“What is going on?” yelled Fio.
Finn and Sam took over and gave them all the rundown, mostly that they needed to get after Daphne. Fio dispatched several of the officers with him to go and set up an APB.
Fio turned to Sam and said, “You’ve had a hand in yet another fine job, Mr. Battle.” He shook Sam’s hand and said, “I have some big plans for you, Big Sam. And Mrs. Jane Bolin. Nice to see you, as well. I’d love to have your legal ear on this matter. My office tomorrow?”
That formidable woman gave him a smile and a nod that spoke volumes.
Finn relayed to the very interested, large group the gist of the evening’s events. That Murk’s crew planned to take out a cop and have it blamed on the black crowd. That when Sam and his men pulled together, it was Jane, a top-notch lawyer, who put two and two together. She figured that a murder of a white cop at the event that showcased the country’s first all-black theater cast would be absolutely incendiary to the city and the already tenuous race relations.
The white cops and the black cops and the black theater cast all looked at each other. I could only imagine the depths of all that was going through their minds. Sam put one giant hand on Finn’s shoulder and then on Jane’s and said, “It’s been fun working with you two. Let’s all grab a beer.” Then he chuckled that deep, rumbling laugh of his that caught like wildfire to the entire group. They all started to meld together, sharing the great story of the night together before they headed out for beers.
Lastly, we took Fio aside and filled him in on Daphne and her acrobatic escape. I took a good look at Fio and said, “You brought your trumpet?”
“It’s a cornet, Lane. And yes. Just in case I needed it.” Just like he did with the dethroning of the Artichoke King. You couldn’t say my boss didn’t have style.
Finn waved over a medic to take a look at my arm, which was really painful now that all the adrenaline was wearing off. But before I went in for stitches, I had to find out one more thing.
“Finn, so was derby hat guy—Mr. Wulf—working with you all along? And wait, what is his first name? I just can’t keep calling him Mr. Wulf,” I said.
“Muldoon.”
That’s not at all what I expected.
“Muldoon Wulf,” I repeated.
Finn pursed his lips, nodding as he said, “Yep. Muldoon.”
I shook my head. “I see why he goes by Mr. Wulf. So, again, was Mr. Muldoon Wulf working with you all along?”
With a smug grin, he said, “No, in fact I just recently turned him. I got to thinking about being so utterly hoodwinked in London, I needed to go on the offensive. And when I learned about that Sparks character possibly being a double agent, I began to think through who might be susceptible to a little bit of direction. To maybe change sides.”
Fio happily bounced on his toes and responded, “Just goes to show, an S of a B can change his spots. Marvelous. Just marvelous.” He went over to Mr. Wulf and shook his hand. The mean look that was still resident on his face began to melt away a tiny bit as he and the mayor had a good talk. I expect there was more to Muldoon than met the eye. There’s always more to people than what you see on the surface, even the ones you relegated to bad apples.
“Say, Finn, who was that tall guy you were working with in the theater? Where’d he go? Was he one of your cops?” I asked, looking around.
Fio was called away, but Finn obviously remembered a seemingly interesting tidbit about the evening and shot a look to Roarke, who’d joined us. Roarke started to turn around as if not wanting to be part of that conversation.
I said, “Oh, no you don’t! Get back here. What’s this about?”
Roarke and Finn both took a big breath and put their hands on their hips. “Oh boy,” I said, not liking the look of this. “Spit it out.”
Finn took one last look at Roarke and said, “He’s with Venetti. Said Venetti had him keeping an eye on us, and that he had a vested interest in Daphne. So he’d work with us to take her down.”
“Go on. That’s clearly not the punch line,” I said.
Finn cleared his throat. “His name is Rafael Catalano. Raff.”
“I’m gonna kill her,” I said. “Val’s gotten herself involved in Venetti’s world?” I tried to raise my hands to my hips in indignation, but pain shot through my arm so badly, black spots started to mar my vision.
“Whoa! Take it easy, love,” said Finn as he swooped me up into his arms before I completely fell down. “Come on, let’s get you to the ambulance. You need some fluids and some stitches.”
