by Dana Mentink
Bill had greeted her upon her arrival with a quick hug. “Happy to see you back here, young lady. You look rested and raring to go.”
“Put me in, Coach,” she’d said with a smile before she was sucked into the busy whirl of airport duty.
There was nothing unusual transpiring that Violet could detect, just the typical crush of people, some anticipating a vacation trip or reunion, and those more surly, traveling on business or for some other less enjoyable reason. Bill’s wife, Rory, phoned in the afternoon and asked to speak to Violet during her break.
“I am so sorry about what happened,” she said. “It’s horrible. Bill has been so worried about you. He’s hardly sleeping, and I think he’s started smoking again. He tries to hide it, but I can smell it on his clothes.”
“I’ll tell him to stop if I catch him with cigarettes in his pocket. We’ll get him back on track.” Violet pictured Rory the last time she’d seen her, the shadows that smudged Rory’s eyes and her thinning hair, which had once been a thick chestnut brown. “How are you doing with the treatments? I know it’s been tough.”
Rory’s sigh spoke of exhaustion. “Seems like the cure is worse than the disease sometimes. The doctor is optimistic. It’s hard on the boys, though. I’m the one that keeps things on an even keel, normally, because Bill works such long hours. They don’t quite understand how to deal with me being sick.” She coughed and cleared her throat. “He doesn’t, either. He tries, but it’s hard for him to know what to say, how to be, so most of the time he pretends nothing is going on. And the bills, they worry him, too. He doesn’t sleep hardly at all and he’s lost weight.”
“Have you... I mean, he’s been a bit different at work. Something is definitely on his mind. Could there be something besides the treatments weighing on him?”
Rory paused a moment. “No, he’s just stressed is all, and who wouldn’t be?” She offered directions on some schoolwork to one of her children. “Anyway, I wanted to thank you for the flowers you sent last week and to be sure you’re okay.”
“Perfectly okay, thanks.”
“Good. You’re like family, Violet, and we’d be crushed if anything happened to you.” Rory bade her goodbye. As Violet disconnected, she eyed Bill smiling at a customer. Surely Bill would not entangle himself with the drug trade. He would never do that to his wife and sons.
Bill walked around the counter and joined her after the next shift of workers arrived. He looked fatigued, twitchy. Of course he’d been off his game a little, she thought. His whole life was his family and with a thing like cancer to deal with... Guilt swelled inside her for her earlier suspicion.
I misjudged him. He couldn’t have been helping Beck.
“Rory was sweet to call,” she said. “She’s such a thoughtful person.”
“Rory’s one in a million. When I married her, I won the grand prize. She’s way better than I deserve.”
She caught just a whiff of tobacco on his clothes. “You’ve been smoking again, haven’t you?”
Head ducked, he sighed. “I had one or two this morning before I got here, but I’ll stop, I promise. A moment of weakness.”
“Why, Bill? What is worrying you, and don’t say it’s all Rory because you’re not that good at lying.”
“I’m better than you think,” he said morosely.
“What does that mean?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Vi, will you come have coffee with me?”
“Sure, that’d be great sometime.”
“I mean now.”
“Why now?”
“Your shift is done, and I’m taking the rest of the day off. I know this nice coffee shop in Astoria, a café, really, and I don’t want to waste this sunny afternoon. Who knows when we’ll get another one. Let me treat you before you head home.”
“Some other time, maybe?”
“Please,” he said, gaze drifting across the terminal. “I... There’s some things I need to get off my chest.”
She felt a prickle of alarm. “Why can’t we talk here? We can grab some coffee in the lounge. It’s terrible, I know, but it’s usually hot.”
He did not return her smile. “I need to speak privately with you. An hour, that’s all. I promise it won’t take longer than that.”
Still, she hesitated.
“Vi, I’ve known you a long time. You know my wife, my boys. You’ve come to their baptisms, their school plays. You’ve been at our place for barbecues and my wife’s jewelry-selling parties or whatever it is she arranges. You’re family and it kills me to think you don’t trust me anymore.”
