Harry flushed and turned away. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
“Sure you would.”
Anger and bile seem to come up from his gut. “Listen, nobody got hurt.” He sputtered, as he threw the papers to his desk. “And it was only lately. Besides, that jeweler never said nothing and they were only little pieces, now and then. Not too much. Most times I’d take it away from her and make Ernie put it back before they noticed. Like I say…”
“She was great in the hay,” Percy finished for him.
Harry grunted but didn’t say anything.
“You’re quite a piece of work, Harry, you know that? You shouldn’t even own an animal.”
“What?” The change in subject flummoxed him. He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for an answer. She didn’t give any. Harry gave up and said, “This will kill his mother. Ernest didn’t hurt anybody. He’s just…different.”
“Who wouldn’t be, living down there like a sewer rat? Have you no shame?”
Harry turned on her. “You don’t know anything. All his life everybody’s thought the worst of him, treated him like a monster. He couldn’t even go to school like a normal kid. I’m the one who found him those prescription tinted glasses so he could see. I’m the one that taught him to read, for Christ’s sake. This is my reward for it.” He cradled his head in his arms and fought back tears. “Even his own mother wanted to put him in a home but once I found out he liked being in the basement, I just couldn’t do it. He’s my only son.” He looked up, wet eyes glistening. “You have children, Lady?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Then you understand,” Harry said, pressing his advantage.
“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” She took out her bag of pistachios and popped one in her mouth.
He shrugged his shoulders and picked up a pencil, tapping it on the hard surface of the desk. Both listened to the chaotic rhythm for a moment before Harry broke the silence, speaking almost to himself.
“This way I could see him every day. He was happy down there, happy. He had his tunnels and his books.”
Percy dropped into the chair next to the desk and leaned back. It felt good to sit. Her head began to ache a little and she wished she had an aspirin. She ate another pistachio.
“But they’re tearing down his tunnels and according to his journal, he was going to blow this place up rather than lose it. That’s what he wrote, Harry.”
“Oh phsaw,” Harry said, dismissively. “How could he blow the place up? He doesn’t have anything but a box of old firecrackers. Most of them too wet to light, anyway. He was just angry because….” Harry broke off. “He was just trying to pay me back.”
“For selling the building out from under him?”
Harry nodded but looked away. His head jerked back to Percy. “How’d you know?”
“What are the chances anybody could swing a deal to rent this place for only two months out of the year, year after year, unless you owned it? Prime real estate being what it is.”
Harry shrugged. “Okay, so I’m selling the place, but I didn’t want anybody to know I own it. I was trying to shift things around first….”
“Trying to get out of paying some taxes, eh?”
“That’s none of your business.” Anger, almost fury, swept across his features.
“Don’t be surprised at what I’m making my business.” Percy’s voice was calm and final.
Harry’s anger vanished as it came, replaced by defeat. “Aw, do what you like, I can’t stop you. I’m getting out, anyway, liquidating everything. We’re moving down to Florida. I’m retiring, starting a new life. My wife’s already down there.”
“What about Ernie? What happens to him?”
“There’s a place called Cypress Haven where we can all live together. He’ll be taken care of.” Harry threw the pencil down then leaned back, shriveling into himself. “Oh, God, I’m so tired. It’s almost a relief to get all this out in the open.”
“I bet it is.” Percy looked at Harry with compassion for the first time.
He turned to her again. This time his eyes were clear but burning with sincerity. “He didn’t kill anyone, I swear, lady. Look, I’m sorry he hit you. He panicked. He was trying to be like Dick Tracy, but when he realized what he did, he ran up here and begged for my help. By the time we got down there, you were gone. We couldn’t find you. We looked everywhere. Then I thought, he’d made it all up. He does that now and then. He can’t always tell what’s real and what isn’t. It was hard to convince him it was just his imagination but I almost did. Until you and the cops arrived,” he added.
“And you found out it wasn’t his imagination. He coshed me on the head and tied me up for real.”
