by Nancy Martin
I don't remember getting up, but suddenly I was out in the newsroom. I snapped, "You are even lower than I first thought, Kitty. This is absolutely beyond reason."
She couldn't conceal her triumph. "So sorry to hear about your little trouble with the police, Sweet Knees."
"I have no trouble with the police, and you know it. You're trying to manufacture a story just to get me kicked out of here. And what you're doing to the Coopers! You're making their terrible situation even worse."
Kitty shrugged and turned away. Over her shoulder, she said, "I can't make it any worse than that idiot Doe already has."
"What have you got against poor Doe? Just that she can't throw a party to your specifications?"
Kitty spun around and her face hardened. "I tried to teach her how to play the game. Unfortunately, she's a slow learner."
"Just because she didn't pay you enough homage. What happened?" I demanded, reckless with anger. "She forgot to send you flowers after you mentioned her in a column? She didn't pay the right kickback?"
Kitty swelled up like a blowfish. "How dare you suggest—"
"It's your game, Kitty, with your rules. God help the person who tries her best and fails. Doe made a few inconsequential mistakes or made you feel unimportant, so you punish the whole family."
I thought she was going to argue further. But she controlled herself and said with smug pleasure, "That's the way the cookie crumbles, Sweet Knees."
Stan came up behind me. "I'm really, really sorry, Nora. My hands are tied. This will blow over, I'm sure—"
I stopped listening to him and went down to the street. It was a gusty day and I was hit by a blast of wind that nearly knocked me off my heels. I reached the parked car and climbed unsteadily into the front seat. I surprised Reed so much that he dropped the book he was reading. He snatched it up again before I could see the title.
"I'm sorry," I said, slamming the car door. "I don't want to sit in the backseat right now."
He hugged his book and looked astonished to find me sitting next to him instead of in the back. "What's the matter?"
"I just got fired. Well, not quite," I corrected. "But as close as you can get without standing in the unemployment line."
"Wow," he said, warily watching me for signs of hysteria.
"I'm not going to cry." Although I wasn't too sure about that. "I'm just stunned. I need a minute to pull my thoughts together." My hands were trembling, and I used them both to tightly grip my handbag.
Reed asked, "You want me to take you home?"
I shook my head. "No. I need to do something. I can't let this happen right now. Losing my job, I mean. I just . . ."
He waited, frozen, dreading the onslaught of blubbery sobs.
I hung on to my composure. "I need to figure out who murdered Laura Cooper."
"What's she got to do with your job?"
"Reed," I said, "let's go park on Jeweler's Row. I need time to think, and that's as good a place as any."
Reed put his book in the door pocket beside him and complied. In a few minutes we were sitting at a parking meter just four doors down from Sidney Gutnick's shop. Most of the store owners appeared to have closed their businesses for the day. One man came out of his store, locked the door, pulled down the iron gate and padlocked it, then grabbed the hat on his head and barreled down the sidewalk as if propelled by a hurricane. A ragged piece of newspaper tumbled after him on the darkening sidewalk.
"This okay?" Reed asked.
"Fine," I said.
My life was a mess.
I was just getting the hang of having a job for the first time, and now this. Was employment supposed to be this complicated? This difficult? Why couldn't I just do my work and collect a paycheck like everyone else?
Reed stayed very still, as if dreading an explosion of tears.
But I started to feel angry instead. I glared out the windshield. "See that shop up there on the second floor, Reed? With the lights on?"
"Yes."
"Let's just watch it for a little while," I suggested. "Maybe we'll see the owner."
"The man we brought here the other day?"
"The man who seems to have had a lot to do with Laura Cooper."
All roads led to Sidney Gutnick. That much seemed obvious. He had lied to me about his relationship with Tempeste. He probably received stolen goods from Laura. He sold bracelets to Yale Bailey. There was more to be learned from Sidney. I just needed to ask the right questions.
Reed suddenly said, "Is that a drag queen?"