Anguish pinched the corners of his mouth. It was genuine emotion, she was sure of it. He was in desperate trouble, she could sense it. “I know you’re a good man and a good father, Bill.”
His smile was wan. “Well that’s something, anyway. Does that warrant an hour of your time? Sixty minutes, tops? We’ll stay in a public place and come right back.”
She knew without a doubt that Zach would not want her going anywhere with Bill, but his expression was so downcast, she could not believe he might be the mastermind of a drug-smuggling operation. Besides, Astoria in late afternoon would be bustling, especially on such a warm day, and she did not think it would put her in any danger to have coffee with Bill. If her instincts were right, he would tell her something she could share with Zach to help him put Beck behind bars. It might be the only chance to put an end to the chaos.
“All right,” she said. “Let me get my purse.”
His face lit with a relieved grin. “Excellent. I’ll get us a car.”
Violet snatched her purse from behind the counter and sent Zach a text, noting she had a missed call from him.
Going to coffee with Bill in Astoria. Have to hear him out.
She waited, the seconds ticking by, hoping he would reply.
Bill was standing, checking his watch. Still no answer from Zach.
She made a pretense of fixing her lipstick.
“Ready?” Bill called.
Her phone screen remained blank. Doubt assailed her. She could still make an excuse, change her mind.
“Gotta get going,” Bill said.
“All right.” She slipped the phone into her pocket and followed him out of the terminal.
Twenty minutes later they sat on a curbside bench with their coffees since all the tables were occupied. The bench edged a wall, near the corner of two busy streets, so they sipped as a parade of pedestrians strolled by, the city bustling in all its glory.
Violet was comforted by the busyness. She relaxed just a bit in the sunshine and sipped the strong brew. It was hot and slightly bitter, not as good as Griffin’s coffee, she thought Zach would say.
Bill shifted on the bench, toying with his cup but not drinking.
“What did you want to tell me, Bill?”
He grinned. “That’s what I like about you, Vi. You’re a ‘get to the point’ gal. No small talk.”
“My feet are aching to be put up at home.” She tried for a teasing tone but his smile had vanished, leaving his expression grim. Stomach knotted, she rested the coffee cup on her knee, tension boiling up in her stomach.
“Vi, I want to apologize in advance for what I’ve got to tell you.”
She straightened and took a bracing breath. Whatever Bill Oscar had to confess, it wasn’t going to be good.
* * *
Zach had screeched to the curb at the airport just in time to see Violet and Bill pull away in a cab. Her earlier text, the one he’d only recently read, was alarmingly short.
She had not replied to his answering string of messages that ended with “Do NOT go anywhere with him. Wait for me.” Of course she hadn’t waited. Violet “I can handle myself” Griffin. If it wasn’t so maddening, it would make him smile, this woman who would go toe-to-toe with anyone. In their high school d
ays, he’d actually seen her use a broom to chase away a teen who’d been intent on graffitiing the wall of the diner. She’d probably make an excellent defender if she ever had the yen to join his police basketball team. He’d jokingly asked her before, and she’d replied with a sassy, “Not in this lifetime. Your uniforms are way too ugly.”
He tried to tail them, a maddening prospect in city traffic, staying far enough back in his squad car that he hoped Bill hadn’t noticed. With each congested mile his pulse ticked higher. He mentally practiced the points he would make when he chewed her out. It would be helpful to prep ahead of time, since she could talk circles around him when she had a mind to, but there could be no justifying getting into a cab with Bill Oscar.
He’d lost them a few times, but finally trailed them to a coffee shop. The block was dotted with eateries, everything from Greek dolmas, Hawaiian poke, cheese blintzes, and Vietnamese noodles in rich broth. Eddie’s nose twitched as he sampled the air.
“I know, I’m hungry, too. Work first, lunch later.” Though he was certain Eddie questioned his priorities, he flapped his ears and continued their slow amble around the coffee shop, searching for a place to park, which had added a maddening amount of time.
