Glass Houses

by Stella Cameron

  Aiden saved the energy talking would have taken and got to the phone instead. He dialed 911 and gave the address. “Gunshot wounds,” he said. “No, no immediate danger to emergency personnel. But advise caution. The situation isn’t stable. Four, I think. Four victims. No, that’s right, I said four. Thank you.” He hung up and surveyed the battle scene. Ryan was in more pain than danger. Kitty clutched her shoulder and rocked to and fro. There was significant bleeding. Vanni leaned against the wall with his eyes almost closed. Rupert continued to hold his foot, and Aiden could see a hole through the bottom of his shoe, suggesting the bullet had passed all the way through.

  With the exception of Olivia and Aiden, and Vanni who also had to be taken to emergency, the entire, disgusting cast was removed by medics and the police. Aiden read disbelief on the men’s and women’s faces when they first looked the room over, then analyzed the injuries they were faced with—not exactly an abundance of life-threatening situations, but attended by enough noise to suggest something close to a massacre.

  “I’m in absolutely great shape,” Olivia said to a medic who asked her, yet again, if she was okay.

  Despite his throbbing nose and the promise of black eyes and maybe even cracked ribs, Aiden followed Olivia’s lead and said he didn’t need any help.

  When they were finally left alone, the CD player was still repeating trumpet solos over and over again.

  Olivia went to turn off the machine.

  “Now what?” she said, facing him, “I think we get you to an emergency room, too, and deal with your nose—among other things.”

  “Not yet,” he said. “First I’m going to the precinct house. I’m turning myself in.”

  Thirty-one

  “I’d like to wipe those looks off their faces,” Olivia said quietly, trotting to keep up with Aiden when he crossed rain-drenched 51st Street toward the precinct house. “I’m going to give the people you work for a piece of my mind. They ought to know you well enough not to question your loyalty—or your character.”

  He loved her for her fiery defense of him, but he couldn’t face the ribbing she could bring his way—if he didn’t get thrown in the tank before he got through the front door.

  “Aiden, did you know Ryan was supposed to be dead?”

  “That Fish and Moody thought he was, you mean? No. Never crossed my mind.” They went into the building, passing a multitude of staring, uniformed officers swathed in rain ponchos on the way. “Those two aren’t real. They didn’t say another word on the subject afterward. Just kept hammering at each other about who was in charge,” Aiden said. “The chairs by the wall are for visitors. Why don’t you sit here and wait? it’ll be more comfortable than upstairs.”

  She caught him by the arm and urged him to stop. “Believe in me,” she said when he turned to her. “I won’t do anything to embarrass you.”

  “This is getting scary,” he said. “I think we’re beginning to know each other’s minds without even trying. Come on, then. I need you to stand there and look gorgeous. Distract the chief so he gives me a chance to explain before he slams me away.”

  Olivia made a move to hold his hand, but just saved herself from that mistake. He strode upstairs, taking two at a time, and entered a noisy, crowded squad room where all conversation faded away the moment he was sighted.

  “Margy,” Aiden said, standing in front of a desk where a middle-aged woman sat. She stared at him and instantly appeared close to tears. “Hey, Margy, it’s okay,” Aiden told her. “I need to see the chief.”

  Officers began to move quietly about their business, many of them casting curious stares at Aiden and Olivia. One or two said hi, or clapped Aiden on the back. Everyone else was polite enough, but taciturn.

  Rather than use the intercom, Margy had gone to the chief’s office, and Aiden’s apprehension grew. How did you defend yourself against the kind of case that had been built around him?

  “Sit down,” he told Olivia quietly. “I will too. Won’t help to look as if I’m worried.”

  Promptly, Olivia took a seat. Wincing at the many sore spots in his body, Aiden followed suit and concentrated on her. He didn’t know how he’d moved from being a man determined to protect his bachelor life to a man who approached panic at the thought of continuing his bachelor life. He just had. He had to have Olivia with him, or he wouldn’t be interested in anything else that might come his way.

  “You need to see a doctor,” she said. “You should be there now.”

  “In time. Not right now.”

