No Such Thing as a Free Lunch (No Such Thing As...: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) (25 page)

My parents headed upstairs to bed, while I stayed up to watch The Daily Show and fantasize about what it would be like to be married to Jon Stewart. I imagined I would laugh a lot.

At around one a.m. I put Adrian on his leash and shoved him out the front door to pee. I didn’t want him wandering off, but I was too chicken to walk him. He could only go as far as Mrs. Gentile’s side of the porch, which was where he chose to take a mini dump. I kicked it off the porch figuring it would fertilize her azaleas.

Before I went in, I took a surreptitious glance down the block. Halfway down, parked three cars past the street lamp was Craig’s Toyota.
Okay, enough was enough.
I was all set to march up to his car, drag him out of there and force him to tell me what was going on, when someone beat me to the punch. A hooded figure emerged from the shadows and approached Craig’s car.

I could barely make out a thing from my position on the porch, so I grabbed Adrian and ran back inside the house, taking the stairs two steps at a time. When I reached my bedroom, I pulled out the binoculars and parted the curtains ever so slightly.

Craig was walking around to the passenger side of the car. Actually, it looked more like he was being escorted. Craig climbed in and then the person in the hooded parka jogged around to the other side and climbed in behind the wheel. Before the rational part of my brain had a chance to kick in, I bounded down the steps, grabbed my bag and my cell phone and dashed out the door.

I jumped into my car and turned on the ignition leaving the headlights off. Craig’s car had already turned the corner so I drove slowly, waiting until they got a ways down the block before turning the corner after them. The streets were practically empty, which made it difficult to go unnoticed. I decided to do a front tail, something I’d read about in a James Bond book once. I stepped on the gas and passed in front of Craig’s car. Then I moved to the right, staying several car lengths ahead.

They turned North on Broad Street which made it easier. Traffic was denser now. I flipped on my headlights and hung back again, scooting in behind a large van. At a red light I picked up the cell and punched in Nick’s number.

“Are you okay, Angel?” Nick asked, upon answering. If he’d been asleep—or worse yet, entertaining, he gave no indication of it.

Only now did I stop to think about what I had done.
I’m driving around unarmed in the middle of the night, following potential murderers. Oh God. I must be as crazy as everyone thinks I am!

“Nick, I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I just didn’t think I should call the police. At least not yet.” I was babbling but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

Nick cut in, his voice low and reassuring. “It’s okay, darlin’. Just tell me what’s going on.”

The light changed and I moved ahead, careful to keep a healthy distance between the two cars. “Craig was parked in front of my house again. And then some guy showed up and it seemed like he was hassling Craig, but I couldn’t be sure. They took off in Craig’s car, so I jumped in mine and followed them. They just made a right onto Washington and it looks like they’re heading towards the river.”

“I’m not far from there. Stay on the line with me and if you’re spotted, turn around and drive to the nearest police station.”

I felt tons better now that I was in contact with Nick. I kept my eyes on the car ahead as it traveled North on Delaware Avenue. We were parallel to the river now. I could see the big naval ships floating in the harbor. During the day this area is bustling with activity, but at night it’s just plain spooky.

A big deserted parking lot loomed ahead. The Toyota began to slow down, pulling into the lot and cruising to a stop next to an upscale riverfront restaurant. It was closed for the winter. I cut my lights and parked behind a dumpster, about a hundred yards away from the Toyota.

“I’m at Clancy’s Steakhouse,” I told Nick.

“Got it.” He said something else but it was lost in a garble of static. My phone was cutting out on me.

“I can’t hear you,” I shouted, but the connection was lost. I tried to punch in his number again but I must have been in a dead zone. I truly hoped that wasn’t an omen.

I took out the binoculars and scrunched down in my seat. From my vantage point I could see the hooded stranger exiting the car. Craig got out too—reluctantly, from the looks of things. He was hanging onto the door frame when the other guy yanked his arm away from it and began prodding him towards the river. Craig didn’t need much prodding, as his companion was holding a gun.

