Rob Cornell - Ridley Brone 01 - Last Call (17 page)

“No,” I cried, and threw myself against Palmer, clutching him. A detached part of me chided myself for hanging onto this man who had established himself as my enemy. The emotional me didn’t care. Couldn’t he see my pain? Didn’t he realize what this place had meant to my parents? And had been my friend long before he turned against me. Surely, Palmer would see this? He would take pity on me.

And he did… if bouncing my head off the roof of my car was his way of expressing pity.

The world around me spun until I hit the ground. I curled into a ball and shuddered.

From above me, like the voice of God, Palmer promised, “I’m going to nail your ass for this. I’m going to …” His voice was pinched away. I thought I heard him sobbing.

I covered my ears, closed my eyes, and tried to dig my way back to a time when things weren’t so fucked up.

I did not find such a place.

I sat in the back of an ambulance still parked in the street, a safe distance from the
High Note
. The EMT wanted to run me to the hospital, but I declined. Other than some minor scrapes, the explosion hadn’t hurt me severely. Most the damage had come from Palmer’s follow up beating.

The EMT asked me about the bruises on my face and torso that Tom had given me. “Those aren’t fresh,” he said as if discussing a cut of meat.

“No,” I said, and looked across the cramped space to where Palmer sat, waiting for the EMT to finish dabbing peroxide on my abrasions so he could question me.

Apparently Palmer felt he had to baby-sit me, even in the ambulance, as if I might climb in front and drive away.

My wounds attended, I climbed out of the ambulance, Palmer right behind me.

“Let’s walk,” he said, and gestured ahead. We strolled down the sidewalk, away from the
High Note
. Behind us the sound of gushing water as the fire department put out the last of the flames provided an almost soothing white noise. If I didn’t look back, I could pretend a water fountain sprayed in the background.

Of course, the sight of my parents’ ruined bar had burned itself into my mind’s eye. Pretending wasn’t an option.

We only walked about five yards or so, neither of us speaking, before Palmer stopped and turned to me.

“You’re in over your head.”

I took a deep breath. I could feel the
High Note
burning behind me, even though most of the flames had been extinguished. Didn’t matter. The place would always burn to me.

“What are you talking about?”

His eyes bored into me. “I don’t know what you’re playing at. Whatever it is, Tom’s blood is on your hands.”

“Couldn’t it have been an accident?”

Even as the question left my mouth, I knew how false it sounded. Buildings didn’t blow up like that by themselves. I thought of the bald guy that had given Mandy a hard time and had talked about trashing the bar. I thought of Goldweb—maybe breaking bottles hadn’t been enough. I also thought of Sam, who had threatened my life right to my face.

“Accident my ass,” Palmer growled. He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed, his fingers digging into tender muscle. I grit my teeth against the pain, refusing to show him a lick of weakness.

In the corner of my eye I glimpsed a stream of water from the fire hose. I turned my head away, glared at Palmer’s hand on my shoulder.

“Someone meant to kill you,” Palmer said.

“Let go of me.”

He hesitated a second, then released my shoulder, tucked his hands in his pockets. He shifted so he faced the bar, staring at it.

I couldn’t force myself to follow his gaze. I turned the other way. We stood side-by-side, facing in opposite directions like two halves of the yin and yang.

“If Tom hadn’t let himself in by picking my lock, this wouldn’t have happened,” I said.

“Yeah it would,” Palmer said. “Only you’d both be dead.”

I caught him give me a sidelong glance.

“That’s how it should have happened,” he added.

“One death isn’t enough?”

“It should have been just you.”

“What kind of cop are you?”

I heard the breath hiss up through his nostrils, then come out in a shudder.

“An angry one,” he said. “Tom was a hot head. I’m usually not like that.”

“That supposed to be some kind of apology?”

Shouting from the parking lot made me turn, heart taking a few extra beats. A line of shrubs partially blocked my view of the parking lot from our vantage point. I could see a couple of red hats above the shrubs, but no sign of the fire hose spray. I could also see the top arc of the wet and blackened hole in the
High Note
. I closed my eyes.

“Tom was my cousin,” Palmer said.

I opened my eyes and gaped at him.

He pulled off he glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t know,” I said.

“The bastard convinced me and my family to move here from Boston. We used to be real close as kids till my folks moved us.”

I swallowed down a lump. “You used to live around here?”

“Ann Arbor. Not too far. Our dads were brothers. My dad was a cop. I think that’s how Tom got interested in the job.”

“We used to be good friends in high school,” I said.

“He talked about you every once in a while.”

“All good, I hope.”

Palmer gazed down at his glasses he held in his hands. “Not all.”

I tried to remember Tom ever talking about a cousin he was close to, but couldn’t. I wanted to say something else, something comforting or nostalgic or both. Everything that came to mind sounded too pointless with the smell of the
High Note
still burning in the background.

“All right. Let’s get this over with.” Palmer slipped his glasses back on. “Where is she?”

I was getting real sick of hearing those three words. Tom’s death and the destruction of the
High Note
overshadowed my anger at Autumn for lying to me. Now I just wished she had never come back into my life in the first place.

I could end it. I could tell Palmer where she was and he’d go get her and I… I’d probably get arrested. I had twined my fate with Autumn’s; giving her up to Palmer would not set me free.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I already told you that.”

Palmer’s neck bulged. The color of his skin went pink.

“You had Tom meet you here to tell him. Why are you holding out on me now?”

“Tom made that assumption himself. That’s not why I wanted to meet him.”

