16 Hitman (24 page)

"And Victor Marsden."

"Exactly. So I don't understand ..

"What?"

"Why aren't they after me?"

WE HAl) LUNCH AT A small diner near the courthouse. My cop
wasn't happy about it, but I had to have lunch. Short of his going
and getting it for me, which would have left me alone, I had to go
out. If I wanted to eat with someone sightly more attractive than a
NYPD flatfoot, that was my business. It was also none of his.

Sheila and I got a booth. The cop got a stool at the counter so
he could watch the door. Not that he really expected someone to
try to take me out in a crowded downtown diner during lunch.
The odds for success did not equal the risk.

I ordered a cheeseburger and fries and a Diet Coke, wondered
if she'd think me common. Wondered if I was an idiot for wondering that. I was way older than she was, I was happily married,
and who gave a damn what she thought?

Men do.

Oh, how they do.

She had a club sandwich and an iced tea. I could have had an iced tea. I might have, if she'd ordered first. But when the waiter
came, she was looking at the menu, and said, "Go ahead." And one
doesn't stand on ceremony at a diner during lunch. They'd be zipping us in and out of this booth in thirty minutes, tops.

I said, "Is this your first day?"

"First day?"

"Of jury duty."

"Oh.Yes."

"Did they show you the movie?"

"Movie? What movie?"

"Why you should be proud to be a juror"

"Oh, is that what it was about?" Huge smile. "I nodded off."

"You didn't miss much. Who's teaching Kessler's classes?"

"They got a substitute"

"I wonder who'll pay for that. I know, the city, but what
department? Education? Law enforcement?"

"It isn't funny."

Her nostrils were flaring. Her cheeks were red. Did I mention
the top of the dress she was wearing? I'd have put her on a jury
without asking a single question.

"I know it isn't. But it doesn't make much sense, either.
Nothing makes much sense. Most cases you've got no clues. This
case you've got nothing but clues. And they're all interconnected.
And they all have something to do with you"

She looked at me in alarm.

Before she could say anything, the waiter put our drinks in
front of us.

She took her iced tea, sipped it, said, "What do you mean?"

"Give me a break. You're Marsden's girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend.-

"You're fooling around with Kessler. All right, you're not
fooling around, you're just his friend. Marsden's supposed to hit
Kessler. But he doesn't. He gets hit himself. For not hitting Kessler. Then someone tries to take Kessler out and gets killed. I see you
at a funeral, and suddenly people want to kill me." My eyes
widened. "Could that be it?"

"What?"

"You. I talk to you, and I'm in danger."

"That's stupid."

"What could you have told me that would make me a risk?"

"Nothing. I don't know anything"

"Maybe you think you don't. But maybe Marsden let something slip. That's why he was whacked. Not for the other thing."

"But he didn't. How many times do I have to tell you.We broke
up. I hadn't seen him in months."

At the counter, my cop was sipping coffee and looking
grouchy. The bar stool couldn't have been comfortable. I thought
about asking hint to join us.

Yeah, right.

"When you gotta be back?" I asked her.

"Back?" She looked embarrassed and smiled. "I don't know. I
was supposed to report back when they excused me. Then I ran
into you. They must have sent us to lunch by now, but I don't
know.You think I'm in trouble?"

"No problem.You got your ballot."

"Huh?"

"The paper they gave you when they excused you. You gotta
turn it in when you go back, right? So they can call you again. But
if you haven't turned it in, they can't call you."

"Is that right?"

"Think about it. They draw the ballots out of a drum. If yours
isn't in there, they can't pick it. You hang on to that, you can never
be called."

"Did you do that?"

I hadn't. When I served jury duty, I turned in my ballot like a
good boy. But it had seemed like a hell of an idea.

Our food came. So did the cop's. I noticed he was having a
cheeseburger, too. Somehow that did not cheer me. Quite the
opposite.

Her club sandwich came with potato chips.

"Can I try your fries?" she said.

"Be my guest."

She ate a couple, and I felt a little less like the lowbrow slob
dining with the princess.

