CHAPTER

NINE

I BROKE THE NEWS ABOUT OPHELIA TO TONY. HE was a little more convinced after a day of babysitting. We hashed out all the reasons again for moving Ruthie and John. Apparently tramping around New York City had worn out the stud and the kids. It was about three p.m. Tony took off his shoes and put his feet up on the couch. Ruthie and John were stretched out on my bed taking a nap. We needed to eat so I thought I’d take the gang to Han’s for an early dinner.

“It’s got to be something simple we’re missing,” I said, and Tony looked at me as if he couldn’t care less.

“My feet have never been this tired, even in the army,” he said. “Why didn’t you warn me not to wear business shoes?”

“I didn’t think of it,” I said offhandedly. I was more concerned about protecting the kids.

“I’m pooped. It wasn’t easy playing father and protector. We must have walked every inch of Central Park. It’s beautiful and the sea lions are nice, but I’ve seen enough.”

“Tony! Could you get your mind off your feet? Something’s not right. I know it!”

He leaned back on the couch. “Okay, okay, calm down.”

He only had to look at me with those big brown eyes and my heart slowed to a normal pace. That sexy look was getting to me. He pounded one of the couch pillows with his fist and curled up in the fetal position. I was losing him to sleep.

I lifted his legs and sat down beside him. His calf muscles were bulging and hard. I massaged them and he moaned.

“Help me,” I said. “Think about what we can do.”

“Higher,” he said, pointing to his thighs. “I think we’re doing everything we can.”

I crawled out from under his legs and knelt down in front of the couch. Tony stretched out and turned to face me. His pecs called to me. Where were the tit clamps when I needed them? I undid his shirt, button by button, opened it, and then ran my fingers in circles over his chest. His eyes fluttered after a sleepy moan. I cupped his head in my hands and slipped my tongue between his lips. He opened himself to my kiss. Then, he wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me close.

“We better be careful,” I whispered and pointed to my bedroom.

“Uh-huh.” His mouth clamped down on mine.

I massaged his cock through his pants. My god, it was big and as hard as an iron bar.

“Careful is right,” he said after we released our lip-lock. “Accidents can happen. Are you sure this arrangement with Ophelia is the right thing to do?”

“Yes. More than ever.”

I imagined us alone in the apartment while the kids were off playing on the Lower East Side. A far-flung fantasy, but a nice one. My own erection was bursting to break out of my jeans. We kissed and played happily for several minutes until I heard a stirring from the bedroom.

Ruthie appeared in the door, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

“Uncle Des,” she said. “A man was standing outside on the sidewalk. I could see his feet.”

My heart jumped. The bedroom looked out on the street, as did the kitchen. Both windows were barred and I knew there was no way someone could get in, but a man with a gun could fire through it. Tony and I leaped from the couch and ran to the kitchen window. We looked out, but there was nobody in front of the apartment. Mrs. Lonnigon walked by with a bottle of Irish whiskey in a bag, as she did nearly every day at this time. Her sensible shoes, support hose, and gray coat always gave her away.

“Maybe it was just a neighbor,” I said to Tony.

“Maybe.” He turned to Ruthie. “How long was he there?”

“I don’t know. I woke up ‘cause I heard you making noise. He was standing there and then he left.”

“What kind of pants was he wearing?” I knew Ruthie had to be looking up through the slats because the blinds were closed in the down position.

“All kinds of different colors—brown and black and orange.”

“Camouflage pants,” I said. “A bit out of the ordinary for Forty-Seventh Street, but nothing is impossible in New York.”

“Come on,” Tony said. “Who wears camouflage pants in New York City?”

“Anybody who gets off on army/navy surplus. There must be a dozen stores in Times Square that sell those things. I told you something was wrong.”

Tony nodded and then said, “They’ve got to have better protection.”

“Well, you know my plan,” I said, and patted him on the back.

We were extra cautious when we took the kids to dinner at Han’s. We left the guns at home figuring we didn’t need to get involved in a shoot out in Midtown with children in the crossfire. I volunteered to step out first and scour the area. Han’s wasn’t that far from my apartment, but there were lots of buildings in between. I checked out everything in the immediate area—alleys, the rooftops I could see, anybody who looked as if they were loitering on the street, anyone sitting in cars—nothing seemed out of place. It was an ordinary November day in New York, but the thought of a murderer out to get the kids gave me the creeps. When I was fairly certain everything was okay, I went back for the others. We headed to the restaurant with me in front of Ruthie and John. Tony walked behind.

Norm was going over receipts at the back register when we walked in. His eyes widened and his face broke into a big grin. He dropped the pieces of paper next to the cash register and ran toward me with open arms.

He kept repeating my name and telling me how glad he was to have me back. Now he could get rid of his sister-in-law as dishwasher, he said.

I hugged him. “It’s been less than a week, Norm.”

“Seems like a hundred years. I told you it wasn’t going to be pretty.” Norm eyed the kids and Tony.

The front of the restaurant was full of diners, but I didn’t want to be there anyway. I directed Tony and the kids to a booth near the back, away from the windows, and introduced them to my boss.

“This is Tony,” I said. “And these are the kids, Ruthie and John.”

John extended his hand and Norm, with a look of surprise, shook it. “What a little gentleman,” my boss said.

“I think he turned out pretty well considering the circumstances,” I said.

Norm smiled at Tony and then turned to me and whispered, “My, you’ve been busy. A husband and two kids in less than a week. How did you do it?”

“Tony isn’t my husband and the kids aren’t ours.”

Norm handed me some menus. “Oh, illegitimate.”

“Cut the clowning and get us some pot stickers.”

