air, he said, “I was thinking the same thing.”
I pushed him away. “What? I was kidding. I’d like to jump your bones on the stoop.”
He leaned against the door frame and his eyes twinkled like diamonds in the reflected streetlight. “Cody, I’m not kidding. I really, really, want to, but I don’t want our relationship to cloud our judgment. We need to stay sharp—not roll out of bed at ten in the morning after a night of wild, animal sex.”
“Sounds great to me,” I said seriously.
“Besides, we have a few issues to work out.” He inhaled deeply in a dramatic way, waiting for me to beg him to continue.
I took the bait. “Okay. Like what?”
“Oh, like who’s the top and who’s the bottom?”
I grabbed his jacket and pulled him toward me. “If that’s all that’s holding you back, I can be versatile.”
I kissed him hard and responded in a way that few men had been able to elicit in me. I fused against him; blue waves of electricity flowed from his body into mine. I shivered under my clothes while goose bumps rose on my arms and legs. I was smitten.
He broke away from me long enough to ask, “And what if one of us dies? Have you considered that? We’re on dangerous business.”
I looked at the Manhattan skyline. For an instant, the world was perfect. A man I was falling head over heels for was in my arms. I felt safe and warm and all those other gooey things one would see in a Hallmark movie. I was pretty sure our hit man wasn’t around—at least I hoped so. Nothing spoils a good romance like gunshots.
I ran my hands over his chest and then sagged against the door. “Of course, I’ve thought about it. I didn’t want to bring it up because who wants to think about death? I’ve seen too much of it. I’ve had my fill.”
But, Tony had a point and not an idiotic one. He was different from other men. There was a connection in my soul that was beginning to rise and flower, and I’d never felt anything like it. The feeling wasn’t just about sex, and, to be honest, I wasn’t sure what to do with these emotions. The men I had loved before Tony had been off limits in one way or another, like Stephen Cross, for example. There was always something standing in the way: alcohol, drugs, sexual addiction, a partner, a marriage. Tony had none of that baggage. An available man for me was as rare as a first edition of Truman Capote. The flush of sexual excitement was a powerful drug, producing a high that had dropkicked many a man and woman to the gutter. Pressing my body against Tony’s, feeling his breath on my neck, and kissing his lips were about as good as it could get for me these days. But if I had to step back and think about it, commitment and availability scared the shit out of me. It was a brave new world.
I dug the keys out of my pocket and opened the door. “You’re probably right,” I said as we stepped inside and switched on the floor lamp. “We’ve got work to do and sex will get in the way.” I had cooled off.
Tony put his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, look, I don’t mean never. I just meant maybe we should slow down until we get through this.”
“You’re right. Want to sleep on the couch?”
Tony laughed. “I was in the army. I know how to control my urges.”
In a way, I was sorry he had that control because his constancy assured me of another long night. It would be a night with no sex and little rest because I’d keep myself awake thinking about the naked man sleeping next to me, while also wondering whether there was a killer lurking outside my apartment.
New York City never sleeps, but there is a time of night, between the hours of four and six a.m., when the city slows down. Cabs aren’t as frequent, traffic is rarely hung up. A ride of ten minutes from the Village to Midtown isn’t unheard of.
During those hours, when people drag themselves from the bars or leave their secret lover to sneak home before dawn, only the hardiest New Yorkers are out. Or the craziest.
That’s why after getting into bed well after eleven p.m., the lightbulb suddenly blazed on in my head. If Ruthie could see the man upward through the slats during the daytime, then the man would be able to see us when they were pointed downward at night if there was any kind of light in the apartment. I had left the floor lamp on.
“We have to move to the living room,” I said. “And turn off all the lights.” I could have turned the slats into the up position, but either way I felt better knowing we were out of range of our trigger-happy friend. He could easily take a few pot shots through the bedroom window while we were sleeping.
Tony was already half asleep when I made the decision to move.
