Fifth Ave 02 - Running of the Bulls (37 page)

"Grab a cab," he said.
 
"Watch your back.
 
We'll talk later."

"Be careful," she said.

"I'll try."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

He hung up the phone, thought for a moment and decided to call Linda Patterson first, Hines second.
 

This time, he dialed *67 to conceal his identity so neither knew whom he was working for.
 
He told them about Schwartz, he came clean that he owed each a tip but that he was telling nobody else other than themselves.
 
Now, it was up to them who got on-scene first and decided who was taking Schwartz's case.
 

Though Marty would be happy for Hines, he was pulling for Patterson.
 
Hines was a friend Marty had helped countless times over the years, usually in ways that lifted his stature and his title within the department.

But in this case, which might prove the largest of Marty's career, he knew he needed to be smart.
 
Winning over Patterson after he screwed her out of two grand was critical.
 
With her contacts and ability to tap into information, having her on his side could be the game-changer he needed as this case progressed.

*
 
*
 
*

When they arrived at the Tarot Cafe, Marty was relieved to find it open.
 
It was nearly 9:30 and the café’s neon sign--a tarot card tipped into a coffee cup--punched a red halo of light into the night and across the faces of those on the street.

“We’ll be safe here," Marty said.

Since she’d been secretive from the start, he was expecting her to put up a fight.
 
But she didn’t.
 
Instead, she nodded and they stepped out of the cab.
 
Marty went to the driver, handed him some cash and they went inside the cafe, where Roberta was across a room filled with hanging tapestries positioned in such a way that they diffused the light and created a mood.
 

Just inside the door was a rush of incense that smelled of something toasted and earthy.
 
Candles burned low on the gnarled wooden tables.
 
Marty swept the space and saw that only a few of those tables were occupied.
 
Moroccan music played in the background.
 
He caught Roberta’s eye and immediately saw the concern on her face.

“Twice in two days?” she said.
 
“Let me get tea.
 
Sit in the rear booth, not the front.
 
The energy is better back here.”

They went to the back of the café and slid into the booth.
 
Marty chose the seat facing the door.
 
Maggie sat opposite him and looked around the room.
 
“I’ve never been here before,” she said.

He had zero patience for small talk.
 
He removed his cell and looked it over.
 
Physically, it seemed fine.
 
He smacked it hard against the palm of his hand and tried it.
 
Nothing.
 
He smacked it harder, this time against the side of the table, and it worked like a charm.
 
He gave her back her phone.
 
“Let's get to it," he said.
 
"If my kids weren't involved in this now, I'd be out.”

“I'm sorry," she said.

"For which thing?"

"For everything.
 
For the first day we met.
 
For tonight.
 
For lying to you.
 
For all of it.
 
I've been watching my back for years.
 
I don't know who I can trust.
 
I saw them enter the building tonight.
 
I called the ambulance for a distraction so I could go inside without being heard.
 
Did they hurt you?"

“I'm fine.
 
But we're finishing this together and you're going to tell me what you know.
 
Who were those two people tonight?”

“I don't know.
 
Assassins?"

“Wolfhagen hire them?”

“I'm not sure."

"Why aren't you sure?"

"Because one thing still doesn't make sense to me.
 
Wolfhagen wouldn't have sent himself Wood's head.
 
I know him.
 
He wouldn't have pointed the finger at himself."

“Not even for an alibi?”

She paused.
 
It was obvious by her expression that she hadn't considered that angle.
 
As her expression changed, he saw now how much sense it made to her.

"Would he do it for the alibi?"

"He might.
 
Forcing the attention on himself would actually work in his favor if he did hire this out.
 
That's how he thinks."

"What about Lasker?”

“He’s a possibility.”

"Where does he live?"

"On Fifth."

"You're not writing a book, are you?"

"I’m not."

"Then, what are you doing?"

“Trying to expose Wolfhagen.
 
Trying to make him pay for what he did.”

"He's already been to prison, Maggie."

She leveled him with a look.
 