He’d taken a moment to pull a plain jacket over his uniform shirt, take off his utility belt in favor of a sidearm holster and tug on a Yankees baseball cap. He put a civilian harness on Eddie and slid on a pair of sunglasses before they made their way briskly back to the café.
After completing their second casual stroll around the shop, and finding nothing amiss, he pretended to study the menu written on a chalkboard easel, keeping Bill and Violet in his sight every moment.
Bill’s shoulders were tensed, knee bobbing as he sat on the bench, close to Violet but not touching her, squinting against the sun. For her part, Violet seemed attentive, but not alarmed as far as he could tell, one elegant leg crossed over the other, peep-toed high heels adding a trademark sense of style to her navy blue airline skirt and jacket.
Bill seemed to be talking in stops and starts, nervous, clearly. Was he trying to convince her of his innocence, or confessing his guilt? Irritation and fear raked through him again. The guy could very well be a drug dealer and Violet was coolly sipping coffee with him like he was a long-lost uncle. He could have called his people to arrange a hit, or an abduction, and Violet would have no place to hide. The thought made Zach’s muscles bunch into knots.
Calm down, he told himself. A tall order, even on a good day.
Zach had never been sedate. During their tutoring sessions, when Jordy helped Zach study for the police exam, they’d taken breaks every half hour, shooting hoops, doing pushups, playing with the dogs, anything to stem Zach’s restlessness and frustration that came with long hours of wrestling with his dyslexia. Books made him fidgety. He’d much rather listen to them on audio while running a couple of miles.
Reining you in is like trying to saddle a wild horse, Jordy had lamented many times. Since Jordy’s murder, Zach’s emotions seemed to be uncontainable, breaking loose in spite of his efforts to subdue them. Embarrassing, humiliating, but the emotions would not go away no matter how hard he squashed them down.
Why had God taken away his brother?
It’s okay that you’re struggling with Jordy’s death...it’s healthy to talk about it.
No, it wasn’t. Violet was wrong. Unbridling all that mess made him less of a cop, less of a man. Bill fidgeted. Zach was once again furious at the guy who’d landed Violet knee-deep in threats.
Rage threatened to gallop away with him. He had to force himself not to charge that bench and march Violet right on her sleek high heels back to his squad car. Instead, he pulled the baseball cap down and meandered closer, slouching against a nearby lamppost as if he was texting someone. Cell phones tended to trap people in bubbles of oblivion, but they could be a cop’s best friend...or a killer’s.
At that moment Violet looked up, riveting her brown gaze to his. She startled just a little, but to her credit, she covered it by tucking her hair back into the clip that held the mass of curls at the nape of her neck. His look no doubt telegraphed, What exactly do you think you are doing? but she moved her attention back to Bill. She could feel his ire, no doubt, and he figured she was going to have to bake him a whole batch of apple pies to make up for this silly stunt. He strained to hear their conversation.
“...got you into this mess,” Bill was saying. The words sounded earnest enough, the body language seemed to match, but Zach didn’t believe it, not one single syllable. He hoped Violet didn’t, either. He scanned the crowd again. Had Bill alerted Beck? Was he snaking his way along the sunny sidewalk toward Violet? But no one seemed at all interested in the two chatting on the bench. A lady edged by him, clutching a cell phone to one ear and toting a paper-lined basket with a club sandwich and chips. Eddie tracked the tantalizing scent. She found a seat under one of the orange umbrellas. A man in a business suit joined her, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he sat. Just people out enjoying the spring sunshine, not threats. Zach bent over to scratch Eddie, which gave him an excuse to shuffle a few inches closer.
“Debts,” Bill was saying.
The word caught Zach’s attention.
“Rory’s care is so expensive, and our medical benefits aren’t what they used to be. And the kids, I mean, their private school costs a mint, but I can’t uproot them now, can I? Not with their mother being so sick. All their friends are there, and Rory would be heartbroken if we pulled them out. I’d get another job, but after forty years with an airline, I don’t know how to do anything else. I’ve worked at the airport since I was sixteen.”
