“He’s not dead is he?” he hollered, back in character.
Jen stood and blocked the way between Tim and the mayor. “Sir, you have to back up.”
“I’m the friend,” Tim reassured her. “He told me bring this and then scoot.”
He handed her a syringe from his thigh pocket. Jen grabbed it from him, popping the cap off and pushing the plunger gently to release any air as she knelt down at Sutton’s side. Curt was already inflating a pressure cuff wrapped around the mayor’s bicep.
Tim knew the antidote would be effective. But he still wanted to see it work. “What is it?” he asked, stalling.
Curt didn’t even look up from his work when he replied, “It’s what the mayor told you to bring us. Now scoot.”
“He’s supposed to call Armando, tell him to clear off,” Tim added, pushing it.
“Got it,” Jen said.
Tim saw the pulse in the mayor’s neck jump with adrenaline as the antidote hit his system and he relaxed. “If you give me his phone, I could call.”
Curt and Jen had seen the signs too. They both breathed easier. But they still didn’t want him there. Just as he’d instructed them on the phone they were to take the syringe and make sure the delivery guy left. Jen pulled the mayor’s phone out of his pants’ pocket. She showed it to Tim.
“Look. I’m calling. Now you clear off, like you were told. There’s nothing going on here.”
“Righto. This is me, invisible.”
Tim turned tail and jogged back to the poker game.
Nineteen
Avi watched Tim dash off and then waited until Kissy was lost in the crowd. Only then did he reluctantly head out the front doors to meet up with his singing group. They were meeting at the pond by the graffiti art installation at eight thirty.
Avi searched through the faces on the square as he made his way to the pond. He turned to take a roundabout path to avoid the detectives and police brass heading into town hall. Working his way deeper into the square, Avi looked for any Parkside residents he knew. He was desperate to tell someone the mayor was innocent, that his house was filled with blueprints of a newer, nicer green filled housing project that he’d been working on day and night since the fire. He needed to clear the mayor of the accusations that he’d set the blaze.
It was only when he actually caught sight of a familiar face that he fully realized why he had such a burning need. He, Avi, had assassinated the mayor. He had told the Killer with a Conscience that the man was guilty. Avi’s knees buckled. He caught himself on a wrought iron park bench. The seat was occupied by a mother and father disciplining their twin daughters. Avi wondered about the mayor’s family and tears sprang to his eyes.
“Pull it together,” he hissed to himself.
A familiar voice jostled him out of his thoughts, “Avi Kee gets jitters before he sings? I never would have believed it.”
Officer Clint Davies stood over him, a wide grin on his face. It took Avi a moment to understand why the short cop was taller than him. He’d actually fallen to his knees in the grass.
“Come on, Kee. Let me help you up. We’ll walk off those performance nerves.” Davies held out one heavily freckled hand.
Avi took it gratefully. He was surprised at the little man’s strength. “Thanks. I’m just,” Avi glanced at the family on the bench who were all staring at him. He gestured at the gazebo where a string quartet was playing the theme from Titanic. “I’m gonna be up there in a bit. I’m nervous.”
The mother reached up and rubbed his arm. “I’m sure you’ll do great.” She turned to her fussy daughters. “If you’re good, we can stay and watch.”
One girl bounced in her seat, “yay!”
The other one asked Avi, “Are you a giant?”
Avi tried to laugh but the smile wouldn’t come. Davies laughed and pulled him away as the father shushed the child.
He spoke quietly, a hand on Avi’s back. “Keep it together. These people don’t know about the mayor yet. We want to try to keep it that way to avoid panic.”
Avi nodded. He took a breath of cold air deep into his lungs and slowly let it out. “Thanks. It was just a shock. I’ll try to make sure our performance is distracting.”
“Well those confetti canons should certainly do the trick.”
“Confetti canons?” Avi asked.
“I saw your friend Kiersten loading them in around the gazebo earlier. I offered to help but she said for safety’s sake she had to do it herself.”
Avi looked at the man curiously. “My friend Kissy?”
“No. Not Kissy. The blond. Liquid brown eyes, musky scent, Kathleen Turner voice?”