“Oh shit,” I said, breaking out into a huge, clammy sweat. I tried the phone again, this time to call the cops, but I couldn’t get it to work. My sense of self preservation kicked into high gear and screamed at me to
get the hell out of there in a hurry
. Unfortunately, the rest of me couldn’t leave Craig alone and helpless to fend for himself.

They were standing alongside the guard rails now. I could see ice patches floating on the water. The wind had picked up, driving the mini icebergs upstream. Craig was gesturing with his hands, the way little kids do when they get excited. The guy in the hooded jacket tucked his gun into his pocket. “Well, that’s a good sign,” I thought. “Maybe he just wants to talk to Craig,” when without warning he raised his arm and smacked Craig hard across the mouth. Craig’s hands flew up to his face, trying to protect himself from another assault.

Nick, where the hell are you?

The man hit him again. I watched in horror as tears mixed with blood streamed down Craig’s swollen face. Now the guy was pummeling him in earnest. Craig tried to ward off the blows, but he was no match for the larger man, who began shoving Craig towards the break in the railing leading to a docking ladder. Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out the gun and held it to Craig’s head.

Without thinking I gunned the engine and tromped on the gas, flying across the open parking lot towards the two men. I hit the high beams and the horn simultaneously, momentarily distracting them both. Craig was the first to recover. He reached up and knocked the guy’s hand away from his head and took off running. But in one swift movement, the other guy raised his gun and shot Craig in the back. Craig stumbled and fell backwards through the opening in the railing, disappearing into the freezing water below.

I screamed and immediately a bullet pierced the windshield. Overcome by rage and exhaustion I floored it straight for the shooter. Trapped between the railing and the oncoming car, he tried to vault over the guardrail.

At the last possible moment, my common sense prevailed. Premeditated murder would not look good on a resume, no matter how justified I felt, so I slammed on the brakes, skidding into the guy and knocking him flat. He might still be alive, but he wasn’t going anywhere. His leg was trapped under the right front tire.

I jumped out of the car, ran over to the guardrail and peered down into the river.

I could just barely make out Craig’s motionless body, floating away on a small island of ice. I yelled out his name and thought I heard a muffled grunt in response.

I lay on my belly and stretched my arm out as far as it would go but I couldn’t reach him. I stood up, frantically searching for something,
anything
to hook onto Craig and haul him back in. “What the hell do I do now?” I shouted to the universe.

“You could start with getting the goddamn car off my leg, I’m dying here,” grunted a voice from behind.

I felt the blood rush to my face. Seeing as he’d just tried to shoot me, the needs of this asshole were not at the top of my list of priorities. I spun to confront him and promptly slipped on the ice, this time falling off the dock. Crap!

I hit the freezing water head on. Completely submerged, I held my breath and flung my arms and legs about, desperately trying to right myself. When I got my head above water I gulped for air and felt a stabbing pain in my chest. My lungs were a block of ice.

As I struggled to stay afloat, the weight of my clothes kept dragging me beneath the surface. I tried to peel them off, but they were too heavy, and in my panic I only succeeded in becoming more entangled. I sucked in a mouthful of water and gagged.

I’d only been in the water for a few minutes, but it felt like eons. I was exhausted. The water was so cold it burned, but soon that sensation went away and I could no longer feel my arms or legs. I knew enough first aid to be able to recognize the early warning signs of shock. The dock was only a few feet away, but it might as well have been a mile.

Oh my God. I cannot die. It’s simply unacceptable. If I die now I’ll never get to hold Franny’s baby, or sing at Paul’s bar mitzvah or visit “Cats That Look Like Hitler.com.” Dying would mean I’d never get to taste Uncle Frankie’s lasagna again, or go to a Phillies’ game, or laugh so hard with John I’d crack a rib.

It just wasn’t a good time to die. With my last ounce of strength I pushed down on the water and tried to propel myself forward, but it was a fruitless effort.
If I die, I’ll never see Nick’s face again, or hear his voice or see him smile. I’ll never get to tell him that I love him, not for the way he looks, but for how he makes me feel.

I felt myself slipping under again, and in that instant I could almost hear him calling my name.

“H
ow’s she doing?”