“I know.” Harry closed his eyes and looked away, seemingly the weight of the world on his shoulders. “This will kill his mother. She’s sensitive, delicate. Always has been ever since he was born. She’s playing mahjong right now in Boca Raton with no idea, no idea at all. Boca Raton, you know what that means?”
“Yeah, mouth of the rat. It’s Spanish.”
Harry went on as if she hadn’t answered. “She never liked him being here. I was the one that convinced her.”
“You got to stop trying to convince people of things. It’s causing a lot of trouble.” Percy stood and looked down at him, studying him hard. “You’re the other end of the ratón, as far as I’m concerned, Harry, but you’ve given me a few things to think about. One more thing, Ernie have a car?”
“A car? He can’t drive a car. Hell, he fell off his tricycle so much when he was a kid, I had to take it away from him. Something about his peripheral vision.”
“That’s what I thought.”
He looked up at her with pathetic eagerness. “Does that mean you’ll help clear my son? I’ll hire you. I’ll make it worth your while. I can see you know what you’re doing.”
“Everybody wants to hire me lately. Must be something in the air.” She cracked another pistachio and chewed on the nut before saying, “For the record, you can’t hire me. Conflict of interest.” She tossed the shells into the ashtray.
Crestfallen, Harry nodded in agreement but waved her away with a hand. Percy started for the door, turning back to him with an afterthought.
“Oh and by the way, Harry, don’t look for the dog.”
“The dog?” He spun his chair around to the woman, his face revealing total puzzlement. “My dog?”
“Not any more.”
She slammed the door behind her.
* * * *
Percy sat in the car parked at the curb of her building. The street was teaming with people going home, ending their work day. Everywhere she saw additional smiles and joviality, more happiness than usual. Mothers spoke with extra tolerance, and, wonder of wonder, children paid attention. They played on the sidewalk and in the sparsely trafficked street with added friendship with one another, too. Lovers, oblivious to everyone else, seemed more in love than usual, all due to the holiday season.
Percy, an eternal pragmatist, had always been partial to Christmas for this reason. While she acknowledged the baser part of human nature, she was secretly delighted when people behaved better than expected. Christmas seemed to bring that out in humanity. And the look on her own son’s face each Christmas morning clinched it for her.
Every now and then the dog moved closer to her from his side of the car seat, nuzzling her with his nose. Percy reached out an automatic hand and stroked his tufted forehead, never losing the thoughts she’d been arranging in her mind.
Okay, Percy, none of this feels right. It’s all too easy. Yeah, the Ernie kid conked you on the head but that doesn’t mean he’s a murderer. Of course, it doesn’t mean he isn’t either. But I got this gut feeling, he ain’t the one, no matter what he wrote in his journal. Now his father I could see. Harry is one selfish SOB. He knew about the tunnels and he was schtupping the Christmas angel, too. Maybe…
She sat for a moment letting Harry’s possible guilt se
ep into her, took a deep breath, and shook her head. The detective looked out the windshield at the busy street filled with children and adults going about their normal, daily lives, except for one.
A lone man, several car lengths down, stood on the sidewalk and leaned against a streetlamp, an open newspaper covering his face. Fidgeting fingers and flexing arm muscles told her that behind this paper was a very wound-up guy. Without seeing his face, she could tell he was young, hardly out of his teens, but with a wariness that comes when you know the world is against you and has been for some time.
Feeling a chill, she turned on the car’s heater, which mercifully still worked. The dog climbed in her lap, jamming himself between her and the steering wheel, and licked her face.
“You need to go for a walk, doggy?” She stroked a long, soft ear.
She glanced at the man again then at her watch, moving her wrist to catch the light from her own streetlight overhead. “We’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour.” She glanced up at the windows of her apartment on the fourth floor. “Time to go and get some more answers, doggy. But first a walk to empty out your bladder.”
Still thinking, she turned off the motor, stepped out of the car, and removed the leather belt from her slacks. “It’s a good thing I’m fat, doggy. My belt makes for a nice, long leash.” She looped the belt around his collar. “Come on, let’s go take care of your business and then mine.”