Tempeste Juarez climbed out of a cab and charged down the sidewalk, swathed in scarves and carrying an umbrella that had blown inside out. In her other hand, she clutched one of Sidney's mint-green shopping bags. Big sunglasses concealed her face, even though it was after dark. She looked like Mata Hari on male hormones.
I sat up straight. "That's Tempeste Juarez! She told me she hadn't bought jewelry from Sidney in years."
"They look pretty chummy now," Reed observed.
Sidney, who'd declared his intense dislike for Tempeste, must have been waiting for her just inside the door. Short and round, his figure was unmistakable beside her rangy frame. He opened the door to allow Tempeste to slide inside, then glanced furtively up and down the street.
Reed and I instinctively scrunched down on the front seat of the car.
Satisfied he hadn't been observed, Sidney closed the door. They disappeared together, presumably upstairs.
"Now what?" Reed's voice was hushed.
I stared the Sidney's shop and wondered what a real detective would do. "I don't know."
"This is like a stakeout." For once, Reed sounded like a young man barely out of his teens.
I grinned at him. "It is, isn't it?"
"Should I turn off the car?"
"I think so. Otherwise, we'll look pretty obvious."
He shut off the ignition. A moment later, enthusiasm fading, he said, "I shoulda gone to the bathroom before this started."
"Oh," I said. "Do you have to?"
"Not yet."
Five minutes passed, and we didn't observe anything more exciting than a young woman walking a large pit bull. An occasional spit of rain landed on the windshield. Inside the car, I started to get cold. And I began to think about my bladder, too.
Finally I said, "Are you going to teach me to drive soon?"
"The boss says you faint all the time."
"I do not. Well, once in a while, maybe."
"He says you have to go six months without fainting; then I can teach you to drive."
"Why does he have a vote in this?"
"He's my boss," Reed said, as if that were enough.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Maybe I should phone Sidney. While Tempeste is there. Think that would accomplish anything?"
"It would scare 'em."
"Do you have a cell phone?"
He looked at me as if everyone on the planet had a cell phone but time travelers from the sixteenth century. Then he pulled out a tiny phone and handed it to me.
But just then a taxi pulled up in front of Sidney's store, tooted its horn and waited at the curb.
"Hang on," I said.
A minute later, Tempeste came out of Sidney's door and dashed for the cab. Reed and I scrunched down in the front seat again, but I felt safe since we were parked several cars away. Still, Tempeste looked in our direction just before sliding into the cab. Sidney closed the door and disappeared again. The cab whisked Tempeste away.
Reed sat up. "Should we follow?"
"No. I'm going up to Sidney's now myself."
"Wait!"
I had already put my hand on the door handle when a second car drew up in front of the store. It was a black Mercedes with a vanity plate that read ollie. He parked at a meter down the street, got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk to Sidney's door.
"Oliver Cooper," I said, staring at the familiar figure. "I don't believe it."
Oliver banged on Sidney's door,
making no secret of his presence on the street. The girl with the pit bull came back, and the dog sniffed Oliver's legs as they went by. Oliver banged on the door again. Reed and I didn't budge.
At last Sidney appeared, looking flustered this time as he opened his door to Oliver Cooper. They went inside.
"This is strange," I said aloud. "Why would Oliver come to see Sidney?"
To come to an agreement over Laura's dealings with Sidney? Or was he tailing Tempeste for some reason?
I said, "I'm going up there."
Reed croaked, "You can't do that!"
"Yes, I can. I'll be back soon."
"Wait!" Reed cried. "Mick will kill me!"
I popped open the car door and slipped out into the gusty night air. I set off for Sidney's shop entrance on cat feet.
I put my hand on the rain-slick door handle and hesitated, listening. Then I pulled the door open.
In the next second, somebody grabbed me from behind.
The man's hand came around my head and clamped over my mouth. His other arm snaked around my waist and pulled me backwards against his body in a grip that drove all the breath from my lungs. It wasn't Reed.