"How come you didn't defer it?" I asked her.

"Oh, you can't anymore. It doesn't matter what you do. I hear
even the lawyers and judges have to serve."

"I know. I meant postpone it. Until later."

"Oh. They wouldn't do it. I guess they needed people."

I frowned. That wasn't right. They always allowed deferments.
An educated person like her shouldn't have let herself be talked
into it. "Had you postponed before?"

"No. It's my first time. What a zoo, huh?"

"So, who's covering your classes?"

"Oh, they'll get a substitute. No big deal. Happens all the time."

"Jury duty?"

"No. Substitute teachers. Just call in, say you need a sub."

"You don't have to turn in a curriculum?"

"No. Substitutes just tread water until you're back. Mostly
babysitting."

"A little hard on the kids."

"They love it. Less work."

"What if you get put on a long case?"

"I hope I don't."

"Everybody hopes they don't."

I chewed my cheeseburger.

She looked at her watch.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly twelve thirty. I gotta get back."

"Yeah, but you don't know when."

"I gotta go to the bathroom." She pushed her plate back, got
up, and went out.

I liked that. No "powder my nose" or other euphemism. Just,
I gotta go to the bathroom.

The window by my booth shattered. Shards of safety glass
beaded into little balls. A bullet ricocheted off the Formica countertop with a pinging sound I will long remember.

Things happened fast. I didn't see most of them, because my
cop launched himself into the air and landed on top of me, a bit
of a surprise. I knew he was my bodyguard, but it wasn't like I was
the president; his job wasn't to stand in front of the bullet. He
seemed to think it was. He wrenched me from the booth, wrestled
me to the ground.

From outside came the sound of gunfire, but no windows shattered. Just a few ricochets off concrete. And a dull thud.

I tried to look, but I had a few hundred pounds of cop on me.

I was not alone on the floor. Patrons had gotten down after the
initial shock.

After the initial shot.

There was a cacophony of cries, shrieks, squeals, screams, wails,
which all added up into an uneasy euphoria that no one was actually hit, that no one was actually hurt, that everyone was okay.

On top of me, the cop was fumbling with his walkie-talkie. "I
have the target. Target is safe. Repeat, target is safe. Location
secure"

I blinked.

It was a shock to realize that I was the target. I'd known it, but
I hadn't known it. But when I heard it, I knew it was true.

I still couldn't get up. I raised my head, looked around.

The diner was a disaster area. Food strewn, as waiters and waitresses dove for cover.

As if from a time warp, as if from another movie, as if from a different reality than the one we were in, Sheila came back from
the bathroom. She stepped around the corner, saw the carnage
before her. The mass of humanity stirring on the floor.

She glanced around.

Her eyes met mine.

I'll never forget the look on her face. Raw, stark terror. It was
just a momentary flash, but the image was forever seared into my
brain, would haunt me for nights to come.

"Amanda Peet," I murmured.

And everything fell into place.

MACAULLIF WAS THE FIRST ONE through the door. That was a
shock. I hadn't known he was there. "Is he hit?" he growled.

I could see why he might have asked. I was still flat out on the
floor.

"I'm not hit," I sputtered. "I got a half a ton of cop on me. Get
off, damn it."

"You can let him up," MacAullif said. "The shooter's down. The
areas secure.

"Are you sure?" the cop said.

"I got a SWAT team out there says it is."

"You sure the shooter's down?"

"The shooter's dead. I'd have liked him alive, but that's Sergeant
Thurman for you."

"Thurman's here?" I said, climbing out from under my nursemaid.

"Wouldn't have missed it. I mentioned he was on suspension,
but it didn't register. He's probably gonna take some flak."

"Son of a bitch."

"We'd like you to ID the shooter. If you're not too shaken up."

"I'm fine. But I don't know him"

"Did you see him?"

"No"

"Then how do you know you don't?"

"If I'm right, I never saw him before."

"If you're right about what? I thought you didn't know what
was going on.

"I didn't. Until now." I lowered my voice. "Don't let the girl get
away.

