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When Brody exited the building, he walked past his motorcycle and ran his hand over the ape-hanger handlebars. Constable Emery Farnsworth stepped from behind a tree and yelled, “Freeze!”
His feet were shoulder-width apart, and he stood crouched, his arms in a V-shape as his hands cupped his revolver. It was a classic patrol officer stance. What wasn’t classic was the bike helmet tipped back on his head, the bicycle shorts, and the running shoes.
Brody didn’t freeze. Instead, he strode toward the officer.
“Put it down,” Brody ordered.
Emery looked at the weapon in Brody’s hand and the blood that covered his khakis. “I’m not sure if I should lower my gun,” the constable said.
“I’m not going to shoot you, Emery. Besides, if I wanted to do so, I would have done it by now.” Brody turned the gun he carried backward and offered it to the constable.
Emery slowly lowered his pistol but didn’t take the gun Brody had offered. “Where’s Daphne?”
“She wasn’t there.”
“I heard two shots.”
“There’s a mob boss in there.”
“Is he...?”
“Dead? Yeah.”
“Crud!” Emery said and stepped off the sidewalk toward the restaurant. “Oh man, this is bad!”
“Emery!”
The constable turned to Brody. “What!”
“You don’t need to go in there. The man is dead. He’ll keep until we get back. I know where Daphne is, and we need to get her. Now.”
Emery nodded and stepped back onto the sidewalk. “Where is she?”
“They’ve taken her to her house. They want to capture me there.”
“Capture you? Why?”
So Suicide Mike can take me back to the club and put me down for all to see.
But Brody couldn’t tell the officer that. So he said, “They want to torture an FBI agent.”
“You can’t go there,” Emery said.
“I have to. We have to. Were you able to get help?”
“Yes,” he said. “The state patrol is on the way.”
“The state patrol?”
Farnsworth nodded.
“Great,” Brody said. “They’ll be able to write some traffic tickets when they get here.”
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As they hurried, Brody recalled what had just occurred inside Il Cuoco Irato. It took some physical pressure to get Frankie the Dove to give him what he needed. Eventually, the mobster told him about Suicide Mike and another man he referred to as The Fixer. The two men concocted the plan to take Daphne to her house.
Brody knew why they were doing it. They believed they could set an ambush. Well, that was fine with him. Brody had lived through a couple of traps before. He had every intention of living through another.
For a moment, he had thought about letting the mobster live. He didn’t want to kill Chloe’s father, even if he was the biggest jerk in the world to her. Maybe the guy would have a moment of clarity wherein he would realize he had missed an opportunity to love his daughter. If he killed Columbo, there would never be a chance for that moment of healing.
But then Frankie the Dove had to seal his fate by saying, “I will hunt you down, bookkeepah. If it’s my last breath, you will nevah be free from me. And I’ll kill that grocery girl, too. You can count on that.”
He knew those words were valid. The anger and hatred that Francis Columbo felt would never diminish. He’d just shot the man in the knee, for crying out loud, and tortured him to find out where Daphne was. Frankie the Dove wasn’t the type of person to forgive and forget. Therefore, Brody had only one option.
He already thought that he would like to stop by What’s the Point and purchase a new knitting kit. He’d only just cleared the book on Columbo, and he was feeling the stress. He still had two entries left to make.
Suicide Mike and some heavy named The Fixer.
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They were at the end of Daphne’s block. In the afternoon sun, the neighborhood looked peaceful and charming.
Brody inhaled deeply, smelling the ocean’s aroma. The humidity had stuck his shirt to his back. He’d only been in Pleasant Valley a few days, and he’d already fallen in love with this little town.
Because of today’s events, he knew his time here was now limited. Once he saved Daphne, there would be no turning back. Everyone would know his story. He wouldn’t be able to keep his secret much longer.
“What’s the plan?” Emery asked, carefully placing his hand on the Brody’s shoulder. His attention was focused on Daphne’s house.
The big man eyed the constable. Even though he was an officer of the law, Brody sort of liked the goofy fellow. Pretending to be a citizen was messing with the former bookkeeper’s sensibilities.
“Why don’t you go around back?” Brody suggested.
“The back?”
“Cover the rear of the house, in case someone comes out running.”
“But that means you’ll go in alone.”
“I’ll cover the back if you want to go inside alone. There’s only two of us, Emery, and we need to handle it like professionals.”
The officer patted his shoulder. “You’re the FBI. You’ve been trained for this. If you think I should take the back of the house, well, mistah, I’ll take the back. Call me a team playah.”
The constable jogged into the nearest yard and moved to the rear of the house. Brody waited until Emery disappeared from view.
Then he began the walk toward Daphne’s house. He thought about slinking toward the front door or maybe crouching into a run. Everything about it seemed wrong. No matter how he approached the house, they would see him. It was broad daylight. In Pleasant Valley, Maine no less.
He didn’t want a shootout on Blue Street. This town shouldn’t be subjected to the continuing drama of the Satan’s Dawgs or the mob.
So he did the only thing possible. He tucked his gun into his waistband and walked with his head up, and his shoulders pulled back. If Suicide Mike or the Fixer wanted to shoot him, then he would take his punishment like a man. He wouldn’t back away from it. He was betting that Mike wanted to take him alive, though.
When he reached the white picket fence at Daphne’s house, no shot rang out. He opened the gate, took a moment to touch a purple flower, then proceeded up the sidewalk to the front porch. As he ascended the stairs, he prepared himself for a bullet to rip through his flesh.
His footsteps sounded heavy on the wooden porch. His fist banged on the door, causing it to swing slightly open.
“Come on in, Beau,” Suicide Mike Eslick said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”