“Why?” he asked, stretching out in bed.
I explained my reasoning. Even with all the lights out, there would still be enough light in the apartment from the city’s ambient brightness to make our way around the room.
I turned off the lamp. Tony took the couch. I took the floor, making a bed of pillows and blankets. It wasn’t as comfortable as my own mattress, but I really didn’t feel like dragging it into the living room. Tony and I “touched” good night, and soon he was snoring softly on the couch.
At times like these, vestiges of my former life crept in. I learned early on in my hustling career to sleep with one eye open. The technique had served me well; particularly when I was bedded down on the street overnight—not an uncommon occurrence. It had saved me from pickpockets, downright thieves and, in a few instances, from being murdered in my sleep.
So, at about four thirty a.m., it came as no surprise when a shadow blocked the light in front of the barred kitchen window, which looked out onto the street. It lingered there a fraction of a second too long—at that hour, most people walked swiftly by or stumbled down the street, mirroring their capacity for liquor.
I pulled down the blankets and scooted off the pillows. Tony was on his back on the couch, one arm dangling off it. I was naked and the air felt frosty, but none of that mattered. The shadow disappeared to the right as I headed toward my door. Light from the street came back to the window full force.
I moved swiftly through the room, intent on not making a sound. I got to the sink and shifted my body toward the east side of the window. He would have a hard time shooting me through the glass at that angle. I doubted he could even see me in the darkness.
Something soft thumped against the door. I lifted a slat on the blind and saw a dark figure heading west. No one else was around. The memory of what had happened in Rodney’s backyard in Virginia came roaring back.
I left the window and crept over to Tony. I nudged him awake. Instinctively, he jumped up, about to bark questions at me. I put my hand over his mouth.
“Someone left us a present on the stoop,” I said. “Not sure what it is, but I’m getting my Desert Eagle.”
Tony shook off sleep and got up from the couch. He was naked, too, and the sight was enough to make me want to forget about Rodney Jessup, Carol, the kids, and the killer. I was on the verge of calling the Pope to no
minate me for sainthood when, once again, cold, hard reasoning got in the way.
I sneaked back to my bedroom, grabbed my keys, and retrieved the gun from under the bed. I hadn’t worried about Ruthie and John taking naps with the weapon under the bed because they were always unloaded and the shells were hard to reach on the top shelf of my closet.
I loaded the Eagle and moved silently back to the living room.
“I’m going to turn on the light over the door, open it, and stand back,” I whispered to Tony. I handed him a pillow. “Throw it across the door to the wall when I signal. If he’s outside he may take a shot at it.”
Tony nodded and moved toward the sink where he could duck below the window and throw the pillow past the door.
I flipped on the outside light half expecting the door to explode in a flurry of bullets, but nothing happened. I unlocked the locks, flung the door open, and crouched behind it. The cold air rushed in. I lifted my arm in a hatchet throw, pointing to the wall.
The pillow flew past me and landed in a soft crush on the other side of the door.
No gunfire.
I peered around the door from its bottom. No one was in sight. The street, at least in front of my apartment, was empty. I stood up, raced to the stoop, grabbed the paper bag that had been thrown there, raced back inside, and closed the door.
Bombs didn’t seem to be this killer’s MO, so I wasn’t too worried about the bag exploding in my hands. Presumably, he didn’t know if Ruthie and John were inside, so he wouldn’t risk planting a bomb. What good would it do to blow them up if he wanted them alive?
“Grab the flashlight,” I said. “It’s under the sink.”
“Do I have to?”
“Don’t be a smartass. The cockroaches will leave you alone.”
I could have sworn that I saw him shiver when he opened the cabinet doors. He pulled out the black flashlight and switched it on.
I motioned to him. “Come on. You first?”
“No way,” he said.
Tony pointed the flashlight at the bag, while I pulled off the rubber band that formed a ring at its top. The bag popped open.
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