The Devil's Own Game

by Annie Hogsett

  All in all, we were pretty laid back, even for us.

  To quote Jay, he’d been “permanently, utterly, and screechingly” fired from his twelve-thousand-foot mansion project, and “happier than I can express to be done with all that. Particularly the Patti part.” His only regret, he said, was that he’d never been able to “liberate those poor girls from the woodwork in the front hall.”

  Lisa, in her words, was “luxuriating in the multipurpose revenge” of her scoop interview with Patti. “I’m a secret investigative reporter working behind the scenes for the T&A. My dream is coming true.”

  Valerio was off duty. We were all technically off duty. It would have been a full-bore vacation from the detective business if not for a few nagging loose ends and unanswered questions now bullying their way back to front and center. That other case.

  Margo drained her second glass. “He’s messing with us, isn’t he? Your sniper? He’s—whaddya call it—‘gone to ground.’ He’s not going to do anything for about a month and then whammo.”

  “Yeah, Margo. The whammo is definitely the problem.” Jay refilled her glass. We all understood, no comment, Valerio would drive her home.

  “And what is the whammo? I worry about the whammo.” Margo was pursuing her line of questioning. “He is a fucking sniper, right? So fucking sniper whammo?”

  Nobody was willing to address the fucking sniper whammo of it all.

  “Fucking Sniperman.” She took a sip that reduced the level in her glass by about fifty percent “We need to call him something else. We’ve already got a ‘Shadow Man.’ More than one ‘Something Man’ is overkill—Crap. Sorry. Never mind. ‘Shadow Man’ is a workable name. For example, I have not yet seen him. According to what I hear from Allie, it fits. Right?” She caught my eye and mouthed “Hot.” In my direction.

  “I heard that, Margo. Don’t start reverse-matchmaking Allie and me.”

  “Never, Tom. But we do need to call that dude something that doesn’t include the scariest thing he can do. A code name. Like in a war. Or in spy stories. ‘Dark Star.’ ‘Armored Tank.’ ‘Artichoke Heart.’”

  “That’s a lovely idea, Margo.” Tom was amused, but her point was well-taken. “I’m putting that in your court. Make us a short list. We’ll vote. I’m favoring the artichoke one for now.”

  The Margo wheels were turning already, I could see. I was glad Tom had specified ‘short list.’ She brightened more. “But right now we don’t have to worry, right? It could be at least a couple of months before you hear from him about the money? Make it three. That’ll be June. We’d be hanging out in the deep doo-doo, waiting for another shoe to drop, but at least it would be June.”

  We all sat quietly. Looking into the future. Soaking in the warmth of the sun. Summer on the horizon. I could almost taste it.

  “Margo, that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, but I can’t believe how much better I feel.”

  “Thanks, Tom.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Tuesday, March 20

  4:11 p.m.

  On the first official day of spring, my phone rang. The ringtone was for the gatehouse number. Theme from “Law and Order” Just because Otis preferred plain vanilla didn’t mean I couldn’t spice up my own phone calls.

  “Allie. It’s Adam.” He sounded faintly amused. “Somebody dropped a kid off up here. He won’t tell me his name, but I frisked him and he’s clean. Okay to send him down?”

  “Sure. I guess.”

  We didn’t get much door to door soliciting but I supposed even in Bratenahl school kids were bound to be raising money for a bus trip to DC. “Send him along, Adam. Make sure he doesn’t wander into the woods. Or the lake.”

  Less than three minutes later the doorbell rang. Kid must have run all the way.

  I opened the door. A boy, not tall but getting there, good-looking, black, maybe ten or eleven, wearing a warm, quilted silvery jacket and clutching onto the backpack slung over his shoulder, stood on the steps. He looked profoundly uneasy and—I blinked—a lot like Rune Davis. Our Rune.

  “Rune? Rune? Where did you come from? How did you get here?

  “Pittsburgh, Allie. Bus. And Uber.”

  “Uber? And, like, a Greyhound Bus? Seriously? They still have those? Is it okay with Iona? Are you all right? Rune. Get in here. Let me look at you. And hug you.”