The dog hopped out and began to circle, searching for a spot. Meanwhile, Percy looked around her and noticed the approach of a police officer making his rounds. Chewing gum and walking down the street swinging his baton, Jimmy O’Leary, younger brother of Tom, waved when he saw her. Red hair similar in color to hers, he had often been mistaken for her kid brother when they were growing up. Along with his Irish family, he moved into the neighborhood years ago and still lived in the same apartment with his parents.
“Hey, fuzz, they let you coppers chew gum on the job?” She yelled loud enough that several people nearby, knowing both parties, began to laugh.
“Hey, gumshoe,” Jimmy hollered back. “They still leaving you loose on the street? There’s no telling what lowlife you’re going to run into around here.”
They both laughed and embraced briefly, he a good four inches shorter than she.
“How you doing, Percy? You and the family doing okay?” His grin practically broke his face, as did hers. They rarely met, but when they did, their decades-old friendship came shining through.
“We’re good, I’m good, Jimmy.”
“Haven’t seen you for a while, but Tom tells me he caught you uptown at a fancy jewelry store. Says you’re working on a case about a dead elf.”
“Yeah, a not so fancy murder. You know how that goes, Jimmy.”
“I do. Looking for a little action, myself.” He leaned in. “I’m kind of tired of walking the beat. Like to get myself a fancy desk job, a promotion, you know?”
“Well, then this may just be your lucky day, Jimmy O’Leary.” She leaned back at him and whispered in his ear. “I think I got a pretty big collar for you.”
Jimmy pulled back and gave her a puzzled, surprised look, but said no more and waited.
Percy patted him on the shoulder, while continuing to speak in a low voice. “See that guy back there reading the paper and leaning against the lamppost?”
He nodded imperceptibly, his hazel eyes bright and alert. He was a good cop.
“Unless I’m wrong – and I seldom am –”
“Sez you,” he interjected with a wink, but his demeanor didn’t shift from prepared for action. “So who is he?”
“Don’t look now, but that man is the escaped felon, Danny DeLuca.”
“Are you kidding me?” His interruption was more of an explosion.
“Shhhh! Keep your voice down. You know me, I never kid a kidder. So here’s my idea. Let’s you and me saunter over there easy-like. You grab him, I’ll help you, and then you make sergeant. Sort of my Christmas present to you. How does that sound?”
Jimmy hesitated. “You sure about this?”
“Yeah, look for yourself. He fits the description and the kicker is he’s got a tattoo on his left wrist that says ‘Mother knows best’, just like the guy in all these wanted posters.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Looking for his mother? Checking out real estate? How the hell should I know? Now are you making the collar and getting yourself promoted or am I making a citizen’s arrest?”
Jimmy puffed up his chest and put his right hand on his revolver. “Let’s go.”
Side by side, man, woman, and dog slowly walked in the direction of the reading man. Percy closed in on the man’s right, Jimmy stayed to the left.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in our neighborhood, mister?” Jimmy’s voice lost the easy-going, friendly tone he’d used with Percy and gained an authoritative toughness.
The man didn’t respond at first then slowly lowered the newspaper. He gave a quick glance at the uniformed officer of the law and made a move to flee. Percy stuck her booted right foot out in front of him. Danny DeLuca tripped and fell to the ground. Jimmy was on him but the scuffle was brief. The cop was not only the larger man but faster and more practiced at his craft.
Percy stood back, as did the dog and the rest of the neighborhood, and watched the law vs. the criminal scene unfolding between them.
“You okay down there, Jimmy?” She leaned over the policeman lying on the back of the struggling man who was face down on the sidewalk.
“You want to hand me my cuffs, Percy? They’re in my back pocket.”
“Sure.” Percy reached down pulled the handcuffs out and dangled them in front of her friend’s hand.
“Thanks.” Jimmy cuffed the man’s wrists with expertise and hauled DeLuca up with him as he stood. He held the man by the scruff of the neck. “You answer me now. You Danny DeLuca?”
