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“Nice to see you,” I said.
“Congrats. You’re number one on Gino’s shit list.”
“With or without a bullet?”
“That’s up to you,” Vi
Vi
“I’m sorry about Gino’s nephew.”
“We’ll get to that in a second,” Vi
“Would you believe sheer luck?”
Vi
“That didn’t have shit to do with Gino.”
“Says who?”
“Says me,” Vi
I looked over Vi
“Jimmy and Tommy were just trying to scare the broad,” Vi
“Attempted kidnapping.”
Vi
“Why?” I said.
Vi
“Gino wanted me to tell you to back off,” Vi
“What’s Gino say about Rick Weinberg being smoked?”
“The headless horseman?”
I nodded.
“Not our business,” Vi
“You saying that or Gino?”
“Me.”
Vi
“I’m sort of working for Rick Weinberg’s widow,” I said.
“What the fuck does ‘sort of’ mean?”
“I was asked to help, but now she’s being evasive.”
“Lot of that going around,” Vi
“Where has Gino put his money?”
Vi
I nodded.
“A real-life fucking Indian,” Vi
“Say hello, Z.”
Z said: “How.”
“Fucking fu
“Just a fortunate side effect,” I said.
“Are we clear now?”
“What about Gino’s nephew?” I said.
Vi
“Why did Gino want Jemma Fraser?”
Vi
“Not my gun,” I said.
Vi
“You know I won’t back off.”
“No fucking kidding,” Vi
“I need to see Gino.”
“Like I said, he doesn’t blame you for what happened, but he doesn’t want to talk to you, either. How the fuck would that look?”
“I am interested in why someone wanted to clip me.”
“He didn’t know you were involved.”
“Now he does,” I said. “Police think he may have aced Weinberg as a message.”
“You really think that’s his style?”
“To be honest, I’ve never really thought Gino had much of a style.”
Vi
“I appreciate that, Vi
“But I’d consider it a personal favor not to put me in a bind and to back the fuck off,” Vi
“You ever meet Rick Weinberg?” I said.
“See you around, Spenser.”
“Or Harvey Rose?”
“Nice name.”
He opened the door halfway. He looked down at the place where the sunlight spilled across the office floor. “No matter what you do, things will shake out the same,” Vi
“And that if I stop poking around, Gino won’t turn me into a hunk of Swiss cheese for shooting his beloved nephew.”
Vi
He closed the door with a light click. I propped my ru
“Wait till you meet my enemies.”
44
JEMMA HAD TRIPLE-LOCKED the door and it took a moment of assurance before she let me into my apartment. Pearl trotted in first. I followed triumphantly with breakfast. I had stopped off at the Flour on Washington and bought some ci
“Do you feel better?” she said.
“Nothing like ru
“He pulled the gun on us.”
I nodded.
“I borrowed one of your T-shirts,” she said. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Just don’t take the one from Karl’s Sausage Kitchen.”
Pearl lapped up all of her water. I again refilled the bowl. I waited for the water to boil and measured out eight heaping spoonfuls of coffee into the press. When the water started to bubble, I poured it over the grounds. While it steeped, I squeezed some oranges and set the juice on the kitchen counter.
“First-rate,” she said.
“How’s your head?”
“Horrific.”
I went to the bathroom and returned with two aspirin. I mashed the plunger on the press and poured us both some coffee. Brioche and scones were set in the toaster oven on low while I stirred just a little cream and sugar into my mug.
“I apologize for last night,” she said. “Quite embarrassing.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said. “Blame Kentucky’s finest.”
“I’m sure you saw more than you were bargaining for.”
“I averted my eyes.”
Jemma smiled and took a sip of her coffee. “Quite embarrassing.”
“You had a lot to drink,” I said. “Attempted kidnapping often leads to anxiety.”
She smiled. I drank some orange juice and took the scones and brioche from the toaster. I set them into a gingham cloth napkin and then into a basket.
“Truly first-rate,” she said.
“But there is a price to be paid,” I said.
She put down her coffee and set her elbow on the edge of my kitchen counter. Pearl sat at my feet and stared up at me, waiting for a sampling of goodies from Flour.
“I need you to explain in as much detail as possible exactly what the hell is going on,” I said. “I feel as if I’m in a maze.”
She nodded. She let out a long breath, looking as elegant as possible in a BU T-shirt and cut-off sweatpants. “You more than deserve it,” she said. Her face flushed. “More now, knowing that you weren’t willing to take any of the other spoils.”