Tonight I Said Goodbye lp-1 Page 25

  “I told my partner to bring your father-in-law out tomorrow morning,” I said. “Is that okay?”

  “John? Wow.” She exhaled loudly and closed her eyes. “Yes, it’s okay. I need to see him before we leave.” She opened her eyes again, and there was surprise and recognition in them. “He doesn’t even know we’re alive, does he?”

  It’s amazing how some people can lose sight of the things that matter most to others. I shook my head. “No, Julie, he doesn’t.”

  For a while we sat in silence, and then she had another question. “You’re very close to Amy, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

  “There’s just something in the way you interact with her, that’s all. Both her and your partner . . . you just seem to let your guard down with them. It’s the first time I’ve seen you do that. I figure you must be close with your partner if you were willing to go into business with him, and if you act similarly around Amy, you must be pretty close to her, too.”

  I looked out at the dark pond. The water was still covered by a thin layer of ice, and it looked as black and smooth as a freshly paved stretch ofasphalt.

  “I’m probably closer to Amy than she realizes,” I said. “Last summer, when I was just drifting along without any purpose, and pretty content to remain miserable, she forced me out of it.”

  Julie tilted her head to the side, her face half obscured by the shadows. “Explain.”

  I told her about my dismissal from the police department. I hadn’t shared the story with her yet, and she listened with interest.

  “After that, I was a little lost,” I said. “Hell, I was very lost. My life had been made up of two parts: work and my fiancée, Karen. Then they were both gone. I used what little money I had to buy a rundown gym on the west side, and I just faded out of my old life. I didn’t keep in contact with anyone from the department except for Joe, who wouldn’t let me avoid him. I worked at the gym during the day, worked out in the evenings, and sat home alone and brooded with the rest of my time. I was listless. Then a guy who went to my gym was murdered, and Amy showed up on my doorstep asking questions and insisting I help her look into it. She was a real pain in the ass, but she was relentless. Eventually, I gave in. Somewhere along the line, I found my way again. Joe saw the change in me, saw how revitalized I was by having a case again, and asked me to go into business with him. I agreed, he retired, and here we are,” I concluded. “Amy played a pretty big part in getting me back on my feet, which is sort of funny, considering I was a stranger to her. And, I have to admit, a bit ofan asshole to her at first.”

  “I see,” Julie said. Then, after a pause, “I’m glad I asked that question, Lincoln. I found out a lot more about you.”

  “Scary stuff, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not. And I’m sorry about what happened, about how you lost your job. It sounds like this Karen woman really let you down.” The corner of her mouth twitched in a cold smile. “I know what that feels like.”

  “No,” I said, and shook my head. “What happened to me happens to a thousand guys every day. Most of them handle it better, that’s all. What happened to you is an entirely different circumstance. Don’t compare the two.”

  “All right.”

  I turned to her and moved slightly closer on the wooden bench. “You amaze me,” I said. “You know that? The way you’re facing all of this, it’s incredible. You must be terrified at the idea of leaving your old life behind, but you’re determined to do it because it’s the best thing for Betsy.”

  “I am terrified, though,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I’m scared to death, Lincoln. And I’ve never been more lonely.”

  I put my hand on her arm. “You’re not alone, Julie. As long as I can help you, I’m going to be here trying to do it.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  She leaned forward and looked into my eyes. Her face was so beautiful that I was almost nervous when she put it that close to mine.

  “Then come with us, Lincoln.”

  I stared at her. “Come with you?”

  She laughed, and her cheeks flushed slightly. “This is an absurd request. There’s no way you can accept it, and I know that, but I’m going to ask anyhow, so you can decline it, and we can move on. Come with us, Lincoln. I’ve got a beautiful, safe place to raise my daughter, and I have plenty of money. I don’t want to have to raise her alone, though. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Julie, you’ve known me for less than three days.”

  She nodded. “And yet I’m asking you. Shouldn’t that tell you something?”