“This is bull. He told me you said you were going to tell him, that you wanted him to come alone.”

“Which he apparently didn’t do.”

He waved me off.

“Then why did you want to talk to him?”

I hesitated, trying to think of something to make up. Palmer caught on and stepped closer to me.

“What are you holding back?”

“I wanted to talk to him about our last… encounter. You know, where you walked away so he could beat me up.”

Palmer rolled his neck. I could tell me was trying to calm himself. Some of the pink in his face faded.

“I’m not going to hit you again. But you are going to tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing. I wanted to apologize to Tom for getting in his face. That’s all.”

His eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

A helicopter flew overhead, probably a news chopper reporting on the fire. It occurred to me that Sheila might be watching the news, might learn of this from some callous reporter who knew nothing of the
High Note’s
history in Hawthorne.

“I’m tired, sore, and sick to my stomach. You have any different questions, or can I go home?”

Palmer scowled, rubbing his chin. “One.”

I waited.

“Where were you today?”

“Lost you good, didn’t I?”

“Did you go see her?”

“Visited an old friend from high school,” I said, meeting Palmer’s gaze.

“I hope that isn’t code for Autumn Chodakowski.”

“You’re paranoid, Palmer.”

“Then you won’t mind giving me this friend’s name.”

“Her name is Dixie Jawhar.” I spelled the last name for him, but didn’t bother to mention Dixie wasn’t her real name, nor that she was now a he.

Palmer didn’t pull out a notebook and write anything down, but the intensity of his gaze told me he had etched the information to his memory.

“Is that all, or do I need to call my lawyer?”

“Your car’s going to have to stay on the lot for now. Let me give you a lift home.”

“Thanks, but I got it covered.”

I limped away, on a mission to find a payphone since I’d left my cell—and my gun—in the car. Battery was probably dead by now anyway. Palmer called my name before I reached the end of the block.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said. “Anything else stupid, I mean.”

Chapter 15

“Oh dear God no.”

I sat with Sheila in her car, parked at the curb of a convenience store three blocks away from the
High Note
. Though the bar wasn’t visible from here, the cloud of smoke hanging in the sky marked its location among the surrounding buildings.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling like I had burned the place myself.

Sheila shook her head slowly. Tears filled her eyes. She had given up chewing on her cinnamon gum, and I could smell the alcohol on her. Nothing about her posture or her movements revealed she was drunk, but she shouldn’t have been driving.

“I can’t believe it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She wouldn’t look at me, kept staring out the windshield at the film of smoke spreading into the horizon. A three story office building blocked most of the view, and its mirrored windows facing our direction reflected the clear sky above us.

“We should go,” I said.

The sun cut through the car, making Sheila’s diamond earrings glitter. She cracked the driver’s side window, letting in the sounds of passing traffic and a breeze.

“I have to see it,” Sheila said.

“There’s nothing to see.”

The scowl on her face made me cringe. I’d never seen so much anger from her before.

“Maybe not for you.”

“This isn’t about who’s more upset. Fuck you if you think I’m not hurting over this.”

Sheila put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “I’m going to drive by.”

“You shouldn’t be driving at all.”

She slammed on the gas, blowing through a yellow light that turned red while we drove under it.

I put on my seat belt and clung for dear life while she sped the few blocks toward the bar. The cloud of smoke loomed larger as we approached. I spotted the barricade the fire department had set up before Sheila did, and shouted.

“I see it,” she barked, stomping the breaks and squealing the tires. The car fishtailed, but Sheila regained control long before we reached the barricade. I expected her to U-Turn. When she continued driving forward, I turned in my seat to face her.

“What are you doing?”

“They’ll let me through.”

“The hell they will. And if you give them a hard time, they’re liable to notice you’re drunk. I’ve had enough encounters with the police—”

“That isn’t my fault.” She shook her head when she spoke, her earrings bobbling. Streaks of her silver hair had darkened in spots from sweat. “You made your bed, you lay in it.”

“What is your problem? Aside from being drunk.”

Sheila slowed down as a fireman waved her off. She slid her window all the way down while still inching forward as if she meant to drive right over him if he didn’t move.

“That’s our place on fire. That’s ours.”

The fireman put out both hands in a halting gesture, not budging even as the car crept toward him.

“Stop your vehicle ma’am.”

Sheila stopped with the front bumper about five inches from the fireman’s knees.

“I have to get past,” she shouted out the window.

“This street is blocked by fire trucks and police cars. There’s no way through.”

Sheila put the car in park and got out.

“Crap.” I leaned across the car and called after her. “Get back in the car, Sheila.”

Not hearing me, or not listening, Sheila rounded the front of the car toward the fireman. “I don’t need to get through. I need to get to the bar. I need to see the damage.”

The fireman kept his cool, neither getting angry or backing down. He put a comforting hand on Sheila’s shoulder.

“I understand you must be upset—”

“You don’t understand a damn thing.”

“—but it isn’t safe right now.”

I climbed out of the car myself and rushed around. Sheila spotted me and pointed at my face.

“Stay out of this, Ridley.”

“Try to stay calm, ma’am,” the fireman said, glancing back and forth between us.

“Calm?” She looked toward the smoky sky, sobbing. “Calm, he says.”

I reached her, took her by the elbow. “Let’s go. We’ll come back later.”

She looked me in the eye. Her anguish drew deep lines in her face. For the first time she looked her actual age.

“I have to see.”

I nodded once and whispered, “We’ll find another way.”

Sheila bobbed her own head and let me guide her to the passenger seat. On my way to the driver’s side, I apologized to the fireman.