My eyes flew open and I found a uniformed stranger staring back at me. I tried to focus on her face but what with the lights and sirens it was all a blur. My chest felt like a truck had rolled over it and decided to park there overnight. I was encased in heavy blankets, and someone had placed an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose. Confused and more than a little claustrophobic, I ripped off the mask and inhaled the cold night air.

“Take it easy. You’re alright,” the paramedic soothed, taking the mask from my hand and readjusting the blankets.

I tried to turn my head in the direction of the other voice, but it was like trying to lift an anvil.

A murky recollection of being dragged and lifted from the water rushed back at me. Suddenly I felt a warm hand on my cheek and Nick’s face appeared before me. His clothes were soaked and as he knelt beside me I noticed an angry gash on the left side of his face, just under his ear.

“You’re bleeding! What happened?” I croaked. My throat was unbearably dry, which was odd, considering I’d just swallowed half the Delaware River.

“Don’t worry about it, Angel. It’s nothing a Tetanus shot and butterfly bandage can’t handle.” He cut me a smile, but he couldn’t hide the weariness behind it.

I struggled to a sitting position and looked around. I was at an utter loss for words. Nick had saved me. Again. Somehow a hearty “thanks” just didn’t seem enough.

An ambulance was closing its doors. It pulled away, sirens blaring. “Craig,” he informed me. “He’s unconscious but alive.”

Nick had arrived a few minutes after my phone went out and witnessed most of what had transpired. “You could’ve just driven away when you saw the gun,” he said quietly.

“No. I couldn’t.”

He picked up my hand and pressed it to his lips. “No, I guess you couldn’t.”

Someone rolled the car off of the other guy’s leg and was administering first aid. He looked over my way and started yelling. “Crazy bitch. She tried to run me over.”

Right on both counts.

We ended up back at the police station. A couple of detectives led Nick and me to separate offices and took our statements. They took Gun Boy over to Jefferson Hospital with a police escort. Turned out a bum leg wasn’t his only problem. Seems he was missing a middle finger too.

I guess our stories checked out because after an hour Nick and I were free to go. We ran into Bobby on the way out. He’d been up all night interviewing potential witnesses in the gang slaying. He looked like he could’ve used a couple of slugs of Red Bull.

I could tell by the look on his face that he’d already heard about my little adventure. Giving a cursory glance at Nick he turned to me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I flashed him two thumbs up. “I just need to get out of these clothes.” They had dried in the stuffy confines of the police station and were starting to give me a rash.

Bobby turned to Nick. “I can take it from here.”

If Nick minded being dismissed by Bobby he didn’t show it. “Bobby—” I protested.

Nick cut me off. “It’s okay, Angel.” He hugged me to him, his mouth pressed against my ear. “The man cares about you. Cut him a little slack.”

I hugged Nick back, forcing down a huge lump in my throat.

There was a longing deep inside me as I watched him walk away.

Seeing as my car was now “state’s evidence,” I didn’t have a ride back to my house. Truth was I couldn’t face going home yet anyway, so when Bobby suggested he take me back to his place to get cleaned up and pull myself together, I gratefully accepted.

“Oh, but what about Sophia?” I asked. It was four in the morning and she’d be waking up in a few hours. I didn’t want to get in the way of their time together.

“I knew I’d be pulling an all-nighter,” Bobby said. “She’s sleeping over at Eddie’s mom’s.”

DiCarlo didn’t say much on the ride home. His night hadn’t exactly been a piece of cake either. On the way out of the station I’d overheard some cops talking about the gang killing he was investigating. The unintended victim was a little ten year old girl.

Even though I was freezing my butt off, out of courtesy I left the window open. I didn’t want to stink up his car by smelling like week old dead trout. I leaned my head against the headrest and I must have dozed off, because when I opened my eyes we were passing Gavone’s Bar, and I knew we were close to his place.

Bobby’s house is in the neighborhood of 11
^th
and Wolf. The homes along this block are old, spacious and affordable. We pulled up to the curb and he climbed out. I was a little slower on the uptake. That dip in the pool had taken its toll on me. Bobby came around and opened my door, stretching a hand out to help me.