Instinctively, I bit his hand. I kicked back with one foot and connected with his shin. He yanked me off balance, but I braced my body against his and stomped my heel down into his shoe. It was instinctive, quick and as forceful as I could manage.
He swore but didn't let go. Then I jammed my elbow into his ribs.
"Dammit, Nora," Jack Priestly said in my ear, his Kentucky twang strangled with pain. "Stop that!"
I froze and tried to speak, but my mouth was immobilized by his hand.
He drew my body backwards into the shadow of a nearby doorway.
Then I realized someone else was in the street, walking fast towards us, head down against the wind, hands thrust into the pockets of a dark raincoat, shoulders hunched. From his short stature, I recognized the fast-moving figure instantly. Yale Bailey.
Jack and I flattened ourselves against the bars of an iron security gate. From that vantage point, we could both see Reed, who had gotten out of the car and was coming in our direction with a tire iron in one hand. Only seconds had passed since Jack had grabbed me, and Reed was on his way to my rescue. I put up both hands in a signal to stop, and thank heaven Reed obeyed, faltering to an uncertain halt just at the hood of the car. Jack loosened me and raised his hands over his head in silent surrender. I pointed towards Yale and signaled Reed to get back into the car.
He melted backwards, unwillingly.
In my ear, Jack said, "Hold still."
I obeyed, and we both watched Yale Bailey approach Sidney's shop door. The wind had made the night noisy, so he didn't hear us or see Reed ease along the side of the car. When Yale got close, I could see he was smoking a cigarette. He threw the smoldering butt into a puddle before reaching for Sidney's door.
He went inside, and the door closed behind him.
I took a step away from Jack and spun around to face him. "What are you doing here?"
He looked surprisingly messy. His hair was windblown, his coat wet with rain. He was out of breath, too. "I could ask you the same thing."
"Are you following Oliver? Of course you are. This whole street must be crawling with the Secret Service." I glanced up and down the block to see if I was right. "I guess they're more concerned about Oliver than a woman being attacked right under their noses."
"I didn't attack you," said Jack, cradling his right hand. "Where were you going, by the way?"
"To see Sidney Gutnick, of course."
"Why?"
"Why?" I sputtered, hoping I sounded genuine. "Last time I checked, this was a free country. What is Oliver doing here?"
"Buying jewelry, I presume. Maybe something for his wife." Jack peered at the palm of his hand. "You really bit me."
"You're lucky I didn't do worse," I retorted. "What makes you think you can go around grabbing people like that?"
"To keep you out of harm's way," Jack snapped.
"Harm's way? Why did you let Yale go up just now, if you're protecting Oliver?"
"I didn't know Bailey was going to be here." Jack shook his hand out. "Look, were you really going up to see Gutnick?"
"Why else would I be here?"
"Then go," Jack said, sounding urgent. "Go now, Nora. Yell if you get into trouble."
"You want me to—? Now what? You're going to pin something else on me?"
"You'd be helping," he said. "Go on. I trust you."
"It's not mutual. Good Lord," I said, suddenly understanding. "Oliver doesn't know you're here. You're in the dark as much as I am."
Jack said, "I don't know what you're up to, Nora, but I'm counting on you not to murder the next secretary of transportation. So run up there and—"
He didn't have time to give me further instructions. Beside us, Sidney's door burst open and Oliver Cooper charged out into the night air, looking frazzled and angry. Jack and I plastered ourselves out of sight again, but it wouldn't have mattered. Oliver was too upset to notice us. He spun around and grabbed something from his pocket. An instant later, he threw it onto the sidewalk and almost ran up the street towards his car.
Sidney Gutnick waddled outside. With a garbled cry, he flung himself onto the sidewalk and began to pick up what Oliver had thrown. Money. I could see the soggy bills as Sidney hugged them to his chest. He scrambled to his feet and rushed inside again.
I turned around to stare at Jack.
He was silent and frowning, clearly as puzzled as I was. "Look, Nora, I think it's best if you forget what you saw here tonight."