His face was a mask of concern. I was still coherent enough to enjoy his chest. I think I mumbled mmmm again, because he laughed his silent chuckle that shook that nice chest. I rested my head contentedly on him, deciding it was okay to give in to the fatigue just then.
As he made his way to the ambulance, with the sirens blaring in the distance, people milling around, and me in Finn’s arms, I was taken right back to the end of our last case where I was in a similar situation. That case tied together with this one, and with Daphne’s parting words to us, I was certain there was more to come.
CHAPTER 71
I had to be admitted overnight at the hospital so that they could watch my arm for infection. I tried to talk the doctors out of it, but they wouldn’t listen. Finn stayed with me, which made that pill a lot easier to swallow.
Aunt Evelyn and Mr. Kirkland wanted to come, but it was so late, the visiting hours were way past. The only reason Finn was allowed was because he was police. Plus, I did have a maniac on the loose who wanted to kill me. I was perfectly fine with heightened police presence in my life.
The next morning my arm felt much better and the doctors were relieved that there was no redness or swelling. Infections killed an awful lot of people, it was nothing to sneeze at. Finn drove me home to a warm greeting. I swear, Mr. Kirkland looked like he was about to swoop me up and carry me up all those stairs like he did one other time.
“I’m good! Really, don’t worry. Just a little tired and my arm is starting to itch.”
“Well, that’s good, Lane. Means it’s healing,” said Aunt Evelyn, a relieved arm around my shoulders as I walked up the stairs to our townhouse.
I greeted Ripley and he refused to leave my side the rest of the day, even lying directly on my feet most of the time. I loved that dog.
For dinner, we had a council of war. Mr. Kirkland made a pork roast with pan-browned potatoes and gravy. The seasoning and roasting pork filled the house with good smells and the promise of friends coming to share in it all.
After a meal and a lot of wine, we all sat down in the parlor. Roarke and Finn; Evelyn and Kirkland; Morgan, Sam, Fiorello, and myself. Over coffee we discussed the case and worked out all the kinks.
Fio, fairly bouncing in his seat, said, “So let me summarize.” Mr. Kirkland and Aunt Evelyn exchanged amused glances while Finn put an arm around my shoulders and softly toyed with the curls of my hair. I eased farther into him, enjoying his warmth and familiarity.
Fiorello crossed his legs and said in a formal sort of voice, “In order to gain control of the pinball and slots market, forcing the police to leave them alone, Murk and Crusher worked out the cop-killing threat. But their overall boss was Daphne, probably a remnant of Rex’s work. She was shoring up her work here, starting to make money again, making that branch of their business profitable.”
Morgan spoke up, “So it’s confirmed, she really did go to Europe for a reason, not to just lead you on a wild-goose chase.”
“Right,” said Finn. “We know she was reestablishing contact with underground criminal networks in England, but she wasn’t starting up business there. Which is smart, because the money is in the States right now and looks to remain so for a while until everyone figures out Germany’s stance and whether Hitler will be sated. If ever.”
Sam said, “But what I still don’t understand is why Daphne had such a vested interest in Lane after all these years? I know she tried to kill you when you
were ten, Lane, but why now?”
I was warming to the subject because I hadn’t told anyone what I’d learned yet. I so enjoy a good reveal.
“I finally figured it out. In the theater,” I said with relish.
Morgan and Fio sat forward eagerly, ready for the story.
“Well, a little while ago, I caught the scent of what turned out to be her perfume. I had smelled it before and that memory stopped me in my tracks. It was a terrifying feeling, and all I remembered was a syringe and being frightened. At the theater, when Daphne was looking for me, I watched her grab a stage dummy lying on the floor, then viciously throw it back down.”
I paused, then said meaningfully, “I had seen her do that before.” I looked around my rapt audience and continued. “You know how I saw her leering over me with a pillow, that green hat on her head at the hospital after the accident? At the theater I remembered that same day; in fact, right before she came into my room, I had turned my head as I was lying in the bed. I remember my neck had been so sore. I could see Rutherford in his bed in the next room over. I watched as Daphne took a syringe and plunged it into Rutherford. Her husband. Then she yanked him up by the collar, just like that dummy, and threw him back down on the bed.