Avi froze, all grief forgotten. His heart pounded. “Oh, yeah,” he managed to say, his mind racing. “I’ve been looking for her all night. Which side did she put the canon on?”
Davies laughed, “Oh, she’s got you covered. There are three canons, all around the gazebo. I couldn’t figure out how they work. She explained them but it was all Greek to me. Should be great fun for this crowd.”
Avi looked around. The GinNtonix had been worried the family heavy crowd would thin out by nine. They were terribly wrong. The square was filled. And most of the emergency personnel were distracted with the mayor’s murder.
Five cavorting teenagers in the distance caught Avi’s attention. He thanked Davies for his help and promised to help keep the crowd calm if he could.
Before he rushed off he turned back to Davies. “If you see her, Kiersten, again, give me a call.”
“No problem,” Davies said. Then he added, “There’s nothing between you two, right?”
“Me and. . . “ Avi gagged a bit at the thought. “No.”
“So you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out?” he asked hopefully.
A zillion responses raced through Avi’s brain but he didn’t have time. He had to figure out how to disarm Vanessa’s bombs.
He settled on, “I wouldn’t recommend it,” and walked away.
Twenty
Kissy pulled back from the kiss. She laughed lightly and protested, “Ms. Coldman.”
“Call me Patsy,” Coldman tongued the lip of her glass and enjoyed a slow sip, “or Councilwoman.”
She leaned in for another kiss. Kissy hid her relief with a sip of her own glass of very fine bourbon when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.
Coldman called out, “It’s open.”
She moved away from Kissy and leaned against the side of the desk, focusing her now sorrowful gaze on a picture of Mayor Sutton surrounded by a little league team. The picture in front of commissioner Lee when he pushed open the door was perfectly innocent. But he was so clearly fraught with grief he probably didn’t see any of it. Kissy wanted to run over and give him a hug. She could use a hug herself, except she didn’t deserve one. She had helped kill a good man.
“Patrice,” Lee said, “I want everyone back at the table. I’m ending the game.”
“No you are not.” Coldman emptied her glass and slammed it down on the desk. “This was advertised as a winner takes all game and I have not yet taken all.”
She stormed out the door without so much as a backwards glance as Kissy. The commissioner followed, letting the door drift shut behind him.
Kissy set down her drink and dashed for the secret door. She searched the paneling till she found a niche at hip height. Just a space big enough for four fingers that knew where to pull. She pulled.
The door slammed open, knocking her back against the desk. She had to look down to catch herself. Her head shot up as the figure that had crashed through the door leaped after her. She caught one terrifying glimpse of fierce brown eyes in the center of a pixie face fringed with blond hair before Vanessa punched Kissy hard in the gut.
She fell to her knees, thankful for the plush rug around the mayor’s desk. Her world spun. The last time she’d met Vanessa, the woman had drugged her and rigged her with a bomb vest. Kissy looked around for something, anything to fight with and fou
nd nothing.
But Vanessa wasn’t attacking. She was pacing just off the rug. Kissy looked up and got the distinct impression the bitch was giving her a lecture. A ringing in her ears made Vanessa’s first words a buzz. But then her sultry voice cut through the din.
She was saying, “. . . wanted the buildings to explode. But I simply adore the fear and panic of an desperate crowd. So I set a fire. I told Patsy the bomb didn’t work right. She believed me. You know, most of the people who died weren’t killed by the fire or the smoke. They were crushed by neighbors who simply had a stronger will to live. Darwinism at work.”
As Vanessa babbled on, Kissy pulled herself to her feet. She glanced over the desk for a weapon and reached for the heavy glass bottle of Pappy Van Winkle. But Vanessa grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, slamming her lower back into the edge of the solid oak.
“I’m not going to kill you dear. I want to see your fear and panic when your fucking cop boyfriend is blown sky high.”
Kissy swallowed against the roiling in her stomach. She tried to spit the words into Vanessa’s pixie face. “He’s not a cop. He was suspended.”