  Yes, I thought, it should. But what?

  I sat stupidly on the hard wooden bench of the picnic table, fumbling for a response. I had to tell her she was crazy, of course. But I didn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should never have asked such a thing. It’s absurd, and it’s certainly not fair to you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Remember when I told you in the car that what happened in the whirlpool last night was a mistake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well,” she said, “this was not a mistake.” She leaned in and kissed me softly on the mouth, holding the kiss for a while, and then pulled away. As attracted as I had been to her the previous night, it couldn’t touch what I felt for her then.

  After a while we left the picnic table and moved to one of the wooden lounge chairs. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but at least we could lean back in it. Julie curled against me, and I held her as we sat there and let the night pass. It grew later, and the air grew colder, but we didn’t leave the deck, not wanting to give up the night any quicker than we had to.

  CHAPTER 23

  I WOKE shortly before eight, lunging off the couch and reaching for my gun. I had my hand around the butt of the Glock when I stopped and realized where I was. The little cottage was still and quiet, and there was no cause for alarm. I didn’t remember any violent or frightening dream left behind in the world of sleep, but there I was, reaching for my gun. Dream or no dream, it wasn’t a positive start to the day.

  I put the gun away and went into the bathroom, hoping to get a shower in before Julie and Betsy woke. The water heater didn’t approve of my rousing it into action at such an early hour, a point it made clear by refusing to offer more than a tepid stream. I left the shower quickly, dressed in the previous day’s clothes, and returned to the living room. Julie was awake now, sitting at the kitchen table.

  “You find some coffee?” I said.

  She made a face. “There’s a jar of instant coffee. It’s going to be pretty bad, but it beats no coffee at all.”

  “Barely.”

  “When is your partner going to be here?”

  “Eight.”

  She looked at her watch. “Not much time. I’d better wake Betsy so she’s ready to see John.”

  When she returned to the kitchen, she busied herself with the coffee. There was no mention of the night before, or of her request. A few minutes after Betsy joined us in the kitchen, I heard tires on the gravel drive and looked at my watch. Eight o’clock exactly. Joe is nothing if not prompt. I watched from the kitchen window as John Weston pulled in behind Joe, climbed out of his Buick, and walked up the deck steps, using a wooden cane with a brass head to support his balance. He was wearing an olive parka and light blue pants and moving at as fast a clip as he could, although the steps were causing him some difficulty.

  He entered the cottage in front of Joe and stared at Julie and Betsy as if they were greeters at the gates of heaven.

  “Grandpa!” Betsy squealed, jumping out of her chair and running to him. She wrapped her arms around his legs and hugged him tightly. The cane fell to the floor as he picked her up and lifted her, and then the tears came. Julie joined them then, and I noticed belatedly that Joe had never actually stepped inside. I went out on the deck and found him sitting on the picnic table.


  “Morning,” I said.

  He nodded. “I figured I’d sit out here for a while. It’s their family, and their reunion. Got nothing to do with me.”

  “Old John seems pretty happy. How’d he react when you told him?”

  “Called me a lying son ofa bitch and said he’d break my legs.”

  I stared at him. “You’re joking.”

  He shook his head and grinned. “Nope, that’s what the old bastard said. I called him this morning and said I needed to come out to the house. Said I had some news for him. I go out there, he meets me at the door, and I told him he could see his granddaughter today if he was so inclined. He told me if I was lying he’d break my legs.”

  “Oh,” I said, “if you were lying. Well, that’s different. The old-timer was simply expressing his gratitude.”

  “I guess.”

  The door opened, and John stepped out. He had the cane again, and he was wiping at his eyes with the back of his mangled hand. He walked to stand in front of us, but Julie and Betsy stayed inside.

  “Whatever you want to be paid,” he said, “it’s yours. And whatever it is, it’s not enough.”

  “We’ll bill the standard rate,” I said. “Unlike you, Mr. Weston, we expected us to succeed.”