“Before I remembered this, I’d always assumed he died right away in the lake, but he’d survived a while like me, didn’t he?” I asked.
Mr. Kirkland was rubbing his chin in thought. “Yeah. Yeah, Lane, he sure did. He died of a heart attack in the hospital. Everyone thought it was just complications from the fall into the lake. My God.”
Roarke said, “But after all these years, why does she care? She could’ve killed you ages ago. Why now the sudden interest?”
“I’m not sure yet. Back then, maybe she thought I’d rat her out. But it was clear right away that I hadn’t remembered anything. Besides, who’d trust what a ten-year-old just coming out of a coma would say? But now . . . I don’t know. And my mom was involved in that somehow. It’s just too much of a coincidence that Sparks called me Charlie by mistake and then she killed him soon after. Daphne’s not interested in me bringing her to justice on the murder of Rutherford. It has to do with something that makes her job a lot harder now.”
Finn nodded and said thoughtfully, “Back then, she wasn’t Rex’s heir yet. That could also be a reason for renewed interest in what you could bring to light, Lane. Now she’s in charge. Now maybe that memory is damaging to her.”
There was one person I could ask.
Fio said suddenly, “Oh, no you don’t. You are not going to go have a chat with Uncle Louie, Lane Sanders.”
Finn’s eyes shot to me. How did Fio know that’s what I was thinking?
“Don’t even ask how I know. I just do. And no.” Fio thumped the arm of his chair as an exclamation point to his statement.
“Well, we can’t just invite him to City Hall,” I said. “And he has those answers. He’d always known my mother, and I’m not sure how or why, but they had a kind of relationship. And he said he had a vested interest in Daphne, always calls her that woman with particular disgust.”
“Well . . .” said Morgan with an intriguing air. “Maybe we can invite him to City Hall.”
“What?” bellowed Fio.
Young Morgan gazed upon us with her forty-year-old smug smile. “We can invite him to meet with us at City Hall subway station.”
CHAPTER 72
Two days later, after all the mother hens felt my arm had healed enough, we filed down to the City Hall subway stop. That particular stop is the one I take a few times every week. And there just happen to be gorgeous arches and marble halls, areas that make a fantastic place to pull over and have an unobtrusive meeting with someone.
Everyone was stationed all around, with Mr. Kirkland and I the main ones whom Venetti would meet with. But Morgan and her crew were peppered here and there; Roarke, Fio and Evelyn were not to be left out and were ambling around as if tourists; and of course an agitated detective was on the scene who felt that this was all way out of control.
Right on time, down the steps came a large man with salt ’n’ pepper hair and caterpillar eyebrows, followed by two bodyguards, including the guy who was presumably my best friend’s boyfriend.
“Good morning, Kirkland. Lane. I do hope your arm is feeling better. Raff filled me in on your rather spectacular night at the theater,” he rumbled.
“Thank you, Mr. Venetti. Yes, my arm is feeling better. And thank you for sending Raff along that night.” I glanced at Raff and his deep blue eyes held a grateful smile, even though the rest of him was on guard. He was very tall and capable looking and his Roman nose was very attractive.
“Wait a minute,” I said abruptly with a raspy voice, trying not to scare all my friends who were on guard. “You’re the one who pulled me back from the curb when Daphne hit Crusher outside of Radio City Music Hall.”
Kirkland shot his eyes to me and then to Raff. Venetti and Raff exchanged glances. Venetti said, “Let’s walk a little. I’ll fill you in.”
As we slowly strolled, his hands once again behind his back like an inspector, Uncle Louie said, “I’ve had Raff following you for the same reason that I believe you’re here to talk with me. You and I are frequently on the same page, Lane.”
“Grrrrrrr,” growled Mr. Kirkland quietly.
I dashed a quick look to him, wrinkling my nose and shaking my head. I held up my thumb and forefinger, mouthing the words, Just a little. He rolled his eyes.