"That's right.
 
For securities fraud."

"What else did he do?"

At that moment, Roberta arrived with two cups of tea, each smelling of cinnamon.
 
When she handed Maggie hers, Marty noted that she intentionally brushed the side of her thumb along the curve of Maggie’s left hand.
 
Her eyes darted to his, but she kept her voice light.
 
“So, who's this?”

“Roberta, meet Maggie.”

Roberta held out a hand, which Maggie shook.
 
“You seem familiar to me,” Roberta said, still holding Maggie’s hand.
 
“Have we met before?”

Maggie looked down at her hand.
 
“I don’t believe so.”

Roberta gave it a slight squeeze before releasing it.
 
“I've seen you somewhere,” she said.
 
“It’ll come to me.”

Maggie smiled, which emphasized the scar on her face.

Roberta’s eyes lingered on that scar before she turned to Marty and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.
 
“I'm glad you're here, because this has been killing me.
 
Do you remember that joke I told you the other day about the three women?”

He looked at her for a moment and then remembered.
 
It wasn't a joke--it was a warning.
 
This was her way of reaching him covertly.
 
Her words came back to him.
 
“Three women,” Roberta said.
 
“One of them loves you, one of them resents you, the other is keeping secrets from you.
 
They’re in danger, too, but only one of them knows it and she doesn’t care.
 
She’s got murder in her heart.
 
She wants someone dead.
 
I don’t know if it’s you, but you’re involved.
 
She might kill you.”

“I remember,” Marty said, and in his mind’s eye, he saw Maggie rolling into Schwartz’s room, her gun held out in front of her and firing.
 
No amateur moved like that, so where had Maggie Cain learned to?
 
It took everything he had not to look at her.
  
“But as usual, you forgot the punch line.”

“That’s because I’m old.
 
And the worst part is that it’s not even as funny as I remembered.
 
Still, I remembered it.
 
Want to hear it?”

“Why not?
 
I could use a joke right now.”

She kept her gaze squarely on Marty and though she tried to mask her emotions, she couldn't.
 
In her eyes, he saw fear and sorrow.
 
“The third woman killed him.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

9:27 p.m.

With his children involved, the only way out of this was to see it through.
 
To do that, he needed Maggie.
 
There was no other option.
 
She'd lied to him before, but Marty now sensed it wasn’t with malice, but because she felt threatened by what was happening now.
 

She was scared and trying to protect herself.
 
He felt she was finally being honest with him.
 
Still, if she thought for one second that her fear would ever get in the way of him protecting his daughters, she was a fool.
 
His family was in danger.
 
To end this, he would do whatever it took.

He watched Roberta go back into the kitchen.
 
"Alright," he said.
 
"Go on."

“I need you to understand one thing," she said.
 
"If my name is connected to any of this, I’ll be dead in a week.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that."

"Then we'll keep your name out of it.
 
Why were you at Wood's?"

"How did you know I was at Wood's?"

"It's what I do."

"She had a videotape I wanted.
 
She had files on Mark.
 
With him dead, there was no one else who could protect his memory from that tape and those files if someone didn't intervene and destroy them.
 
So, I called and threatened her.
 
I got from her what she never should have had."

"What was her condition when you got there?"

"She was high, but at least she had the box ready.
 
I was there for about ten minutes.
 
I left with what I came for."

"Why does the FBI have a file on you?"

"We’ve already discussed that.
 
They think I have Mark’s stolen money, but I don’t.
 
That’s their only interest in me.”

Marty knew the answer--he just wanted to see if she delivered the same response.
 
She did.
 
“Who would want to kill you?”

“Who do you think?
 
You’ve seen the DVDs.”

“I’ve seen one DVD.”

“Fine, you’ve seen one.
 
That’s enough.”
 
She cocked an eyebrow at him.
 
“Did you recognize anyone on that tape, Marty?”

“Senator Diamond from Arkansas.”

“No one else?”

“Everyone else was wearing a leather mask.”

“Then you chose the wrong DVD.”