“That’s right. After I blew up his car. Who knew those thugs would steal it and ruin my plans.” Vanessa stepped back. “At first I was pissed. But then I got to watch his distress.”
Kissy didn’t care how Vanessa felt about her foiled plan to kill Avi. The instant Vanessa’s eyes glanced away, Kissy pushed off the desk and made for the far door.
She’d gone two steps when her head was yanked backwards. Vanessa had a hold of her braid. Kissy spun around, reaching up to yank the hair out of her enemy’s grasp. Vanessa was ready for her. She punched her again in the gut.
“I know you helped kill the mayor. I know—,” she started.
Kissy’s turn gave Vanessa’s punch a little extra oomph. Straight to her gut, the punch battered her already clenched muscles which revolted at the additional punishment.
Before Vanessa could finish her thought, Kissy hurled. Bourbon mixed with potato balls, garlic butter, and raspberry iced tea shots exploded from her mouth in a stream that splashed straight into Vanessa’s pixie face.
The vomiting forced all the rest of her muscles to relax. Kissy felt her fear wash away and her instincts take over. She fought the flee impulse just long enough to grab the bottle of Pappy from the desk. Then her legs carried her away from the dripping explosives-happy drug dealer and out of the office.
She made it down the hall to the back door pausing only to kick the rock doorstop away. Detectives were coming into the hall from the main double doors, but they were too busy chatting with the uniforms to notice Kissy slipping out.
Twenty-one
“Thanks, Jess.” Tim flipped the server a chip and slapped her on the ass. She rolled her eyes at him and he grinned in apology, flipping her another chip. Jessica raised one eyebrow in warning as she tucked the chips into her bra. She turned her back on him and became the only person in the room not entranced by the game.
Tim took a sip of the drink and almost grimaced. He’d forgotten a vodka tonic made by Jessica would have vodka in it.
He pushed in chips to match Coldman’s raise. Beside his five final cards, only a couple of loose chips and the brown envelope remained in front of him.
“I’m feeling a bit hamstrung here, Commish. I reckon I want to go all in too.”
Coldman leaped at the opening. “I have cash.”
“No.” Tim raised his eyes to hers just to see the anger flare in her baby blues. “I hear you’ve got a rare designer breed. I’d like a one of a kind creature laying in the front of my nightclub.
“My permit.” He picked up the envelope and tapped the pile of chips with it. “Your dog.”
Coldman broke out in a sweat. Tim watched her try to calculate what he was playing at. He let her stew for one minute.
“Oy!” He caught her eye and raised one brow, daring her to take the bet.
She bit. “Okay. My dog is in the pot.”
“Hold on!” The commissioner held his hands out over the chips. “Mr. Logan—“ he objected.
Chief Woodsen interrupted. “Seems to me a deal has been struck David,” he said.
Lee tried again, “But a dog?”
“This would put them both all in and make it the last hand,” Woodsen pointed out.
Lee acquiesced. The crowd broke out in discussion, everyone turning away from the commissioner while Coldman leaned over to thank Woodsen. So Tim was the only one who saw a quick, happy thought pass through Lee’s eyes.
“To stand for the dog,” he said, his eyes on the chips, “Patrice, you’ll throw in your necklace.”
For the first time, Coldman completely lost her poker face. One hand shot to the simple silver Greek cross at her throat. Her head snapped around to glare at Lee and her jaw dropped open. But she held not just her words but her very breath. Tim watched a fairly complicated conversation pass without words between the councilwoman and the commissioner.
In the end Coldman composed her face and reached up to unclasp the chain. She reached forward and held it dangling over the pile of chips. Tim reached for the envelope.
Suddenly the transmitter in his ear clicked. Kissy’s voice, out of breath yelled, “Avi! Vanessa planted a bomb at the gazebo!”
The transmitter clicked off.
Tim set his hand down on the brown envelope, waiting for Avi’s response.
“Mr. Logan?” Lee asked.
Tim schooled his expression. He picked up the envelope and tapped it on the felt. “I get the cross and the dog?”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Coldman’s grimace. He was sure Lee had seen it too.
