“Hush now; you’re dying. The golden hour has come and gone. With the extent of your injuries the recovery would be a slow and painful process. For what it’s worth, you won’t survive. Now to business. I’ll need your clothes.”
Greer uncrossed his legs and leaned over Kyle. The blueness of cyanosis stained the agent’s lips. He pulled the empty barrel of an ink pen from the side of his neck and stared at it quizzically before running a tongue over his lips. Greer pushed his hand out to the way and proceeded to unbutton his shirt.
“Now now, we both know that licking your lips to lubricate the lie was the first mistake.” Greer helped Endicott sit up as he relieved him of his coat and shirt. Upon holding the shirt to the light, he reconsidered and shrugged into the jacket.
“May I join you? Not in dying silly. That’s your job, now. The previous one I gave you well… Can I be frank? My name is Kevin Francis Greer but, in discussions like these honesty and nicknames go hand in hand.” Greer took in a slow even breath and smile sympathetically. “You failed so horribly. But thinking is a chore for mammals like you.:
“Seamstress.” Kyle squeaked. You said….”
“Greer put a finger to the man’s rapidly cooling lips and smiled before slipping Kyle’s loafers over his bare feet.
Greer arched his back as a ripple of satisfaction crawled up his spine waking him from his reverie. He passed the last few bills from Endicott’s nickel-plated money clip to the drivers before tossing it on the floor and climbing out. Finding the seamstress was more sport than task oriented. In the ears of the condemned, a sliver of hope was a feast.
Greer reached into the agent’s coat pocket and extracted the small box of wooden matches. He smelled the box and sighed.
His favorites were the ones with the yellow tips because they tasted like lemons and flashed brighter when he struck them.
Greer faded into the trees lining the walkway of the cul de sac leading to the Daniels household.
Do you still like jasmine and sandalwood, Willow?
She used to or was it her mother? He could never be sure. Cancer like flames could be a loyal beast. The smell of both were as unmistakable and just as acute as the devastation. Standing in her mother’s garden. The incense pot had swayed gently on one of the tree branches and the earthy scent of sandalwood had sweetened the air.
With the Seamstress and the Winbourne woman neat in their graves, the list was dwindling. Greer listened to the Winbourne woman beg and scream as Endicott took a kitchen lighter to the woman’s nose, and suddenly she’d remembered. She’d remembered a lot about Harlem Jones and Willow Daniels.
Greer took in another breath and grinned. As he envisioned the flames crawled over the other homes devouring everything in its path including the families he planned to lock inside. Joining them was tempting if only to witness them dance to the crackling symphony that raged around them.
Businessmen had a code. You paid what you owed. So, what if the women and children weren’t the target?
The job was done, and he had control of the eastern seaboard. It was time to pay up and the old man refused. Greer warned him about reneging on a deal, but Cappy Reds laughed and had a few of his friends rough him up. One by one they fell, their bodies burning like roasts on a spit. At the bottom of the list was the old man and his wife and it would have worked out perfectly, but he was smart. Th e must have sensed what was happening to his men because he tried to escape with his family.
In all honesty he hadn’t meant to throw the firebomb at the passenger side door. How could he know the window was open? The sounds the woman had made as the flames engulfed her head surprised an orgasm from him. The car spun out of control and before he knew it the Bentley’s tail was hanging off the bridge. It amazed him how the flames filled the car so quickly, feasting on everything inside.
Then the firemen were there, and the man was pushing the boy through the window. The clothing was charred to his back, still smoldering, and just as the fireman grabbed hold of the boy, the car had slipped from his body and plunged into the swirling darkness below.
Harlem Jones had to know where Cappy kept his stash. He was old enough to know the business, old enough to know what his father was. Greer had only gone to ask about the money. Watching them through window as the girl played the piano and the boy rested his head between her shoulders. At one point she turned to hold him, and Greer knew. The boy planned to give his money to her.
In truth he hadn’t meant to harm either of them, but the other side of him took over and before Greer knew it the blood was flowing, and the screaming had begun. With the boy dead, Willow became the logical choice At least, he thought he was, but the death had had an unintended effect on her. The girl changed. Like the phoenix, she rose from the ashes. The girl burned away, and his goddess emerged. No man was ever good enough and there were many that sniffed around her. When she found him on scene with his reporter’s disguise and she saw through him, the stars lined up to dance.
Movement in an upper window made Greer step back into the shadows. Willow Daniels was weak now. With her father gone, the buffer was gone. He fished the burner phone from Endicott’s jacket and pressed the number three and waited.
“Hullo?”
“Fatima, great work on the fires. Who’d you use?”
“Local firebug. Paid him.”
She parted the blinds enough for Greer to detect her movement from one window to another in what used to be Willow’s bedroom.
“Like the old days?” he sneered. “With a mattress tied to your back?”
“I was out of that life. You know I was. I went to school and got a job and….”
“And Cappy Red owed me a quarter of a million dollars for services rendered.”
“And I’ve done all I’m going to do for you. You don’t own me.”
“Did you really think marrying William Daniels would make you immune? They grew up together.”
“William told me about the pact that if one of them died they’d take in the other’s kid. He took pity on me What does it matter now anyway Harlem Jones is dead and gone.”
“Is he?”
“We had a funeral. I saw the body. He’s dead. What more can I tell you? There was no money. I looked. Even asked William flat out. He had no clue.”
“Cappy knew how to hide a lot of things.”
“If I help you look can I keep this house?” Fatima asked.
“Why would you want to? You have no memories there.”
“This is my home!”
“You moved in the way a hermit crab moves into an empty shell.”
“Please, I did what you wanted. Hired your pilgrims from all over the country”
“We’ll see.”
“You always say that. Is it yes or no?”
He closed his eyes and tried not to laugh as an image of her wringing her hands filled his mind. The silence spread between them instead of answering.
“William’s been inspecting buildings on the side.” Fatima said “The man’s name is Davis Hughes or something. He’s buying up property along the docks that belonged to Cappy. Cap had plenty of bolt holes in that area.”
“Good enough.”
“You know, my husband died.”
“Yes, I know Willow’s father is gone and so is your buffer. I’ll offer my condolences to her personally.”
“What about me?”
“Do you really want me to visit, Fatima?”
“No, please don’t. I paid my debt.”
“Yes, I think I will come and visit.”
“No!” she wailed.