"Who?"

"The schoolteacher. Miss Perky Tits. She fingered me."

"She what?"

"She set me up. Come on MacAullif, act your age"

"Give me a break. I got a crime scene outside looks like a war
zone. I got news crews showing up. What am I gonna tell 'em?"

"Don't ask me.You won't tell 'em anything except hard facts,
and I ain't got 'em."

"What do you have?"

"Idle speculation." I looked at my watch. "Damn. I gotta be
back in court."

"Hey, shithead. I hate to be a pain, but what can I hold the girl on?"

I looked around. "Actually, I think she's gone."

"What!"

"Don't sweat it, she won't get far. She's a schoolteacher.You can
talk to her after class."

"Damn it!" MacAullif hissed. "All right. You paid me back for
turning you in. We're even. I give up. What's the score?"

"Off the record, I don't know the hitman, but I'll bet he
worked for Tony Fusilli."

"Tony tried to hit you because of something Louie Russo
told you?"

"No. Because of something I told Louie Russo"

"I thought you didn't tell him anything."

"I thought so too. Turns out I was wrong"

"So, what did you tell him?"

"My name"

"STATE YOUR NAME."

"Stanley Hastings"

"What is your occupation?"

That always throws me. I want to say actor or writer. In my
mind, my private eye work is just a job job, what I do between
gigs. Only it's been a long time since the last gig.

"I'm a private investigator."

"laid you investigate a case involving Phillip Fairbourne?"

"Yes, I did."

"Did you meet Mr. Fairbourne personally?"

"Yes, I did.'

"Where did you meet him?"

"Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital."

"Is that the first time you met my client?"

I hesitated.

"Can't you answer that?" Richard said.

"I can, but, technically, when I met hint he wasn't your client.
He didn't become your client until I signed him to a retainer."

"You signed hint to a retainer?"

"Yes, I did."

"There in the hospital?"

"That's right."

"You took down the facts of the case?"

"Yes, I did"

"And did Mr. Fairbourne tell you how he was injured?"

The defense attorneys were caught between a rock and a hard
place. If they objected to nie relating what the client said, it would
give Richard an excuse to bring hint into court.

"He said he'd fallen in the building where he lives. He said he
tripped on a broken stair."

"I)id he tell you where that stair was?"

"Between the second and third floor. About three quarters of
the way up"

"Did you see that stair yourself?"

"Yes, I did."

"How did you come to see that stair?"

"I did a Location of Accident photo assignment. I took pictures
of the broken stair."

"When did you do that with relation to when you interviewed
Mr. Fairbourne in the hospital?"

"I did it the same day."

"Do you have those photos here in court?"

"Yes, I do"

"Could you produce them, please."

Richard then went through the painstaking process of marking
the photos for identification. When we were done, Richard asked
that they be introduced into evidence.

The defense attorney was on his feet." I'd like to ask a few questions on voir dire."

"Proceed," the judge said.

The defense attorney approached me as if I were the ebola
virus. "You took these pictures?"

"Yes, I did."

"You say that was on the same day you signed the client to a
retainer?"

"Yes, it was."

"You did this in conjunction with your job?"

"That's right."

"By whom are you employed, Mr. Hastings?"

"Actually, I'm self-employed."

He smiled as smugly as if I'd just confessed to stealing the
Kleinschmidt diamonds. "Well, that's a nice evasion, Mr. Hastings"

"Objection, Your Honor," Richard said. "Would you please
instruct counsel that he is supposed to ask questions, not characterize true answers as evasions."

The defense attorney feigned surprise. "Your Honor, whether
or not the witness is evading the question is entirely relevant."

"And you're free to demonstrate it. You're not allowed to
simply state it. Not on voir dire."

"You want me to ask him if he's evading the question?"

"You're free to do so."

"Mr. Hastings, are you evading the question?"

"I'm just trying to be accurate. I'm an independent contractor,
a self-employed sole proprietor of my business. I take individual
cases and subcontract my services to various law firms."