  He smiled at that. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you did.” He offered his hand to me and I shook it. “Remember when you told me why you were in this business?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So do I.” He cleared his throat loudly. “And, son? I guess you two are pretty damn good, after all.”

  “Yes,” I said, “we are.”

  “Your partner here wouldn’t explain anything to me, though.”

  Joe shrugged. “I figure it’s Mrs. Weston’s tale to tell. We found her. She can explain it.”

  I nodded. “We’ve got some things to take care of, John. Your daughter-in-law is still in danger, and we need you to stay here and watch them while we’re gone. No one should know where they are, and it needs to stay that way for a few hours. It should give you plenty of time to talk with Julie.”

  “All right. But I’m going to want to sit down with you, too. I want to know how you found them, and what the hell’s been going on.”

  “We’ll get to that,” I said. “For now, we’ve got a few things left to settle.”

  His eyes went from Joe to me, and he seemed to understand the nature of those things. “Okay. Well, good luck. And thanks.”

  Betsy began calling for him from inside, and he turned and limped back to her. Joe and I got off the deck and left. Julie called after me once, but I pretended not to hear her. I didn’t want to talk right now.

  “We’re going to be cutting it close,” I said, looking at my watch.

  “We’ll make it,” Joe said. “I suggest we take two cars, though.” I had been standing with my hand on the passenger-door handle of his Taurus. I nodded and went back to the Contour.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “I hate to keep the mafia waiting.”

  “You got the tape?”

  I patted my hip pocket. “Got it.”

  We took I-71 back into the city, across the Cuyahoga and into the heart of downtown. Joe pulled off the highway and onto Ontario Street with me right behind him. A red light brought us to a stop facing the Terminal Tower. Jacobs Field was on the right, empty now, waiting for warmer weather and baseball before it turned into one of the centerpieces of evening activity downtown. The light changed, and we made a left turn and followed the road as it wound down the hill, closer to the river, then back up to the bridge. A group of seagulls sat along the edge of the bridge, watching the river. We crossed the river and drove past the Northern Ohio Lumber and Timber Company building, an ancient brick structure with red wooden doors. The Contour rumbled across a short section of brick road, approaching the lift bridge, and I saw the skyscrapers looming above me. I’ve always enjoyed this stretch of the drive, where the old commercial section of the river district and the new high-rise office buildings converge. We curved back to the right, following the signs for Tower City parking. Joe pulled into the lower level of the garage and found a spot easily, and I parked a few cars down. It hadn’t been so long since we’d parked in this same garage on our visit to Jeremiah Hubbard.

  “Well,” Joe said as I locked the car and joined him, “this is certainly the dumbest idea we’ve ever embarked on.”

  “Should be fun.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  I did not ask Joe how he’d managed to contact Belov, and I would not ask him. Some things you just don’t need to know. Maybe Joe had vast underworld contacts.

  We took the escalator up to the mall entrance. Usually at the top of the escalator you’re met with the conversational din of the food court, but this early in the morning the food court was closed and quiet. Out in the atrium a tall fountain cascaded down in front of us, and store employees moved about, readying for the crowds that would soon arrive. I’m not a shopping mall fan, but I enjoy walking through Tower City when I’m downtown. It’s a beautiful facility, with wide banks of windows looking down on the old commercial buildings along the river. I didn’t take much time to appreciate the scenery today, though. I was too busy looking for Belov or his soldiers. The mall wasn’t busy, but there were enough people around to make me feel somewhat safe. That feeling vanished when someone stepped up behind me and pressed the barrel ofa gun into my back.

  Beside me, Joe said, “Morning, gentlemen.” I didn’t risk turning my head, but it seemed safe to assume Joe had a gun in his back as well.

  “Morning,” a male voice with a faint European accent said behind me. “We’re going to be walking back down to the parking garage now, and then we’re going to see Mr. Belov. That is what you want, no?”

  “Yeah, that’s what we want.”