  He submitted to my looking and hugging—and he spared a moment for a “Wow. Sweet.” as he glanced around at the house—but I could tell he was scanning for the person he’d really come to see. I subdued my questions, and a twinge of rejection, and called up the stairs, “Tom? Can you come down. Someone’s here to see you.”

  There it was. The happy ending scene from a tearjerker movie. Tom coming down the stairs. The look on Rune’s face when he saw Tom. The look on Tom’s face when he realized who had tackled him, crying, “Tom! Tom! It’s me.” Now that was a hug. Everybody cried except Otis who was making supper and missed it.

  I moved the three of us into the kitchen and introduced Rune to Otis. They’d never formally met, but Otis had heard everything there was to hear about Rune. Rune knew nothing of Otis but he liked what he saw. He’d never experienced Otis’s formidable bodyguard-PI skills but he could relate to the baking. As soon as they all started talking at once, I left. A phone call had to be made.

  I hurried up to the master suite and called Iona. She and I had a polite working relationship, based on the fact that we both loved Rune and wanted him safe and happy. We’d only met once at what was the end of our time with Rune. We never got a chance to become friends, but I wouldn’t rule out the possibility.

  She answered the phone. On a Tuesday, she should have been teaching her classes, but she was at home, on the straight-edge of panic.

  “Iona—”

  “Allie. Oh. Allie. I was just going to call you. It’s Rune—He’s—

  “He’s here, Iona. He’s safe.”

  “What? Oh, Allie. Oh. I’m so—We were so—” She turned away from the phone and called out, “Clarence! He’s okay. He’s safe. He’s with Allie and Tom.” She came back to me. “When? How?”

  “He showed up on our doorstep ten minutes ago. Greyhound to Cleveland. Uber to us. I didn’t even know he knew our address. Iona—”

  “Yes, Allie.” She was coming down from panic to her next inevitable state of mind. Another minute and she’d be furious with Rune and none too happy with us. Human nature.

  “Iona, we’re going to get him back to you as soon as we can do that safely.”

  “Safely? Allie, are you still—Is it still so—I heard something—”

  “No, Iona. It’s been bad, but now I’m starting to think we might be getting out of the woods. I’ve got someone in mind to bring Rune to you. About as capable as Secret Service, and he might be a good influence on Rune regarding his recent behavior.”

  “I need to talk with Rune.”

  “He needs to talk with you. I’ll get him for you in a minute. He’s sorry and scared. You might wait to start the major yelling until you have your hands on him. You’ll be able to shake him then too.”

  She exhaled a tiny laugh and I could hear fear seeping away. Not all of it by any means. The boy had hollering coming. I was betting no video games until he was forty-five, but that would be my response. Iona was a real mom.

  “I promise to hug him first. Oh, Allie. We were so worried.”

  I walked downstairs and into the kitchen and said, “Rune.” He dropped the cookie he was holding onto the island and slid off the stool. He took the phone away from me and walked with it, out of our sight. I heard him say, “Iona, I’m—”

  After that it was mostly her talking and him listening.

  Busy evening. Between the painful phone conversation and the wide-ranging dinner conversation, my head was spi
nning. Tom told Rune he was wrong to scare Iona and Clarence who loved him and were frantic about him, and Rune said he’d known he’d made a mistake by the time the bus rolled across the Fort Duquesne Bridge. “It was too late to go back. I was going call her. And you. But my phone didn’t have bars and then it was too late. I’m sorry, Tom. I screwed up.”

  “Big-time. You’ll need to make it up to her. I’m glad none of us knew you were on your own between there and here. Anything could have—” He stopped himself. “But you’re here now. And I intend to enjoy every minute. We’ll get you a ride back to Pittsburgh tomorrow, but let’s make the most of the time we have. It must have taken planning. Why’d you decide to come now?”

  “It’s my spring break. I figured I’d call Iona and you after I got on the bus, and she’d be mad, but you’d meet me and it would be okay. I was worried, Tom. I saw in the paper about that blind guy—and about how maybe somebody shot him thinking he was you. I know the lottery’s my fault—”

  “Rune.” I could tell by the way Tom’s face froze this was a thought which, in all his anguish about Rune’s safety—from those first awful days right up to this moment—had never once occurred to him. “Rune, do you blame me for buying the ticket?”