Lee nodded once. “If you’ve got the cards,” he said.
Tim held the envelope over the chips. The transmitter clicked and he heard Kissy’s voice again. “I’m coming to you Avi.”
It took all of his will for Tim to keep from standing. He dropped the envelope in the pot and set a hand on his cards, ready to flip them.
The commissioner sat back in his chair. He took a breath and looked around at every person still in the room. “All bets are in. There are no more cards. The player with the best hand will take all and be named champion of the first annual Winterfest Poker Tournament.”
He looked for a long moment at Tim and then at Coldman. The room held its breath. And then with utter exhaustion, Lee murmured, “Show us your cards.”
Coldman sneered her version of a gracious smile and one by one flipped over her cards.
Gina squealed quietly, “Oooh, I love diamonds.”
At the same time, Tim flipped a pair of sevens followed by a jack.
Chief Woodsen quipped, “How do you feel about sevens?”
“Depends on how many zeroes follow them.” Gina tilted her head and fluttered her crystal blue eyes at the Chief, though her heart didn’t seem to be in it.
Coldman rounded off her nut flush with the ace of diamonds. The crowd gasped. She reached forward to grab the brown envelope.
Tim muttered, “Now now, dear.”
He flipped over his final two cards, a pair of Jacks. His full house beat her flush. The crowd went crazy. A smile spread across Lee’s face and Gina leaped over to hug Tim.
Tim just wanted to scoop in the chips and run out to the gazebo but Red wouldn’t do it so Tim couldn’t. He finished his drink and let Patrice Coldman throw a small fit in her own inimitable way. She stood violently, knocking her chair to the floor and Tim could see sweat dripping down her neck. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and then wiped it on her blazer. In the same motion, she reached for her necklace.
The commissioner knocked over his own chair standing to stop her. “Councilwoman. He beat your flush. Red Logan wins it all.”
“I’ll turn over the dog. You don’t need to keep my collateral.”
Lee picked up the silver cross. “It’s not collateral.”
“David.” There were threats in Coldman’s
voice. She went on so quietly Tim could barely hear, “I’m going to be the mayor.”
Lee looked down at his fist. The knuckles of the hand holding the cross were turning whiter as Tim watched.
“Patrice,” Lee began tensely. His eyes caught Woodsen’s and the hand relaxed though his tone didn’t. “Would you care to bet on that?”
Tim stood to interrupt them before he got caught up in a murder he didn’t have time to witness. “Ms. Coldman. I hope we can play again sometime. And you can be sure you’ll never pay a cover charge at my club.”
Coldman turned a furious gaze on Tim. Then a spark of joy lit up her face. “How generous of you. Come, let’s not miss the entire Winterfest celebration. I hear there is an amazing group performing on the gazebo at nine. Care to join me?”
And as easily as that Tim knew who councilwoman Coldman’s secret lover was. “I’d love to,” he cooed. He picked up the brown envelope and tucked it in a pocket of his shorts. “Commissioner, how do I collect my winnings?”
“You go ahead and escort Ms. Coldman outside.” Lee exchanged a glance with the police chief who nodded imperceptibly. “Chief Woodsen and I will count up the chips and convert it into cash for you.”
Tim circled the table to offer his arm to Coldman, his eyes still on Lee. “Can I meet you at Local National Bank tomorrow morning?”
“I think that’s a very good idea, Mr. Logan.” Lee observed.
Tim grinned. “Call me Red.”
Lee held out his hand. Tim shook it.
“Congratulations Red.” He held up the cross. “Shall I hold on to this until tomorrow as well?”
Tim leaned in to him. “I think that’s a very good idea.”
He turned to Coldman and led her through the crowd’s condolences and congratulations. Jessica tried to hand them each a glass of champagne but neither took one. They made it out of the conference room and to the town hall doors surprisingly quickly. Tim paused at the top of the stairs to scan the square for Kissy.
“Hurry along, Red.” Coldman coughed into her free hand and tugged at his arm. “You’ll want a place right up front.”
Killer on Call 6 Book Bundle (Books 1-6) Page 32