  “Detective Flynn,” Margy said, emerging from the chief’s office. “He’ll see you now. Alone.”

  Aiden squeezed Olivia’s shoulder and made to leave her by Margy’s desk.

  Olivia had other ideas. She stood up and said in a reasonable voice, “We’ve shared a great deal in a short time, more than most people will go through in a lifetime. Please could you ask your boss if I may be present for your interview?”

  Aiden felt himself being watched and swung around to see the chief’s head protruding from his open office. “Bring her on in,” Chief Friedlander said. “I hope you know I won’t tolerate any interruptions from you, ma’am. Speak out of turn, and you’ll find yourself downstairs in the lobby.”

  “Thank you,” she said, hoping that sounded submissive and respectful enough. “I appreciate your kindness.”

  Aiden ushered her ahead of him, meeting Friedlander’s eyes as he passed. Colder than any fish. Aiden considered and discarded the notion of smiling himself.

  Friedlander closed the door and said, “I’m not being kind. I may never be kind again after the way you’ve let me down, Flynn.” He waved Olivia to a chair beside his desk and indicated where Aiden was to stand before taking his own seat. “You’re not going to get far, but you can try to explain yourself.”

  “Tell him none of it’s true,” Olivia said, and earned herself glares from both men.

  She hunched her shoulders, inclined her head, and pulled her roll-brimmed black felt hat—another Wal-Mart buy— lower over her eyes.

  “Flynn?” the chief said. “I guess what I want to hear most is an explanation for your behavior. You screwed up once, and I gave you another chance. This time you’ve made me look like a fool. A fool who is a bad judge of character.”

  “Things escalated,” Aiden said. “And with every passing day, I had to put more distance between myself and the precinct.”

  “Really?”

  “I was afraid that if I didn’t and you got to me, I wouldn’t have another chance to straighten things out and present them in the most reasonable and favorable light.”

  Friedlander pushed his chair away from the old desk and planted his feet, ankles crossed, on top. “And now you think you can waltz back in here with some other fantasy excuse and expect me to try to save you? If that is what you think, then you’re in worse emotional condition than I thought you were.”

  Olivia compressed her lips into a thin, angry line and scooted to the edge of her chair. This was disgusting, outrageous. This man had convicted Aiden without giving him a trial.

  “I don’t think that. And there isn’t going to be any fantasy telling. I can come here now because I’m innocent of any crime, and my job is more important than almost anything else to me.” He couldn’t allow himself to look at Olivia. She was just unpredictable enough to break into tears.

  “Your job is more important than almost anything else,” Friedlander repeated. “That doesn’t make it look good even for what does matter most to you.”

  “This was all entirely my fault,” Olivia said. She popped out of her chair, went to the side of the desk farthest from the door, and sat in another chair, as if putting more distance between herself and the door would make it harder to throw her out. “Aiden is the most honorable, unselfish man I’ve ever met. He’s the most honorable, unselfish man you’ve ever met. If you want to have a group of truly outstanding men and women working for you, show them how much you admire Aiden Flynn and en
courage them to try to be like him.”

  “I think that’s enough, Ms.…?”

  “FitzDurham. Olivia FitzDurham of Hampstead. And I can tell why Aiden thinks so highly of you. You’re a man of courage and insight.”

  Aiden massaged his temples. She was killing him, but she was wonderful.

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence,” the chief said.

  “I can’t do anything less than try to make sure you understand. If Aiden hadn’t come to my rescue, I would be dead by now. There. What do you think of that?”

  Friedlander swung his feet to the floor, leaned forward, and drummed his fingers on the desk. “Having a little difficulty looking the right way when you crossed the street, were you? Flynn, I’m sure you know what I’m thinking.”

  Nothing would improve his position here. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he lied. “Why don’t you spell it out?”

  “You believed that frightful man Ryan Hill rather than Aiden,” Olivia said. Her voice was tight, and she’d lost the color in her face. “You believed him without even giving Aiden a chance. If Ryan Hill could have got his own way, I’d be dead, and I wouldn’t be the only one. Not that we don’t think he’s a murderer anyway. We don’t know for sure about that man who was murdered in my house in London, but you could bet your baby’s bottom it was Ryan who murdered that poor man Fats. Oh, he wasn’t nice. He was dreadful really. But he shouldn’t have died the way he did.”