  “No. Tom. You did it for me. To show me. To help me not turn out like my mom. I understand that now. I said I wished I had a dollar for a ticket. I lied about my true age for the Mondo Ball number too. If I hadn’t—That’s what started everything. It’s all my fault.”

  I was back in the chapel with Robert Wade, relating the chain of events that led inexorably from Tom’s well-meaning purchase of the ticket to Kip’s murder. Cause-and-effect was a killer every which way. I was supposed to be a grown-up and it made me want to stare off into space until the sun burned out.

  Rune was a kid, and all this time he’d been blaming himself for his mother’s death. For the danger that came to all of us because of the jackpot. How could Tom—whose well-meaning impulse was a source of his perpetual guilt, fear, and sorrow—free Rune from it? What would he say?

  “Rune. That summer, you were a lit—very young boy. I’ve had no idea you were thinking that. That you’ve believed it all this time. I’m so sorry. It’s not true.”

  The two of them were sitting, side-by-side, on the couch in the newly restored greenhouse. Under the clear evening sky the lake was winking at the sun. Seeing them together like that brought me back to the moments right before Iona appeared and all our hopes for adopting Rune ended. The sorrow of it—especially for Tom, who loved Rune, but also for myself, just beginning to imagine us as a family—knotted itself tight around my heart.

  Allie Harper, do not let that kid see you cry.

  “Rune,” Tom was wrestling with his fear of saying the wrong thing, I could see, but his voice was rock steady. “I need to tell you something that’s tricky to understand. Complicated. I can see how smart you are. You always were. How grown up you are now, but this is something many grown-ups never get. And even when you get it, it’s hard to—hold on to. Hard for me too. So pay attention.”

  Tom was right. The “seven-and-three-quarters-year-old” who’d told Tom his age was eight—the winning Mondo Ball number—wasn’t a child anymore. He was taller, stronger, more composed. His serious face and deep, troubled eyes were not a little boy’s face and eyes. He was fully focused on Tom, waiting for this adult thing Tom believed he was old enough to understand. Which, I was painfully aware, Tom and I grappled with every day.

  “First of all, that day, it never occurred to you any of the bad things were going to happen. You didn’t mean for it to.”

  “I know what ‘well-meaning’ means, Tom. It doesn’t cut any ice with anyone.”

  Tom smiled in spite of himself. “I believe I hear the voice of Iona.”

  Rune made a face. “You got that right. Nothing gets past her. Clarence, either.”

  “One day you’ll thank her. Your college graduation would be a good time. I hope Allie and I are there for that. But Rune, we’re talking about who’s to blame for something bad happening. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay. Suppose a mean guy—You must know some mean guys, right?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Well supposing this mean guy, let’s call him—?” He waited for Rune to fill in the blank.”

  “Andre.”

  “Good. Thanks. Supposing Andre throws a rock at you, but you’re quick—I can tell you’re quick—so you duck. And the rock goes over you and breaks a window. Who’s to blame?”

  “Andre.” Even though the case was hypothetical I detected a note of satisfaction in Rune’s answer. “His fault. Not mine.”

  “But the window is still broken.”

  “And my mom is still dead.”

  Rune’s quick answer caught Tom off guard. He didn’t bother to try to hide it. “You’re right, Rune. But intention is important when it comes to blame. You didn’t start out to break the window in my example. Or to hurt your mom by wishing you could win money. I never dreamed we’d win, or she’d be anything but happy if you learned to avoid something that was causing her a lot of problems. You wanted to do good things with it if we won. We thought—you and I both of us thought that day—good could come from the ticket. It’s not our fault that it went so wrong. But my actions and my friendship with you caused all of it.”

  Rune’s face was a mask of sorrow. He was trying his best not to cry. “That’s very sad, Tom. I feel very sad about it. Almost every day.”

