It was late afternoon when Alyson dropped me off in front of the apartment building in Brooklyn Heights, and it was already starting to get dark.
Alyson was heading back to the office for a few hours to catch up on a couple of cases, and hinted that it would be nice if I prepared dinner for her when she returned, adding, “That is, if you don’t have plans with any washed-up teen stars tonight.”
Obviously she wasn’t up to speed on Candi’s comeback. But I promised to cook her the best meal of her life, which she knew was Collins-speak for I would order takeout.
Before I exited the vehicle, she handed me a Christmas gift—a Beretta 92FS pistol. I tried to hand it back to her.
“What are you going to do if Gooch comes back with a tray of Christmas cookies? I can’t be saving your ass 24/7.”
She had a point, even if I was more likely to shoot myself by accident than protect myself from an intruder. But I agreed to take it.
As I headed for the building, I turned back and said, “If I haven’t mentioned it, thanks for sticking your neck out for me last night … or should I say your nose.”
“Which reminds me, since you were the cause of the bloodstains that ruined my living room floor, you’re not getting your security deposit back.”
Sounded like a fair trade, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to debate it. “Technically, it was your blood.”
“Just try not to add any more to it tonight, okay?”
Proving that a middle-aged dog can learn new tricks, I entered through the fire escape to avoid inciting the pugs. The moment I set foot in the apartment, something didn’t feel right. I froze, counting to ten before taking my next breath. If I reached ten without hearing a sound, it would mean that I was just being paranoid. That’s how all the legendary bad-asses roll.
When I got to eight-and-a-half I heard a clicking noise coming from the spare room where I stored my things. My first instinct was to make a run for it, but I realized this needed to end, one way or the other, and the next encounter I might not be packing a gun, or have the element of surprise on my side.
I took off my shoes and skated across the floor. I positioned myself next to the door, wrapped my perspiring hand tightly around the gun, and bolted into the room. I flipped on the light, hoping to startle the intruder. “Freeze!” I yelled like I was starring in a bad cop show.
But the sudden flash of light disorientated me more than the intruder, and I didn’t see the kick heading right toward my midsection. I fell to the floor, and this time the toe of the shoe connected with my ribs. The next one hit my wrist, dislodging the gun.
My attacker swooped up the gun and pointed it at me. But when we realized who each other was, we both screamed.
“Libby—what the hell are you doing here!?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I live here! You’re the one who’s breaking and entering.”
She looked like a rabid animal. It was always strange to see her not under control. But she was greatly affected by the attack in her college days, and could turn into the Incredible Hulk when someone sneaked up behind her. It’s also why she took all those martial arts self-defense classes to protect herself … or knock the crap out of her ex-husband when he entered his own office.
When she realized that she was still pointing the gun at me, she turned back into Libby. She dropped the gun on the floor as if she didn’t know how it got in her hands and helped me to my feet. We both took deep breaths, and I said, “Let’s start again, Libby … why are you robbing my apartment?”
“I wasn’t robbing anything.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“It became clear to me that you’re up to something, so I decided to find out for myself.”
I noticed that she had been going through my desk files, and the electronic ones on my computer. I also took note of her designer business suit. “FYI—next time you break in here, you should use the fire escape. Alyson’s dogs get riled up when someone comes through the front door.”
She looked at the rips in her pants like it was the first time she’d noticed. “Thank you for the tip, but to repeat my earlier statement, I didn’t break in—Rudi left a spare key with me.”
“Did she also give you access to my computer?”
“No, but you always leave the passwords in the top drawer of your desk—you’re a creature of habit. I have a duty to protect our children.”
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
“No—I also want to say that you need to give the money back, Kris.”
“Stay out of it, Libby.”
“You already dragged me in … and our children. The FBI came by for a visit today—he told me about this guy, the Grinch.”
“When you’ve tried enough cases as a defense lawyer, Libby, you’ll learn that the FBI’s definition of the truth is whatever helps them meet their agenda. And it’s Gooch. The Grinch had more Christmas spirit.”
“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better. And these people can get to you anywhere, anytime, anyplace.”
“As can my ex-wife, it seems.”
“Even the private investigator I hired to follow you is one of them—Jacqueline, if that’s really her name. You always think you can charm your way out of these matters, but these people aren’t playing around.”
It took a couple seconds for what she said to fully sink in. “Whoa, whoa, whoa … did you just say that you hired a PI to follow me?”
“Do you ever listen? She wasn’t a PI, she was working undercover for Stone Scroggie.”
“That’s not the point, Libby—you owe me an apology.”
“You’re the one who pulled a gun on me, and brought this Scroggie character into our lives.”
No, that was actually her father. “Fine, I’ll be the bigger person. I’m sorry, Libby … I apologize.”
I waited. And waited. “Well …”
“Well what?”
“It’s your turn.” Getting an apology from Libby Wainwright was like trying to get a slice of pizza away from Duma.
“I will use my turn to tell you that you are suspended without pay from Wainwright-Collins & Rudingo until further notice.”
“That’s your apology?”
“And while on suspension, you will be in charge of watching our children during their holiday break from school.”
“I thought I was the one bringing ‘danger’ into their lives?”
“You are less likely to try to pull off any shenanigans with them around. You love them too much to place them in harm’s way.”
Before I could argue, or threaten to call the cops on her burglar ways, her phone rang.
The call was brief.
“It was Alex,” she said.
“Is he okay?”
“Yes, but Zee isn’t. He’s been arrested.”