When the man didn’t reply, Jimmy slammed the man’s face against the steel frame of the lamppost, eliciting a groan from the cuffed man and a bark from the dog.
“Yes, yes, I’m Danny Deluca. Don’t hurt me anymore.”
“Easy, Jimmy.” Percy made a face. “Don’t get blood all over the lamppost. How do you think that’s going to make the neighborhood look to passersby?”
“Shut up, Percy.”
“And you’re welcome, Jimmy.”
“Oh, yeah, thanks.” He turned briefly in Percy’s direction with a nod of his head then gave his attention back to his collar. “Come on, you. We’re taking a short walk to the station.”
Percy reached out a hand. “Before you go, let me ask this lug a question, okay?”
“Go ahead, but make it quick.”
An angry red welt was forming above DeLuca’s right eye, easily seen under the light.
“How’d you know to come here?” Percy stared into his face.
When he didn’t answer, Jimmy shook him and said in a threatening tone, “Answer the lady.”
“A phone call. I got a phone call.”
“When?”
“At the jail a couple of days ago.”
“Who was it?”
“They didn’t say. Some man. He told me about you, gave me your address, and said to follow you. Said you’d know where she was.”
“You mean Lily?”
“I ain’t talking no more.”
“Who’s Lily?” Jimmy turned a cop’s face toward Percy.
“My maid.” Percy’s answer was terse.
“Yeah, yeah, a likely story.” Jimmy grabbed DeLuca’s shoulder, held tight, and pulled him in the direction of the police station down the block. “Let’s go, pal, and you do anything funny, I’ll shoot to kill and make captain.”
Danny DeLuca, head down, stumbled alongside the policeman to the station at the end of the block.
* * * *
“Hello, everybody,” Percy yelled from the front door. “Anybody here? I’ve got a surprise,” she sang out.
Her bedroom door flung open, banging against the wall. “Mommy,” said Oliver, “You’re home!” The joy on his face from seeing his mother was quickly transferred to the dog.
“A dog! You brought a dog!” The boy ran and slid forward on his knees, embracing the canine. The dog, in turn, began to wag his tail furiously, licking the boy’s face everywhere. The kitchen door swung open, and Lily came out, wearing an apron and carried an eggbeater with her. Surprise and delight covered her face, when she saw boy and dog.
“Mommy,” Oliver giggled in between licks of the dog. “Where did he come from? Can we keep him? What’s his name? Gosh, he’s so cute.”
The dog ran in circles around the boy, yipping and coming back for more licks.
“Well, this seems to be a marriage made in heaven,” Percy observed. She kneeled down and faced her son, the dog scooting in the middle, bouncing up and down, tongue lagging out at the side of his mouth.
“He’s from Santa Claus, sweetie, and he might be your early Christmas present.”
“He is?” The boy wrapped arms around the dog and cuddled him. “Just what I asked for! My own dog.”
“Not so fast. Oliver, a dog is not a toy. He’s a living being. With him comes a lot of responsibility.”
Her voice had taken on a serious, lecturing tone, and Oliver stopped wiggling and gave his mother his undivided attention. Even the dog sobered, sat still, and stared at Percy. Two sets of eyes stared up in rapt attention. She fought the smile coming to her face.
“He needs to be walked at least twice a day, rain or shine, whether you feel like it or not. He needs to be fed twice a day, too, with plenty of fresh water always available. He’s in your care now. He needs you to take care of him, understand, son?”
The boy nodded with a gravity that almost made Percy laugh. She kept the soberness to her voice. “Do you promise to do your best? Do you promise to take care of this little doggy?”
Oliver nodded again, his chin hit the front button of his shirt with every descent of his head.
“Okay, then. You can keep him.”
“Yah!” said Oliver. The dog yipped and crawled into Oliver’s lap. Oliver hugged him and the dog closed his eyes in contentment. “What’s his name, Mommy?”
Persephone Cole and the Christmas Killings Conundrum, Book Tw Page 15