“So you know why Daphne has had me in her sights . . .” I said.
“Yes. I’m hoping you can fill in some gaps for me, but I figured a little extra help watching you was a good idea. It all goes back to Rex. He started this, and his own avarice is what ended his organization as he saw it.”
Kirkland remained quiet, taking it all in. Venetti saw that we were hooked and wanted to know more, so he continued. “As you know, he was constantly toying with people. Making them believe they were highly esteemed, and the next day had them executed on the turn of a dime. It created the fear and mayhem he craved, but over time, it also created a monster.”
“Daphne,” I whispered. Rex had created a Mr. Hyde, just like in Jekyll and Hyde. Someone consumed and enslaved by the darkness.
“Mm,” he grunted in acknowledgment. “Rex had been molding and crafting Daphne for years. They’d been in bed together, both literally and figuratively, as he wanted to create the ultimate heir. Someone who demonstrated the most devotion and excellence in the business.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked. Venetti and Rex were supposedly archrivals.
“From my own inquiries, and because I received this.” He handed me an envelope, old and wrinkled from many readings. It was from Rex.
Mr. Kirkland looked over my shoulder as we read the brief letter together. At the end, our heads popped up at the same time. Venetti nodded in appreciation of the situation.
I said, “So Rex writes you an antagonizing missive, and his very plan is what led to his own downfall.”
“Exactly. Hubris often does. Long before that, Rex had taunted me, and every other boss, that he’d been grooming a new leader for years, that it was a powerful person. But here, in the letter, when he says that he’s decided to choose his own son instead of that other person, I think he slipped when he wrote ‘she.’ It had to be Daphne. I’d known they were sharing a bed, but then I looked into it further and discovered their partnership.”
I tapped my hand with the letter, thinking. Venetti went on, “It was right after that letter that Rex was killed, then not too long after that, your parents were killed, Lane.”
“So, perhaps Daphne got wind that Rutherford was going to be Rex’s leader; she would not be his choice after all,” I suggested.
“Perhaps, but we can’t be certain,” he said.
“Oh, I think we can.” He and Raff both stopped and looked at me abruptly. “I saw her kill Rutherford.”
After a beat of silence, he said, “Tha
t’d do it.” We continued walking as I told him about the scene I’d witnessed when I was ten. After I paused, he said, “Let’s see . . . let’s see . . . yes, this makes sense. This is what I believe: Daphne is working quietly and diabolically behind the scenes, but no one knows her work. She hasn’t been in the spotlight at all, waiting and pining for her moment to shine. She believes she’ll be the chosen leader. But then she gets word that Rex is not going to choose her after all she’d sacrificed. Only one person is in her way: Rutherford. So she gets with Donagan, and maybe suggests that it would be wise to get Rutherford and the Lorians out of the way once and for all.”
“But why come after me? I don’t think she cares that there isn’t a statute of limitations with murder,” I said.
“No, she doesn’t. But she does care if it gets out that Rex never intended her to be the leader. Her mental abilities were always in question. Whether her insanity is an act or not, it was a cause for concern. I think that you were the only witness to that murder, plus my letter from Rex, not to mention anything else he let out of the bag while he taunted people, could be enough to make her colleagues question her leadership.”
I nodded and said, “Right, she went to London to shore up the strength of her leadership there, so she’s probably doing the same here. There are plenty of other Red Scroll people still around to claim that throne if she never had Rex’s blessing.”
Including her children, Tucker and Eliza. Good Lord.
“One more thing,” I added. “How does my mother fit into all this? Why did Daphne kill Sparks right after he mistook me for Charlie?”
Venetti paused for a long moment, then said quietly, “Charlie . . . was my friend.”
Raff and I caught each other’s eye. Sadness permeated those four words, his face telling a long story.
Venetti cleared his throat and said, “Charlie and I knew each other from our childhood neighborhood. We ended up on opposite sides of the law most of the time, but she had a way of bringing life to everyone around her. I just . . . I always liked her. I let her down. I should’ve done a better job protecting her.”
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