“Right away. But when are you coming back to work?”

I handed the menus to Tony and then turned back to Norm. “When do you want me?”

“Tomorrow.”

I nodded. “I’ll be here.”

“Bless you.” He winked and tilted his head toward Tony. “What a hot guy. You could do a lot worse. I’d keep him if I were you.”

I sometimes wondered if Norm wasn’t a tad too gay friendly even though he had a wife and three kids. At any rate, Norm was ecstatic to see us. I could tell by the amount of free food he pushed our way. First, the pot stickers. Wonton soup. Egg-drop soup, egg rolls, shrimp rolls—and those were the starters. Then came the egg foo yung, chow mein, chicken with mixed vegetables, beef, and seafood. In an hour, we were stuffed. The kids had noodles down their fronts and laughed themselves silly trying to use chopsticks. I was shoveling down an order of moo shoo chicken when I noticed the television picture above the cash register.

I poked Tony in the ribs and looked up at the screen. He took the hint. Fortunately, Ruthie and John were facing the street, looking in the opposite direction.

Pictures of Rodney Jessup’s funeral flashed across the evening news. Tony and I watched as Carol arrived at the funeral home in a limo. She was wearing a long dark coat that covered her body from her throat to her ankles. A single strand of white pearls lay against her neck. Abby, also attired in black, followed her out of the limo. Both were wearing sunglasses and black hats.

The camera scanned the crowd as the two women worked their way down the carpet toward the door. They looked as if they were attending a Hollywood premiere. Police lined either side of the walkway. The camera rose to an overhead shot and I stopped mid-bite.

A woman wearing a black veil looked from side to side and then up at the camera. I wouldn’t have noticed, but she was the only female in the crowd whose face was covered and she seemed more intent on watching what was going on than crying tears for Rodney. Tony nudged me. He had noticed her, too. The newscast repeated the clip of Carol exiting the limo once more and then cut to a long shot of the burial site, far away from the mourners. The telephoto lens picked up the woman with the veil. She was hanging back behind the funeral tent near a line of cedar trees. It was clearly the same person. The newscaster then moved on to a story about Thanksgiving air travel.

“Did you see that?” Tony asked in a hushed voice.

The kids’ ears went up after noticing that we were absorbed in something else besides food.

“What’s wrong?” John asked.

“Nothing,” Tony said. “Do you want dessert? How about fried ice cream and a fortune cookie?”

Ruthie and John smiled like they were going to Disneyland.

I put in the order and then turned to Tony. “I think we have a visual.”

“They’re working as a pair, aren’t they?” Tony asked, knowing the answer to his own question. “That’s why Abby thought she saw a woman the night the doll was thrown in the backyard.”

“I’d say so.”

“We’re in double trouble.”

I nodded. “After we finish here, we’ve got to get the kids to Ophelia’s as soon as possible. I’d suggest taking them by car rather than by subway.”

Tony nodded, but his face drooped, signaling his lackluster enthusiasm.

Something struck me after I saw the woman in the crowd, but I hadn’t mentioned it to Tony yet. A call to Carol Kingman Jessup was going to be my second priority of the evening.

But before that thought left my head, I noticed something wrong. Ruthie’s eyes bugged out of her head. It was one of those “Oh, shit,” moments, but Ruthie wouldn’t have articulated it that way, unless she was on her way to appropriating Carol’s penchant for profanity.

Before I could ask what was wrong, something zinged over our heads and a red-and-black lacquered lantern crumpled in an explosion of paper and dust.

Glass cracked behind us in a shower of bullets. Then, screams and the sounds of chairs and tables overturning resounded throughout the restaurant.

Tony and I jumped across the booth simultaneously, sending our bodies flying through the sticky remains of rice, chow mein, and chicken with mixed vegetables. I shielded John while Tony took Ruthie. The four of us landed in the rear of the booth. With our backs to the windows, we pushed the kids to the floor.

“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 yourself 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.

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 Carpenter 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 nominate 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.

“Shine it inside,” I instructed.

Two beady little eyes peered up at me. I squealed and dropped the bag.

Tony jumped back and the beam flashed around the room. “What is it?”

“A rat.” I brushed my hands on my thighs. “I think it’s dead.”

“Oh, is that all,” Tony said and approached the bag. He kicked it and nothing moved. “Rats I can handle. Cockroaches and spiders? No. Keep the light on it.”

He bent down and looked into the bag. His naked back extending down to the curve of his buttocks distracted me for a moment—only a moment. Tony stuck his hand into the bag and I gagged.

“Jesus,” I said. “Ugh. That’s gross. Be sure to wash your hands.”

“Oh, grow up. There’s a message inside. Looks like the little fellow’s throat was slit and the blood drained out. Not much in the bag.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not feeling any sympathy. I do not like rats. Get rid of as many as you want. Rats are not an endangered species, especially in New York.”

Tony pulled a piece of notepaper out of the bag. It looked suspiciously like the one I’d found tacked to the tree on the hillside near Rodney’s home. He shined the flashlight on the paper, then handed it and the light to me.

Don’t be a rat. Rats who don’t obey end up dead.

“Charming,” I said. “Keep the note and let me get rid of that thing.” I opened the door and hurled the bag near the sidewalk. “I’ll deal with that in the morning.”

Tony was already at the sink washing his hands. I followed his lead and put the flashlight under the sink.

He yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Can we get back to bed now? Maybe we can catch a few winks before sunrise.”

We crawled back into our respective beds. Soon Tony was snoring. Again.

I kept seeing the image of the rat staring up at me from inside the bag. My arms broke out in an itch. As far as I was concerned, the sun couldn’t rise fast enough.