  “Excellent.” A hand slipped under my shirt and removed the Glock swiftly and smoothly. The videotape was left in my pocket. “You may turn around now.”

  I turned and looked into the face of a man with the palest blue eyes I had ever seen. They were like chips of glacier ice. He was tall, several inches taller than me, and had fine, straw-colored hair and a broad-shouldered, muscular build. When I faced him, he gave me a wide smile of straight white teeth.

  “We are old friends, yes?” he said. “Or at least we shall act like it.”

  I got the message. The blue-eyed man had a partner who was much shorter and rounder, with dark, shaggy hair and several days’ worth of stubble. Both of them were wearing ski jackets and jeans. The jackets were open, exposing the guns they’d tucked back into their pants.

  I looked at Joe. “Do you think we get our guns back?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  We followed the Russians back down the escalator and into the parking garage. The blue-eyed man led us to a black Lincoln Town Car and climbed behind the wheel. Joe and I got in the back, and the bearded man climbed in with us.

  “A Town Car,” I said. “Nice choice. Very in keeping with the organized crime tendencies.” No one laughed. Tough crowd, in a couple of ways.

  We drove out of the parking garage and back down toward the river. I kept my breathing even and steady and drummed my fingers on the edge of the door. Relaxed. No need to be concerned, right? Would’ve felt a little better if they’d let us keep our guns, though.

  The blue-eyed man drove us back across the river on the Cleveland Memorial Shoreway and then turned onto Lake Avenue. A few decades earlier, some of the city’s most expensive homes stood on Lake Avenue. Now the rich were moving to the suburbs, but there were still some beautiful houses on the street. We turned into the driveway of one of them, a massive Victorian structure.

  “One of Mr. Belov’s homes,” the blue-eyed man said. One of them. The place probably cost more than I’d make in ten years, and it was a lakeside retreat for Belov.

  We got out of the car, and now the bearded man had his gun out again. He waved it at the side door of the home.

  “Go inside
.”

  I opened the door and stepped inside with Joe and the Russians right behind me. We were on a small landing. A set of four steps led up to the kitchen, and another set of steps led down to a closed door.

  “Down,” the bearded man said.

  I went down and opened that door, too. This room had been remodeled into a basement office. There was a black desk with a glass top, a glass coffee table, a small bar with a bottle of Scotch, a big-screen television, and several black office chairs. The bearded man pushed me down into one of the chairs. A small man with a gray mustache sat behind the desk. He wore a white shirt with a maroon tie, and his face was lined with deep creases and dark circles under his brown eyes. It gave him a weary expression. If you passed him on the street you might have guessed he was a bookkeeper for some small-time company, a guy who had been commuting to work in the same office for forty years and was hoping to retire to a two-bedroom house in Parma.

  “Here they are, Mr. Belov,” the bearded man said. He stepped behind the desk and set our guns on the floor near Belov’s feet. The blue-eyed man leaned against the wall, his hand maybe six inches from the butt of his gun.

  “Which one of you is Mr. Pritchard?” Belov said. His voice was soft, but it had a hard edge, as if it might easily turn into a bellow.

  “That’s me,” Joe said.

  Belov nodded slightly. “You have interesting ways of trying to reach me, sir.”

  “I didn’t know the best way to go about it. I hope you weren’t offended.”

  “Not at all. And my maid appreciated the fifty dollars.”

  I looked at Joe. “You gave the maid fifty dollars?”

  “And a note,” he said. “She promised she’d see that it reached Mr. Belov. He called me shortly thereafter.”

  So much for Joe’s vast underworld contacts.

  “And who are you?” Belov said, turning his flat brown eyes to me.

  “Lincoln Perry,” I said. “I’m his partner.”

  He held the stare for a moment, then lifted his hand and pointed at the bearded man. “This is Alexander.” The point switched to the blue-eyed man. “And this is Thor. Thor is quite a volatile, dangerous man. You would be well advised not to upset him.”