  The two men were very quiet. They stared at her, and Olivia hated herself for her lack of control. No wonder she irritated her parents. They were the souls of discretion, and she must be a complete puzzle to them.

  “What,” Chief Friedlander said, “is she talking about?”

  There was no point in stopping now, especially since Aiden looked incapable of saying his own name, let alone standing up for himself when he was being accused of all manner of heinous crimes. “You don’t have to be coy with me,” she told the chief. “I’ve played my part. I’ve even beaten people up. Well, actually, the same person twice. Ryan Hill kept trying to kill Aiden. I ask you, what would you have done if you were me? You’d have come to his aid.”

  “Olivia,” Aiden said softly. “Thank you, darling, but I can handle this.”

  “You sit down and catch your breath, Flynn,” Friedlander said. “Miss FitzDurham is doing just dandy. Do go on.”

  Olivia felt flattered. “Thank you. First of all I must congratulate you on the caliber of your people. When I came to this country I didn’t know a soul except for Aiden, but Vanni Zanetto and his family welcomed me into their home. I know Chris Talon doesn’t work for you anymore, but he helped me in Chicago and in Seattle, and he’s been wonderful.”

  Aiden groaned aloud.

  “Are you ill?” she asked, her stomach sinking. “He needs a doctor, you know. After this morning’s horrible fight, and all that shooting, he’s exhausted and he’s hurt, too.

  “And, by the way, I have never stolen anything in my life, least of all valuable paintings from someone’s walls. And no matter what you’ve been told, Aiden didn’t help me do it, either. He just helped me get away.”

  Aiden’s laughter was the last sound she expected. He made her quite annoyed. Even the wretched chief’s mouth twitched.

  “I’m British, you know,” she told him. “I think I sometimes have a different way of expressing myself.”

  The man’s mouth didn’t twitch anymore.

  “Aiden Flynn is one of your finest,” Olivia told him. “And he shouldn’t have to beg to be taken seriously.”

  “Go on, ma’am.”

  “I’ll take over from here, thanks,” Aiden said.

  “You’ll speak when you’re spoken too, Flynn. Go on, Ms. FitzDurham.”

  “I’d be honored if you’d call me Olivia. My parents do.”

  Another burst of laughter infuriated Olivia.

  “Thank you,” the chief said, when he’d controlled himself. “Olivia.”

  “Why were you so ready to believe Ryan Hill and Fats Lemon?” she said, making sure she was all business. “You were so quick to accept Ryan’s story, you didn’t give Aiden a chance. We had to run or risk not having a chance to clear ourselves. If we hadn’t had Vanni Zanetto here and on our side, I don’t know what we would have done. We wouldn’t have known you had a BAP out for us until we’d already been picked up.”

  Aiden gave up. Now she’d implicated Vanni for passing on sensitive information. At the very least, he’d be severely reprimanded.

  “You know all this?” the chief said.

  The old manipulator had her eating out of his hand, and she told every detail of what had happened from the very first time Ryan Hill contacted her online.

  Aiden was tired. Tired and hurting. Vanni was still in the hospital for observation. Mama Zanetto, who had broken the news that Pops died the previous week, had taken Aiden and Olivia home before they insisted on leaving for the precinct house. The Zanettos’ delight at seeing them had made him both happy and sad. Mama had told how angry Vanni was and how he refused to accept that Pops hadn’t wanted further intervention.

  “Aiden?”

  He met Olivia’s eyes. “Yes?”

  “If you hadn’t looked after me, I couldn’t have made it— or not so well. You risked everything for a stranger, for me.”

  “That must have been hard,” the chief said. He’d laced his hands over a flat stomach and was looking off into space.

  “But all Ryan Hill had to do was take advantage of Aiden stepping in to help me, and you believed I was an art thief, and Aiden was my accomplice. I know he supposedly had all kinds of proof, but surely Aiden’s record should have stood for something.”

