24

Maxwell jumped forward and grabbed Luci, shoving the gun into her side as the contents of the truck rushed toward the point of no return.

“Nobody move!” he shouted, but what was in the truck wasn’t listening or intimidated by his firepower.

Mickey had only time to curse himself before the contents shifted, then rushed out of the swinging gate and over the top. “What...?”

Bills. Dollar bills. Hundreds of thousands of them. All of Artie’s ill-gotten gains roared toward him like the wrath of God. One minute he was shouting at Luci, then they were gone.

It seemed to take forever for the bills to stop coming, but as soon as it slowed, Mickey and Delaney leaped on the pile and began digging. Mickey saw a hand pop out of the mass. A woman’s hand. He had crawled forward and started to grab it when the bills under him shifted, then Maxwell erupted from the mass, knocking him onto his back.

He still had the gun, pointed it right at Mickey and started to pull the trigger. Mickey heard Delaney yell, saw Maxwell turn toward him. Mickey knew he yelled “No!” but he didn’t hear it, just felt it erupt from his mouth as the gun flashed once, then again. He saw Delaney drop out of sight and the gun swivel back toward him, but before he could fire again, a new voice spoke out of the dark.

“How many people are you going to kill Maxwell?”

Mickey saw Maxwell falter and started to move, but Maxwell snarled at him, “Don’t move! I’ll shoot.” With his free hand, he rubbed the sweat from his face. “Who’s there?”

“You know who it is, Maxwell, or whatever your real name is.” Mickey saw a woman, also dressed in SWAT gear, step into the light. He heard the creak of the dump truck door and another figure climbing down from the cab. And other figures, all in black, moving into a circle around them.

“H-Helen?” Artie swallowed, the sound loud and dry in the silence. “What-what are you doing here?”

“Well, if the wanted poster the police sent hadn’t done it, the phone call from Luci would have. Do you have shit for brains?”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about your other wives?”

Maxwell staggered off the money pile, pulling Luci with him, pointed the gun at Mickey and snarled, “Get back, cop!” Then he faced Helen. “Love bear, honey, they meant nothing to me— “

“Nothing?” One of the dark, waiting figures stepped forward.

“C-Cloris?” He tugged at his collar. “Is...Dante with you?”

“What, you think I can’t deal with a little weasel like you all by myself?” Cloris demanded. She looked at Luci. “By the way, thanks for those handcuffs.”

“Handcuffs?” Mickey looked at Luci. If he hadn’t been frantic with worry about Delaney, he’d be laughing at the way Maxwell cowered in front of the two women.

“I got them in this little bondage shop in the Quarter,” Luci said.

“Shut up!” Maxwell’s whole body was twitching now. “Everyone just shut up. I need to think.”

“You’ve only got four bullets left,” Luci pointed out.

“Well, I can just beat the old ladies to death,” he snarled back at her. “Can finish you,” he said, pointing the gun at Cloris, “the cop and you.” He gave a Luci a shake. “And still have one left over.”

“But that doesn’t take into account the others,” Luci said.

“Others?”

Mickey sensed Maxwell’s will faltering and tensed.

“All those wives you left. They’re not happy with you.”

More dark figures moved in like Heralds of Doom. Maxwell couldn’t keep them all covered. There had to be, Mickey looked around amazed, at least twenty of them. They pushed past him. He tried to back up, but they were behind him, too. He let go of Luci.

“I’ll shoot!”

“Go ahead, Arthur. Use up more bullets,” Helen said. “You can’t escape the judgment of the stars.”

The circle closed in, hiding him from sight. He could hear Maxwell’s howls of pain as he and Luci scrambled over the pile of money to where Delaney lay, surrounded by aunts.

Miss Hermi cradled his head in her lap while Miss Weena ripped lengths of what looked like her petticoat into pieces. Miss Theo had her hands pressed against his wound, pressing with all her fragile strength. She looked up.

“Hurry.”

Mickey tossed Luci his cell phone. “Dial 911. Tell them we have an officer down.”

He dropped to his knees and added his hands and strength to Miss Theo’s trying to stem the tide of red flowing onto the ground. He looked at Luci kneeling beside him, then nodded toward the circle of ladies. It was quieter now. Just some moans from the center of the mob. “What was that all about?”

“Old men for counsel, pissed off women for war.”

“What?”

Luci shrugged. “It’s a quote I heard somewhere.”

Mickey looked at the now silent women. “Sounds more like a prophecy.”

In the distance, they heard the wail of the ambulance siren.

“Hang on, buddy. Hang on.”

The area in front of the museum looked like a police parking lot. Or a K-mart blue light frenzy, Luci decided. Someone had taken the aunts home. The wives had been divvied up between cops and were giving statements. Those not taking statements were shoveling dollar bills into boxes. The ambulance carrying Delaney had pulled out some time ago, but Mickey hadn’t moved from the spot where it had been. She’d urged him to ride with him, but the attendants had closed the doors and sped away, as if they knew his time was running out.

Another ambulance had arrived and left carrying a bruised, bloodied and bowed Arthur Maxwell. Two cops and a multitude of dirty looks had accompanied him. Luci suspected he’d pick up a few more bruises on the trip.

Luci had retreated to the cab of the dump truck. It was quiet there, nothing to interrupt her guilt trip. So this was Life. This was living. This pain. This guilt that twisted her insides, ripping and tearing in its rampage. She’d planned for injury to self but not to Delaney, who she’d blackmailed into following her plan. Delaney, who’d been trying to save her life.

It was so unfair! So bloody unfair!

The air around her was thick from heat and humidity and her chest hurt with the effort of breathing, only she was cold, too. Shuddering with it. She wrapped her arms around her middle, but it didn’t help. The chill burrowed deeper, turning over more and more furrows of pain and guilt. Something wet splashed on her hands and she realized she was crying.

She wasn’t very good at it, so it hurt, like someone was stabbing her in the chest. She wanted to go to Mickey. Be held by him, but he hated her. Hated her for what she’d done. For her wonderful plan. She wanted her father, but he probably hated her, too. Then she saw him getting out of a car, his face grim and cut with deep lines. Mickey started toward him, “the” question on his face. When Pryce shook his head, Mickey reeled back, then turned and stalked into the dark.

Tears blurred the rest. Luci sagged back. “If this is living, let me die now, God,” she whispered, “Let it be me instead of Delaney. I’m useless. No good to anyone.”

But God didn’t strike her down. He probably figured it was more punishment to let her live, she thought dully.

“Luci?”

Luci opened her eyes, saw the blurred figure of her father standing there. She rubbed her eyes clear. “I’m so sorry. I’m so...”

“Oh baby...” It seemed like a miracle when he opened his arms to her. She slid in and his arms closed her in. He was warm and strong and for the first time in her life she felt safe.

“Oh, Daddy, do you think he’ll ever forgive me?”

He patted her back. It was amazing. A dad pat. A real, honest-to-goodness dad pat. It was better than chocolate and almost better than Mickey’s kisses.

“I think you’ll find that men in love will forgive almost anything, baby.” His voice got so low, she almost didn’t hear him add, “Almost...anything.”