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"There was a cop killed there! In that alley!" She glanced at Rick. "When did Peggy Sue quit her job?"
"I told ya. Six months ago-"
"I need the exact date!"
Rick went into the front office, pulled out a ledger book. "Let's see. Last call she logged was October second."
"I have to use your phone," snapped M. J., grabbing the receiver.
"Hey, no long distance."
"Don't worry, it's a local call."
Adam was shaking his head, trying to catch up with her leaps of logic. "A dead cop? How does that fit in?"
"It was blackmail," she said, punching in the phone number. "That's where Peggy Sue's money was coming from. She saw a cop get killed in that alley. And she was squeezing the killer for cash…"
"Until he refused to be squeezed any longer," Adam finished for her.
"Right. So he arranges to have a little poison slipped her way. Courtesy of the local drug dealer, Nicos… Hello? Ed?"
The voice on the other end of the line sounded harassed, "M. J.? I'll call you back, I'm already late-"
"Ed, one question. That cop, Ben Fuller. The one who arrested Esterhaus. Where was he killed?"
"Somewhere out in Watertown."
"The date?"
"That's two questions."
"The date, Ed!"
"I don't know. October sometime. Look, the parade starts in twenty minutes and I gotta get out to the limo-"
"Was it October second, Ed?"
A pause. "Could've been."
"I want you to find out one more thing."
"Now what?"
"The name of Ben Fuller's partner."
"I'd have to check-"
"Then do it."
"Yes, ma'am!" growled Ed and hung up.
She looked at Adam. "It was Ben Fuller who died in that alley. The police called it a drug bust gone sour. I think he was murdered. By another cop."
They stared at each other, both of them shaken by their conclusions. By what they had to do next.
Adam took her arm. "Let's go. We're taking this straight to the police commisioner."
"He'll be in the parade. So will everyone else."
"Then we head for City Hall. The sooner we unload this bomb, the sooner we can stop watching our backs."
"You think he knows we're on to him?"
"Are you kidding? Ed's probably griping to everyone in earshot about his ex-wife and her wild theories. The word'll be out."
"Hey!" called Rick, as they headed out the door. "What's all this with the cops? Am I go
"Not to worry," said Adam. "You, Rick, are of absolutely no interest to anyone."
"Oh. Well, that's good," said Rick.
They left the office and headed down the stairs. Their descent had suddenly taken on the panic of flight. We know too much, M. J. thought. And it could get us killed .
By the time they reached the ground floor, her hand was sweaty against the banister. They emerged from the building, into the gloom of an impending storm. From the Atlantic, black clouds were roiling in, and the very air smelled of brine and violence.
Adam glanced up and down Bolton Street, his gaze quickly surveying the shabby buildings, the windblown sidewalks. Across the street, a man emerged from a bar, hugged his coat, and trudged away. At the intersection, a car stood idling, music booming from its radio. So far there was no sign of danger. Still, she was glad when Adam reached for her hand; the warmth of his grasp was enough to steady her nerves.
They started up the street. Her car was right around the corner, on Radisson. As they reached it, the first fat drops of rain were begi
M. J. pulled out her keys; Adam reached over and took them out of her hand. "I'll drive," he said. "You look shaken up."
Their gazes met. She was shaken up, and there he was, to steady her. Unlike any man she'd ever known.
She nodded. "Thanks."
He unlocked the passenger door and helped her in. Then he circled around and slid into the driver's seat, bringing in with him the comforting scents of damp wool, of skin-warmed after-shave. He pulled the door shut. "We'll get this over with," he said, "and then I'm taking you home."
She looked at him. "I think I'd like that," she said softly. "I'd like that very much."
They smiled at each other. He reached down to put the key in the ignition. Her gaze was still focused on his face. Only vaguely did she register the shadow moving alongside the car, closing in on her window. She glanced to her right just as the door was yanked open.
A blast of chilly air swept across her face; colder still was the icy gun barrel pressed against her temple.
M. J. jerked taut. "No! Vince-"
"Not a muscle," growled Shradick. "Got that, Quantrell?"
Adam sat frozen behind the wheel, his gaze locked on M. J. "Don't," he said, panic seeping into his voice. "Don't hurt her."
"Into the back seat," Shradick ordered. "Move it, Novak."
On wobbly legs, M. J. stepped out of the car and climbed through the rear door into the back seat. Shradick slid in beside her and slammed the door shut. The gun barrel was still pressed to her head.
"Okay," said Shradick. "Drive."
Adam turned to look at them. "Leave her alone! There's no reason for this-"
"She knows. So do you."
"So does the DA!"
"He doesn't know crap. Far as he's concerned, it's a nuisance case. And his ex-wife's a pain." Shradick clicked back the gun hammer. "Which she is."
"No!" cried Adam. "Please-"
"Then drive."
"Where?"
"Up Radisson."
Adam threw M. J. a desperate look. He had no choice. Then he turned and started the engine. As they pulled into traffic, she could see his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. There was nothing he could do; one false move and Shradick would blow her away.
She said, "They'll figure it out, Vince. Ed knows you were Ben Fuller's partner. He's already wondering what really happened to Fuller. How could you do it to your own partner?"
"He wasn't a good sport."
"Meaning what? He wouldn't play along? Wouldn't take the payoffs?"
"Goddamn Boy Scout. God, honor, country. That stuff doesn't pay the bills. Ben and I, we just never came to an understanding. No common ground, see."
"Not like you and Peggy Sue Barnett," said Adam.
"Hey, Peggy Sue, I could sorta understand. Bitch saw an opportunity, she grabbed it. Trouble is, she started getting greedy. More money, always more."
"So you had Esterhaus pass along some poison. Something you thought couldn't be identified," said Adam.
Shradick gave a grunt of surprise. "He talked?"
"He didn't have to," said M. J. "We knew about his arrest. You were Fuller's partner at the time, weren't you? You would've heard all about Esterhaus. And his troubles."
"Yeah. Those Miami boys." Shradick laughed. "He was scared to death of them."
"So you two cut a deal. He got you the drug. And you didn't call Miami."
"Hey, it worked."
"Except for one detail, Vince. Zestron-L killed a few too many victims. One body, the ME might overlook. But four? That was a trend."
They pulled to a stop at a red light. Shradick glanced at the street sign. "Turn right," he said.
"Where are we going?" asked Adam.
"The docks."
Adam flashed M. J. a backward glance. Keep your cool, it said. I'll get us out of this somehow .
He turned right.
Three blocks east took them to the wharf. The rainswept docks were deserted. A series of piers jutted out, most of them long since abandoned to disuse. A single fishing trawler rocked in the gray water, straining at its moorings.
"That warehouse up ahead," said Shradick. "Drive there."
"The pier won't hold the weight," said Adam.
"Yes it will. Go."
Adam pulled off the pavement and slowly guided the car onto the pier. They could hear the wood creak under the weight, could feel the thump of the tires over the boards. At the warehouse entrance, they rolled to a stop.