  The chief smiled at her. My, my, a very handsome man he was, too. “I think I’m starting to understand what’s happened here. There never was an APB out for you and Aiden. What gave you that idea?”

  Aiden’s mind did overtime. Buying time, he got up and poured himself a cup of the chief’s foul coffee. “You wouldn’t want this,” he told Olivia.

  “And this stuff about you and Olivia being wanted for art theft and whatever else? Where did that come from?”

  The coffee was even more bitter than usual.

  “Vanni,” Olivia said. “Without Vanni, we’d never have known a thing. We wouldn’t have known where we should go, or what we should do when we got there—or what we should avoid. He kept tabs on us, knocked himself out for us.”

  Aiden threw his cup, including the coffee inside, into a wastebasket. He paced to the window and looked down at the activity in the street. “Son-of-a-bitch,” he murmured.

  “Yeah,” Chief Friedlander said. “The way I heard it, you had a thing going with a woman. Sorry, Olivia.” He smiled at her. “You had a thing with a woman, and that’s why you got him to lie and say you had the flu, and in a few more days, that there were complications. Then, when I had to put you on report and knew you wouldn’t have a job when you came back, he broke down. You were the best friend he ever had. His family loved you like another son. He was ready to be disciplined because he’d done wrong, but he’d done it because you meant so much to him. The question is, why did he do it?”

  “He pulled the strings,” Aiden, too numb to completely register what had happened. “He told us exactly what the next move ought to be. And when Ryan got back on the job and I became Public Enemy Number One, Vanni must have wondered what star he was living under. He used that to crank up the pressure.”

  “Ryan Hill never did come back on the job,” the chief said. “We haven’t heard a word from him since he went to be with his father upstate. That was weeks ago.”

  Aiden saw Olivia get up. She walked unsteadily to him and stared into his face. “Vanni set us up?”

  “He helped,” Aiden told her. “So it seems.”

  “But he’s your friend. He likes you, and so does his family. That’s not an act.”

  “He did it for money,” Aiden said. “He did it for a slice of the pie from
Fish and Moody—and Ryan Hill. Unfortunately for him, the rest of us didn’t oblige him by turning into morons, although we trusted him too much. Or I did. You couldn’t have known any different. Kitty Fish’s unpredictable moves couldn’t have helped him, either.”

  “Or Penny Biggies’s,” Olivia said. “Aiden, we didn’t trust Vanni too much. We had no reason not to trust him.”

  A light tap at the door preceded the appearance of Margy’s face, complete with evidence of tears shed.

  “Hi, Margy,” her boss said.

  “Why are you so angry with me if no one around here thinks I’ve done anything wrong?” Aiden asked her.

  “Nothing wrong?” Her voice rose to a squeak. “You pretended you were sick and went AWOL. You’re going to get fired. We care about you around here—maybe we shouldn’t.”

  “I’ll explain this to you later,” the chief said. “Aiden’s in the clear. He’s not going anywhere.”

  An instant smile transformed Margy’s face. She stepped into the office and closed the door. And the smile faded. “Call from St. Philomena’s.” She swallowed. “Vanni tried to kill himself. It’s okay, he didn’t pull it off, but they’re watching him closely. His mother called to ask if Aiden could go over there.”

  “On my way,” Aiden said. He felt as if he’d lost a brother, but not as if he’d stopped loving him.

  “I don’t think so,” the chief said. “We’ll be putting a guard on him. Arrange for that, please, Margy.”

  She left the room at once.

  “We’ve got to go,” Olivia said. “Whatever he’s done, there must be a terrible reason, right, Aiden? I don’t know him really, but I feel that he’s a good man. He must be or you wouldn’t like him so.”

  The chief’s expression, the brow he raised at Aiden, sent a clear message that he was impressed by his detective’s one-woman cheering squad.

  “Permission to go, please, Chief?”

  The chief pushed papers around his desk while he considered the request. “I guess it can’t hurt anything. Just don’t let him talk you into anything. Like helping him escape.”