Violet caught his wrist. “What are you saying, Bill? Quit dancing around it.”
Zach could see the coffee cup trembling in his fingers. “I...I thought it would be a quick way to earn some money to pay for Rory’s treatments and the kids’ expenses. I promise you I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”
Violet’s voice was calm and measured. “Tell me the truth, all of it.”
“I can’t. It’s too dangerous.”
“We’re way past that,” Violet snapped. “I almost got killed. My house is under police watch and I can’t even sit on the front stoop.”
Atta girl, Vi, Zach thought with a smile. Stay strong. Don’t fall for his sympathy act.
Bill rubbed a palm on his jeans. “I’m so sorry, but there’s no way I can fix it. You should leave things alone, Vi. Just forget the whole thing and get your cop friend to back off. Leave town, maybe. Just for a while until this all blows over.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Bill, so you might as well just spit it out. What happened at the airport? What are you a part of?”
He toyed with the lid of his cup. “The guy you fingered, Xavier Beck, he’s bad news. Ruthless, cunning.”
No newsflash there, Zach thought.
“People who threaten him don’t survive. He wants to impress his boss, and he’ll go after you to clean up the mess at the airport because you’re a threat. You’re a witness to him smuggling drugs. You’ve seen his face.”
What boss? Zach risked edging a few inches closer. This might be a story Bill had cooked up to protect his own skin. Or perhaps the hints about a bigger boss, Uno, were founded after all.
Violet skewered Bill with a look. “You’ve been allowing drugs to pass through the airport. Yes or no?”
Bill shoved his hands under his thighs. “Yes.”
Violet let out a breath and sagged a little. She’d wanted so badly to believe her boss and friend was not guilty.
“Oh, Bill,” she said. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Me neither. Looking in the mirror now I don’t even recognize myself. It was small at first. Nothing major, a few ounces to test the system. I...I worked with Jeb Leak, the TSA guy, and we let Jones through, then Roach and Beck. As soon as I did it, I felt t
errible, I wanted to stop, but Beck said he’d hurt my wife, my kids.” Bill’s voice caught. “What choice did I have, then? You’ve seen them, they’re vicious.”
A nice way to gain sympathy, bringing in the wife and kids, Zach thought, but the fear rang true.
Violet stared at him. “Is this the truth, Bill, or are you lying to me? Who are you working for, exactly? Who is Beck’s boss?”
He shook his head, scanning the street. “I’ve got no idea. They never told me and to be honest, I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to get away from the whole nightmare and forget it ever happened.”
“You must have an idea,” she pressed.
“No, I...” Bill suddenly got to his feet.
Zach tensed and put his hand on the gun hidden under his jacket.
Bill dumped his coffee in the trash. “I’ve said too much. I don’t want you to get hurt. Please do as I say. Don’t ask any more questions. Find another job. I’ll write you a recommendation, whatever you need. I’m sorry I got you involved. I never wanted things to be like this.”
Bill extended a hand to Violet, clasping her fingers in his. “I am truly sorry. I’ll take you back now. This was a mistake.”
A movement from across the street drew Bill’s attention. He froze in place, hands still clasping hers, mouth open.
Zach moved forward to get a clearer view.
“No!” Bill yelled, leaping in front of Violet as gunfire erupted from across the street. Before Zach’s gun cleared the holster, Bill was falling to the cement, a bullet hole punched in his right temple. He hit the sidewalk with a lifeless thud. A second and third bullet fractured the glass of the café, raining a torrent of gleaming shards.
Ambush, Zach’s mind screamed as he dove for Violet.
ELEVEN
Zach had only a moment to squeeze off a shot at the assailant, a man wearing a black cap pulled down, short, barrel-chested—Xavier Beck, it had to be. Beck reeled back as Zach’s shot skimmed his shoulder. Spinning, he took cover behind some parked cars.