"You're covering Oliver's tracks."
Suddenly sure of his decision, Jack said with more conviction, "It will be in everyone's best interests if you drive away right now."
"What are you covering up? If it's Laura Cooper's murder, I can't believe you think you can get away with that."
A sharp noise spun us both around. Then glass breaking, another pop, an echo, and a whine that bounced around the buildings on either side of the short block.
"What in the world was—?"
"Oh, shit." Jack pushed me hard against the iron gate. "Stay here."
He took off at a sprint, heading for my car.
From several points around us, the street suddenly came to life with people. Like mice just released from a maze, they scurried out of dark corners. I caught my balance on the gate and looked past Jack's running figure at the car. Squarely in the center of the windshield was a hole.
A small, single hole in the windshield.
"Reed," I said.
I went after Jack at a dead run. "Oh, Reed, please, no."
I grabbed the passenger-side door handle and hauled it open.
Reed was sitting upright, very still. Tiny shards of glass were in his lap.
Then he moved, stiffly reaching with his right hand for his shoulder.
Jack was already in the car, pushing Reed to the middle of the front seat. He was saying, "It's okay, son. You're okay."
Reed said in a very young voice, "I'm hurt."
And he began to breathe in shallow, painful gasps.
"Get in," Jack said to me.
He slid behind the wheel and started the car. I climbed in beside Reed and somehow managed to end up on my knees with my arms around him. There was blood on his shirt already. Jack passed me a handkerchief. I took it and pressed it against the blood, holding it in place with the flat of my hand. Jack pulled out of the parking space. He rolled down the window and spoke to someone in the street as the car gained momentum. I wasn't listening. The man he spoke to got into the backseat while the car was moving. He told Jack to make a left at the corner. Reed's head lolled against my neck when the car made the turn.
"Hurry," I said to Jack.
Reed whispered, "I can't breathe."
It took forever, and I don't remember what I said, but I know I talked to him and held the wet handkerchief against his thin chest to hold in the
life. When the car whirled under the lights of a hospital canopy, he passed out and I began to cry.
Chapter 13
I didn't faint until after the doctors took Reed away and Jack said he had people to talk to. Then I went down like a sack of potatoes at the feet of a startled intern. ·
When I fought my way out of the dark again, I was flat on my back on a hospital exam table and could hear Michael's voice on the other side of a white curtain. He was telling someone to get out of his way or he'd tear their head off.
I sat up too fast, and as he came around the curtain he caught me before I fell off the table.
"I'm so sorry," I babbled. "So sorry. This is all my fault. Is he—is he—?"
"He's alive," Michael said.
I wrapped my arms around him. "Reed was going to teach me to drive. He said as s-soon as I stopped fainting, he'd teach me. And now—"
"He'll teach you," Michael said. "He'll be okay."
Poor Reed, paying a terrible price for my stupid behavior. He was a shy, steady, determined boy who deserved every good thing that came his way. I had his blood on more than my clothes.
Holding me, Michael said, "Do you know who did the shooting?"
His voice was low and full of purpose.
I sat back and hiccoughed. "No."
He touched my chin with his fingertips, a gentle caress that didn't match his tone. "Did you see anybody?"
I shook my head. Then I looked at his face and my pulse skipped. In his narrowed gaze was a cold light that frightened me. It snapped my brain back into functioning mode. "Michael, you can't do anything about this yourself."
"Who else is there?"
"No," I said. "This night is horrible enough already."
"Just give me some possibilities."
Jack arrived, looking cheerful as he brushed the white curtain aside. "Okay, it's all taken care of."
Michael turned on him, six-feet-four inches of towering rage. Suddenly he had a grip on Jack's shirt and jammed him against the wall so hard that something crashed to the floor. Jack's face turned red and a nurse cried out behind me.
I got up hastily and jammed myself between them. "Stop it, Michael!"
There we were, the three of us fused together while every other atom in the emergency room went motionless.