  “We both feel very sad about what happened. We always will. But at least we don’t have to feel like we were bad or did it on purpose to hurt people. Everything we do has a consequence. Big or small. Bad or good. We tend to notice the bad ones more. But, Rune. If I hadn’t crossed the street to buy our ticket at Joe’s, I wouldn’t have met Allie. Or Otis. We wouldn’t be living in this beautiful place. You wouldn’t have your Aunt Iona and your Uncle Clarence and four cousins who are like your own brothers, I bet. I’m glad about Allie And Otis.”

  Otis winked at Rune. “I think maybe he’s a little gladder about Allie, Rune. But I can deal.”

  “I’m glad about my family too, Tom. And Allie and Otis. I just—” Rune pursed his lips to puff out a shaky breath. “Thanks, Tom. I feel better about everything, but I need to think about it some more.”

  He’d understood what Tom said more logically than I would have expected, but I could see we’d missed part of what was bothering him.

  “Rune. Something’s still on your mind.”

  “Yeah, Allie. A little. You guys let Iona take me. I thought maybe you didn’t want a—me.”

  “Rune, that’s because you didn’t see us both crying after we left you. You’re almost ten. And you were one smart almost-eight-year-old then.”

  I stopped, considering how much to say. “Okay. You can handle the facts. Listen, Rune, we were hoping to adopt you. We came to Elaine’s that day planning to take you home with us as soon as we could. But, Rune, Iona is your mother’s sister. Your own aunt. Her family is your own family. And her boys—You and Damon were almost brothers already when we met him.”

  Tom found his voice again. “And we’d already seen how the lottery money blew up everything. People got hurt. Nothing was safe here. We couldn’t protect you enough. And suddenly you had a chance to be with family in a safe place. We couldn’t argue with that. Even now, we’re finding out this big house is not a safe place. Not yet. But why did you leave Pittsburgh? On a bus, for cri—for goodness sake?”

  “They don’t talk about my mom, Tom. Not ever. Or my real dad. I know she’s not coming back. Duh.” He shrugged and I got a peek at the teenager he would be in another ten seconds. “But my dad? You think Damon is my family. And Iona. And Clarence—They are. But your father is—I thought you guys—In your letters you talk about being detectives.”

  A grin broke through and r
ight there was the kid we’d planned to make our own. My heart stabbed me.

  “Iona says the name of your ‘so-called agency’ isn’t nice. I had to ask Eric, my biggest cousin, what that was about.” The grin widened. “I told him it was really for Tom & Allie. He said you should have put your initial first, Allie.”

  “Yeah. I’ve heard that. Elsewhere. Like nine hundred times. Tom, I believe this kid needs your detective advice. Since you’re the ‘T’.”

  “Rune. I’ll talk with your aunt and if it’s okay with her, we’ll look into your case. Maybe she knows something she thinks you’re not ready to hear. Dads can’t be with their kids for all kinds of reasons. You know that. I trust Iona, don’t you?”

  “Uh huh. She’s great. Really nice to me. She and Clarence are family. I guess I want to stay with them, but you said I could come and visit.”

  Tom laughed. “I did. I wasn’t thinking Greyhound and Uber, though. Rune. I promise that as soon as we can sort out our current situation, we’ll invite you for as long a visit as Iona and Clarence feel okay about. Deal?”

  The boy was gazing out over the lawn to the lake, shimmering at the edge of the shore. “You guys have a real pool?”

  “We do. It’s huge, Rune. You’ll love it.”

  “I hope it’s summer when I come back.”

  Otis had been observing the conversation without much comment but without missing a word.

  “I hope it’s this summer, Rune. In the meantime we should all go down to my quarters. I manage the ice cream collection.”

  * * *

  For about a thousand reasons, we got Shadow Man to drive Rune back to Pittsburgh. He was the next best thing to an armored division. Rune took in the “Shadow Man” of him without ever hearing it spoken. He was black rip-stop everything today including the attitude. He looked the kid over and stuck out his hand.

  “Hello, Rune. My name is—” I held my breath. “Everett.”

  Rune shook the hand as if he got introduced to the Badass of the Universe every Friday. “I’m glad to meet you, Everett.”